The moment many of you have been waiting for is finally here. Devils Don’t Fly, the conclusion to Saylor and Oliver’s whirlwind romance story, is live on Amazon and FREE on Kindle Unlimited. It became a #1 New Release almost immediately.
If you haven’t had the chance to download it yet, here’s an excerpt to get you motivated. 🙂
I blink a few times as I stare at the complete stranger my mother just announced as my husband. My head feels like it’s filled with cotton candy and nothing makes any sense. There’s a huge gap in my memories, and I think I’ll go crazy if I try to put the pieces back together now. Still, I stare at the man hovering between the bed and the door, uncertain of what he should do. He’s attractive, just the type of guy I would usually go for, but I feel absolutely nothing as I look at him. I wait for my heart to tell me what my brain can’t, but it doesn’t respond. It’s indifferent.
God, if I married him, I must have loved him. I feel like the worst person in the world. I can’t remember anything about Oliver, the tall blond with the angst-filled eyes. What if I never recover my missing memories? What if I never remember our life together?
“I’m sorry. I can’t, I… it’s just too much.”
His face falls and my heart constricts in guilt. He turns to the doctor and asks him what the next steps are. I half listen to what they’re saying, having a hard time concentrating on anything at the moment.
“When can I take her home?” my husband—it’s so odd to even think that word—asks.
“Uh, considering she can’t remember you, shouldn’t she come home with me?” my mother intervenes, looking at me in search of support.
Shit, I hope this doesn’t turn into a battle of wills. I don’t think I can pick a side right now.
“Well, my advice is for Saylor to return to her former routine. It will be beneficial if she goes home with her husband. Her brain is still recovering from surgery, so it might only take a small object or a word to trigger the return of her memories.”
Mom’s lips become a thin flat line. She’s not pleased about this situation at all. It seems our relationship has somehow mended during the time lapse I can’t remember. I look in Liv and Sebastian’s direction. Bas has his arm around her shoulder and she’s hugging him by the waist. When did they get back together? My head begins to pound thanks to the infinite questions bouncing in there.
“I still think she should spend a few days with me first.” My mother turns to Oliver. “She doesn’t remember you. Would you force her to live with a stranger?”
I know Mom didn’t mean to twist the dagger deeper, but that’s what her words are doing.
Oliver rubs his face before his gaze searches mine. “If you’d prefer to go with your mum, I’d understand.”
The accent. I just caught on to it. He has a beautiful British accent, and my heart warms a little for reasons I don’t yet understand. Is it remembering? I stare at him intently, trying to absorb every single detail of his tall frame, of his perfect face. I want to know how we met. How long did we date before we got married? Did we have a big party or just a small reception? The hole in my memory seems so big and dark, I’m afraid to look closer. A part of me wants to go home with Mom, because she’s right. Oliver is a stranger to me. I can’t make this decision right now.
“I’d like some time to think about it,” I finally say, watching the glimmer of hope in Oliver’s eyes fade a bit. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, sugar.” He gives me a tight smile.
I frown. Why does he call me ‘sugar’ instead of ‘Blue’ like most of my close friends? Is there a meaning behind the endearment? Stop it, Saylor. You’ll give yourself an aneurism.
The thought gives me pause. Why am I in a hospital in the first place? The side of my head itches and I raise my hand to it, feeling a bandage there.
“What happened to me?”
“You had a blood clot in your brain,” Dr. Laurent answers. “We performed surgery to remove it, you were in a coma for three weeks.
“Yes, but don’t be alarmed. That’s quite normal.”
I try to bring my hands together to wriggle my fingers, but only my right hand cooperates. The left arm stays there, unmoving. I can’t even feel it. I focus on moving a finger, any finger, and I barely twitch one. What the hell. I pinch my forearm and there’s no pain.
“Sugar—I mean Saylor, what are you doing?” Oliver has moved closer to the bed, frowning at my useless limb.
“I can’t feel my left arm.”
“Doc?” He turns to Dr. Laurent.
The gray-haired doctor comes closer and does a series of examinations by touch. He asks me to try to move my legs as well. The right works fine. I have trouble with the left. It’s numb, but when the doctor probes, I feel something at least.
“Why can’t I move my left arm and leg?” I ask.
“Like I said before, the brain is a very complex organ and yours is still mending. You have some sensitivity on your leg, which is a good sign. You have no speech impairment, which tells me not all of your left side has been affected. That’s very, very good news. I’m sure with physical therapy, you will be able to use your limbs again.”
“I play the guitar, or I used to. Will I be able to do that again?”
“It’s possible, but I can’t guarantee it.”
First the memory loss, now this. There’s a sudden weight on my chest, caving it in. With my good hand, I massage the spot. My eyes begin to prickle. I don’t want to cry—not in front of everyone, anyway.
I feel a light touch on my right shoulder and I look up.
“We’ve got this.” Oliver smiles at me, but it’s pained. He must be having such a shitty day too. I want to return that smile, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
I’m so drained, and yet I don’t want to sleep. I just spent three weeks dead to the world. What I want, what I need, is to get out of this hospital and discover what I’ve done with my life during the time I went and got myself a husband.
* * *
I don’t know yet how I should feel. Saylor has come back to me, and yet she hasn’t. My mind is spinning like a top. When Dr. Laurent walks out of Saylor’s room, I follow him.
“Doc, may I have word?”
“Certainly. Let’s go to my office.”
I follow the man, barely paying any attention to my surroundings. I keep thinking about Saylor’s indifferent gaze as she looked at me, the anguish on her face when she discovered she couldn’t move her left arm.
The doctor stops in front of the elevator and we wait for it in silence. He must sense I don’t have the mind for small talk. The metal doors finally open, spewing a handful of people from the elevator. A young girl glances at me as she walks by and her eyes widen when she recognizes me.
“Oh my gosh. It’s Oliver Best.”
Without a word or a smile, I slip inside the elevator. I can’t play the gracious celebrity right now. Dr. Laurent follows me and I sigh in relief when the doors shut again before the girl can recover from her shock and ask for an autograph.
“Will she ever get her memories back?” I blurt out.
I clench my jaw and refrain from asking anything else until we’re inside Dr. Laurent’s office. ‘Possibly’ is not a good enough answer to me.
Once off the elevator, we walk for another minute before we arrive at our destination. Dr. Laurent takes his seat behind an immaculate desk and I sit opposite him.
“What are the next steps, Doc?”
“We’ll keep Saylor here for observation for a few more days. If there are no issues, she can go home with you and start physical therapy sessions right away. Due to the memory loss, I recommend that she see a psychiatrist as well.”
“Do you think she should go home with her mother? Be honest.”
“I think Saylor should decide that without pressure from anyone.”
“I would never pressure her to do something she didn’t want to.” My reply has more bite than I intended.
“I wasn’t referring to you.”
I shift on my seat and rub my face. Miss Carter and I will need to have a conversation. I shove that thought to the side for now.
“What if Saylor never recovers her memories? What if she never remembers me?”
Dr. Laurent leans back in his chair and links his hands together. He watches me closely for a moment before replying, “Then you’ll have to make your wife fall in love with you all over again.”
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