“You were,” I stop, searching for words that aren’t too much.Too heavy.Too honest.“You were fire always burning bright for the people you care about.Soft when you wanted to be, sharp when you needed to be.You worked too hard.Worried too much.Cared more than you let on.”
Her eyes widen, filling with emotion.
“And you laughed,” I add.“A lot.Even when you were pissed you laughed which only made it hard to keep anything heavy going on.”
A tear slips down her cheek.She wipes it quickly.“I don’t feel like her,” she whispers.
“You’re still her,” I reassure.“Time and healing, sunshine.”
Her lip trembles.“Do you miss her?”
Miss her?I never stopped wanting her.But I can’t say that now, not when she’s this vulnerable, this lost, this dependent on me for stability.
So I give her the one truth that won’t break her.
“Yeah,” I tell her quietly.“I miss her.But I’m here for you.Both versions.Whoever you are today, whoever you remember being tomorrow.”
Her breath catches again.She looks away, overwhelmed, and focuses on her hands.Silence stretches between us in a gentle, fragile, real way.
I clean up as she sits there lost in her own thoughts.She’s scared.She’s vulnerable.She’s looking at me like I’m the one steady thing in a world that just went dark around her.
I move closer slowly, sit in the chair beside her.
“Sunshine,” I whisper.“Don’t push it.”
She lets out a shuddered breath and leans just slightly in my direction — not enough to touch, but enough that my body aches with the effort to hold still.
Her eyes flutter.
“I should probably sleep, just for a little while,” she murmurs.“Will you stay with me?”
I nod.
But inside, I already know— I’m not leaving tonight.I’m not leaving tomorrow.I’m not leaving until I find the bastard who hurt her.
And when I do?
I’ll make sure he never gets close to her again.
Ten
Kelly
Being near him feels normal.The thought of him leaving … soul crushing.Except I can’t remember why.
I’ve never been so aware of my heartbeat in my entire life.
It thuds in my ribs, too fast and too loud, and every time I glance at Ledger — which is approximately every twelve seconds — it speeds up like my body is betraying me on purpose.
He’s standing at the counter of the cabin kitchen, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches Shaft and Mellow walk the perimeter outside.The outside light cuts across his jawline, sharp enough to carve through the fog in my brain.It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I left the hospital, and already I know two things: I don’t remember Ledger even though we clearly have history.I may not have memories, but my whole being feels like I’ve known him my whole life.
That’s the confusing part.
My brain is blank when it tries to pull our shared history into focus but my instincts?My instincts treat him like gravity.And I’m so tired of feeling lost that part of me wants to fall willingly into the pull.
Ledger glances over his shoulder, eyes finding me immediately.“You okay?”
I’m sitting on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket Ally brought from my place, nursing a cup of tea I don’t remember making.My ribs still ache, my temples throb, and my memory is a minefield of missing pieces.
