Chapter Sixteen #2
“I just didn’t know what to do. You know Harper loves kickboxing, Trent likes fixing up cars, and you like paddleboarding. I haven’t done anything like that. I realized I don’t even know what I enjoy doing anymore.”
Well that was an easy problem to fix. “So make a list of things you might wanna try, and speed-date them.”
Drea laughed as he intended. “Speed-date them?”
“Yeah. Each day off, pick a new activity on the list and go try it for the day, see if you like it. If not, you don’t go back. If you do, keep it on the list until you have gone through everything. Most places do intro sessions that are free.”
“Free is my favorite word right now,” Drea said. Color was coming back into her cheeks and this time her smile brightened her entire face.
“I guess you haven’t had much time for friends either, right?”
“Not really. I mean I see Harper regularly. And I spent time with Aunt Celine and Milo. And there’s you.” She looked up at him through long dark lashes.
Yeah, she had him. It was a given. Even if it sucked to share what little time she had available right now, she needed girlfriends.
“So why not invite one of them along with you, kill two birds with one stone.”
Drea scrunched her nose up. He’d never noticed her do that before. It was endearing.
“I don’t know, Brody, it seems a bit—”
Cujo changed his plan for the evening on the fly. “No. It doesn’t. Pick something.”
“What do you mean?” Drea reached for his hands, sliding her fingers between his and leaned her weight into him.
“Pick something. For you and me. What do you feel like trying?” Please don’t let it be something seriously stupid, like hooping or Zumba.
“What about rock climbing?” she said without missing a beat.
Of all the things he expected her to say, that wasn’t it. He would’ve put money on hot yoga. He loved climbing, and hoped she’d enjoy it, too.
“You said you climbed, right?” Drea slid off his lap and sat down next to him on the sofa.
“Yeah, I did.” The idea of her ass in Lycra and a safety harness was sending all kinds of tingling sensations to his jeans. “Hold on.”
Cujo pulled out his phone and called his favorite climbing center, booking them a two-hour session. He placed the phone down on the coffee table.
“Okay. Our slot starts in ninety minutes. It’s a twenty-minute drive, and we both need to change but fortunately I have my gym bag in the truck, so that kills another ten minutes.
Cujo moved his hand to the waistband of her jeans, sliding the tip of his fingers just under the denim.
Drea gasped and arched her back. The way she responded to him drove her crazy.
“Any ideas how we kill the remaining sixty?”
* * *
“You don’t have to do this you know. I was more than capable of getting myself to work before we hooked up.
” Drea ran her hand along Cujo’s thigh, feeling the thick muscles ripple.
She wondered if they were as sore as her own.
Two days after climbing, and Drea could barely make the steps into the truck.
Cujo’d been insistent about taking her to the hotel, but they needed to make a quick pit stop at the hospital en route.
They’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Between spending time with Cujo, two jobs, and reading additional files and reports that Gilliam kept sending her, there was no time to breathe. But it was good to be busy. Less time to sit and dwell.
“Hooking up? Is that what we’re doing?” Cujo turned to her with a grin.
“You know what I mean.” She slapped his thigh and pulled her hand away.
Cujo grabbed it and placed it back on his thigh. “Yeah. I do,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t mind taking you to work. I just need to drop this off with Mom first.”
Silently, Drea admired the change in Cujo’s response to his mother.
When he’d first mentioned her as they drove home from Mo’s in his truck, the bitterness in his voice had startled her.
Now they were reconciled, and while Drea was sure he wouldn’t admit it, there was a softening.
A hairline fracture in his shell. Perhaps because the loss of her own mom was so close to the surface, she hoped he found a way to connect with his.
The bag of magazines and books by her feet may have been bought by Connor, but Cujo agreed to drop them off.
Minutes later, they pulled into the hospital parking lot and hurried to the correct floor.
Cujo stopped as they approached the door. “This might be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but come in with me.”
“I’m not sure, Cujo. I think your mom has been through a lot. She needs family right now.” Drea imagined how she would feel in his mom’s shoes.
Cujo took her hand. “I get what you’re saying, but she doesn’t even know us. So it’s not like we are this great source of comfort to her. She’s been surrounded by men. Perhaps she might appreciate a female visitor. For, you know, whatever shit you guys actually talk about.”
Drea let out a laugh. “Whatever shit?”
“Is that a yes, sweet Drea?”
“You’re an idiot,” she said, unable to contain her laughter.
Cujo kissed her palm, making her feel all gooey inside, then guided her into his mom’s room.
“Hey, Evelyn,” he said walking ahead of her. “I brought some stuff from Connor.”
Drea took a moment to quickly straighten her hair and followed him into the sterile white room. “Evelyn, this is my girlfriend, Drea.”
From that moment on, for the rest of her life, she’d fiercely debate anyone who said it was impossible to survive once a heart stopped beating.
“Drea, this is my mom, Evelyn.”
Evelyn. Lynn. She knew that blonde hair, even though part of it was covered in white bandages.
Everything moved slowly. While she couldn’t hear what Evelyn was saying through the rush of blood in her head, her mouth was moving. Hello Drea, perhaps. Or pleased to meet you. Niceties Drea couldn’t comprehend as she absorbed the fact that Cujo’s mom was Lynn.
“Are you okay?” Cujo stood in front of her. He stooped slightly to make eye contact with her, and she could see the concern etched across his face. “You’ve gone really pale, Shortcake.”
“Get her a chair, Brody, she needs to put her head between her knees,” Evelyn instructed from the bed.
Within a fraction of a second, the back of her knees made contact with hard plastic, and Cujo’s hand pressed on her shoulder to make her sit.
Dropping her head between her knees, Drea tried to bring the world back into focus.
How in heaven’s name was she going to tell Cujo who Evelyn was?
How should they tell Evelyn? Her experience with amnesia was solely limited to watching the movie The Vow, but even she knew blurting out I know who you are wasn’t a great strategy.
This was the moment she’d dreamed of. Lynn was alive. She knew who she was. It was supposed to make her feel better, not like she’d been hit by Cujo’s truck.
“Should I call a nurse, Brody?” The sound of Evelyn’s voice broke through the buzzing in her ears. They definitely didn’t need more people in here. In fact, what she really needed was to get Cujo out.
“I’m fine, Evelyn.” The words came out breathlessly, as if she’d run a marathon. “I think I need some air.”
Cujo was crouched by her side, and she became aware of his hand slowly sliding up and down her back.
“Come on, Shortcake, let me help you.”
He took her elbow and helped her stand. Her legs wobbled a little as she righted herself.
Drea looked at Evelyn for a moment longer. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, but I promise we’ll be back.”
“I hope you feel better soon.”
Drea gripped Cujo’s arm as he led her away. “I’ve got you. Let’s get you outside.”
He steered her toward the double doors they’d come in through, but she tugged against him. “Cujo, stop.”
“You okay?” he asked, leading her over to a row of four plastic chairs by a window wall.
No, she wasn’t. And neither would he be when she told him what she knew. Drea shivered.
“Sit down, Cujo,” she said quietly, and he did immediately.
“Want to tell me what is going on?”
Drea grabbed both of his hands. They were warm and comforting, a contrast to her frigid fingers.
“Evelyn is Lynn. She’s the woman who came into the café.”
Cujo’s hands tightened around hers. “No, that can’t be right.”
“I’m sure, Brody. I spoke to her. I carry the photograph the police took from the security footage around with me. You need to see it.”
There’d never been any reason to show him the image. Drea pulled the photograph up on her phone and handed it to him.
Cujo shook his head as he studied it. He coughed gruffly and rubbed the side of his head. Her heart fractured into pieces as he she watched emotions flicker across his face. Anger, frustration, sadness, grief. His eyes filled with tears.
“We can’t be sure … it could be…” Cujo stood up and paced.
“Evelyn is the woman who came into my café. I’ve dreamt about her. We need to get hold of Don Hexley.”
* * *
Don. Who the fuck gave a shit about Lynn’s boss right now?
Snake had beaten his mother and left her for dead.
Which meant that while his mom had been through a harrowing ordeal, there was a chance she was embroiled in something that brought the assault about.
And if that was the case, she was still potentially in danger.
Christ, first Drea, now his mom. How the fuck was he supposed to keep the two of them safe?
He didn’t want to believe his mom was on the wrong side of the law, but what if she was? By calling the police, was he going to get her into more trouble? A wry laugh, partially born of panic, escaped. More trouble than what … nearly being killed by a hired fucking gun?
Focus. That’s what he needed. “I need to call Dad and my brothers. They need to know.” Cujo pulled out his phone and dialed.
“I’ll call Don,” Drea said, rummaging in her purse.