Page 6 of Chelsea’s Knight

I’ve tracked down the cherry-flavored soda she loves to drink and gets giddy over. I bought her a six-pack of it, along with her favorite salty snack, pretzel rods.

“Not sticks, not twists, but rods,” she exclaimed, her hands animatedly moving as she talked about the merits of pretzels over chips. “They’re the absolute best.”

Grinning at the memory from a past debate of ours, I back my bike into a parking spot between the two painted lines, shut my steel horse down, then dig through my saddlebags until I find what I’m looking for, then grab both of the items before I head into the building.

Time to see my girl and find out if she wants pizza, Chinese, or Mexican for dinner so I can get the order placed and delivered.

Because even though I feel like I’m playing a true-to-life role in the movieFifty First DatesI have to try.

There’s so many different dynamics to Chelsea that I want to explore and discover; how she feels about being part of this crazy family we’re both an intricate part of, does she want children in the future, what would her lips feel like pressed against mine?

“Down boy,” I mutter to my cock as I feel myself jumping to life and hardening like lead while jogging my way to her appointed room. There’s no fucking way I want her to see me inthisprecarious condition, so I slip into the men’s bathroom just down the hallway from where she’s staying. Having to rub one out for relief would probably embarrass most men, but thankfully, after years served in the military, I no longer give that first fuck, so I access a stall and settle in to take care of my fucking hardon.

“Fuck,” I groan, my dick in hand as I stroke it to the mental picture of Chelsea’s mouth hovering over my dick, her berry-stained lips wrapped around my hardened length.

Having spent a lot of time imagining her in just this position, it doesn’t take long for my balls to draw up, and my spine to tingle, preparing to explode.

“Chelsea,” I breathe out as cum flies from my cock’s head in long, roping jets, leaving me somewhat satisfied and sated. Once I’m sure I’ve got my wits about me again, I quickly clean myself up, tuck my dick back into my jeans, then snagging the bag with her goodies tucked inside, head down to her room.

As I approach the door, I hear her muffled sniffling and my pace quickens even as my heart rate accelerates. It’s rapidly beating to the point I fear I’m going to have a heart attack or a stroke. Bursting through her door without knocking, I skid to a stop once I determine there’s no immediate threat or danger looming and that no one is in the room with plans of harming her. No, she’s sitting in the chair, a Kleenex in hand as she pats beneath her eyes, her feet propped up on the ottoman, and she’s watching a chick movie.

Upon my drastic entrance, her head swivels in my direction, her eyes widen, and her jaw drops. “Canyon?” she queries, her beautiful face scrunched up in confusion. “Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, I merely nod in answer. Then I decide fuck it and figure I’ll tell her exactly why I blew through the door as though the hounds of hell were chomping on my ass.

“Thought something was wrong,” I admit, nodding toward her. “Heard you crying from the other side of the door and presumed you were either hurt or in danger.”

She waves her hand dismissively through the air even as a blush covers her face from the roots of her hair to the dimple on her chin. “Oh that, it was because of the movie. It’s sad.”

I’m cautiously optimistic about the fact she said my name without pausing and thinking it over; maybe her memory is starting to return.

Her next comment smashes that hopefulness to smithereens.

“I need to let Gianna know I appreciate her friends stopping by and checking on me but it’s really not necessary for everyone to disrupt their day for me.”

“Babe, not a disruption to come see you,” I gruffly announce while pulling the drinks and a bag of her pretzels out and passing them to her.

“My favorites, but how did you know?” she asks, her confusion about my intimate knowledge of her likes now apparent.

“Because we’ve talked about it before, a lot.” My voice is gentle as I crouch in front of her. “Chels, I know you don’t remember me, but there’s nothing you’ve told me before all of this that I have forgotten.” As I admit to this, my arms wave around the air to drive my point home.

Tears spring to her eyes and I watch as they slowly trickle down her face. Reaching into my back pocket, I grab my bandana and lightly wipe the wetness away, my gaze staying glued on her the whole time.

“I know the doctor said my memory loss won’t last forever, but it’s so frustrating to know I have voids in my memory. I can feel it in here,” she says, touching her clutched fist to her chest, “andknowthat I do know you, but when it comes to here,” her voice catches on a sob as she points to her temple, “the memories are just gone, it’s nothing but a blank slate.”

“Not gone forever, sweetheart. Just taking a vacation is all. They’ll come back eventually, the brain is a marvelous but totally unpredictable part of our bodies. Yours took a helluva hit, caused some trauma making it so you had to have surgery to relieve pressure and fix it, and now it’s healing.”

She huffs out a laugh then replies, “You make it sound so easy when it feels anything but that.”

“I’m sure it isn’t easy, babe. You’re having to relearn some basics, get stronger, and deal with the fact they gave you a shitty ass haircut before your surgery. I mean, I realize that’s not their area of expertise, but they gotta know womenliketheir hair so why the hell didn’t they try to cut it better?” I go for something more lighthearted to get her to smile or giggle.

Her hand goes to her head where a section of the gleaming tresses was shaved in order to do the brain surgery she had to have in order to save her life. The stitches have dissolved and are long gone, but the pink line where the scar remains is still slightly raised and puckered, and hasn’t started to fade quite yet. Regardless, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I see her lip quiver before she reins the emotion back and covers it with one of her sweet smiles.

“I swear, this is the second time my head’s been shaved like this and I gotta tell ya, I do not recommend it. Zero stars and two thumbs down.”

The chuckle that bursts free from me at her comment makes her grin before I quickly sober. “Second time?”

We might have spent a great deal of time together, a lot of it talking about our pasts, but this is the first I’m hearing about her having prior brain surgery.

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