I wanted to ask Connor how he could be so sure the pilot wouldn’t tell anyone about me. But though it’s getting easier to talk to AJ and Parker, and I know Jasper and Connor are family too, the words are so much harder with them.
“It’s okay,” AJ whispers against the top of my head. “We’re almost home.”
Home.
I wish I had even the slightest idea what to expect. My mind is like a dimly lit hallway, full of doors that won’t open.
I’m so tired of trying. Of pounding on those doors until my hands ache. Yanking on knobs that won’t turn. Screaming for someone—anyone—to find me and let me in. Or out. I can’t tell which.
Parker takes another slow turn. Gravel crunches under the tires. The sharp scent of pine permeates the warm air from the heater, and I risk a quick peek through the windshield.
A lake glimmers in the distance, soft blue amid a break in the tall trees.
The butterflies in my stomach aren’t fluttering anymore. They’re in full battle mode. I want this to feel like home. I want it so badly, my entire body aches with the desperate need to find something familiar to hold onto.
The SUV rolls to a stop in front of a large, gray stone porch with a rough-hewn wooden railing surrounding it. The house looks warm. Inviting. Light glows from behind thin white curtains hanging in two big windows on either side of the door.
AJ unclips my seatbelt and somehow manages to get out of the car with me still in his arms. My legs are wobbly, but he barely lets my feet touch the ground until we’re up the two short steps and at the door.
“I asked Emi to put Belle in her crate before she left,” AJ says as he pulls his keys from his pocket. “I…we…keep it in the mudroom off the kitchen, so she won’t be able to see you right away. She’s so big, darlin’, she’ll knock you over without meaning to. But as soon as you’re on the couch, I’ll get her. Okay?”
I nod.
The brief moments I do remember from my life all revolve around this tiny little ball of gray and brown fur and her icy blue eyes. I may feel at home in AJ’s arms, but Belle is the only thing I know is real. The rest…it could all be an illusion.
The second AJ opens the door, I hear her. A desperate, echoing bark, so much deeper than I’d imagined.
Then another.
“Slow your roll, Belle. I’ll be right there,” AJ calls as he helps me over the threshold.
Inside, warm wood beams frame the ceiling. Creamy walls, rich tile floors, and a leather sofa anchoring a thick, orange and beige rug fill the space.
Did I choose all the decor? Did we do it together? Or is it all new? Replaced to ease some of the grief AJ carries with him like a second skin, even now.
It smells like him. Like the fresh, almost-spring air, along with a hint of wood smoke, cedar, and pine.
My whole body stills when Belle whines. I can barely breathe. AJ scoops me up and carries me to the couch, settling me in the corner. A large coffee table opens up to reveal thick, wool blankets, and he grabs one, then tucks it around me.
The dog whines again.
“Belle.” The word claws its way from somewhere deep inside. From a part of my soul I never thought I’d find again.
It was only a whisper, but she must hear it, because she starts barking even louder.
“I’m comin’!” AJ shouts, running to the kitchen like someone just lit his ass on fire.
Hard nails scrape and scratch against the tile. Belle barrels around the corner, then skids to a stop the instant she sees me. Her thick coat gleams in the late afternoon sun. But it’s her glacial blue eyes, wild with confusion—and maybe hope?—that I focus on.
Her broken, keening howl shatters my heart into pieces a second before she launches herself at me.
AJ stands back, tears glistening on his cheeks.
Belle buries her head in my lap with another mournful howl, but her tail wags so hard, her whole body shudders from the motion.
“Oh my God…” I start to cry, my arms wrapped around her torso. “Belle. Sweetie. I’m so sorry…”
My fingers tangle in her fur, raw anguish pouring out of me with each sob. The scraps of memories all tangle together. Her cold nose. Her high-pitched puppy bark. Her red collar.
