Chapter 62
Blaze
Ishould leave.
That’s the smart move. The disciplined move.
Instead, I stay.
She turns like the conversation is over, like she didn’t just knock my entire past sideways, and heads for the café door.
Yeah… not happening.
“Wait.”
She pauses, then slowly turns back.
There’s a shift in her now. More cautious. More aware.
Good.
I step closer—not crowding her, but not backing off either.
“What’s your full name?”
Her brows lift slightly. “That’s a strange follow-up.”
“Still need it.”
She studies me like she’s deciding if I’m worth the answer—or if I’m about to become a problem.
“Felicity Ward.”
That hits harder than it should.
Because that’s not the name I remember.
“Not what you expected?” she asks.
“No.”
“Then you definitely have the wrong person.”
“I don’t.”
I don’t hesitate. Don’t soften it.
That’s what throws her.
“You ever go by another name?” I ask.
She lets out a short breath, almost a laugh. “Wow. We’re really doing this, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Her arms cross, more defensive now. “No. I’ve always been Felicity Ward.”
Always.
That word sticks.
Because I know what I remember.
“And you didn’t transfer schools? Move?” I press.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Then you’ve got a twin.”
That earns me a look. “I don’t.”
“Then explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“This.” I gesture between us. “Because I know you.”
“No,” she says, firmer now. “You think you do.”
That lands.
Because she’s not wrong.
Not completely.
She shifts her weight, clearly debating whether to walk away.
She should.
Instead, she stays.
Curiosity.
Yeah… that’s going to get her in trouble.
“You said high school,” she says. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Hersh.”
She blinks. “That’s not common.”
“Didn’t think it was.”
She tilts her head slightly, studying me now, really looking.
And there it is again.
That flicker.
Not a memory.
But something close.
“You remember,” I say.
Her eyes snap to mine. “No.”
Too fast.
Too automatic.
Yeah. She felt it.
She just doesn’t trust it.
“I think you’re projecting,” she says, but there’s less certainty behind it now.
I take a step back, giving her space.
“Look,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Either I’m losing it… or something’s off.”
She exhales. “Those are not the only two options.”
“They’re the only ones I’ve got.”
That almost gets a smile out of her.
Almost.
She studies me again, slower this time.
“You’re not just asking random questions,” she says.
“No.”
“You’re looking for something specific.”
“Yeah.”
She nods once, like she’s coming to a decision.
“Then maybe you should tell me what you think happened.”
I hold her gaze.
Because now it matters.
“Right now?” I say quietly.
Her pulse ticks in her throat. I see it.
“Yeah?”
“It feels like you forgot me.”
She stiffens just slightly.
“People don’t just forget someone like that,” she says.
I don’t look away.
“Exactly.”