“I mean at all, Hailey. You shouldn’t be alone at all. You don’t know when your memories will rush back—and you go under so deep you lose control. You don’t know what you’re doing when the flashbacks hit.”
What can I say? He’s right. I clearly don’t know what the hell is happening with me when I lose myself in the past. I could fall down the stairs, like he already suggested, or jump out a window trying to get away from Alex.
But realistically, how many more memories could hit this hard? They’re not all so intense. I had one earlier this week. I lost a few minutes of class while I grappled with the past but I stayed seated. One second the professor was greeting everyone and the next there was a script on my desk. I sat still, while Alex paced my room, pissed off. I didn’t flee, so not every memory gets me moving.
He screamed that I was irresponsible and needy. That I was childish for wanting to spend time with him while he had to work the case. I tried to stay in the memory as long as possible tohear about whatever he was working on, but it dissolved before more words were spoken.
Nash waits, giving me space to process the last few minutes. He unwraps a burger, handing it over in silence, and, knowing he won’t takenofor an answer, I take a bite, chewing slowly like it’s an old shoe. It doesn’t tase of anything.
“I’ll be okay,” I finally say, swallowing the bite. “I’ve had other flashbacks since the one at the lake and I’m fine.”
He shifts in his seat, angling his body toward me. “Fine. You won’t tell me what you remembered, and I respect that, but you have to give me something, Hailey. Why did you want to get away from Lakeside?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “I had a fight with my dad. He was upset I didn’t check in last night. He’s never been like this, and I don’t understand why he’s suddenly hidden me away.” I take another bite of the burger. “The official story is that I’m healing, but that’s a lie. I just can’t piece together why he’s lying and why I’m off the grid.”
“Nothing in your memories explains that?”
“Not yet.” I rewrap the burger. My stomach’s rebelling against food and Nash isn’t interested in his share either. “I don’t remember much. I figured out Alex works with my dad and that we were... are...” I frown, unsure. “Dating, I think. Though given what I remember, I don’t know why. He—” I apply the brakes.
Not because I’m afraid of sharing things with Nash. There’s not much he can do with the information, but it’s fucking embarrassing that I clung to a man who clearly had another woman on the side, loved her, and used me for sexual favors.
All I’m missing is a memory of him raping me...
God, I hope there isn’t one. I want good memories. The sexy ones. I want to remember sweet kisses, cuddles and breathless nights. I sure hope we had some good times, too.
“Hewhat?” Nash presses himself closer to the middle of the car. “What did he do?”
Distracted by his closeness, I blank out the question. My heart beats faster and my mind fills with thoughts of Nash bridging what little gap remains between us.
I just saw Alex do the same, but the thought of having Nash close isn’t scary. It’s appealing. I’ve wanted him close since the moment we met, and since the kiss that need has grown out of proportion. The hunger leaves me breathless as the silence between us stretches, charged with an electric tension. My pulse races, each heartbeat louder than the last.
Nash shifts again, drawing in, his movements deliberate and slow, giving me ample time to break this trance.
I won’t.
I’m tethered to him by an invisible force, drawn like a moth to a flame.
He lifts his hand, brushing a stray hair behind my ear, his touch featherlight, so intimate it sends a jolt of electricity down my spine. My eyes flutter closed for a second and when I open them, his hot gaze falls to my mouth.
Without thinking, I bite my lower lip, painfully aware of the blush heating my face.
The car feels smaller and smaller as the space between us disappears inch by inch. His warm breath fans my skin, the gentle roughness of his short stubble catches my cheek and... he’s kissing me.
It’s soft and cautious, slow and gentle. Not at all what I thought it’d be. So different to our stage kiss.
His tongue glides along my lips, begging for more. Shockwaves run across my nerve endings when I let him in with a gasp and that sound annihilates his inhibitions, turning the gentle kiss into a battle of want.
His fingers find the side of my face while his tongue explores my mouth and he’s drawing me closer.
Closer, closer, closer.
“Hailey?”
My name cuts through the haze, snapping me back to reality for the second time today.
He’s not close. He’s not kissing me. He’s still in his seat, a coffee cup halfway to those full, tempting lips. His dark eyes, framed by a frown, search mine with a hint of worry.
“Another one?” he asks.
