Fuck.
“Belle’s fixin’ to climb the walls. We could take her to the dog park for a bit. But after that…I’m open to suggestions.”
Her entire body stills. It’s too soon. I never should’ve suggested it. But before I can take it back, a flicker of excitement—fragile, like it could wink out at any moment—shines in her eyes.
“She’d really like that. I think…I would too.”
“Go get it, girl!” Belle bolts after the tennis ball, so quick she’s nothing but a gray and brown blur.
“I wish I could throw it half that far,” Grace says, watching our dog having the time of her life. “With either hand.”
Wrapped in her thick wool coat, she tips her face up, eyes closed, and lets the sun warm her cheeks.
“You’re gettin’ stronger every day. You see that, right?” I scoop up the ball Belle drops at my feet and hurl it again, farther this time, all the way to the very edge of the off-leash dog park.
Grace shakes her head softly. The corners of her eyes crinkle for a beat. “All I see are those damn clothespins.”
My heart aches at the pain in her voice. “Darlin’, two weeks ago, you couldn’t make it more than a couple of steps without the walker.”
Her gaze finds mine, the sunlight turning her blue-green eyes a deeper hue. “Two weeks ago, I didn’t know my own name.”
I swallow hard, fighting the emotion clogging my throat. “And now you’re sittin’ here in the sun, givin’ me grief about my throwing arm.”
That earns me the faintest flicker of a smile. “It’s a little weak. For a guy who hangs the moon for me.”
I give her a wink as Belle drops the ball again, then nudges my knee with her nose. “Hangin’ and throwin’ are two different muscle groups. I’ll have to start cross training.”
Grace’s smile falters. Her fingers curl tighter around the sleeves of her coat, knuckles pale. “I haven’t remembered anything new in days. About…my life. About…us. What if I never do?”
I drop to one knee in front of her, take her left hand, and run my thumb over her wedding ring. Dirt and grass grind into my Wranglers, but I don’t give a damn. “Then I’ll tell you. One story at a time, startin’ with the night we met. How you looked at me like I wasn’t worth a second of your time, and I knew right then, I’d never get enough of you.”
Her breath catches. Tears shimmer in her eyes.
“I’ll remember for both of us, Grace. And I’ll keep tellin’ those stories until they stick. Until they feel like yours again. And if they never do…” I shake my head, fiercely certain. “It won’t matter. You’re mine, memories or not. Always.”
Her lips part like she might argue, but Belle bounds back, panting, and shoves her slobbery tennis ball against Grace’s boot.
Slowly—carefully—Grace scoops it up and tosses the ball seven or eight feet. Belle takes off like it’s the best throw in the history of throws.
I can’t help my grin. “See? Belle don’t give a damn about distance. She just wants you in the game.”
Grace lets out a soft laugh, and I wish this moment could stretch on forever.
Pushing to my feet, I sweep my gaze around the park—habit after more than twenty years on the job. A corgi tries to keep pace with a German Shepherd in the west corner. Teenagers—three of ‘em—hover by the fence line smoking. Two puppies chase each others’ tails while a young couple looks on.
No one’s payin’ a lick of attention to us. But I’m no fool. Every time we leave the house, we take a chance she’ll be recognized. Could be as simple as a curious local, as annoying as a bottom-feeding reporter looking for a payday, or as ominous as one of the bastards who put those marks on her skin.
But for now, my only worry is how long it’s gonna take to tire Belle out.
She drops the ball at my feet six more times before sprawling in the grass, tongue hanging out, the happiest damn thing on four legs.
I pull the leash out of my jacket pocket. “Time to go home, girl.”
Belle lifts her head, but then her hackles raise and a growl tears from her throat—low and rumbling.
I scan the park just in time to see a flash of black fur barreling across the grass, headed right for us. The dog is fucking huge. Ears pinned back. Tail rigid.
“Fuck!” I jump in front of Grace, but Belle’s already braced for battle. Her lips curl back over her teeth, and she starts barking and snarling, ready to snap.
