Forget Me Not Read Online Free Page A

this is better."
    Yep, same quirky sense of humor. It was definitely Gabe. His rough-edged baritone made the hairs on her nape prickle.
    He was staring at her with such open fascination that she felt a blush coming. At the same time her scalp tightened, for she realized the doctor hadn't been exaggerating. "You really don't remember me, do you?"
    "No." He stared and shook his head. Not remembering didn't seem to bother him too much.
    With that elevator-dropping feeling in her stomach, Helen reached for Mallory and dragged her closer. "This is Mallory," she said. "You've been her dad since she was ten."
    His focus shifted from her to her daughter and uncertainty usurped his amazement Helen had never seen uncertainty on his face before. "Hi," he said, sticking out an awkward hand.
    Mallory ignored the hand, leaned over the bed rail, and threw her arms around him. "Hi, Dad," she choked.
    Clearly nonplussed, Gabe looked to Helen for help, but she was too surprised herself to save him. Mallory had given up a long time ago on being affectionate with Gabe. Why bother? It had gotten her nowhere. But this burst of emotion seemed genuine. She was hugging her dad for all she was worth and she wasn't in any hurry to let go, either As much as he'd ignored her, she was thrilled to have him back.
    Her daughter straightened, dashing a tear from her cheek. To Helen's distress, Gabe's look of panic had turned to one of expectation.
    He wanted a hug from her, too. She braced herself, knowing her body would betray her. The attraction was still there. Perhaps it would always be there.
    She stepped forward, looping her arms around him lightly. Gabe, on the other hand, pulled her close, his arms like giant manacles. Burying his nose in her damp hair, he breathed her scent—she heard his indrawn breath in her ear. His body blazed with heat as it always had. He smelled like Ivory soap, rubbing alcohol, and a clean, familiar scent that made her head spin.
    Dismayed by how good it felt to be held again, Helen struggled free. "Welcome home," she said, disentangling herself.
    Comprehension flared in his eyes. All at once, he looked more like the old Gabe, cautious and secretive. "Yeah, well." He ran his fingers through his nutmeg-colored hair—it was longer than he usually wore it. "It'd be a lot nicer if I could remember."
    "The doctor says it's temporary." Helen turned to the door, grateful that Commander Shafer was still there, eyeing the threesome with speculative, blue eyes. "How long before he gets his memory back?" she asked, inviting him to join them.
    The commander strode to the foot of Gabe's bed. "That's not something I can say for certain," he replied, frustrating her further. "There's no set time, really. If it's just PTSD he's suffering from, his amnesia set in recently, most likely as soon as the danger was over. Why he's forgotten up to two years prior to his captivity-remains a puzzle. It may indicate some kind of permanent memory loss due to a blow he took to the side of his face. There is trace evidence of damage to the frontal lobe. But the sooner he returns to a normal environment, the more likely something will jog his memories. Once that happens, we'll go from there. We'd like to release him tomorrow."
    "Tomorrow?" she repeated. No, no, she needed more time to plot her future, to determine the best time for extraction.
    "There'll be intensive therapy, of course," Commander Shafer added. "Dr. Terrien in Psychology will take your husband's treatment from here. He's already consulted him once," he added, nodding at Gabe. "Your husband will see him at his Oceana Clinic, which I understand is closer to your home. His first appointment is"—he glanced at the chart on the foot of Gabe's bed—"Wednesday at fourteen hundred."
    Helen swung a look at Gabe, certain he would protest the need for therapy. In the past, he'd avoided psych evals like the plague.
    Gabe regarded her earnestly. "Is that okay with you?" he asked.
    She didn't see