Chapter 7
Seven
Ledger
She may not remember me. But I remember everything.
I’ve stood in some bad rooms in my life. Crime scenes. Interrogation basements of cartels. Hospital corridors with brothers bleeding out. Courtrooms where the verdict could’ve ended everything. Desert boxes of combat.
None of them compare to standing beside Kelly’s hospital bed while she looks at me like I’m some stranger who stepped into her life by accident. And yet, she says she trusts me. The confusion in her eyes, the fear behind it, the way she said I think I trust you…
It’s a knife. A clean, quiet one. Slides in without resistance, then twists. I force myself to breathe evenly, to not let it show. She’s rattled enough. She doesn’t need my shit stacked on top.
Ally steps out to talk to Dr. Salazar, and I’m left alone with Kelly again. She’s looking at the window, the blinds casting pale striped shadows across her bruised cheek.
Her eyes track the shifting light like she’s trying to make sense of a world she woke up to without instruction.
Her fingers cling to the blanket, twisting the edge between them. I remember that habit. She used to do it when she was trying to hide stress. Bakery rush, an order gone wrong, a customer who pushed too far, she'd retreat into her hands.
Now she doesn’t even know why she’s doing it. “Hey,” I say quietly.
She turns her head, throat working. “Hey.”
“You need anything?” I ask. “Water? Food?”
“No.” She swallows. “Just not being alone, it helps.”
Something splinters in my chest at that. “You won’t be,” I tell her. “Not now. Not later. I’ll be right here.”
Her eyes flutter, softening like that means something. Maybe it does. Maybe not the way it used to but it’s something.
“I want to remember,” she whispers.
I run a hand over my jaw, feeling the rough scrape of a day-old shave. “Then you will. When your mind’s ready.”
“What if it never comes back? What if it forever stays jumbled and complicated. ”
I step closer before I think better of it. The nurse told me to maintain space, to keep things calm. But calm doesn’t come easy to me not when she looks like this.
“If it doesn’t,” I say, lowering my voice, “then I’ll help you build new ones. We will uncomplicate your mind if need be.”
Her breath catches, lips parting like she wasn’t prepared for that answer. Maybe I wasn’t prepared to say it. She looks at me for a long time longer than someone who doesn’t remember me should be able to. Her gaze drifts over my face, lingering on my eyes, then my mouth, then back up again.
“Why do I feel like we’ve had a conversation like this before?” she asks softly.
Because we did. The night at her apartment, after she told me don’t fall in love with me.
She sat on the edge of her bed after, sheets wrapped around her, hair a mess around her shoulders, telling me she didn’t want things to get complicated. I told her nothing scared me less than complication when it came to her.
Then, like an idiot, I let fear talk louder than truth.
“You’re probably just reading my face,” I say instead. “I’m not that subtle.”
She actually laughs a soft, unexpected sound. It’s a knife too, but it cuts in a better way.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Something about you feels familiar and right.”
My chest tightens. “Yeah, well. I’ve been around.”
She gives me a small smile. “That doesn’t explain why being near you makes my stomach flip.”
I freeze. Her eyes widen slightly, like maybe she said too much.
Before I can respond, before I ruin the moment by admitting it does the same to me a knock hits the door and a nurse peeks in.
“Ms. Ringle? The neurologist would like to do a brief cognitive exam.”
Kelly nods, settling back.
I step aside but don’t leave. I watch everything every question, every hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty in her expression.
The doctor holds up fingers; Kelly names them correctly. She asks her the month, she gets close, but is off naming last month. Her birthday? She remembers.
Favorite pastry? She says blueberry scone. That sends a strange flutter through me because that was the first thing she ever baked for me, months ago, after I teased her that her croissants were overrated. Those blueberry scones are my favorite while raspberry cheesecake croissants are hers.
But when he asks if she remembers driving, or anything from earlier in week, her face goes blank.
A void. A perfect absence of me.
When the doctor leaves, I sink into the chair again. My body feels twice as heavy as it did yesterday.
“You look tired,” she observes.
“Didn’t sleep much.”
“Because of me?” My gaze snaps to her. “Because someone put you in a ditch on purpose.”
She flinches. I grit my teeth.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Didn’t mean to be blunt.”
“No,” she whispers. “I need blunt. Everything else feels slippery.”
I nod once. There’s a soft tap at the door, and Ally slips back inside with a coffee and a bag that smells like pastries. Her eyes look swollen, she’s been crying again.
“Hey,” she says gently, moving to Kelly’s side.
Kelly gives her a shaky smile. “Hey.”
Ally sets the coffee down, squeezes her hand, then swings a glare at me. “Now that I’ve had time to process, what the hell happened?”
“Still working on that,” I answer for Kelly.
“That’s not comforting,” she fires back.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” I give the damn truth.
She narrows her eyes, but she’s too emotional to fight properly. Good. I’m not in the mood either.
Kelly shifts slightly, drawing both our attention. “When can I leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Ally replies. “And yes, you’re staying with me.”
“She isn’t,” I correct quietly.
Ally opens her mouth, ready to unleash a rant, but Kelly raises a weak hand. “Can we… not fight over me like I’m a lost puppy?”
That shuts both of us up. I clear my throat. “You’re not a puppy. You’re a target. Until we know why, you stay under protection.”
Kelly frowns. “Protection like from the club? I do remember the Kings of Anarchy. Ally’s in love with the president Chux, but I can’t remember how that started.”
“Yes. The Kings will protect you.”
Ally folds her arms. “And by protection, you of course mean spying on her while she sleeps, right?”
Kelly’s cheeks flush, mine heat for a different reason because Kelly and I haven’t spent a ton of time together at her place sleeping. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “No.”
Kelly’s lips twitch like she thinks that’s funny.
“No one is spying,” I state firmly. “But she’s not staying alone.”
“How can you be so sure the accident wasn’t just bad luck?” Kelly asks quietly.
“Because nothing about it looks like luck.”
Her breath shakes. “How can you tell?”
I take a long breath, then step closer so she can see my face clearly. “Because I’ve seen people try to intimidate before. And I’ve seen people try to kill before. I don’t want to scare you, but you need to know the risks.”
Her pulse jumps in her throat.
My voice softens. “This wasn’t a scare tactic. They hit you twice. They wanted to make a statement.”
Ally gasps, covering her mouth with both hands.
Kelly stares at me, eyes widening with fear. Not fear of me, but of what happened. What could’ve happened weighs heavy in the air between us all.
“That’s why you’re staying with us,” I finish. “We don’t leave people exposed.”
She’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that I start shifting my weight, unsure what’s going on behind those eyes.
Then she asks, “Us?”
It takes me a beat to realize what she’s asking. She wants to know if I’m part of that us. I thought the answer was obvious. But she’s working from a blank slate.
“Yes,” I share. “Us means my club. The brother and me too. I’ll be with you.”
Her breath catches again. Something flickers across her face not recognition, but instinct. Some echo of the past trying to wake up.
“You don’t have to,” she whispers.
I step closer, careful, like approaching a skittish animal. “I already told you,” I murmur. “I’m not leavin’.”
Her eyes grow shiny. “Why does that make me feel relief? I shouldn’t be relieved that a stranger won’t leave me.”
My voice drops low. “I’m not a stranger.”
Her fingers twitch at the blanket again.
“I believe you,” she whispers.
The room goes still. Those three words, I didn’t expect them.
But God, they crack something inside me wide open.
A knock hits the door a deeper one this time. A brother. I know the knock by instinct. I turn, already bracing.
Chux steps in, half-hidden by the doorway. Ally softens the worry on her face instantly knowing my brother will keep her safe. Kelly’s eyes widen like she senses danger without knowing why.
Chux nods respectfully to her. “Kelly. Glad you’re awake.”
She gives a small nod, unsure.
He turns to me, voice low. “Need a word.”
I glance at Kelly. Her shoulders tense, like the idea of me leaving—even for a minute—sets something off inside her.
“I’ll be right outside,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says, though her voice is small.
I step into the hallway, pulling the door partially closed behind me.
“What?” I ask, already on edge.
Chux doesn’t waste time. “We found the truck.”
My blood goes cold. “Where?”
“Abandoned lot off Route 9. No prints, no plates, no identifiers. Tires slashed. Burned inside.”
Someone covering their tracks.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss.
Chux nods grimly. “They don’t want it traced. Means they’re smart. Organized.”
“What did the cameras show?”
“Nitro’s still pulling footage. But whoever this is? They know how to avoid being seen.”
A low curse slips out before I can hold it back.
Chux continues, quieter now. “And Riot the angle of impact on her car? Nitro thinks it was meant to take her out, but another car came up on them before they could finish.”
My fingers twitch, itching for violence.
“I already knew that,” I mutter.
Chux studies my face. “You holdin’ it together?”
“Define ‘together.’”
He huffs. “Looks like you’re walking fine. Talking fine. Not punching walls. For you, that counts.”
I drag a hand down my face. “She doesn’t remember me.”
“Doesn’t look like she’s scared of you either.”
I look back into the room. Through the narrow crack, I see her watching the door, chewing her lip nervously. Searching for me.
“She trusts me,” I say quietly.
Chux nods. “Then don’t mess it up.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Because until we know who’s after her, she’s priority one.”
I nod once, my jaw set. “I’ll stay with her when she’s discharged.”
“Thought you would. Shaft and Mellow will trail. We’ll rotate shifts.”
I look back again Kelly is fiddling with the bed controls, distracted, but her eyes keep darting to the door.
“She needs stability,” I say. “And space.”
Chux raises a brow. “You sure you can give her the second one?”
I don’t smile. “Not sure of anything anymore.”
He claps my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You usually do.”
When he leaves with Ally once she tells Kelly goodbye, I take a few slow breaths before pushing the door open fully. Kelly’s head snaps up the second I enter. Her shoulders relax. Her face softens. Her pulse visibly slows in her neck.
I stop dead at the threshold.
Because she’s looking at me the way she used to not from memories. But with instinct. With trust and connection between us.
And something fierce inside me roars to life.
I cross the room.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, but the truth is written all over her face. “I just didn’t want you to be gone.”
The words hit me like a punch.
“I’m not gone,” I state. “Not now. Not tomorrow. Not until you’re safe. Not ever.” The last words are a whisper I’m not sure she hears.
Her eyes glisten. “Good.”
I sink back into the chair beside her, elbows on my knees.
Her hand rests lightly on the blanket near mine.
I don’t touch her. Not yet. Not until she’s sure.
But she inches her fingers toward mine like gravity pulled them.
She stops with a whisper of space between us.
I close that distance with the gentlest brush of my pinky. She breathes in sharply.
My voice is low, rough. “Kelly, I know you don’t remember me. But I remember you. Every bit. And I swear to you I’m not gonna fail you again.”
Her eyes flutter shut. “I don’t know why, but I believe that too.”
My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
She opens her eyes again, voice a whisper. “Ledger, I’m scared to sleep.”
“I know.”
“What if I forget more?”
“You won’t.”
“What if I wake up and you’re not here?”
I meet her gaze steadily. “Learned a lesson about leavin’ before, sunshine. It won’t happen again.”
“Before?” she asks.
I decide not to get into all of the past and instead, I say softly. “I’m gonna stay until you’re okay.”
Her lips part. Her breath shakes. She stares at me for a long moment. Then her hand finds mine fully, slow, hesitant, but sure.
The warmth of her fingers sends something electric through me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I shake my head once. “Don’t thank me. Just get better.”
She nods, exhaustion pulling at her edges again. Her eyes drift closed, her hand still in mine.
I sit there for hours, fingers tangled loosely with hers, guard dog mode switched fully on. Anyone who walks down this hallway gets my stare. Anyone who looks into this room gets evaluated as a threat. Anyone who had anything to do with her crash,
They aren’t going to make it out of Freedom Falls alive.
That is my vow.