23. ANASTASIA
Chapter twenty-three
S tepping into the bright sun of a warm summer day, I paused and shut my eyes. Before this morning’s ride to the police station, I hadn’t been out of the hospital since waking up—and that had been almost a month. God knew I’d never take the sun’s radiant warmth on my face for granted ever again.
Sam and Atticus were making small talk as they made their way across the parking lot. I stopped, taking a minute to enjoy the sun, and took a couple of cleansing breaths. When I opened my eyes, I found Conan standing next to a hunter-green Jeep that had its doors and top off. Atticus was opening the passenger door to a black Mercedes across the lane. I wanted nothing more than to ride with Conan and feel the breeze rush across my skin, but I wasn’t ready to talk about his disappearing act, so I walked over and got in the car behind Sam.
The ride to Atticus and Samantha’s house was filled with a strange mixture of optimism and tension. The odd encounter with the intense guy at the courthouse still lingered in my thoughts, but having all the charges dismissed was a huge load off my mind.
Sam turned up the radio and sang along with a song. Trying to relax and make myself mentally move on from all that had happened, I focused on the flowers in my lap, tracing my fingers over the stems and soft petals. It was sweet of Conan to get them for me. I wondered if, in my old life, other men had bought me flowers. Something in the back of my mind—the place where my memories were locked away—told me no one ever had.
Sam turned, peering over her shoulder. “It will take us only a few more minutes to get to our house. It sits on a lot overlooking the water in the Horsehead Bay area. We moved in a few months ago, and I still have a hard time believing I get to live there.”
“Thank you guys again for allowing me to stay in your home,” I said. “Hopefully, I’ll get my memories back soon and can get out of your hair.”
“It’s not a problem,” she said. “Seriously, we have plenty of room. I can’t wait for you to meet Bethany and Braxton. Well, actually you have met Braxton, since he was the EMT who brought you in the morning of your wreck.” Sam reached over and ran her fingers through the back of Atticus’s hair. He glanced over, and she smiled as he rested his hand on her leg. The love between them was obvious.
“That’s right. You’d told me my misadventure was a family affair,” I said with a soft laugh.
After another song came and went, we turned onto a long driveway dappled with sunlight streaming through the trees. It led to a stunning home nestled in a lush, wooded area. The tall trees and expansive lawn were a far cry from the sterile hospital environment I’d left behind.
“Wow,” I breathed out, genuinely impressed by the sprawling estate. “This place is incredible.”
“Thank you! And because of Atticus’s obsession with security, it’s probably safer than Fort Knox. Since the kidnapping incident, his protective paranoia has been in overdrive.” Samantha laughed as we approached the security gate. “Atticus installed this sci-fi system that includes cameras and sensors for everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows every bird that flies over and every squirrel that visits a tree.”
When we pulled into the garage, my eyes caught the gleam of something spectacular—a red 1967 Firebird convertible. It sat there like a piece of muscle-car history, perfectly preserved and radiating a vibe of untamed freedom. How I knew the details of the car, I didn’t know, but I did. Now if I could only figure out what my name was, I’d be getting somewhere.
As soon as Atticus parked, I opened my door and stepped out, drawn to the vehicle like a magnet. “That’s a gorgeous car,” I remarked, running my fingers lightly over the hood, appreciating the smooth finish.
Atticus followed me over and ran his hand over the back fender with a fondness that made Samantha snort. “This beauty is fully original,” he said. “Haven’t changed a thing since I got her except for maintenance items.”
Samantha rolled her eyes. “Oh, she’s definitely the other woman in our relationship. Once, Bethany and I took her for a spin to the grocery store. Thought Atticus was going to stroke out when I told him.”
From the garage, I watched as Conan pulled into the driveway and parked. I was still holding the bouquet he’d given me. I wanted to ask why he’d stopped visiting, but I shelved that thought when he got out and walked toward me. Now wasn’t the time for that discussion. He crossed over to the other side of the garage, joining us by the Firebird.
“Thank God nothing happened to his precious car,” Samantha continued. “That might have crossed a line I could never uncross.” Her tone was light, but there was a thread of sincerity that told me how much the car meant to Atticus.
After admiring the Firebird for another moment, we walked across the garage and into the door leading to the main floor of the home.
The instant the door swung open, a blur of fur and energy—Murphy, the shih tzu puppy, I guessed—tore around the corner. As we made our way further in, I watched him zip from one end of the living room to the other with such excitement that his little paws barely seemed to touch the ground.
“Look at him go!” I laughed, scooping him into my arms as he was making another pass. His curly tail wagged furiously, and he licked at my face as if I were made of his favorite treats. While I held him, I wondered if I had a pet waiting somewhere for me, missing me. The thought was unsettling. Thankfully, it didn’t resonate with that place in my mind where my memories were stored. It would kill me to find out I’d abandoned a furry friend.
Conan grinned, watching us. “He’s got endless energy, doesn’t he?”
“He’s just the cutest thing ever,” I said, scratching the dog behind his ears. He settled contentedly into my arms.
Conan and I followed Samantha and Atticus into the open living room kitchen area, which was as vast and beautifully appointed as the outside suggested. The spacious living area with large windows framed magnificent views of the dense trees surrounding the property and the bay behind the house. The decor was elegant yet inviting. It was the type of home I’d love to have one day.
“I can see why you chose this place. It’s absolutely stunning,” I said to Atticus, who seemed pleased with my reaction.
“It’s safe, quiet, and yeah, it has enough tech to keep the bad guys at bay,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of something darker.
Samantha nudged me gently, giving me a reassuring smile. “And it’s got plenty of room for guests, so make yourself at home. Follow me, and I’ll show you to your room.” With that, she led me upstairs. The hallway was lined with black-and-white images that seemed carefully chosen, pieces I recognized but couldn’t put names to.
After a brief tour of the upstairs, she showed me to the guest room, which was on the opposite side of the house from where she and Atticus slept. “You’ll have plenty of privacy here,” she said. It was a beautifully decorated room with a plush king bed and a view of the bay.
Crossing the room, she opened the closet. My suitcases from the hospital were already there. She then pointed to the en suite. “You should have everything you need in here, but let me know if you’re missing anything.”
She returned to where I was standing and picked up a gorgeous little bright blue bikini that was lying neatly folded on the bed. “I hope you like it,” she said, holding it up. “Thought we could celebrate the solstice, the full moon, and your liberation tonight with dinner and a swim.”
She handed me the bikini, and I held it out in front of me, shimmying my shoulders. “Ooo, it’s a sexy little thing. Thank you. I love it. Maybe I’ll get my memories back tonight if I do some kind of pagan ritual dance under the moon,” I joked, and we both burst into laughter .
“You never know,” she said. “Magic is more common than you’d think on nights like this. There’s always more babies born on full moons than at any other time.”
“Whatever it takes to get my memories back, I’ll do it. One of the docs told me that since I’ve been getting some of them back as I experience familiar things, it’s a good sign that they may all come back.”
“Well, then getting out of the hospital environment and back to a normal life should really help you. I’m guessing having the charges dismissed today will take a huge load off your mind too.”
“Oh God, you have no idea. Just going through the booking and arraignment process was a humiliating ordeal. I can’t imagine how awful it would have been to go to jail.” I shuddered just thinking about it.
“I’m so glad it all worked out for you. I know all too well how life can throw us some wild curveballs. I never imagined in a hundred years that I would get tangled up with the mafia. Six months ago, my life was turned upside down, and thankfully, I had some good people come to my rescue. These Thorin brothers are special men,” she said in an appreciative tone.
“I still can’t believe all that happened to you. It sounds like something straight out of a movie. I’m so lucky to have had you guys—especially you, Sam—come to my rescue.”
“All right, all right, enough of this serious talk. How about you go ahead and change out of those dress clothes?” Samantha suggested. “Those have got to be miserable. I’m just gonna throw some shorts over a swimsuit. I’ll meet you back downstairs when you’re ready. We’re keeping it super casual tonight, just dinner by the pool.”
Once I was left alone in the room, I took in my surroundings. An overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over me. Samantha and Atticus had given me a safe haven. Their kindness was more than I could have asked for when I needed it most.
As I changed into the swimsuit and pulled on a pair of shorts, I made a silent promise to pay them back somehow for all their generosity and help. They had been so welcoming, and they’d never asked for anything in return. For the past month, I had felt like I was caught underneath an ocean’s rolling wave, but now, I could finally breathe.
I made my way downstairs, still adjusting to the idea that I’d be staying in this beautiful, sprawling house with people who, just weeks ago, were strangers to me.
The laughter and chatter ahead pulled me in. I paused before entering the kitchen, soaking in the energy of the pre-dinner chaos radiating from the room.
“Hey, Angel! Come join us. We’re just getting the food organized!” Samantha called out, her hands full of colorful veggies destined for the grill.
I stepped into the kitchen, watching Atticus as he expertly seasoned some steaks that were lying on a cutting board. Inhaling deeply, I took in the scent of herbs and spices that mingled with the smoky aroma wafting in from the outdoor kitchen by the pool.
“Smells amazing, Atticus,” I said, admiring his culinary skills as he moved to start assembling chicken kabobs. He grinned and pointed a skewer at a charcuterie board laden with cheese and sliced meats. “Thanks. Just wait until you taste it. How about you help us get all this outside? You can take that to the table on the patio.”
Sam and I carried the various trays and other stuff outside, setting up for what promised to be a fantastic cookout. The late afternoon was warm, and the music playing from various speakers around the house created a fun atmosphere.
Beside a spacious teakwood dining table that perfectly complemented the luxurious patio and poolside ambiance, Conan wrestled with putting together an old-fashioned hand-crank ice-cream maker. “This’ll be worth the workout,” he promised as he set it to the side.
“Angel, wait till you try Conan’s homemade strawberry ice cream,” Samantha said. “He’s got a secret recipe.” She laughed, nudging me with her elbow as we laid out the chips and dips.
“Yeah, wait to be amazed,” he added with a wink, popping a grape into his mouth. Then he straightened up and looked around at us. “All right, who’s thirsty? There’s beer and wine.” He gestured to a large galvanized tub filled with beer, various bottles of wine, canned cocktails, and water.
“Do you have anything strawberry flavored?” I asked, my eyes lighting up at the thought.
“I bet we do,” he replied with a grin. He fished around and found a can in the bucket, grabbed a glass, filled it with ice, and poured the Straw-Ber-Rita before handing it to me. He served Samantha her favorite blush wine and snagged a bottle of water for Atticus. “Here you go,” Conan said. Atticus accepted the water with a nod. Then Conan grabbed a beer for himself.
“Thanks, Conan,” Samantha said, taking a sip of her wine. I took a grateful drink of my icy Straw-Ber-Rita. It was dessert in a can.
As we worked, the banter flowed as easily as the wine and beer. Conan kept pouring for everyone except Atticus, who I found out didn’t drink.
Samantha, with a mischievous glint in her eye, started teasing Atticus about the house’s history. “He bought this fortress so I wouldn’t have any ghosts of girlfriends past to worry about.”
Atticus, standing by the grill, shot her a smirk, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “And what promise did I make you, huh?”
Samantha blushed slightly, but before she could reply, Conan cut in, his voice booming across the patio. “He swore he’d fuck you on every surface of this new house, didn’t he?” He laughed heartily as Sam playfully slapped his arm.
“I can’t believe you told him that!” Samantha fired back an exaggerated glare at Atticus, her cheeks reddening further.
Conan leaned in close to Samantha. “Oh, no, I overheard him say it loud and clear the night he asked you to marry him. Trust me, neither of you excels at keeping your voice down.”
Leaning in my direction as if he were going to whisper something privately, but still speaking plenty loud, he said, “It’s not easy to spend the night in this house. I warn you, Angel, you’ll practically experience everything they do alongside them.”
Samantha rolled her eyes, her comeback swift. “Oh, like you’re one to talk. Don’t let him fool you. It’s not like Conan’s shy. He’s kissed nearly every girl he’s ever met! He doesn’t have a prudish bone in his body.” She giggled. “He’s even kissed me before.”
“And you loved it,” Conan retorted.
“Yeah, about as much as making out with a basset hound after it’s slurped up half its water bowl,” she quipped.
Before she could dodge him, Conan scooped her up in an exuberant hug, peppering her face with sloppy kisses. Samantha squealed and swatted at him while Atticus pretended to be outraged.
“Get the fuck off my wife,” he demanded, his chiseled jaw tightening as he moved toward Conan. Conan let Sam go and turned toward Atticus with his fists up. A smirk formed at the corner of Atticus’s lips as he threw a mock punch at Conan, who ducked.
“She’s not your wife yet.”
The two men started a high-spirited scuffle, throwing air punches and sparring around the patio. Laughing, Conan grabbed Atticus in a light choke hold .
“You know, I should have let the hospital fire your ass for not being able to control what the fuck you do with your mouth,” Atticus grumbled, though the crinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed his jest.
The atmosphere shifted subtly, the laughter dying down as Conan released Atticus, his face turning serious. “You swore you wouldn’t mention that in front of her,” he muttered, glancing my way.
I awkwardly stood there, tilting my head in confusion. Samantha glanced over at me and stepped in. “Okay, time out. Conan, maybe now’s the time you should explain to Angel what happened after you kissed her.”
Everyone turned and stared at me, and Conan’s embarrassed expression made my stomach twist with dread. He cleared his throat, motioning for me to follow him toward the pool, where we could talk with a bit more privacy. As we walked to the far end, Sam and Atticus turned back to their tasks.