CHAPTER 15 #2
He doesn’t seem to hear me. So I move closer, placing a hand on his arm.
When he comes out of it, he shakes his head.
The way he looks at me when his eyes finally open…
melts me on the spot. He’s scanning my face, my features, and then my eyes intently.
His gaze falls to my lips. Heat travels down my body.
“Yeah,” he whispers gruffly. “Just another feather.”
“A what?”
“Feather.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m getting more of them lately.”
I shake my head in confusion. My hand drops. His large hand catches my arm, holding it gently. Questions linger in his face, and his blue eyes look at me with the kind of knowledge that, not gonna lie, scares me.
“You’re afraid of cats.”
“What?” I search his face.
This time, it comes out more as a question. “Are you afraid of cats?”
Shit!
Deflect. Lie.
Shrugging, I say, “Normally, no. But that one looked feral.” I don’t have to fake the creeped-out shiver that runs over me.
“Your pulse is going crazy right now.” Not sure how or when his hand circled my wrist, but his thumb is over my pulse.
I pull away.
“I’ve had some bad experiences in dark parking lots in the past.” Which isn’t a lie.
I move away, open my door, and toss my purse onto the passenger seat. When I turn back, I sound exasperated. “Look, I’m not weak. I can handle myself. I’m used to this.” I motion to the club and the parking lot. “But, you know, sometimes, something like that takes me back. PTSD, you know?”
“Someone attacked you?” He seems taken aback by this.
I nod. “Yeah, and I’ve worked through it. Mostly, I’m fine. It’s just shit like that, and I have a moment. That’s all.”
He looks off to the side, lips pressing together.
When his gaze reconnects with mine, he says, “I’m sorry.
” The words are hoarse, and I hear the apology in his tone.
He runs his hand over his mouth, the other through his long hair.
“It’s just… a lot of people lie, Lily. And because my memory’s fucked, I don’t have space for people in my life who can’t tell it to me straight. It’s a deal-breaker for me.”
I rush to say, “I’m not—”
He holds up his hand, cutting me off gently but firmly. “I just wanted to explain why I questioned you. The way you reacted… it triggered something. A memory.” His words hang in the air between us, thick with an unspoken weight.
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
His lips twist, not into a smile but something troubling and bitter.
“I used to think it was a good thing. But the pain that comes with each memory—I’m not so sure anymore.
” His voice drops lower, almost resigned.
“I get these flashes. Snippets of memories that help fill in the gaps of time I don’t remember, but piecing them together is another matter. ”
His words twist inside me. I want to reach for something, anything, to ground myself.
But all I feel is the cold night air and the creeping chill of uncertainty.
The truth slowly trickles in, and I rush to say, “Don’t remember?
What do you mean?” It comes out uneven, because I’m afraid of the answer.
“It’s not like in those TV shows,” he says, his voice gravelly with exhaustion. “My doctors call it traumatic amnesia. Or, more accurately, dissociative amnesia. Courtesy of my last tour. It didn’t wipe my slate clean, but it did punch holes through it.”
“Wait… what? Like for real?”
He nods, and the expression covering his features is filled with utter honesty. The reality of the situation sinks in slowly as I realize what it means.
He. Doesn’t. Remember.
He doesn’t fucking remember me.
Holy shit!
“How? What happened?”
“Our Humvee hit a roadside bomb. We were ragdolls inside, and I ended up with massive head trauma. But I’m lucky.
I got out alive. Some of my team—men I fucking cared about—didn’t get that chance.
Still, parts of me, parts of my life after that day, are just gone.
And not all new memories stick around. Some fall into what I think of as a black pit inside my head and get swallowed up.
On good days, some memories come back. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Things just get lost and found.”
The word amnesia bounces around inside my mind like a loose wrecking ball.
My thoughts ping until I can pull together all the details I’ve missed that could have explained so much.
As they tie together, my stomach twists into knots.
I can’t even voice it out loud. It feels absurd, like something that can’t be real, and yet, according to Finn, it is.
He watches me closely, his dark-blue eyes searching mine, waiting to see how I react.
I don’t know how to react or what to say.
What to feel.
There are too many thoughts and emotions rioting for attention inside my head and my heart. I turn away on shaking legs. A vice grips my chest in a stranglehold. The telltale signs of a panic attack. I press my fist to my chest, trying to push back the sharp ache building there.
He didn’t choose to leave. He didn’t just disappear. He…
Oh my god.
Sucking in a long breath, I count to three and then let it out in a long exhale. Suck in another and hold for five. Breathe , Lily. Just breathe.
I repeat this mantra a few times until Finn draws near.
“Lily, what’s wrong?”
I scarcely manage to get the words out. “I’m okay. Just need a minute.”
He stays by my side. His hand is on the small of my back. It somehow staves off the panic and centers me.
Finn watches me intently. There’s some distance in his gaze. He seems almost wounded by my reaction. And I realize he’s waiting. Waiting to see how this truth lands. If it changes anything.
“I knew… knew something was wrong,” I say, cautiously.
“But I didn’t—” My words don’t seem like enough.
Don’t cover the enormity of how messed up this all is, and they don’t say what it is I want to say.
“No one explained. I didn’t know… so I just let it go.
It doesn’t bother me. I don’t want to throw pity at you, because that’s probably the last thing you want.
There’s empathy, though, for what you’ve been through.
” I very nearly say, “All these years… I thought you abandoned me.” But the words don’t come, and he doesn’t ask. He waits.
And I hate that, after all this time, a part of me still feels that dangerous flicker of hope. Am I a memory he’s lost? I mean, is that the reason he never came back or made contact? Is there even the slightest chance he’s retained some of our past and thought about me? Missed me, even?
“Does it bother you?”
My eyes widen. “Bother me?”
The way he’s watching me makes me feel like he’s cataloguing every nuance of my facial expression. “Or worry you, maybe?” He says gruffly.
I squint, trying to understand his meaning. “What?”
“Are you worried about your job security because your boss doesn’t have his shit together? Or …” he trails off, not voicing what he was going to say next, though I can see how intensely interested he is in my opinion.
That is the last goddamn thing on my mind. Holy hell. No digging for dirty details—he just opened up and told me everything I’ve been dying to know for years.
“No, absolutely not. How could you think that?”
“Then why are you so upset?”
I throw my hands up. “Who wouldn’t be?
“Then what are you doing?” My voice pitches on the last word, my nervous excitement obvious.
I back up a step and lean against my car.
He follows my retreat. He flashes between the man he used to be and who he is now.
I see both versions as I stare up at him.
It’s like watching two people exist in one body.
He’s the same, yet so different. More confident.
More bold. And undeniably just as tempting.
Even thinking it makes me feel like I’m the one who’s a little mentally unstable right now.
His ability to reel me in like this is alarming.
“Just considering some… things. One of them being how to navigate this while not crossing any lines. At least until you know me better, and I get the chance to see who you really are.”
When he moves even closer, I place my hand on his chest to stop him. He picks it up, bringing my fingers to his mouth, and places a barely-there kiss on my knuckles. His eyes never, not for one second, leave mine.
“Such a gentleman.”
“For you, maybe I will be.”
Breathlessly, I say, “Just for me?”
“Mmmm… I guess time will tell.” His smirk stretches, the lines around his mouth bracketing as his smile deepens.
“But don’t for one second think that part of me doesn’t want to say fuck it and break the rules.
Ask you to kick Stone to the curb. Shit like that.
Not the acts of a rational man who’s usually front and center, but the one who rises to the surface when you step into a room. ”
For a solid minute, I consider my response. Because damn. And yep, I know exactly what he means. The smart girl I’ve had to become wants to turn and walk away. This other part of me, the one I’ve stashed away that he brings to the surface when near, wants to give in completely and come out to play.
As long as he keeps his distance, I have control. But I swear to God, if he comes any closer to me, my resolve will begin to fray.
Because he’s him. Gorgeous eyes, his slanted dark eyebrows, and that plumper top lip. He has that damn smirk I love so much, and even his aged wrinkles are getting to me. Don’t even get me started on the waves of his silver hair and the way my hands ache to run through it.
I’ve imagined it nearly as often as I’ve imagined kissing the hell out of his mouth. And fucking him so well that he’ll never recover from the memory of it.
Payback for the memories he left me with.
The heat in his gaze has the she-devil inside of me waking.
She’s a hungry, needy creature who has gone without sex for way too long.
Now she’s cracking open one eye, licking her lips, and turning my every thought into something more lurid and inappropriate.
Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. In the best of ways.
Sexy fantasies pinwheel inside my head, each one begging to be fully fleshed out in bright, unbridled color.
Me, gripping his hair, clutching it as he goes down on me as if he’s longed for nothing else.
It’s quickly followed by me riding his cock like I’m going for gold in the goddamn rodeo finals, giving him all the pleasure I’m capable of and taking the years of pleasure I’ve missed out on.
My fingers twitch with the need to reach for him. I curl my hands into fists and let my nails sink deep into my palms. I use the pain to stave off the desperation clawing through me.
Because giving in before I think this through means I could once again become nothing more than a weak girl seeking his attention every dawning day.
I’m so tempted, but all the reasons I came here war with this want for him.
The truth of what I’m here to do—what I’ve committed to—is ultimately what drags me back to reality. A reality that’s cold and sobering.
I think of Lacy and the debt I owe Deeds.
It helps.
There are things I need to do here for the GBs—payback to be delivered to Veno and his crew.
But my decision to walk back into New Mexico and face my past was because I couldn’t let go of Finn without knowing why he disappeared on me.
I had to know if there was a minuscule chance that I’d gotten it all wrong.
Eventually, I say, “But us getting involved is a really bad idea, right? With everything that just went down with your last employees. And I’m not in the best place right now to start a relationship, especially not with my new boss.”
He nods. “Yeah, not at the moment. I’d rather not be a hypocrite. That’s exactly how everyone would see this.” He motions between us. We stare at each other as inevitability and regret fill the air.
The finality of this conversation is apparent, but we linger as if we’re both wondering if this chemistry will ever reach its true destination—the one we see in each other’s eyes.
I force myself to say what I should. What will douse this spark like a bucket of cold water.
“So we agree. This has ‘bad idea’ written all over it. We keep it like we agreed… professional. I already have enough drama going on in my life right now with my brother. I don’t need to add to it.
I need simple and easy right now. And I think we both know this would be anything but. ”
He looks away, a scowl transforming his face. He nods a few times and slaps his hand on the top of my car. “Yeah, wrong time, wrong place. Bad circumstances. Plus, with the memory loss, it’s not always easy to deal with. I get it.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe not, but I saw you shut down. Saw you talk yourself fully outta this. So we can drop it.”
He motions for me to get into the car. When I do, he places his hand on the door frame. He gives me another forced smile before saying, “Drive safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He closes it, and I’m left reeling as he walks away.
A moment later, his bike fires up, and he walks it forward. Then he waits. I curse his name as I start my car because there’s this hollow pit in my stomach opening and flooding me with the worst feeling imaginable.
I want to take back what I said. But I also know it was the smartest decision to make. I can’t do what I need to do while also diving into something with Finn.
However, inside, it feels like it was a huge fucking mistake.
He gestures for me to leave before him. I do. Then he revs his motor and takes off in the opposite direction.
Every single part of me screams… this is wrong. But I don’t turn back.
On the drive home, as I gun it down the two-lane road, my mind runs a million miles an hour. Getting back to my hotel room so I can go through Finn’s file is a need, not a want, at this point.
It’s an invasion of his privacy. I know that.
And yeah, it feels fucking wrong. But the desperation to know everything —right now—is louder than my conscience.
That old fear, the one that’s lived inside me for years and kept me frozen when it comes to him, is starting to shift.
There’s a spark of hope in my chest. And it’s burning through the paralysis.
I’m afraid of what I’ll find. Of what it might mean. Of how it could rewrite my perceptions of who we were, and why he left me. And that’s the part I don’t think I’m ready for.
Because I’m still here to do a job, that hasn’t changed.
But what if he’s not okay—never was?
If so… what the fuck does that make me?
The villain in this story?