Page 16 of Possessive Doctor

“No date? You? I don’t believe that for a second…unless every boy in your high school is a wimp.”

“Can you help me upstairs? I think I’d like to see my room.”

“Sure thing,” he answers and lifts me into his arms.

“I think I could have walked with you supporting me.”

“Best not to take any chances. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he answers and carries me up the stairs, not even breaking a sweat.

It’s fortunate that he knows where to go because I don’t have a clue which room is mine. He pushes the door open and sets me on my feet inside. It’s a teenager's room, with roses on the wallpaper and pink carpet underfoot.

I can imagine myself picking the bedspread and curtains, but I don’t have a clear memory of doing it. I sit down on the bed and close my eyes. As I breathe in, I catch a familiar scent. I pick up the pillow and bring it up to my nose.

It smells like vanilla. Yes, I always wore vanilla perfume, and I would spray some on my pillowcase when my mother brought it back from the laundry.

“I like vanilla perfume,” I tell Andrew. A look of understanding passes between us, and it feels like we’re sharing this small win.

“Me too,” he smiles. “Anything else?” he plucks the bottle of perfume off the dresser and slips it into his jacket pocket.

“Nothing yet,” I shake my head, frustration already building.

“Maybe I should leave you alone for a bit. I can go downstairs.”

“No, please stay here with me,” I beg him. I don’t know why I’m so frightened of being alone in my own space. I don’t feel this way in Andrew’s home, which is weird. This should be the safest place for me.

“Okay, I’m here,” he assures me and sits in my study chair. He’s so massive that I fear for one moment the chair will break, but luckily, it holds up.

I nod and close my eyes again. As I sit back and clear my head, I hear the faint sound of music in my mind. I open my eyes and look directly at the CD player on the dresser.

My friends laughed at me for using it when I could listen to anything and everything on my phone, but my father gave it to me and I didn’t have the heart to toss it out. My father was a music buff and I cherished his old CD collection.

Something unveils inside my head. Vivid pictures. Beautiful memories.

He played the guitar. My father played the guitar. My mother was a teacher. She taught the fourth grade at my elementary school, and my father was an engineer. I remember. I remember my parents. Oh god, finally!

I open my eyes and look at Andrew, emotions already crashing into me. “I remember my parents. I remember my father used to sit with me and listen to music.”

“That’s great. Anything else?”

“Not yet,” I sigh. “Who am I? What do I do?” The answers simply won’t come, and my head begins to throb. I reach up to rub my temples, and of course, he notices.

He stands up and kneels in front of me, brows drawn together as he touches my arm.

“What’s wrong? Is it too much?”

My stomach begins to churn, and I start to feel nauseous. “I don’t feel so well.”

“Maybe it’s too much, too soon. We should go. We can come back in a day or two and try again.”

“I think you’re right. I think it’s time to go. Can you take me home now?” I say without thinking.

Home? You mean his home, don’t you?I feel my face flush, but I don’t think he even noticed my little slip of the tongue.

He carries me down the stairs and out the front door, setting me on the stoop while he locks up. I turn to look around at my unfamiliar neighborhood and spot a guy on the porch at the house next door.

He looks to be about my age or maybe a little older. He seems familiar, but I can’t explain why. I can’t place him, but I know I know him. I’ve seen him somewhere.

Then, it comes back to me.

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