Chapter 16
Sixteen
Kelly
My memories feel like stars, distant and scattered, but guiding my way.
The storm doesn’t let up.
Thunder cracks like the sky is splitting in half. Rain hammers the roof so hard the windows shake. It should make me feel trapped, buried, claustrophobic.
Instead, I feel oddly steady.
Because Riot is sitting next to me on the worn couch in the safehouse, close enough that our knees touch, close enough that his body heat brushes mine like a quiet promise.
A promise he hasn’t said out loud but that I feel anyway.
He told me the truth about the message.
He told me they came after me to get to him.
He told me I mattered to him.
And now?
He looks like he’s preparing for war.
His elbows rest on his thighs, hands clasped once in front of him. His eyes flash to the door every few seconds, to the windows, to the shadows shifting outside. Every time thunder rolls, his shoulders get tenser.
“Riot?” I whisper.
He doesn’t look at me at first. “Yeah?”
“Are you scared?”
That pulls his attention. His eyes meet mine, dark and sharp and full of something I don’t expect.
“Yes.”
The honesty stuns me.
“You are?”
“Only of one thing,” he murmurs with his eyes locked to mine. “Losin’ you again.”
Something inside me snaps at that. Not in a painful way in a way that feels like a rope pulling tight between two anchor points.
“Ledger,” I whisper again.
He blinks, expression tightening. “You don’t gotta say anything. I didn’t say it to get a reaction from you.”
“What if I have one anyway?”
His jaw flexes.
I shift a little closer not touching more than we already are, but wanting to. Wanting it too much.
“I don’t remember everything,” I admit softly. “But I feel connected to you. Like my heart remembers even if my mind doesn’t.”
His breath catches.
Lightning flashes outside, illuminating his face long enough for me to see raw emotion flicker through it awe, pain, hunger, something impossibly deep.
The power goes out with a snap.
The space plunges into darkness except for the faint glow of emergency lights.
Ledger stands immediately. “Backup generator should kick in.”
But it doesn’t.
Nothing hums.
No power flickers back on.
He curses under his breath. “Of course.”
“Is this dangerous?” I ask, heart stumbling.
“No,” he says instantly. “We’re safe. Just dark.”
Except his voice is too tight, his stance too rigid.
He’s not worried about the dark.
He’s worried about what might use the dark.
He finds a flashlight, clicks it on, and sets it on the table. Warm yellow light spills across the room, hitting his face.
The storm outside intensifies.
Wind howls like something alive.
I wrap my arms around myself. “This storm feels like an omen.”
“It’s just weather,” he says but his hand brushes my shoulder as he passes, a ghost of a touch that lingers long after.
I turn toward him. “Ledger?”
“Yeah?”
“Can, can you sit with me?”
He stops completely.
Just stops.
Thunder rattles the windows.
He faces me slowly, eyes locked on mine. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. The air between us snaps tight like something alive.
He returns to the couch not cautiously, but deliberately and sits so close our hips touch this time. Not an accidental brush. Not a half-inch of space. Full contact with purpose. The warmth of him spreads through me. My heart pounds loud enough I swear he must hear it.
“Tell me what’s in your head,” he says quietly.
I swallow hard. “I’m trying to piece things together.”
“What things?”
“You,” I whisper.
His breath hitches. “What about me?”
“I keep getting flashes,” I say, closing my eyes. “More today than before. Moments with you. Your voice. Your laugh. Your hands. Your truck. Your bike. The bakery. You looking at me like I was,” I shake my head. “Important.”
He exhales sharply.
“You were,” he shares, “you are.”
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. “I don’t understand why all of that would disappear.”
“Head trauma,” he murmurs. “Time. Stress. Fear.”
“But everything I remember is warm,” I whisper. “Safe. Like I was happy.”
“You were,” he repeats.
“And you?” I ask carefully. “Were you happy?”
He goes still. So still that the storm outside feels like background noise. Finally, he speaks.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “But I didn’t realize how much until I threw it away.”
My throat tightens. “Why did you?”
“Because I didn’t think I deserved it,” he mutters. “Didn’t think I deserved you. Didn’t want to drag you into club shit. Into danger.”
Lightning flashes again.
The danger is here anyway.
“You didn’t drag me. I had a choice, Ledger. And I chose you.” I whisper. “Someone came for me because of you. Doesn’t that mean I was always part of your world? Even before this?”
He stares at me, breath shallow, as if he never considered that angle. Then, softly: “Maybe.”
I shift closer and lay my hand lightly on his knee.
The effect is immediate.
His muscles tense.
His breath stops.
His eyes lift to mine with a hunger that steals air from my lungs.
“Kelly,” he whispers, warning in his tone.
“I’m not confused,” I state, softer. “Not about this.”
“You don’t remember,” he says.
“But I feel,” I whisper. “I feel things I don’t understand. And every memory that’s come back so far? Every one of them has you in it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut like the weight of my words is too much.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs. “I did that once. I’m not doin’ it again.”
“You’re not hurting me.”
“I might,” he counters.
“Then show me,” I beg. “Show me what we were. Don’t tell me, show me.”
His eyes snap open.
“Kelly.”
My heart thunders.
“Show me,” I repeat, breath trembling. “Help me remember you.”
For a terrifying moment, I think he’s going to stand, walk away, shove down everything between us again.
But instead, he reaches up, hesitates for half a second— And then cups my cheek with both hands.
Gentle.
Intentional.
My breath catches.
Ledger leans in just enough that I feel the whisper of his breath against my lips. Not touching. Not kissing. Just close enough that my world narrows to the heat of him.
“Kelly,” he whispers, voice breaking, “if I touch you the way I want to I won’t stop.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
He groans low, raw, tortured and pulls me even closer.
But he doesn’t kiss me.
His forehead presses to mine, his hands sliding to cradle my jaw like I’m something he’s terrified of losing.
“Tell me what you feel right now,” he murmurs.
I swallow. “Warm.”
His thumbs stroke my cheeks.
“What else?”
“Safe,” I breathe.
He inhales sharply.
“And?” he pushes, voice rough.
I look into his eyes, and something inside me clicks into place a memory slamming into me so hard I gasp.
A doorway. Dim light. His arms around me. My hands gripping the front of his shirt. My voice whispering, Don’t fall in love with me.
And his answering whisper rough, painful, true, “Too late, sunshine.”
The memory hits like lightning.
My breath shatters.
His eyes widen. “What just happened?”
“I,” Tears blur my vision. “I remember.”
“What?” he demands.
“You,” I choke out. “Holding me. Kissing me. Me telling you not to fall in love and you,” I pause.
He’s frozen.
“You said it was too late,” I whisper.
Ledger looks like I just punched the air from his lungs. “You didn’t push me away. I begged you not to fall in love with me. Over and over, I put the wall up between us. Even though I had already fallen for you.”
For a full five seconds, he says nothing. Then he drags me into him, not gentle now, not hesitant, but desperate, arms wrapping around my back, pulling me into his chest like he’s reclaiming something that was stolen.
My breath leaves me in a rush.
He buries his face in my neck for one long, shuddering moment. I grip his shirt in both hands, anchoring myself to him. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are wet, jaw clenched hard.
“Kelly,” he whispers, “you remembered me.”
“Yes,” I breathe, cupping his cheek. “I did. I do.”
Lightning flashes again, illuminating his expression, this mix of relief, fear, hunger, and something deeper. Something I’m not ready to name but feel down to my bones.
Then his phone buzzes violently. The sound rips the moment apart.
Ledger stands instantly, every inch of him shifting from vulnerable man to lethal protector. “What?” he snaps into the phone. “Talk.”
Silence. Then a sharp curse.
He turns to me, eyes blazing.
“They’re close,” he explains. “Closer than before.”
My pulse leaps. “Here?”
“Close enough that we don’t stay here.”
He grabs my hand not roughly, but firmly and pulls me to my feet.
“Riot.”
“We’re movin’ again,” he growls. “Now.”
I grab my bag as thunder cracks overhead.
He pulls me toward the door.
Then stops.
Turns.
Cups my face again.
“Kelly,” he whispers, voice shaking, “you remembered me. Don’t lose that. Hold on to it.”
“I will,” I breathe. “I promise.”
He nods once then pulls me into the storm with him.
And right then, in the rain and darkness, with danger closing in from all sides…I realize something terrifying, it’s not just my memories returning.
It’s my feelings.
And they’re coming back for him.
Hard.
Fast.
All at once.