Leon’s smile was a knife’s edge, ready to slice me open. “It wasn’t until my associate reminded me why I hadn’t figured it out. The last time I saw you, you were with the other brother.”
“What?” Blaire’s voice was small, so unsure, and I ached for how lost she must feel, how adrift her memories must be.
The flames were already licking my feet, ready to incinerate me with a moment’s notice.
“Leon. Not like this.” I threw my Hail Mary, hoping he had at least a shred of humanity left in him. “She doesn’t remember.”
“What don’t I remember?” She whipped her head back and forth, looking between myself and Leon, and I was once again struck by her effortless beauty.
I had done this forher. I just needed to remember that. Everything I did, every lie I told, was for her.
Leon shook his head, dragging out the moment so the knife had time to bury itself inside my chest. “I think I should let Winder tell you. I wouldn’t want to steal his spotlight.”
Never before had I wanted to hurt someone as badly as I wanted to hurt Leon right then. The only thing keeping me from rendering him a bloody pulp at my feet was that image would only traumatize Blaire more, and what I was about to tell her would hurt already.
“You’ll pay for this.” I kept my voice steady and icy, inflecting every ounce of venom that lay beneath my skin. “Every bit of pain she feels, I’ll make you feel tenfold. For every scar on her body, I’ll leave two on yours.”
“Winder, you’re scaring me.” Blaire’s face was raw when she looked up at me, every piece of the mask stripped away, leaving just a lost, broken woman in front of me. Damage done, Leon melted back into the crowd, leaving just me and my secrets.
My time had come. The gates of Hell were open, waiting to welcome me home. I pulled her away from the small crowd, all leaning in, toward the far side of the porch where it was quieter.“I need you to listen, and to not freak out until I’ve explained everything to you.”
“Okay...” She was ready to run, every muscle tensed.
“When I told you we’ve known each other a long time, I wasn’t lying. But I let you believe I had met you at the parties. It was obvious you were missing memories, and you had no idea who I was, or what I was to you.”
Blaire opened and closed her mouth, blinking slowly. “How long have we known each other then?”
I swallowed, my pride slipping down my throat. “The first time I met you was ten years ago, when my brother introduced you to me as his new girlfriend.”
Chapter
Seventeen
BLAIRE
Words were funny sometimes.
Winder’s words made sense. I understood what they meant. And yet, they had no meaning at all.
Brother. Girlfriend. I might have been lost before. Now, I was truly baffled.
“Your brother?” It hurt to speak. I wanted to stay in my safe little bubble, shrouded by the weed. Then again, I wasn’t sure safety had ever been on the table for me. “What do you mean your brother?”
Winder’s face sagged with emotion. “Let’s go somewhere quieter and talk. There’s a lot I need to explain.”
He led me to the creaky porch, and I tried not to think about it cracking in half again, even though that would make more sense than what Winder tried to explain. Winder gave the few stragglers on the porch a dirty look, and they disappeared. My thoughts raced, and I struggled to keep up with them.
I wrapped my arms around myself, the night air chilly. “I don’t understand. You have a brother? My boyfriend?” I shookmy head, closing my eyes to wrack my brain. My heart ached, and the world spun. I didn’t know where all my memories had gone, and why I had no recollection of even losing them. “I would remember having a boyfriend, I think. I’ve gone on a few dates with some guys. Maybe you’re confusing me for someone else.”
“Blaire.” Winder reached out for me, then stopped himself, leaving his hand hanging in midair. “Listen to me, and listen closely. I want you to think back as far as you can. What do you remember, before the last few years?”
I squeezed my arms tighter, a shield against his words, words I wanted to chew up and spit out so I didn’t have to listen to them anymore. He waswrong. “I have C-PTSD from childhood. I don’t remember a lot, but my therapist said it’s normal for people to disassociate once they’re apart from the trauma.”
Winder nodded. “You do have C-PTSD. But it’s not from your childhood.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Oliver, my brother, he was always the golden child, you know? So it surprised no one when he told us he enrolled in the police academy. He met you there.”
“Police?” It didn’t sound like my voice. It was someone else’s, because it couldn’t have been mine. “That’s impossible. I don’t…I don’tlikethe police. I work in marketing.”
Winder must have the wrong girl, because there was no way in Hell I would’ve ever associated more with the cops than I had to, let alone become one.
