Chapter Nine Hollis
Chapter Nine
Hollis
The next morning, I half expected the fog in my head to lift when I woke up.
For my memories to return and my identity to come back if I could sleep through the night.
But there was nothing there. Just yesterday’s fragments and last night’s one and only dream, floating at the surface as the doctors performed a vitals check on me per big brother’s orders.
After getting the okay, I escaped into the shower—alone, because I refused to let anyone help me. And last night’s dream snuck back up on me, clinging to me like steam, curling into the corners of my thoughts even as the water rushed over my skin.
I kept my eyes closed, palm on the tile, and bowed my head, allowing the dream to unfold as if it were happening in real time.
Sunlight filtered through partially opened blinds. Comfy sheets. Coffee abandoned on the nightstand.
Jason Reed had been naked next to me. We’d been in a different bed than the one I’d slept in last night, and we’d just had sex. Too bad the sex part hadn’t happened in my dream.
But after we’d dressed, he made breakfast as our three children sat at the kitchen table, joking around. They looked to be about three and eight. The eldest was our son, and we had twin daughters.
The dream wasn’t just vivid—it seemed real. So real, in fact, it was like I’d lived it. Could even taste the bacon on my tongue. But Reed had said we weren’t together, and no way did I have kids. So maybe this was my brain’s weird way of trying to build something familiar out of the chaos.
I finally shut off the water and got out of the shower. I towel-dried in front of the massive vanity that a family could easily brush their teeth at. You know, that family I was still clinging to as the only “memory” I had—one that was just a figment of my imagination.
Steam covered the glass, which meant I’d been in the shower too long. I wiped my pruny fingers across the glass, finding that same green-eyed memory-less stranger watching me.
She looked like me, but she still didn’t feel like me. I caught sight of a bruise on my chest, which explained why it’d been sensitive to the touch yesterday. No clue how I got it, of course.
“You’re in there somewhere, aren’t you?” Great, now I was talking to myself. Well, to the self I was supposed to be. Celeste. Hollis. I’d take either of them right now. I didn’t care. I just couldn’t handle being so empty on the inside.
Unable to continue a confrontation with these black hole eyes of mine, I stared down at the marble as if fixating there would do any good. All that did was take me back to that dream, and a pulse of heat rolled through me.
The dream hadn’t even been erotic. More sweet and safe than sexy. But there I was now, wanting to add in details that hadn’t been there while I’d slept. To actually experience what it was like to have him make love to me.
Would his mouth drop between my thighs? How would the weight of his body over mine feel? Would it be raw and unfiltered, or soft and slow?
And am I that lonely and scared that I’m standing here creating a false reality to feel grounded and connected to someone who doesn’t even like me? Probably.
Palms on the counter, I tried to tether myself to this world and not to the fantasy one.
I was growing exhausted with this physical and emotional war happening inside me, and it was only day two of this.
“You alive in there?” my mother called out while knocking, and that was one way to greet me, I supposed.
I’d only spent a handful of minutes with her yesterday, same with my father. This all had to be too hard for them to handle, even if we were apparently a family of badasses.
“I’m alive,” I confirmed. “Be right out.”
I dropped the towel and put on the full-body robe while mentally preparing myself to talk to the woman who raised me.
When I joined her, my mother—and it just dawned on me I didn’t even know her first name—was in the middle of drawing open the drapes for one of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the bedroom.
“I can’t imagine you’ll want to be cooped up here too long. You’ve always hated this bloody place, and I can’t say I blame you. Bad memories.”
Unlike my siblings, she still had an English accent. Same with our father. Though I had no idea about Tristan. Where was he raised, and who took care of him?
“I have clothes in the closet for you to wear—not sure if your brothers brought any of your things with them. This is normally my bedroom when I visit.”
She crossed the room to the other side and began opening the curtains at the front to let in more light. I hung back by the bed, just watching her, waiting for her to face me.
When she was done, she slowly turned, swiping her fingers across her lips before subtly clearing her throat and starting for me.
She had dark hair like mine, but it only met her shoulders. Hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a killer jawline. She was in a black sleeveless jumpsuit, showing off sleek and toned arms. The woman looked like a runway model, not a grandmother to my three kids.
No, I don’t have kids. Rewind. That was a dream. Maybe even a strange amnesia fantasy, or a movie memory. Not reality. I needed to do some research on my situation so I’d know what to expect between now and whenever my memories returned.
“Age really is just a number when it comes to you, huh?” I spoke my thoughts out loud, which had her giving me a no-teeth smile. “Lady . . . ?” I waited for her to fill in the blanks for me.
“Duchess Catalina. Aleric is your father, the Duke of Rothvale.”
My father’s a duke? What in the Bridgerton? And why’d I know that show but not recognize her touch when she held my wrists?
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Her voice was stiff, the emotion seemingly forced. “I didn’t tell you that yesterday, but of course I am.” As quickly as she’d grabbed me, she let go, like that was that, conversation over.
I had no idea what to talk about, so I searched for the first thing to come to mind. My hand skated around to the small of my back, which reminded me: “Do you and my father have a tracker as well?”
“Of course.” She adjusted her necklace, her eyes sweeping to the oval-shaped diamond. Quite the upgrade from the chain I had on. “But I’m sure Julian explained we’re all masking our signals currently as a precautionary measure.”
“And you’re also in the same line of work I’m apparently in, right? A spy. Warrior. Whatever we’re called?”
“Yes, just as my mother was. And her mother. Your father and his. Our families were united to merge two powerful bloodlines. The Wyndham d’Aragons and the Averys.” She rested her hand on her chest atop the pendant. “I’m an Avery. I’m an only child, unlike your father.”
“Do we also own businesses or something?” I thought back to the T-shirt I’d been wearing yesterday with that name on it like a logo.
“We do.” She didn’t elaborate, and so I didn’t bother pressing. I’d find out eventually—or even better, actually remember my past.
“Any more questions?” She smiled, and it was as forced and fake as that hate thing Reed and I allegedly had going on.
Gideon had said not to bring up Tristan yesterday so he could talk to our parents first, but I assumed I was in the clear to do it today. Tristan was also the only other important topic on my mind at the moment. “My half brother, tell me more about him.”
She immediately checked the camera in the room—no blinking light. She began fiddling with her bracelets and revealed, “He’s my firstborn child. A by-product of an operation. I did what I had to for the sake of the country, and your father understood. I did not have an affair.”
By-product? The sake of . . . What? And which country?
“I also don’t believe Tristan had anything to do with what happened to you, and we will get ahold of him soon so he can clear his name.”
“So you’re not in the least worried he’s in danger, or that he was taken along with me?” Before she could answer, I pressed, “And for that matter, why in the world is he on the suspect list to begin with, since he’s my brother?”
No one had explained that to me, and it was clear Delta Shield had to be careful what they said to me because of my brothers.
A knock on the door saved her from having to continue, and she was quick to take that reprieve, lightly calling out, “Come in.”
I fidgeted with the belt of my robe while waiting to see who it was. Gideon and Julian, of course.
Gideon looked like he was about to dominate a board meeting in a three-piece suit.
As for Julian, I’d expected him to resemble the kind of hackers I recalled from shows and movies, but he ruined that stereotype in his dark-wash jeans and black tee beneath an open black button-down shirt paired with what looked like designer sneakers.
Julian’s sleeves were rolled to his elbows, so when he brushed a strand of his longish hair away from his forehead, I caught sight of the crest tattoo we all shared. “How’d you sleep? How do you feel?”
I skipped over sharing the details of my one and only dream and surrendered a small, “Okay,” as an answer to both of Julian’s questions.
I mindlessly walked to the back of the room to look out the window, not up for eye contact with either brother at the moment. I set my hand on the windowpane, my stomach flipping in response to who was walking up to the house.
Reed was talking to his teammate, and he must have sensed he had eyes on him, because he jerked his head up toward the second floor and stared right at me.
Trevor noticed me next and waved, then nudged Reed in the side as if to get a move on.
“Celeste?” At my mother’s use of that name, I slowly peeled away from the object of my strange affection and turned to face her and my brothers, who remained quietly hovering by the door, watching me.
“Where’d Reed and his teammates sleep?” I looked to Gideon for an answer, but when he remained quiet, I shifted to my mother. To staring down the woman I’d surely have become one day, or maybe already was, if my memories hadn’t been stolen.
“The men are staying in the bunkhouse where the stablehands used to sleep when we kept horses here.” Before I could ask her why, she plucked an answer from her ice-cold universe and delivered it to me with quite the punch, so much so her words sent me to the bed to sit. “They’re not one of us.”
“Just because they don’t share our laundry list of names doesn’t mean—”
“It does, in fact, mean they’re outsiders.” She doubled down on her tone, then hit me with some major side-eye, as if saying, How dare you think otherwise.
I clearly inherited her spine of steel, refusing to back down. “Well, I feel more connected with the men out there than I do with you three. And why, pray tell, do you think that is?”
She didn’t seem amused at my attempt to throw Old English back at her.
The sneer haunting her lips was as hurtful as the look in her eyes.
“You have a weakness, my daughter, and that’s wanting what you can’t have.
” She leaned forward and had the nerve to cup my chin like I was a small child in trouble.
“I blame your father for that. Treating both his daughters like priceless artifacts, giving you two whatever you want, not always what you deserve.”
My insides shook, insulted by a woman I didn’t even know. Something told me our relationship had always been superficial and rarely more than skin deep.
“That’s enough, Mother.” That was the first time I’d appreciated the sound of contempt from Gideon’s voice. “She’s—”
“This is her fault, and we all know that. Don’t make excuses for her. She’s always chasing after some new thing, wanting what she can’t have, and once she finds what she’s looking for . . . she gets bored.”
Well, when you put it that way. Damn. I wouldn’t like me, either.
“We don’t know what happened to her, but this is not helping.” Gideon to my defense, again.
She stared at me, unblinking, continuing to hold on to me, and I hated that I remained stuck in some stupor, not fighting back.
“So help me, I won’t set a hand on you, but if you don’t back away from her, Hollis will remember who she is, and you know damn well the daughter you raised. She hasn’t lost to you in a decade.” Gideon’s threat lingered in the air—but what in the world was he talking about?
“My daughter’s name is Celeste, not Hollis.
” She gave me a firm squeeze and let go.
“And calling yourself that name, playing pretend as some normal girl with your friend Audrey”—she smoothed a hand over her bracelets, righting them in place—“just proves my point. You only want that life because it doesn’t belong to you. It’s beneath you.”
Beneath me? Rage burned up into the back of my throat. Who was my real enemy here?
She flicked at the last bangle. “You only want that soldier out there because he’s not interested in you—isn’t that right, Gideon?
He said that man can’t stand you, which is one reason Gideon’s not comfortable with Reed sharing a roof with you.
” She casually lifted a shoulder. “At least Reed has some good sense, knowing he could never be—”
“Stop,” I cut in this time, my stomach turning with disgust. “You can talk shit about me if you want, but leave everyone else out of it.” I abruptly rose, standing my ground, as I should have done a few insults ago.
“Don’t listen to her.” Julian circumvented both obstacles in his way to get to me. “She’s trying to bait you. Get you to fight. See if you’ll snap back to yourself that way.”
Well, she did have me up on my feet, hands balled into fists at my sides. The fighter in me was awake. My memories? Not so much.
“You two spar. Fence. Train together. And as Gideon said, you haven’t lost a fight to her in ten or more years, and it’s destroying Mum to see you so—”
“Weak,” she interjected, hitting me right where it already hurt.
I may have been a shell of a person, just the ghost of who I once was, but something told me she believed what she’d said about me.
“I already know Jason . . . um, Reed, doesn’t like me. He told me last night.” I didn’t need to tell them how I found that out, though. “He was honest with me from the get-go.” As for the other stuff she said about wanting what I couldn’t have? I had no defense without any memories to fall back on.
“And you still trust him?” Julian asked me.
“I do,” I whispered, then zeroed in on the woman who’d apparently picked a fight with me in the hope that I’d wake up from this nightmare.
“You win this round,” I surrendered. “As for the next one?” A light grunt left my barely parted lips.
“You better hope I stay living in the dark for as long as possible, because I’m guessing the real me won’t forget or forgive you for this. ”
She flicked her wrist like a command toward Julian. “When you three are done here, take her to the vault. Remind my daughter who she is.” She glared at me. “Until then . . . I’ll go clean up whatever mess I’m sure you got our family in.”