“On Sundays—if I wasn’t workin’—we’d hit up Stonewood Coffee. Maybe wander through some of the shops on Sixth Street. We weren’t one of those couples who did everything together—we were both too busy for that—but we tried to make our time count. My grandfather left me and Jasper a cabin up at Lake Livingston, so when we could, we went up there for a weekend.”
He’s watching me so closely. Looking for any spark of recognition. Anything to convince him the wife he knew is still inside me somewhere. God, I wish I could give it to him.
My fingers start to tremble, and I set the mug on the coffee table. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t remember any of it. The tea, the popcorn, Sixth Street…you. I want to. But…”
“I know.” Those two words carry such a heavy weight, AJ sinks deeper into the cushions, his shoulders slumping as a muscle in his jaw tics.
“I’m hurting you.” My eyes burn, tiny pinpricks of pain warning me if I start crying, I might never stop.
“No.” He tugs at his hair, hard. “Yes. But that doesn’t matter. You’re here. You’re home. The rest…even if you never remember who we were…”
His heavy sigh is so full of resignation, I wish I could reassure him. But I can’t. Not yet. Even if our past is only a fraction of our story.
“We’ve loved each other for more than twenty years, Grace. I believe—I know—we can love each other again. That’s enough for me.”
We sit in silence for several minutes, the only light coming from the crackling fire behind the glass insert.
“Do you want to see your studio?” he asks, finally.
The question sends a bolt of panic shooting through my chest. “N-no. I… It’s just…” I sink my fingers into Belle’s scruff, needing something solid to hold onto. “If I go in there and nothing’s familiar…it might break me.”
The first tears tumble down my cheeks, and I don’t even try to stop them.
AJ scoots closer. “Please, darlin’. Can I hold you?”
I practically dive for him—as much as I can dive for anything trapped by my enormous dog, a blanket, and my injuries. With his arms around me, all the noise in my head fades away. It doesn’t matter that I’m broken. That I may never be the woman I was before. I’m alive. I’m home. I’m safe.
For tonight, that’s enough.
“It’s getting late.” AJ’s voice cuts through the quiet. The fire is only embers now. Dark, ominous shadows—the same ones I was so scared of down in Mexico—shimmer in the corners of the room. They’re no less scary here. But at least I’m not alone. “Let’s get you into bed.”
He snaps his fingers, and Belle comes awake like someone just set off a firecracker. “Go do your business,” AJ says and points toward the back of the house.
She looks at me, whines, and lays her head on my legs.
“Belle!” His voice is sharper this time, but she’s still having none of it.
“Let me try.” I stroke her ears lightly, waiting until those ice blue eyes settle on mine. “I won’t leave you again, sweetie. It’s okay. Go do your business. I’ll wait right here until you’re done.”
For a moment, I don’t think she believes me. Until she lumbers to her feet and pads into the kitchen. Every few steps, she looks back at us, and I give her a little nod. Finally, there’s a thump from what I assume must be the mud room.
“Doggie door?” I ask.
“Yep. Her collar has a microchip in it. Otherwise, we’d be feedin’ every raccoon, possum, and skunk in a ten-mile radius.”
AJ braces his hand on the arm of the couch, barely stifling his groan as he gets to his feet, then closes the fireplace insert to quiet the last of the glowing embers. Moments later, Belle bounds back into the room, her eyes wild. As soon as she sees me, her entire body starts wriggling, her tail whipping back and forth like a windshield wiper in a monsoon.
I reach for the walker, but my left hand slips off the rubber grip and sends the metal contraption tumbling. “Shit.”
AJ doesn’t say a word. He sets the walker to rights and scoops me up from the couch like I weigh nothing at all. Probably for the best since I don’t know where the bedroom is.
Belle’s nails click softly on the tile floor as she pads along behind us. Photos line the walls, but I can’t focus on them. The world starts spinning like one of those teacup rides at the fair. Tiny bursts of light hide everything but a hint of AJ’s jawline.
I bury my cheek against his neck and pray I won’t throw up.
After another few steps, he stops. “Grace? What’s wrong?”
“Dizzy. Don’t let go yet. Please…”
