Kinsley fell in love with Phoenix Maverick, an NHL player for a team she never imagined supporting. But when Kinsley suffers from a head injury and forgets the last six years of her life, she struggles balancing being the person Phoenix fell in love...
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Early October. 2016
On Tuesday morning, Sadie dropped me off in town on her way to the science museum so I could run some errands. I still wasn't cleared for driving but my sleek black Mercedes' was now parked in front of Sadie's complex after having moved out of the apartment in Granville.
It was a nice car, but sort of stiff and corporate. I didn't imagine holding onto it for long.
After googling what the market price was on that model, I almost died. Who did I think I was spending that sort of cash on a car?
I was already googling how to list a car for sale online as I walked down the bustling streets of downtown. Click after click, each link led me to a new page with instructions and confusing prompts that I couldn't get my head around.
At least not out here where I was struggling to multi task. How people walked through crowds with their heads down, I couldn't understand.
Slipping the phone into my back pocket, I decided I didn't have to conquer that particular skill right now and headed for the Anytime Fitness gym on 42nd.
It was close to home, a ten minute drive give or take. It was a beautiful building with lots of windows, the overhead pass was just outside and a neat strip of lawn with shrubs and trees lined the footpath. The key card I'd found in my room let me swipe straight in.
"Kinsley," someone said the moment I walked into the reception space. There were arm chairs and a table for tabloids, a round desk and a list of all the classes and prices.
The owner of the voice belonged to a man wearing active wear, his tight tank top hugged a mass of muscle and his sable black skin looked like gloss, shimmering with either sweat or oil.
There were a few other people hanging out behind the desk, a couple of girls who smiled and waved, recognition in their friendliness. The walls started to get closer, especially when the burly six foot mass of a man barrelled toward me and took my hand, forcing me into an inspecting twirl.
"Well, that ass still looks fantastic," he said with a British accent. "I guess you haven't been slacking off too much. You cheating on us? Which gym?"
My heart pounded, mouth dry. I had no idea where to start. It didn't occur to me that I'd have become close with the staff here. I assumed I came to exercise and left again. But this man, his bright smile and his kind gaze, sent me into a panic.
Slowly, the smile slipped from his face. "What's the matter?"
"I don't—" my words weren't audible. Clearing my throat, I tried to get a grip. "I don't know who you are."
He frowned, his brows bunching in confusion.
"I mean, I don't remember who you are. I had an accident about a month ago. I have retrograde amnesia and I can't remember the last six years of my life."
