“You’re lying,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, slow, deliberate.
“No, I’m not. You’re Tara Monroe. Our parents are married to each other.”
“I would remember,” I say.
He reaches for me, but I flinch away.
“Your brain won’t let you,” he says, voice soft, like he’s talking to a wild animal. “You were in a car accident, and you lost your memory. But I know that you’re my stepsister, Tara. I’ve always known.”
I can’t feel my legs. I slide down the wall, landing hard on the carpet. My head is ringing. There’s a taste in my mouth, coppery, metallic, and I realize I’ve bitten my lip.
I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
Hunter kneels in front of me, arms held wide, not touching.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice cracks in the middle.
I start to cry, and this time I don’t try to stop.
He doesn’t move. He just kneels there, eyes brimming, waiting for me to hit him or scream or run.
But I do none of those things.
I just sob, the sound tearing itself from somewhere deep, somewhere so lost I didn’t know it was still alive.
When it’s over, I wipe my face with my wrist, then look up at him.
“You’ve always known,” I say, voice raw.
He nods.
“All this time?”
He swallows. “The night I found you on the street. I recognized you the second I picked you up off the sidewalk.”
My hands ball into fists. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
He shakes his head, and I see the shame in it, the way he can’t even look at me now.
“I couldn’t,” he says.
The anger rises again, hot and white, burning through the grief.
“You let me believe you had no idea,” I hiss. “You let me—” I break off, words tangled with tears.
He closes his eyes. “I was selfish. I wanted to keep you, Daisy. It was an opportunity.”
I want to hit him, to break something, but all I do is shiver, cold and empty, the knowledge of what I am settling into my bones.
I am Tara Monroe.
I am Hunter’s stepsister.
He’s always known my true identity.
And I am in love with him.
