Thea
Pierce has barely looked at me since I changed out of my dress. It probably didn’t help that I strapped on a pair of my more indecent pajamas—a black silk tank top and matching shorts.
Less revealing than the prom dress but just risky enough to say “Look at me, I dare you.”
Right now he’s bouncing his knee, listening to yet another of my father’s stories.
It’s the first sign of impatience he’s shown all night.
I think that has more to do with me and how many times I’ve found an excuse to walk by and touch him.
My fingernails over the back of his neck.
A brush of my palm on his arm when I brought him water because I know how much he likes to hydrate.
Am I frustrating him? Good. He’s been frustrating me since we met. It’s only fair.
My dad turns on his nightly documentary, and Pierce gets to his feet, wandering around the living room, studying objects on the mantel. He’s antsy to move. To leave.
He stops in front of the white ceramic duck, hand-painted with light green and blue flowers.
“My mom loved that thing,” I say, sidling next to him. “The rest of us teased her about it, but we loved it because she did.”
“It seems out of place,” he says, scrutinizing it.
The rest of the mantel holds my mom’s paintings, mostly of me, but then there’s this ugly duck smack dab in the middle.
“My dad didn’t want to change anything.” I shrug, watching him watch the porcelain duck. “Are you trying to win a staring contest or something?”
He looks at me, then back at the duck. He twists it so it fits in its dust-free spot.
“Is that what this is? A contest?” He pinches the hem of my shorts and a thrill runs through me, empowering me.
I tilt my chin. “Whatever do you mean? I wear this to bed all the time.”
“Not with me.”
The strained edge of his words hits the delicate spot in my stomach, making my knees weak.
“I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. About us.”
He drops his hand, his fingers brushing tingles across my skin as they fall away. “I don’t have any ideas about us.” He stalks over to the sofa next to my dad.
He may think he’s fooling himself, but he’s never fooled me.
“How did you like working for SciTech?” Pierce asks abruptly.
I still. I never gave him the all-clear. To be fair, I had my mind on other things and may have forgotten.
I return to my assigned seat on the opposite side of my dad, ready to jump in and whisk him off to bed. Instead, a placid smile comes over his face.
“Best days of my life. I was changing the world.”
I frown, my body deflating into the couch. He’s never reacted like this. There’s a reason we haven’t brought it up for nearly a year.
“What kind of projects did you work on?” Pierce leans into the sofa, propping one leg up on the other.
“Oh, I’ve worked on all kinds of things in my time, from lip plumping lipstick to gene therapy. I preferred to develop drugs. Gavin hated that.”
“Gavin Johnson?” Pierce asks.
CEO and a piece of human garbage.
At the hospital, after my dad’s accident, he came to visit. When he left, I heard him on the phone say the words, “finally rid of that man.” I could have killed him. He wished he was smart enough to invent and create like my dad did, but his only power was manipulation.
“Team leader,” my dad says. He must be remembering a different time.
Gavin became the CEO two years ago. I remember because my dad was upset about having to work under him.
“He tries to steal my work and pass it off as his own.” My dad’s hand trembles as he talks in present tense—the first sign of his frustration.
I scoot to the edge of my seat, ready to intervene.
“Does he still work there?” Pierce asks, unaware of the shift.
Dad answers anyway. “Of course. He steals from all the scientists and gets praised for his work.”
My stomach sinks, my pulse pounding in my ears. My skin is shrinking in on me.
I need to breathe, but I can’t. My airway is closing off.
A memory is calling to me. The pieces of it are hazy, but it’s something important… something to do with Gavin Johnson. He has been in our lives for a long time; maybe all I’m remembering is his manipulation over my dad.
I can’t try to figure it out right now. My dad is talking nonsense. I need to get him to bed, then I’ll call Andi. She’s working her way up to head chemist. If Gavin is up to something, she’ll know.
“Time for bed!” My voice comes out high-pitched and squeaky.
Pierce frowns.
“Tired.” Dad scrubs a hand over his sweaty head. “I’m tired. Yes.”
Pierce’s frown eases, and he gives a reluctant nod.
“I’ve got you,” I say, coming to Dad’s side and helping him up. Pierce stands as well, but I pointedly ignore him. He’s my handicap, an impediment at this moment. There’s a memory waiting to be recovered, and if I fall prey to his handsomeness, I’ll be too distracted to find it.
We shuffle in an awkward trio down the hall to my dad’s room. When we get there, I purposely step farther to the right so Pierce gets cut off at the door. Dad and I slip inside, and I firmly close the door behind us.
When I come out fifteen minutes later, Pierce is still there, arms folded, eyes narrowed and calculating.
I force a smile onto my face. “Silly me, I forgot to show you where you’ll be sleeping.” I practically sprint down the hall and around to the staircase. He follows me the whole way, like a shadow at my heels.
“I thought we’d be sleeping together, since that’s one of your fantasies,” he says stiffly.
My body heats. I wave a hand in the air, swatting at the pesky butterflies going in for the kill.
“That was so yesterday. Here we have two beds, which are far more romantic. I won’t wake you up with my snoring.
” I flash him a smile, and he stares at me like he’s never seen me before.
“You’ll finally get your eight hours and thirty-seven minutes. ”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s barely eight o’clock.”
“You might even get ten hours.” I slap my leg as if it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. “Imagine how happy you could be with that much sleep.”
His forehead creases, and I bite the inside of my cheek. I knew I took it too far. “What is it, Thea?”
I blink innocently. “What is what?”
“You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than normal.”
“Rude.” I feign offense. “You get that room.” I point to a closed door. “See you tomorrow.”
I turn swiftly on my heel and head for my room, directly across the hall. I only make it as far as the doorway.
Pierce snatches my wrist, holding me in place. I refuse to turn into him. I’m losing strength by the second, and I fear at any moment the tiny tendrils of the memory I’m reaching for will vanish again. Pierce is a part of my life AML…
After memory loss.
I need to remember the before. Whatever it is… it’s important. I can feel it in my bones.
“I know something is going on.” His murmur is so deep it’s practically indecent. “And I’ll figure it out.”
I know he will, but I need to figure it out first. What is my hazy brain trying to remember? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lie.
His hand skims up my waist, and I shiver, wanting more than anything to give into his touch.
“What if I told you my truth, then you tell me yours?” His hand curves around my stomach, and he presses me into him.
I can’t breathe. He’s playing me, I know it, and I’m dying to give in.
The burning in my chest wants nothing more than to dissolve into him. But I can’t. Not yet.
“The truth is overrated.” My words are shaky and forced.
“Is it?” His breath tickles my neck, and then his face is right there. His scruff against the bare skin on my shoulder, his lips grazing the delicate skin at the curve… My head lolls back.
No! How dare he!
His interference only makes my resolve stronger. I’ll tell him when I remember. Until then, I need him at least ten feet from me, behind a closed door, so I can think straight.
I shove out of his arms. “Goodnight, Shrek.” I walk straight into my room and don’t look back.