He put up a hand in front of him, palm out.
Again, my mind jolted with a memory. Him, keeping me at bay. Like I was an animal—wild and dangerous—that needed to be steadied.
But calm radiated through my chest.
Kingston—he was the one who needed to be steadied.
“I’m—”
“Landon, stop it!” He whirled away from me, and my eyes widened. “You don’t get it. Youcan’tunderstand it. But I can’tdo thisright now. Please. Give me a few days to process what my father said. We can talk about everything then, alright? I promise.”
Tension radiated down the muscle in his back. Long and lean. Familiar after years spent a step behind him. So, I moved by his side, my hand brushing the crest of his shoulder.
But he spun away from me, moving toward the door, as if he couldn’t bear to be touched. Couldn’t bear my touch.
Crimson palms flashed in front of my eyes, but I swallowed past the pain in my head. “If I don’t get it, then tell me.”
“I can’t,” he croaked. “I told you. I can’t.”
My frustration mounted, pressing down on my chest like a steel-toed boot and digging into my flesh. “My memories are coming back, Kingston.”
He froze, his entire body rigid.
“Pretty soon you won’t have a choice, either.”
Venom laced through my words, and I hated it.
But this line Kingston walked between secrets and the truth had nearly cost us everything. And now, with the new information about his father and his request for time…
If he wanted me to lie to her, I wouldn’t do it.
I was his, too. But I wouldn’t lose her for it.
Spinning slowly to face me, his eyes swirled with fear and relief before tightening with pain. “What do you remember?”
His distress heightened mine, but I pushed it away and shrugged. “Bits and pieces right now, but my dreams…They’re becoming more vivid. I thought—I came to tell you I thought I was dreaming of her. Grumpy cats and lemon trees. I thought it was about Quinn, mixing with nonsense. But Nana was there this time. She?—”
My fingers twitched over soft fur soothing me in the dark.
“I remember Oscar.”
Kingston’s eyes widened, glistening in the dim light. He processed the information quietly, pressing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. The way he did when the pressure became too much.
“Is that what you want?” he finally asked. “To remember?”
He asked as if I had a choice. As if the memories weren’t coming whether I wanted them to or not. “I don’t know. Every time they come, the pain in my head?—”
“It hurts?”
When I nodded, he did the same, the movement shaky and undignified. Two words I’d never used to describe Kingston before. I tracked his slow steps back inside the room.
His eyes jumped from the bookshelf to his desk and back to me. “Aside from what happened with Quinn, has anything changed since the memories started coming back?”
I thought about it.
The week I’d spent believing she’d never forgive me had nearly unraveled me. After being with her—sharing one perfect moment with her—I couldn’t stand what I’d done.
I’d barely eaten or slept, but it wasn’t that.
