Quinn read down her phone, and then her fingers were flying over the screen as she looked it up. As she relied on her medical references, I tried my hardest to remember Friday. I had the beer, I spoke to Derrick about routes as I searched the room, but the prick I was looking for wasn’t there, so I left. Did I pick up the water? Or was it given to me?
I couldn’t remember.
Shit.
“Depending on what else it’s mixed with, it can stay as potent in water for up to twenty-four hours.” Quinn looked at me, her brown eyes wide with concern. “Well, that’s just horrifying.”
“How long does it stay in your system?” I asked numbly.
“Four to six hours.”
That wasn’t long enough. “I don’t think it was that. I left around one.” I wanted to punch something. “I was tested at nine, that’s too long.” Saturday morning came rushing back to me. I had been fuzzy, which I thought was due to alcohol, but my memory was clearing, and now . . . now I was going to kill someone. “I drank from a bottle of water in my room when I took a painkiller before I left for fucking practice,” I groaned in realization. “Come on, we need to tell Gray and Ash. Don’t fight me, Quinn, I need you there to answer their questions.”
With a curse and a lackluster punch to my arm in protest, she started to follow me, grumbling the whole way about asshole Santo men.
When we got to the stadium, practice was over, and I texted Gray to tell him to meet us in a box. We needed quiet, and weneeded somewhere without the team seeing us, so I opted for one of the boxes, and even though we had access to most of them, I’d gravitated toward our family one.
It was adequate in size. Eight plush comfy chairs covered in black leather. Silver and black were very much the theme in Cardinal Saints College. Light gray walls with black uplighters gave a more muted effect. Overhead spotlights were an option if you wanted a brighter atmosphere. The carpet was a dark gray, but the main area of the floor was black wood, which was easier to clean up spills, which happened often during a game. Fans would never learn to put the drinks down before jumping to their feet to cheer, no matter how well-bred the family. A black faux marble countertop with five bar stools in front of it separated theguestsfrom the booze and the three fridges behind. Quinn had already grabbed a soda as I waited by the windows for my brother and cousin.
When Gray and Ash joined us and had also taken drinks from the fridges, I quickly ran down what Quinn had learned. It was gratifying that Ash and Gray were as speechless as I had been when I read the articles.
Quinn stood slightly behind me, answering their questions with what she had gleaned from the internet and also from her professor when she had asked careful questions. His answers had made her start looking into the drug.
“How long does the memory loss last?” Gray asked.
“It can be a few days.”
“So, it will come back? He’ll remember who this was?” Ash spoke as he studied her phone. Neither of them ever made eye contact when they were in the same room now. That ship hadn’t only sailed, it had sunk.
“Possibly,” I said.
“How did it even get in the water though?” Gray asked as he looked between us. “You said it was unopened, was it sealed?”
“Gray . . . I don’t know.”
“We would have heard if the whole fucking party lost their goddamn memory over the weekend,” Ash spoke suddenly. “Those parties can be wild, but not everyone’s smoking or snorting.”
“Or drinking alcohol,” Quinn said softly in agreement. “Who else would have seen the water?” she asked me.
“I don’t know.”
“Can’t you even think about it?” Gray asked me in exasperation.
“Brother,” I warned him as my jaw clenched.
“His memory from right before it could also be affected,” Quinn said as she took her phone off Ash. “I hate to say it, but I think you need to just wait.”
“I’m not waiting,” I snapped as I turned away from them and looked down over the field. The gridiron looked welcoming, and I wanted to be down there, throwing balls, not up here, trying to recapture a lost memory.
“You think you drank the water before you left right on Saturday morning, right?” Gray started to pace. I could hear him crossing the carpeted floor. “Why do you remember practice before the game?”
“That’s a good point,” Ash said as I turned to look at them. “You were kinda hazy, lethargic even, but you were aware.”
“I was?” My head was spinning trying to make sense of it all. “Quinn?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged as she leaned against a seat, her foot tapping as she thought. “Unless . . . the familiar is so routine that you didn’t notice?”
“He didn’t notice he lost his memory?” Ash asked with more bite than he needed.
