“I’m fine, Adam.” At least I knew his name. Fuck, at least I knew my own. My memory had a warped sense of humor. How could eight years just disappear? It pissed me off that everyone seemed to know more about those missing years than I did, including a guy I knew nothing about. Jax wanted to talk. I felt it in my marrow, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear what he had to say. The doctors, the nurses—they all treated me with a professional air, but underneath, I sensed an undercurrent of hostility. Disgust even.

Who had I become? And what was up with the way my brother was looking at me? Like he fucking cared. Most of all, the absence of one person ate at me like a maggot.

“Where’s Dad?”

Adam perched his elbows on his knees. “Dad is…he’s…busy.”

I pushed myself up despite the pain, needing to be on equal ground. “Don’t feed me that bullshit.” Jax had been dodging the question since I’d first opened my eyes in this place. Now Adam was doing the same.

He dropped his head into his hands then dragged his fingers through his hair. When he looked up, stress etched across his features, tightening his mouth and jaw. “We’re on much better terms than we used to be, so you can cut the attitude.”

“Since when?”

“Since you got out—” He cursed under his breath.

“Got out of what?”

“I think Jax should be the one to tell you about that. He should be back soon.”

“I don’t even know the guy.”

“You know him better than you think. He was your cellmate.” Adam closed his eyes. “Shit.”

A heavy glob of dread pressed on my chest. “Cellmate?”

He rose from the chair. “I realize this is horrible timing, but I have a meeting I need to get to. I just stopped in to check on you. I heard you were awake.”

“Some things never change,” I muttered. “Whatever you’re keeping from me, just tell me. It couldn’t get any worse than this.”

“I’m not sure how much you should know. We don’t know what caused the amnesia. Maybe you should take the doc’s advice and talk to someone who specializes in this stuff.”

“You mean a shrink?”

“Yes, I’m talking about a shrink.” Sarcasm dripped from the last word. “Excuse me for worrying about my little brother.” He wandered around the room, and each second of disquiet niggled at my irritation. I didn’t like being left in the dark.

“The sheriff’s waiting to talk to you,” he said, clearly changing the subject. “And speaking of, so is Nik. Are you up to seeing her yet?”

I shook my head. The last memory I had of Nikki involved a night of the wildest, roughest sex of my life—the kind that marred skin with bruises.