Isabella’s cries faded into the distance, and I smiled. Genuinely. Was I a bitch? Maybe. Who knew? Certainly, not me.
“Take me back to the room?” I asked softly.
“Anything you want.” He stood and moved behind my wheelchair, his hand brushing against my shoulder as he gripped the handles. “Anything you need. Just ask.”
Noah held the door open for us, his expression thoughtful as we passed.
Knox wheeled me back through the quiet hallways, and I let myself relax into the chair, exhaustion finally catching up with me. It had been an incredibly long day. Waking up, meeting my family, pretending to be okay, the shower, Isabella’s confession, all of it piling on top of each other until I could barely keep my eyes open.
We reached my room and Knox helped me back into bed, tucking the blankets around me with a care that made my heart ache. He pulled his chair close and sat down, his hand finding mine on top of the covers.
“Sleep,” he said softly. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to stay awake and ask more questions and try to piece together this puzzle of a life I couldn’t remember.
But my eyes were already closing, my body giving in to exhaustion, and the last thing I felt before sleep claimed me was Knox’s thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand.
19
— • —
Lina
“So, this is where I used to live?”
I stared at the building in front of me, trying to feel some spark of recognition. Four guards surrounded the place, positioned at each corner, their eyes constantly scanning the area. Knox had insisted on the security detail, and after everything that had happened with Isabella, I hadn’t argued.
The building was charming in a cozy, small town way. A cute storefront with large windows, warm lighting spilling onto the sidewalk, and a sign above the door that read “Winters’ Books & Brews” in elegant script. Through the glass I could see shelves packed with books, comfortable armchairs, and a coffee bar along one wall. People inside noticed me standing there and started waving, their faces bright with recognition and relief.
I waved back, trying to look normal. Trying to look like I knew who any of them were.
“Your parents opened this place when you were little,” Knox said quietly from beside me. “After they died, you took it over. Turned it into a bookshop and café.”
My chest tightened. He’d told me about my parents on the drive here. About how they’d moved to Pine Valley for a quieter life, about how they’d loved books and passed that love on to me, about how they’d died in an attack in the woods when I was fifteen. How they’d sacrificed themselves to give me time to run.
I’d asked him to stop after that.
The thought of losing them, of experiencing that grief, had been too much to bear. I didn’t remember them, but the sadness was real. Deep and aching in a way that surprised me.
So Knox had changed the subject. He’d told me about our kids instead. About how Rowan collected rocks that he insisted “smelled important” and growled when he got frustrated. About how Thea believed she could fight anyone and once tried to tackle a delivery man who got too close to me. About how the twins had their own weird language and could sense each other’s emotions.
By the time we’d arrived in Pine Valley, I’d been smiling again.
“Yes, that apartment above the store,” Knox continued, pointing upward and bringing me back to the present. “When you had the twins you moved to a house nearby, though. But that one is rented by a different family now, so we can’t go in. Unless we ask. Do you want to go there?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine.”
Looking at a stranger’s home wouldn’t help me remember anything. And honestly, I was ready for a fun time with friends, not more emotional weight.
“And my friends?” I asked.
Knox smiled, warm and genuine. “They’re waiting inside.”
He held the door open for me and I walked into the shop, immediately hit by the smell of coffee and old paper. It was a good smell. A comforting smell. People called out greetings as I passed, and I nodded and said polite hellos, trying not to look as lost as I felt.
We made our way to a staircase at the back of the shop and started climbing. Knox stayed close behind me, ready to catch me if my legs decided to give out again. They’d been getting stronger over the past three days, but I still wasn’t steady enough to trust them completely.
Three days since I woke up. One day since I’d been discharged from the hospital. And already I’d launched my “get my memories back” mission with full force.
