25. Nova
CHAPTER 25
NOVA
“H ere we are. Home sweet home.” Brett unlocks the door to my apartment and pushes it open then steps aside so I can enter first. The walls are off-white and undecorated, the couch a plush leather with a red-and-black plaid blanket over the back.
There’s a small television in the corner and a fireplace that looks as though it’s never held a fire. There are no pictures on shelves, no plants anywhere in sight, and the only appliance sitting on the laminate countertop is a coffeemaker.
He shuts the door behind him and flips the lock. I know it’s just for safety, but this place with the doors locked—with him—feels an awful lot like a cage.
“Is it familiar?” he asks hopefully as he sets my duffel bag down.
I shake my head, and his expression falls. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep letting you down. I know you want me to remember.”
He walks over and takes my hands in his. “Don’t apologize to me, Nova. Even if you never remember a thing, we’re going to get through this, okay?”
I force a smile and nod. He leans in and kisses my cheek. The action makes my stomach churn. I hate it. I hate all of this.
Why does it feel so wrong?
Because Elliot is what’s right.
Tears burn in my vision, so I pull away and move around the room, looking for anything that might jog my memory. If I can remember, it will make the pain worth it. Hopefully.
“Are you getting hungry?” he asks. “I was thinking about grabbing something from that taco truck you love. It’s right around the corner. We can eat in and talk? Maybe watch one of your favorite movies?”
“Sure. That sounds good. Thanks.” It doesn’t, but I’m in desperate need of space.
“You got it, honey. I’ll be back in a few. Look around, and get reacquainted with your home, okay?”
“Will do.”
He offers me a smile then leaves, locking the door behind him. Finally alone, I can breathe again, so I move into the kitchen. I go through the cabinets, looking at the small assortment of dishes behind the wooden doors.
The bathroom is no more personalized than the rest of the apartment, with a white shower curtain and an empty toothbrush holder.
Did I not have any personality? Because looking at this place now, none of it is what I would have chosen for myself. “On to the bedroom,” I whisper to myself then head down the short hall.
The queen-sized bed is perfectly made up, the pale-blue comforter without a single wrinkle. Two pillow shams in the same color sit in front of two other pillows covered with white cases.
There’s a Bible on the bedside table, so I cross over and raise it, running my fingers over the golden inlay with my name. Nova O’Conner . It’s the only thing in this apartment that feels even remotely familiar.
I close my eyes as tears threaten to spill. Lord, why can’t I remember any of this? Why does it all feel so unfamiliar? Reaching up, I touch my fingers to my lips. That kiss last night has haunted my every waking moment. Even as I tried to sleep last night, Elliot was on my mind.
The anger on his face when he’d accused me of using him.
At first, I couldn’t imagine why it would feel like that. But it hit me after I’d climbed into bed. I had used him. I’d used him to gauge my feelings. To test the truth of them. I’d wanted to apologize, but by the time I got up this morning, Elliot was already gone.
Since he wasn’t there when I went to bed, I honestly wonder if he even came home.
Guilt burns a hole through the shame, so I set my Bible aside and reach into my jacket pocket to withdraw the cell phone Brett had given me.
I scroll through the contacts, but when I realize that I never got Elliot’s number, my heart falls. Then I see Lani’s name. I tap the contact without hesitation because, if I can’t apologize to Elliot, at least I can ask his sister to deliver my message.
“Hey, stranger. Tired of Dallas already?” she asks, tone cheerful.
“Would it be pathetic if I said yes?”
“Not at all. What’s going on?”
“None of this feels familiar, Lani. You should see this place. There’s no personality. No color, no pictures. Just blank walls and plain furniture.”
“Really? You strike me as a splash-of-color type of person.”
“Apparently, the old me did not agree.” I take a seat on the bed. “The only thing that I found that feels even remotely familiar is a Bible with my name on it.”
“It’ll come back, Nova. You just have to be patient.”
“And if it doesn’t?” When she doesn’t respond, I continue, “What if I have to keep living this life even though it’s not what I want?”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she tells me. “And if your memories don’t come back, you make new ones. The way you want to make them.”
The memory of Elliot’s hands buried in my hair assaults me. The feel of his lips on mine, my arms around his neck. “I don’t know if that’s a possibility anymore.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t matter. Could you do me a favor though? If you don’t mind.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
I hesitate. “Can you tell Elliot I’m sorry? He’ll know why.”
“Of course.” She doesn’t press, doesn’t ask for more. And for that, I’m so grateful.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And hey, maybe you have some personality somewhere and you just need to find it.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Maybe you were a diary girl.”
I snort. “A diary girl?”
“Sure. Check all the places one might hide one. Maybe you’ll find some secrets that will illuminate the splash-of-color girl I know is inside.”
Laughing and completely certain I’ll find nothing, I set the Bible down and stand. “Okay. Let’s see, where would one hide a diary?”
“Umm, check under the bed first. Shoeboxes. Beneath the mattress.”
“You have experience with this.”
“Five older brothers,” she replies. “I was constantly moving it. Check. Quick. I only have another fifteen minutes before my next appointment.”
“On it.” I set the phone down on top of my bed then bend down and search beneath the bed. There’s nothing. Not even a speck of dust, despite the fact that I’ve apparently been gone for quite some time. “Nothing under the bed,” I say aloud.
Since it’s not on speakerphone, I can’t hear what she’s saying, just muted mumbling. I raise the mattress and find it empty, too. Lifting the phone again, I survey the room. “Nothing there either.”
“Hmm. Let’s think. If I were a super-awesome detective, where would I hide a diary with all my secrets?” she says aloud.
My gaze lands on the bedside table, and a memory surfaces. I can see myself tipping it over and taping something to the bottom. “I don’t believe it.”
“What? Did you find it?”
“Maybe. I remembered something. Hang on.” Setting the phone down on the bed, I crouch in front of the table. After moving the Bible to my bed and setting the lamp down on the ground, I pull the nightstand out and tip it, feeling up beneath the bottom.
My fingers brush something smooth, so I feel around until I find an edge.
Using my fingernails, I pry it away and pull it out.
“It’s not a diary,” I say aloud. “But—” I open it, and my blood chills. “Oh no.” Surveillance photos of Brett are stacked inside, along with notes in my handwriting.
Has he gone dirty?
Not behaving the way he used to.
Money popping up out of nowhere.
Midnight rendezvous with Ivan on September 27 th , 2024 at 7:00 p.m.
“No,” I whisper the word, unsure how I’m supposed to believe what it is I’m seeing. If this is true—then I’ve not only let the monster close. I’ve literally given him the keys to my cage.
“What is that?”
I stiffen at the sound of Brett’s voice. Play it cool, Nova. Forcing a smile, I turn toward him. “Nothing. Just some random stuff I found in the drawer. Did you get the food?”
His gaze narrows. “Come on, Nova. You can be honest with me.” His tone is different and has me backing away from him, getting as close as I can to the bed.
“You’re not my fiancé, are you?” I whisper.
“Sure I am.” He smiles, but it’s carnal. “Show me that folder, and I can help you fill in the blanks.”
“No. You can’t have it.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. Both hands clench into fists at his sides, and when he levels his gaze on me once more, the facade he’s been putting on since we first met slips away. Finally, the monster is visible within the man. And I was such a fool not to see it before. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Nova. Don’t make me hurt you again.”
“Again? You’re the one who shot me.”
“Nova, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Give it to me, or I’m going to take it.”
“I dare you to try,” I growl, anger surging through my fear.
He betrayed me. At my weakest moment, when nothing felt real, he tricked me. And I was too foolish to see past it.
“Fine. Have it your way.” He charges, and I toss the folder onto the floor then slam my fist into his face. He stops and wipes blood from his lip. “I always did like to play rough.”
Fear chills me, but I know, if I give up now, I’ll die. Here in this apartment, there’s no escape. It really is a cage.
He swings, and I move, but not fast enough. His fist catches my shoulder, and I fall backward, hitting the wall. Brett snarls and lunges for me, but I roll out of the way, and he puts his fist through the wall. I grip the bedside table and swing it—hard. It hits him, so I grab the folder from the ground and sprint down the hall.
I have to get out.
If I can just get?—
A hand closes around my hair and rips me back.
I scream.
My head slams into something hard.
And everything goes black.