Page 79 of Unbreakable Thread

We move on to Mills, who shows me videos of people who have regained their memories and their responses to what they did to help them. As in most of those rare cases, people with the same condition had to learn about their family, just as I had planned to do. Maybe I can go to the library and get those genetic tests, too. I hadn’t even thought of that.

Max

Three long days of running and conditioning were torture only because I was away from Sol. I couldn’t wait to have her back home. I don’t know what she’s been doing besides therapy and school, but she seems clearer and willing to be back with me. For a short time, I thought I’d lose her forever. I still see the image of her sprawled out in my truck. I can’t fucking wait to have her in our bed. If I have to tie her up so she doesn’t leave, I’ll do just that. Not literally, but it’s crossed my mind.

As I said to her, when I get back, we can talk about how to make it work. I want Sol to be open with me. Not hide her nightmares, her dreams, and the memories she recovers. I want us to heal together and move on. I want to help her find peace, and by doing that, find out where her parents and grandmother are buried.

I knock on her door, and I’m greeted by Daisy. She jumps, standing on her hind legs. I hug her and ruffle her head. She’s gotten bigger since the day they both left. “Hey, girl, how are you doing? Did you miss me?”

She barks.

“Yeah, you did. I missed you, too. Did you take care of our girl as I asked you to?”

She barks twice.

I glance up to see Sol leaning on the doorway. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I missed her so damn much. I cleared my workday to be here with her. In two days, I have to fight for Daniel. For now, I’ll do it and see how I can get out of it without involving my girl. “Hey, baby.”

She wets her lips. “Hey, to you.” She eye fucks me, giving me those bedroom eyes.

My arms flex involuntarily with each step toward her, the cotton of my sleeve straining against muscle. Would it be a pity to admit I spent forty minutes choosing this outfit to catch her eye? My faded Levi’s hang just low enough on my hips to reveal the V line she enjoys tracing with her tongue, and my black shirt—the one that makes my shoulders look broader—tightens around the biceps I’ve been sculpting.

“You look absolutely gorgeous.” My hand finds the warm curve where her neck meets her shoulder. She leans in, her breath catching as our lips touch—soft, then urgent. The taste of her cherry gloss floods back like a muscle memory. The thing is, with her, we can always come back as if no time has passed. We both moan in unison.

I step back, letting us both breathe before we get heated and start throwing clothes off.

“We should talk,” she says, turning from me to grab her water bottle.

I nod, although she can’t see me. “We have a lot to talk about,” I agree.

She turns back toward me, and something in her face has shifted. Like she’d made a decision. Like she’d finally decided to trust me with all of it. Her mouth opens.

Daisy barks at the door. Outside, a van rolls up—Flowers for Any Occasion printed on its side—and a woman climbs out carrying an enormous bouquet, roses tangled among a dozen other blooms.

“For Sol,” the woman says, handing them to me.

My brows pinch together. Who would send her flowers? I slam the door shut, not even bothering to apologize for my rudeness. Sol looks at the bouquet, then at me. I set them down on the coffee table. I take out the card, which is clipped to the plastic stand that holds it. My pulse skyrockets, and my chest hammers.

“Who’s it from?” my beautiful woman asks in a low, soft voice.

So I read it to her. “Sol.” I set the card down, then pick it up. “Sol, I hope you’re having a wonderful day, sweetheart.” My jaw tightens. “Studying with you has been such. A. Pleasure.” Each word separated like I’m counting the damage. “I know you’re having a hard time, and I hope our sessions together have helped you heal…” I look at her. “Love. XOXO, Alex Mills.” The room goes quiet. He calls her Sol. I guess, since that’s the name she must have had him call her, because she didn’t tell me to call her Sol. The fact that he calls her by that name as if he has the privilege of doing so. I know it sounds ridiculous, but he’s been helping her heal when it should have been me.

I toss the card down. “Love…” I say the word and stare her in the eye. “Sweetheart?” My lips curl with disgust.

“I…I.” Her eyes are as wide as disks. “I don’t know what this is.”

My laugh darkens. “You don’t know…? You do. It seems all this time you have been seeking comfort in another man’s arms.”

“What are you talking about, Max? I haven’t been seeking comfort in any man’s arms.”

I lift the card up. “This tells me everything. You told him about what happened to you.” My voice is strained with anger. “You sat and spoke with him, the fucking man who has been wanting to fuck you!”

“It’s not like that, Max!” she yells.

“It is!” I spit out. “You went to him instead of me.” I laugh, nothing funny about the pain ripping in my chest. “You left me for space because you couldn’t talk to me.” My voice drops. “But you go and talk to him. He’s the one who’s been helping you heal. Not me. I have been waiting for you to come back to me. But instead, the woman I love is seeking comfort with him.”

“God, Max. He’s my professor. He has after-school tutoring. I’ve needed help, so I went. Then I asked him about amnesia and how the brain works with all that. I didn’t get personal, telling anything further than that. He did order dinner the first time because he was going to discuss it, and it got late.”

“Ah, so you two shared a meal together?” I hear myself before I say it. I say it anyway. “Tell me, tesoro, did you suck his dick right after?” I sneer and run my hand through my hair. “Or maybe you showed him your perfect pair of tits.” I know I’m being an ass, but I’m too pissed to care. She. Found. Comfort. In. Another. Man. Not me. She shared a meal with him.