But that’s not possible right now.
Sun’s dad gestures for us to sit, and we gather around the big table. Ragnar sits beside Sun, and Lake takes a seat next to the chestnut-haired alpha, Aiden.
I can't help but sneak one more glance at the blond guy with the ponytail. He settles onto the couch.
Sun makes a point of telling me and Ragnar some basic info about his family, and I learn that he has, in fact, seven brothers, though only two still live at home: Snow and Bay. The rest have moved on with their own lives.
I somehow know right away that the man with violet eyes is the one called Snow, though Sun hasn’t introduced him. On the contrary, he doesn’t address his brother or include him in the conversation, which is strange.
Then Sun begins to tell our story.
From the moment he opens his mouth, I somehow know what he’s about to say, a dark, suffocating tale, the kind nobody wants to hear. Especially me.
My mind protests.
The memory slips away.
Present day
I open my eyes. I’m kneeling on the lawn by the steps that lead down to the basement. Shit… the music! That’s what kept me here, entranced, and brought my memory back to life.
What is it about his music?
Why does it feel like it’s repairing me somehow? I twist my mouth into an ironic half smile. Maybe it’s a good thing I ended up with a family of musicians. My chances of recovery are not so impossible after all, are they?
I’m also becoming aware that something’s wrong, not just with my long-term memory, but with my short-term memory too. Remembering things from just a day ago, when I arrived atthe Nolans’ estate, is a challenge. Everything in my head feels fragmented, memories surfacing chaotically, out of order.
My eyes land on the door, then drift to the stairs. Maybe there’s one person who can help me figure it out.
The thought just won’t leave me alone. I need to talk to him. Find a way to communicate. Ask… somehow.
He’ll understand.
So I jump up and run toward the stairs, my cheeks burning, excitement building.
Umm… hello, Summer?
Why am I doing this so eagerly?
I’m a trauma survivor, incapable of making well-thought-out decisions. My brain is damaged. Getting worked up over meeting an alpha should be the last thing on my mind.
I quickly reassure myself that my eagerness is… innocent; my instincts are just pulling me toward him because, deep down, I know he might be able to help me get my memory back. Nothing wrong with that, right?
People always say music can calm nerves, even influence a baby’s brain development in the womb. That the sound waves from music, especially classical, can boost memory and learning. Yeah, it has to be my instinct. That’s the version I’m sticking with.
I step down and raise my hand. Just as I’m about to knock, the door opens.
My heart speeds up. Snow is standing there. Our eyes meet, and it’s almost like a spark jumps between us.
He looks straight at me with this fierce intensity, then steps back to let me in.
I swallow hard and walk inside, glancing around.
To the right, behind glass doors, I catch sight of what might be a gym, though I can only see part of it, a section of a treadmill.
To the left is a wide open space, something like an oversized living room, with a piano, several couches, poufs, armchairs, and a coffee table, plus cabinets.
There’s also a big collection of instruments, guitars, a bass, a cello, and a bunch of others.
