Jared leant his head against Kyrone’s arm as they walked. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into the middle of this. Whateverthisis.”
“You’re my guy,” Kyrone reminded him. “I’ve got your back. Whatever Jag tells you tonight, I’ll be there.”
19Jared
By the time they reached the Heaven and Hell Club, Jared was feeling more than a little spaced out. He knew he was leaning on Kyrone too much—both physically and emotionally—but he was too drained and afraid to face the intense man named Jag alone. The club looked dark and deserted until they entered through the unlocked back door. There was a light on in the hallway and the murmur of voices coming from a room ahead. Probably in response to the sound of the heavy door closing, Michael slipped out of a room further down the hall.
He smiled at them both. “I thought the changing room would be the most relaxed place to talk.” He gestured for them to join them. He looked solely at Jared. “I’m glad you came.We’reglad you came.”
Jared stiffened, doubting Michael’s words. In response, Kyrone’s grip on his hand tightened supportively.
“We can always leave if it’s too much,” Kyrone whispered into his ear. “You can change your mind about being here at any time.”
Jared nodded, and they walked to the changing room together.
It was a big room, with lots of mirrors, a bank of lockers, and a few sofas, tables, and chairs. There were even some practice poles. The stale, sweaty smell in the air had been badly covered up with air freshener, but at least it was clean, if cold. Jag was sitting on one of the sofas, his hands clenched between his splayed legs. There was a small, battered book on the sofa arm. Even from a distance, Jared recognised it as the same one Kyrone had bought him: the book about seagulls. Jag sat up straight when they came into the room, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Jared. Michael went to sit beside him, casually placing a hand on the younger man’s thigh, while Kyrone led Jared to the opposite sofa. It felt like battle lines had been drawn. Not that there was anywhere better to sit. There was going to be a gulf between them, whatever they chose.
An uneasy silence filled the space. Other than blurting out that he was an amnesiac, Jared didn’t know what to say. Maybe getting it out into the open was his best tactic, but he couldn’t shake the fear that the hostile man opposite him wouldn’t believe him. So for better or worse, he kept his mouth shut and his stare on the floor.
“Why did you say you don’t know me?” Jag demanded.
The anger in Jag’s voice sent a chill down Jared’s spine. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel any irritation in return. It had to be confusing to have someone he knew denying they’d ever met. He remembered the hurt in his parents’ eyes when he’d told them he didn’t remember them. Jag had a similar expression now, except there wasn’t a doctor on hand to explain everything to him or nurses to escort him away if things got too much.
Kyrone snorted. “You could have started with an apology, Jag.”
“We’re confused,” Michael said in a much more diplomatic tone. “YouareJared Swift, aren’t you? Not a lookalike with the same first name?”
Jared glanced up at him. “Yes.”
“Which means you and Jag knew each other for years,” Michael went on. “So why deny that you knew him?”
Jared wrung his hands and glanced at Kyrone. He owed Jag—his onetime friend—an explanation, but recounting everything was tiring, and the headache that had started in the pub was getting worse with every passing second.
“Do you want me to explain?” Kyrone asked.
It would make things easier to let Kyrone do the talking. He could sit there avoiding everyone’s stares, blocking out whatever reactions the two men opposite had. But that would be cowardly, and it was his story to tell. He shook his head and looked at the floor again, even though it probably wasn’t going to do his credibility any good.
“I was in an accident,” he began.
His voice wobbled over the words, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to give them as full an account as he’d given Kyrone without breaking down. He’d felt safe with Kyrone, like he’d had all the time in the world to get the story out. This was different. He needed to say enough to explain why Jag was a stranger to him, but telling them any more than the minimum would be too hard.
“I sustained a brain injury,” he went on. “I lost my memory. Everything prior to waking up in hospital is gone.” He hung his head. “I don’t even remember my parents or my sisters.”
Jag breathed in sharply. “Are you for real?” he asked cautiously.
Jared nodded miserably. “I wish it was a lie.” He looked up and met Jag’s intense stare. “But it’s not. I don’t remember you at all.” He rubbed the back of his neck, which was pulsing due to the headache.
Jag stood and turned away, wiping his hands over his head. Jared’s stomach sank. Jag clearly didn’t believe him. He probably thought Jared was playing some kind of game, but to what end? What could he possibly gain from denying he knew Jag? Maybe he’d understand if he could remember something.Anything.
“Can you prove it?” Jag asked, swinging back round.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jag,” Kyrone snapped.
“What?” Jared asked, unsure if he’d heard Jag question. It had felt more like a demand than a question. Anger boiled up within him. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, not wanting to explode with rage. It happened anyway. “I don’t have toproveanything toyou,” he spat. How dare Jag—oranyone—ask him to prove his disability. He shook his head. “Why would you even ask me to?”
“In the pub… When you stood there and denied knowing me… I thought you were trying to make me think I was going mad.”
Jared’s eyebrows tugged together. “Why would anyone—?” he began, but Jag cut him off in a ranting tone.
