“No, Mr. Mason.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, and I was certain he meant to intimidate with the firm set of his mouth. He didn’t approve of me, that much was obvious. Maybe he took issue with my career as an MMA fighter. Or the tats. Possibly, he detested foul language and the pricks who spewed it. “For whatever reason, your brain is burying part of your life.”

“What can I do about it? Is there some sort of treatment or medication? When will I get my memory back?”

“There isn’t a specific treatment for amnesia. Surrounding yourself with familiar people and places, getting back to your normal routine, those things might help your memory return. I recommend consulting with a psychologist. I believe working with a professional will help you get to the root of the cause.”

So he was saying I was crazy. Fucking wonderful.

Adam stepped forward and shook Dr. Brady’s hand. “Thank you.”

The doctor nodded, his stony expression unchanging. “I’ll be back soon with those referrals.” He directed his cool blue eyes on me. “Tell the nurses if you change your mind about the pain meds.”

“Sure.” The psychoanalysis wasn’t happening, and neither were the drugs. I couldn’t stand the drowsy, looped, out-of-control state they put me in.

Dr. Brady left and shut the door upon his exit. The dead silence that engulfed the room weighed on my nerves. I didn’t know how much longer I could take in this place, gunshot wound or not. I’d regained consciousness a few hours ago to find a stranger at my bedside who claimed it was 2014. Imagine my shock when I learned it was true. He’d informed me I’d been out for three days, spouted a bunch of other stuff, things that didn’t make much sense, and then the doctor had come in, followed by the nurses, who all poked and prodded. Tests were ordered, more words said, and it all hazed in my mind like smoke.

“You’re refusing medication for pain?” Adam frowned as he took a seat. “You’ve got nothing to prove. No one’s going to care if the big, bad Rafe The Choker Mason takes a pain pill. There’s no reason for you to suffer.”

If I listened beyond the condescending tone, he almost sounded like he gave a shit. I met his tired green eyes, noting the pronounced wrinkles surrounding them. He’d certainly aged since the last time I remembered seeing him.

Which was eight years ago…wait, longer.