Chapter 61
Blaze
Iwasn’t supposed to stop.
That’s the first mistake.
I had a list.
A schedule.
A reason for being in town that had nothing to do with coffee or distractions.
And then I saw her.
Standing just outside the café.
Sunlight caught in her hair like it had been waiting for her.
Laughing—soft, real.
And just like that?
Everything went sideways.
Because I knew that laugh.
Or at least… I thought I did.
“Blaze?”
Trigger’s voice crackled through my earpiece.
“You still with us or did you get distracted by something shiny again?”
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
Because she turned.
And when she did—
Everything in my chest locked up.
“…no way,” I muttered.
Sixteen years.
And I’d know her anywhere.
Same eyes.
Same mouth.
Same habit of tucking her hair behind her ear when she was thinking.
“Blaze,” Trigger pushed. “Report.”
“I’ll call you back.”
“Wait—don’t—”
Too late.
I killed the comm and started walking.
She noticed me before I got there.
Smart.
Her body shifted—subtle, but ready. Aware.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Calm. Polite. Controlled.
I stopped a few feet away.
Just looked at her.
Because this wasn’t possible.
“Felicity?”
The name slipped out.
Her brows pulled together slightly.
“That’s me,” she said slowly. “Do I know you?”
That hit harder than it should have.
“You don’t recognize me?” I asked.
She studied me. Really looked.
Head tilted. Eyes narrowing just slightly—searching.
And then—
“No.”
Flat. Certain.
That wasn’t possible.
“You’re telling me you don’t remember me?”
Her arms crossed—not defensive. Just steady.
“I’m telling you I don’t,” she said. “And I think I’d remember someone who looks like you.”
Fair.
Didn’t change anything.
“You sat in the back row of Mr. Hanley’s class,” I said. “Always had your notebook out. You—”
I stopped.
Because now she was looking at me like I’d crossed a line.
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” she said carefully.
I shook my head.
“No. I don’t.”
She shifted slightly, studying me harder now.
“You just listed details about my high school,” she said slowly. “So yeah… I’m a little concerned.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “You should be.”
That didn’t help.
“At least you’re honest,” she said.
That pulled the faintest smirk out of me.
Didn’t expect that.
She’s not faking it.
That’s the problem.
If she were lying, I’d see it.
But she wasn’t.
She had no idea who I was.
Which meant one of two things—
Either I’d finally lost it…
Or something about this didn’t add up.
“You drink your coffee black,” I said.
She blinked. “What?”
“No sugar. No cream. You said anything else was a waste.”
Silence.
Then slowly—
She lifted the cup in her hand.
Black.
Her eyes sharpened now.
“How did you know that?”
Good question.
One I didn’t have an answer for anymore.
I should’ve left.
That would’ve been the smart move.
Instead—
I stayed.
Mistake number two.
She turned toward the café like we were done.
Like she hadn’t just flipped my past upside down.
“Wait.”
She paused. Looked back.
More cautious now.
Good.
“What’s your full name?” I asked.
“That’s a strange follow-up.”
“Still need it.”
She studied me for a second.
Then—
“Felicity Ward.”
That hit.
Because that wasn’t the name I remembered.
“Not what you expected?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then you’ve got the wrong person.”
“I don’t.”
And I didn’t hesitate.
That’s what got her.
“You ever go by another name?” I asked.
She laughed under her breath. “Wow. We’re really doing this?”
“Yeah.”
Her arms crossed tighter this time.
“No. I’ve always been Felicity Ward.”
Always.
That word stuck.
Because I knew what I remembered.
“Then you’ve got a twin,” I muttered.
“I don’t.”
“Then explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“This.” I gestured between us. “Because I know you.”
“No,” she said, firmer now. “You think you do.”
That landed.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
Not entirely.
She hesitated.
Should’ve walked away.
Didn’t.
Curiosity got her.
I could see it.
“You said high school,” she said. “What was your name again?”
“Hersh.”
She blinked. “That’s not common.”
“Didn’t think it was.”
She tilted her head slightly—
And there.
A flicker.
Not a memory.
But close.
“You remember,” I said.
Her eyes snapped to mine.
“No.”
Too fast.
Too automatic.
Yeah.
She felt it.
She just didn’t trust it.
I stepped back slightly.
Gave her space.
“Look,” I said. “Either I’m losing it… or something’s off.”
She huffed. “Those are not the only options.”
“They’re the only ones I’ve got.”
That almost made her smile.
Almost.
She studied me again.
“You’re not just asking random questions,” she said.
“No.”
“You’re looking for something.”
“Yeah.”
She exhaled.
“Then tell me what you think happened.”
I held her gaze.
Because now?
Now it mattered.
“Right now,” I said quietly, “it feels like you forgot me.”
Her chest rose slightly.
Subtle.
But I caught it.
“People don’t just forget someone like that,” she said.
I didn’t look away.
“Exactly.”