Chapter One
One Month Later
Elliott
The late afternoon sun is a scorned witch on days like these.
Cruel and brutal, with some kind of vendetta against the world—against me, it seems. She begins her days with deceptive gentleness, but as the hours wear on, she drops the pretense.
Her glare cuts through the clouds and burns away any semblance of softness.
I must’ve been crazy to come out fishing, knowing how hot it was going to be. Just like yesterday and the day before that, and yet, I showed up. Maybe I’m addicted—a man too far gone to stay away from the ocean, even when she punishes him for it.
I run a cool towel over my face as I watch the water and the long shadows the sun casts across it.
The water shimmers with a faint golden hue as I cast my line, the gentle rocking of the boat lulling me like the embrace of a lover.
The only sounds out this late are the occasional call of a distant bird and the soft lapping of water against the hull.
I’ve been at it for hours, fishing and baking in the sun. I ought to leave before I’m burned to a fucking crisp.
“Just one more,” I say to the water, running my hand smoothly over the surface. “One more catch, then I’ll leave.”
As though hearing my promise, a sharp tug on the line jolts me, and my heart leaps as I grab the pole, the tip bent nearly double.
“Here we go,” I grunt, scrambling to my feet, getting ready to reel in.
The line sings as it cuts through the water, a high-pitched whine that fills the air.
I reel it in carefully, and the shimmering form of a large bass breaks the surface.
A beauty—a big one, too. I unhook it, admire its iridescent scales for half a second, then prepare it for the cooler.
I grab the towel again and drag it over my sweaty brow before turning to pack my gear.
I’ve caught all the fish I’m going to catch today, and I’m not spending another moment in this goddamned heat!
My mind is on a cold beer as I pack up. Hell, I can already feel it cooling my throat, a perfect way to end the day.
“I guess this is it for today,” I say, amused, and glance back at the water—
That’s when I see it. A strange shape just off the stern. My eyes squint against the harsh sun as I try to make it out. It’s too small to be a log and too dark to be a shadow. It’s moving—weakly, but moving just beneath the surface. A shiver runs down my spine as my eyes narrow on it.
Jesus fucking Christ, that’s a person!
I see the hand first—a flash of pale fingers breaking the surface—and I don’t think.
I toss the towel aside, kick off my rubber boots, and go over the side.
The cool water hits me like a physical blow, stealing my breath for a moment, but I recover fast and kick hard.
I don’t stop to look if I’m going the right direction, I know I am.
These waters are my second home, and I know them the way I know the lines of my own deck.
Up close, she’s worse than I thought. She’s still breathing, still fighting, but barely—her head lolling against the swell, her body doing the bare minimum to keep itself above the waterline. The life jacket is doing most of the work. She’s not doing much of anything anymore.
“I’ve got you,” I say, though I doubt she can hear me. “I’ve got you.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her against me, kicking back toward my boat.
She’s slight—hardly anything to her—but the ocean doesn’t care about that, and by the time I get us back to the hull, my arms are burning.
I grip the ladder with one hand and hold her to me with the other, and getting her up and over the side is an ugly, graceless thing that I’ll think about later. Right now, I just need her on the deck.
She lands against me when I haul myself up after her, and I catch her before she can go anywhere.
Her eyes are open—that’s the first thing I register.
Blue, the most stunning blue I’ve ever seen, and wide with a fear that cuts right through me.
She’s shaking hard, lips the color of sea ice, but she’s here. She’s breathing.
I get her life jacket off and a cough tears through her—violent, full-body—and I turn her to her side and let her work through it, one hand braced on her back.
She coughs until her whole frame shakes with it, until the seawater is gone and all that’s left is the sound of her gasping for air like she’s only just remembered how.
I keep my hand on her back and don’t say a word until the worst of it passes.
“There you go,” I rasp, when her breathing starts to even out. “That’s it. You’re alright.”
She isn’t alright, not really—she’s pale and shaking, and her eyes have gone glassy with shock—but she’s alive, and right now that’s the only thing that matters.
When I shift to get a better look at her, she makes a small, frightened sound, and before I can say anything, her hands have found the front of my shirt, and she’s holding on with what little strength she has left.
My chest does something I don’t have a name for.
“You’re okay,” I tell her, covering her hands with one of mine. “I’ve got you. You’re safe..”
She doesn’t speak. I’m not sure she can.
Her eyes fill and spill over, tears tracking silently down cheeks that are still white as chalk, and I don’t push her.
I grab the blanket I keep stowed under the bench and wrap it around her shoulders, tucking it close, and she burrows into it with the instinct of someone who has used up every last reserve they had.
Christ, she looks young. Early twenties, maybe, but no more than that. Young and fragile and terrified, and something about that pulls at a part of me I didn’t know still worked.
I stay with her until the shaking slows. Then I reach out and push a soaked strand of hair back from her face so I can get a proper look at her. “What’s your name?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “Can you tell me where you came from?”
Her brow creases. Something moves behind those blue eyes—confusion, or the effort of reaching for something that isn’t there. Her lips part, but nothing comes out. When those eyes start to fill up again, I shake my head.
“Alright, no more questions.” I squeeze her hand once. “Let’s get you to shore, okay?”
She doesn’t speak on the ride in. She sits wrapped in the blanket with her knees drawn up, watching the water with an expression I can’t read, and I find myself watching her more than I watch where I’m going.
When we reach the dock, I help her down, and she sways once, enough to make me put my arm around her to steady her.
While she finds her footing I reach into the cab of my truck and pull out the T-shirt I keep behind the seat, dragging it over my head before I get her settled in the passenger side.
She’s still wrapped in the blanket, her wet clothes clinging underneath it, and I crank the heat despite the summer air.
I’ve already made the decision—not to drop her at the station and let the system take over, not to hand her to someone else and go back to my morning. I pull my truck around, help her into the passenger seat, and drive her to the hospital myself.
I tell myself it’s the practical thing to do.
I’m not entirely sure I believe it.
They take her back almost immediately. A nurse appears with a dry gown, and I wait outside the curtain while Chloe changes out of her wet clothes, listening to the small sounds of someone moving slowly and carefully, still unsteady.
When the nurse pulls back the curtain, she begins taking her vitals just before a doctor rushes in.
Do you know your name?
Do you remember what happened?
How old are you?
Where does it hurt?
She shakes her head to all the questions but the last. “My throat,” she says hoarsely, peering at the nurse. “And my chest too.”
The doctor nods, unsurprised. “Swallowing ocean water will do that. We’ll get some fluids into you and run a few checks.”
“Alright, I’ll go wait outside and give you guys some privacy,” I say, hoping to give room to the medical staff but at my words, the girl jumps, eyes wide with panic as she scrambles off the bed. She’s steadier than she was on the boat, but not by much..
“No!” Her voice cracks. She grabs for my arm, fingers pressing into my skin. “Don’t leave me, please.”
The nurse’s eyes widen at the girl’s words, her eyes sliding to me as if wondering what hold I have over her. “Miss, you need to get back in bed so we can—”
“Don’t go.” She ignores the nurse behind her. “Please.”
I look at the doctor over her head. He gives me a small nod—stay.
There are tears, and I’m helpless to those so I find myself nodding.
“Let them take a look at you. I’m not going anywhere.
” I help her back to the bed, and that’s when I notice it—the thin golden chain at her throat.
I slide a finger under it and read the inscription aloud. “Chloe. Is that your name?”
“I…I don’t know.”
The doctor checks her over—pupils, lymph nodes, a gentle press along her skull. “No head wounds that I can feel. We’ll do a CT scan to rule out anything internal. It isn’t unusual for someone who’s had a scare like this to have gaps in their memory. We’ll know more shortly.”
“Don’t leave,” she says, tugging at my hand. “Please.”
“I’m not,” I assure her, using the hand she’s not squeezing the life out of to pat her shoulder. “I’ll stay. Now, let them help you.”
She releases my hand but keeps those blue eyes on me, tracking my every step as I move aside to give the doctor room.
I stay for the blood draw, the chest x-ray, and the CT scan.
It takes hours before the doctor finally assures us that she’s fine.
They didn’t find any fluids in her lungs or trauma to the head.
“You are incredibly lucky to come out of this with just a case of mild dehydration and some throat irritation,” he tells her. “We’ll give you some fluids to get your electrolytes up and monitor you overnight—”
“No.” The word is immediate, quiet, and utterly firm. “I don’t want to stay here. Please don’t leave me here.”
“This is one of the most secure places on Eden Cove. We’ll notify the police, and the nurses will check on you every—”
“No!” She shakes her head fiercely at the doctor’s words, but her eyes stay locked on me. Then, more carefully, “Is there someone looking for me? You said you’d call the police.”
“We’re required to file a report,” the doctor says, not unkindly. “A young woman found in the water with no memory—that’s exactly the kind of thing the police need to know about. Someone may be looking for you.”
Something flickers in her expression. Just for a moment. “And if no one is?”
The doctor opens his mouth, and I watch her eyes move back to me.
“You said I was okay.” Her voice shifts—softer now, and I can’t tell if it’s calculated or desperate. “You said that all I need are fluids. I’d rather go somewhere I feel safe.”
Damn, those blue eyes, full of pleading.
I see the doctor wavering in his decision, and even before he speaks, I can tell he’s been persuaded. “You need to finish your IV drip first, then…” He turns to me, question in his eyes, and I wonder what he wants me to say.
I could name ten reasons why this is a terrible idea. She’s a stranger. She’s young. She’s clearly not in a state to be making decisions. I open my mouth to say just that, but something else comes out.
“I’ll take her home with me.” Fuck. “Until she remembers.”