Chapter 8 Valentine
Valentine
For the first time since I woke up on the side of the road a week ago, I wake up without the panicked feeling. Lyle’s arm is draped over me, and I feel safe. I feel content.
It was a shock to find the scars on my back last night. They’re healed over and faded at least a few years old. It looks like something lashed against my skin, like a whip, and the implications of how I might have got them make me shudder.
Lyle stirs, and I turn toward him and burrow into his chest, needing to get as close to him as I can.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I look up at his smiling eyes, and a surge of happiness goes through me.
Lyle’s smile makes him look younger. I don’t know how old I am, but we decided I’m probably about twenty.
Lyle is forty-two, but I don’t mind the age difference.
It makes me feel safe having an older ex-military man by my side.
I wonder what he’ll look like in ten years, with our kids crawling on top of him. The thought makes me smile, thinking about a future when I don’t even know my past.
“What’s the smile for?” Lyle asks.
“I’m happy,” I say simply.
“You want to go out today and get some breakfast? Go for a ride down the coast?”
I’ve been stuck at the MC club for the last week as my body healed and because Lyle wanted to make sure I was safe. If he thinks it’s time to venture out, then he must be sure no one’s looking for me.
The thought should make me sad, but it makes me feel relieved.
“Sure. I could go for some blueberry pancakes.”
We’re talking about what we’ll have for breakfast when there’s a knock at the door.
“Give me a minute,” Lyle calls out grumpily.
“Stay here.” He swings his feet over the side the bed. The covers slide down my chest, exposing my breasts. Lyle grabs a nipple in his mouth, making my body arch into him. He lets out a groan but releases my nipple and pulls the sheets up to my neck.
“And cover up,” he says, making a show of tucking me in, which makes me laugh.
He pulls his clothes on and is tucking his t-shirt into his jeans as he opens the door.
Jesse is at the door, and one look at his face makes me feel uneasy.
“There’s a man here for Valentine.”
My body goes rigid, and a chill runs through me. Someone came for me.
“Says he’s your fiancé.”
The word lands in the air like a lead balloon. My chest feels heavy as my gaze meets Lyle’s. Everything that we shared flows between us in that look. The soul-soothing kisses, his tongue on me last night, the future for us I’d imagined in my head.
Lyle breaks the gaze, and all our might-have-beens go crashing to the ground.
“I’ve got a fiancé?”
The word sounds wrong in my mouth. I search my mind, willing the memories to come back, but it’s a big blank.
“I guess you do.” Lyle’s voice sounds clipped, and he doesn’t look at me as he pulls on his cut.
I want him to come back to bed. I want him to kiss me the way he did last night. I want him to take me out for blueberry pancakes.
“You better get dressed, sweetheart.”
In a daze, I slide out of bed and put my clothes on. They’re not even my clothes. They’re ones that Lily found for me and said I could keep.
I wonder if I’ve got a wardrobe full of clothes somewhere, lines of shoes and folded socks waiting for me.
Lyle leaves me alone to get dressed. I take my time, straightening the bed covers and pulling the curtains, stalling for time and making sure every detail of this happy place is etched into my memories.
It wasn’t much, but I felt safe here. I rested and recovered and found friends here. But I knew it was only temporary. I knew I’d have to go back to my real life sometime.
Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door.
Lyle’s waiting for me with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Let’s go find out who you really are.”
He says it too cheerfully, like he’s trying to be excited for me. But all I feel is a dread that gets heavier with every step we take downstairs.