I switched off the TV and stood. ‘Don’t seem so damned surprised. But, yeah. I’ve never slept with a random woman before.’
Her lips curled into a curious grin. ‘But what if you haven’t been dating anyone for a while? And I mean, a long while? Like a serious drought.’
I didn’t reply. I’m sure she figured that I took care of business. A lot.
I could tell she was braless again, and her nipples poked through her t-shirt, taunting me—reminding me of how long it had been since I’d had sex. I struggled to keep my mind from drifting, from focusing on how perky they looked … how sweet they’d taste in my mouth.
‘Goodnight, Lucy.’ I walked toward my bedroom, but I felt her eyes following me.
‘Here, take these with you.’
I turned just as she flung the packet of condoms at me, and they smacked against my chest and dropped to the floor.
‘Save them for when you meet that special someone.’
She strolled to her room, leaving me to stare at the packet of condoms on the ground. A pack of forty. By the time I had sex again, forty would probably last a week.
I sat reclined against my bedhead, mindlessly scrolling through my phone when my bedroom door burst open. The sudden shock made my heart leap through my skin. I shot up straight, my phone dropping from my hand.
Lucy was breathing funny again. ‘I want to see your leg.’
‘Geez, Lucy! You scared the crap out of me! You couldn’t knock?!’
Walking around the side of my bed, she hopped in beside me, her eyes stormy gray. ‘I want to see your leg,’ she repeated.
It was after midnight, and part of me wanted to tell her to get the hell out of my room. But I preferred to have her close when she was breathing like that.
She reached for my quilt and attempted to pull it off me, but I took hold of her hand. ‘I’m only wearing boxers.’
She didn’t blink. ‘I’ve seen you in boxers a million times.’
The intensity of her stare kept adrenaline pounding through me. She sat so close and smelt so good, I couldn’t find the words to reply.
Pulling the quilt off me, Lucy studied my leg in a long, contemplative silence. She crawled to the end of the bed, to get closer to my foot, and her t-shirt hitched up, revealing shorts so short they should have been classified as underwear, and legs so long and smooth, I needed to swallow.
She brushed her finger along the first scar on the front of my foot, then slowly glided her fingers up toward the longer cut beside my shin bone. My body stiffened from her touch, so soft and gentle, and goosebumps erupted over my skin. My eyes remained locked on her ass, small and tight, her cheeks poking teasingly from the bottom of her shorts.
This time, there was no stopping my mind from drifting to what I wanted to do to her.
It was only when she’d spent ten minutes thoroughly examining my leg that she crawled to the top of the bed and sat beside me.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘Fell off a ceiling beam at work onto the concrete slab. Crushed my foot and tibia. That was the first three months. The second time, I’d only just gone back to work, but I was distracted and missed a step going up a ladder. My foot buckled, and I fell on it. Fucked my leg all over again.’
She nodded but didn’t reply, sitting huddled against my pillow and looking way too inviting with the warm glow of my lamp washing over her.
‘It was Lillian,’ I said eventually. ‘She called me at work and told me her husband broke it off. She’d been having a rough time already and—’
I clenched my jaw. There wasn’t a time that thinking about her scumbag husband didn’t leave anger boiling in my veins.
‘You’re good to her,’ she said.
‘No. She’s good to me. She moved out of here and in with Mum three months ago so I could move in because she was worried about me not working. She had only moved in here herself when her fucking husband left. She refuses to charge me rent. And, when my injury was at its worst, when I could barely walk, she came over every day, cleaned and dropped off meals. She’s still doing it. I keep telling her she doesn’t need to, but she won’t listen.’
I shook my head. It wasn’t right.
Lucy’s brows furrowed. ‘Why are you shaking your head? What’s wrong with her helping like that?’
My pitch rose slightly. ‘It’s not her job to take care of me. It’s my job to take care of her. I’m her brother.’
‘So?’
‘So—it isn’t right. When our asshole dad left, I promised to take care of her and Mum, and now I’m a fucking cripple and they’re taking care of me.’
Lucy’s brows flew upward, and her voice dropped to an exasperated whisper. ‘That’s it? That’s why you’ve been bitter and angry? Because you injured yourself and your family has been taking care of you?’
‘You don’t understand—’
‘No, you don’t understand.’ She shot up and glared at me with crazy eyes. Her breathing, which had calmed, intensified again. ‘That’s what family is meant to do. It’s not only you who needs to take care of her. You both need to take care of each other.’
I turned until I was facing her fully. ‘Lucy …’
Something wild went off in her, and she cut me off, her words flying out one after the other.
‘Your leg will heal, and then you’ll be fine, and you would’ve had people who helped you get better, who gave a shit. Do you think you have a right to be angry about that? To be annoyed? You, Billy, you’re only broken temporarily. Not like—’
She stopped suddenly and sank against the bedhead, her shoulders crumpling inwards.
A knot twisted my stomach. ‘Not like who?’
She wouldn’t look at me. ‘I don’t know what I was saying.’
‘Lucy—not like who?’ I repeated, firmer.
With a rigid smile, she shook her head, dismissing my question.
It was close to one a.m., and Lucy looked tired. I knew there was no point in pushing her for answers, but I had every intention of pushing Lillian for them tomorrow.
Lying flat, I stretched my legs out and tucked my left arm under my head. Lucy’s gaze dropped to the scar low on my hip, just above the waistline of my boxers, then to the scars on her left wrist. She edged closer. Reaching out her hand, she carefully caressed my scar. She had fingers like a piano player, long and delicate, and her touch started a fire raging through me. Gliding her hand toward my stomach, she circled the tuft of hair around my belly button.
‘You have beautiful skin.’
I waited for her to say, like Lillian, but she didn’t. I liked that.
She continued moving her fingers upward, leaving a trail of blazing heat wherever she touched, and I sucked in a breath.
‘Want me to stop?’ she whispered.
‘No.’
She flattened her palm against my pounding chest. ‘Does your heart always beat this fast?’
‘No.’
Sliding closer, she closed the gap between us, and her chest cushioned against the side of my body. I fought the desire to wrap her in my arms and pull her on top of me, knees spread, her tits pressed against my chest, the warmth of her pussy pressed against my cock.
‘I’m tired,’ she said.
She was so warm.
‘Me too.’
‘I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.’
Her heart drummed against my skin.
‘Then stay here.’
With a faint smile, she curled into a ball and snuggled right up against me as if she couldn’t get close enough. I didn’t move, knowing I wouldn’t stop this time if I touched her. And Lillian would never forgive me if I touched Lucy like that. Closing her eyes, she mumbled something I couldn’t make out, her breath tickling my skin.
I felt the moment she fell asleep when her breathing deepened, and her body sank against me. With her curled up like that, her situation struck me. Nameless. Homeless. And so alone that out of all the people in the world, it was me—
the asshole—that she was nestled into.
13
Her
The days trickled by until another full week had passed, but I got no closer to finding out who I was. My brain was a vault, welded shut, impenetrable. Occasionally, I felt something, like the strangest sense of déjà vu, especially when I was with Tyler. It was as if my memories were banging on the vaulted door inside my brain, and sometimes, if they hit loud enough, I heard the faintest echo of their calling in the distance.
I sat on my bed, rereading Tyler’s message over and over again.
See me tonight. Early dinner. 5pm at a place called Smithes in the city. Burgers and fries and chocolate milkshakes.
I’d only seen him two days ago. Still, I messaged him back with, Okay.
Outside my bedroom, Lillian and Blake chatted in the living room. I hadn’t heard Billy’s voice once since they’d arrived fifteen minutes ago, and I imagined he was leaning against the kitchen bench, giving Blake devil eyes.
Billy had avoided me since the night I’d slept in his bed.
I’d spent the entire night pressed against him, the warmth of his body a tease against mine. But he didn’t touch me once. The moment I’d nestled into him, he’d stiffened like a log. And when I’d woken, he was already up, lying on the couch, watching TV and refusing to look me in the eyes.
We hadn’t spoken much since that morning.
I was hiding in my bedroom, hoping Lillian and Blake would leave, but they hadn’t. I figured I should make an appearance, so I crept out of my bedroom. Billy saw me instantly, but Lillian and Blake were far too lost in conversation.
Lillian looked particularly beautiful today with her long, thick hair draped over her shoulder. She wore a knee-length floral dress in pale yellow, which highlighted her flawless skin, and a hint of lipstick on her full lips. Blake didn’t blink once while she spoke to him. And just as I had expected, Billy had his devil eyes on.
‘Hey!’ Lillian jumped up on seeing me. ‘I was hoping you’d come out. I thought you might’ve been napping.’
A large dirty black backpack sat on the coffee table. Beside it, folded perfectly, were a pair of black jeans and what appeared to be several dark t-shirts. Something inside me seized. Blake stood and extended his arm toward me, seeking a handshake, but I was too paralyzed to move.
The casual smile on Lillian’s face shifted, replaced by something more professional. ‘How about we all take a seat?’ she said, prompting my legs to work.
Blake rested his huge arms on his knees and leaned forward. Out the side of my eye, I saw Billy stir.
‘We’ve made some real progress since I last saw you,’ Blake said. ‘We’ve scanned all passenger records of the interstate train you came in on and found details for sixteen female passengers traveling alone.’
I stared blankly. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Well,’ Blake replied, ‘we’re confident you’re one of those passengers. It’s a matter of contacting each one until we’re down to the one we can’t contact. And’—he reached forward and picked up the backpack—‘security footage confirmed this bag is identical to the one you were carrying when you boarded the train in Maitland. It was found dumped in an alley not far from Central Station. We believe these are your clothes.’
Reaching for the jeans, I traced my fingers over the stiff fabric. It was my size.
The puzzle pieces were coming together quicker than I was falling apart.
‘I gather they took all the valuable stuff,’ I said, not looking up.
‘Actually. We found this in the back pocket of the jeans.’
My head shot up. Blake held a thin gold ring between his fingers, something like a wedding band. Extending the ring toward me, he gestured for me to take it and dropped it in the center of my palm.
The room fell eerily silent as I stared at the ring, and my heart drummed along with the surge of adrenaline that made my stomach somersault. On the underside, in delicate cursive writing, was an inscription. Holding the ring up, I made out two letters: T. M.
‘They may be your initials,’ Blake said, breaking the tension.
There was no way the wedding ring was mine.
I blurted out a hollow laugh. ‘I would hope that if I had a husband somewhere, he’d be looking for me.’
A sudden thud made everyone jump, and Blake, Lillian, and I turned to stare at Billy. Without a word, he reached forward and picked up the kitchen chair he’d somehow knocked to the ground.
‘The ring mightn’t be yours,’ Lillian added. ‘Since you weren’t wearing it, it’s plausible to assume it might belong to a parent or grandparent. And let’s not forget that the bag mightn’t be yours either. There are so many ifs.’
I loved Lillian for that. For her diplomacy in every situation. For the way she knew when I was freaking out and tried to calm me.
I didn’t love Blake for the why is she so blank look he gave me. For the she never responds, and it’s making me suspicious look in his chiseled face.
God, I wished Billy would say something.
‘Do I keep this stuff?’ I asked Blake, gesturing to the bag, clothes, and ring.
‘No. This will remain in our possession until the investigation is over.’
I agreed and handed everything back to him. But when Blake left half an hour later—when he was distracted by Lillian’s long, thick lashes batting up at him—I reached into the bag and snuck out the ring. Then I tucked it deep into the back pocket of my new black jeans.
Lillian stood at the front door, ready to say goodbye. Billy wandered into the kitchen, and she handed me three appointment cards for the coming Tuesday, in four days time—one with a neurologist, one with a cardiologist, and one with an occupational therapist. I tucked the cards into my back pocket, then took hold of her arm, stopping her from walking away.
‘Blake is besotted,’ I said.
She laughed in a way that made her cheeks flush, and her eyes twinkle. ‘I’m not going to lie. It’s nice to have someone look at me like that again. But as I said, things are complicated with my ex right now.’
‘It doesn’t have to be serious with Blake. It’s just nice to have someone close. A body to sleep next to. Someone who gives a shit when it feels like no one else does, even if it’s temporary.’
Leaning into me, she whispered in my ear, and I knew she didn’t want Billy to hear. ‘It’s been so lonely since Mark left. Having someone to cuddle does sound good.’
She left, the faintest trace of a grin still on her lips, and Billy walked into his room, shutting the door behind him.
I was folding the last of the clothes that I’d pulled from the dryer when Billy walked out of his room. His limp was mild now, caused by the brace he still had to wear more than anything else.
He frowned at me. ‘You’re not my housemaid.’
I had no idea why he was being so blunt with me. Why he had been so blunt with me.
‘Great observation,’ I replied, folding his sweatpants.
His tone hardened. ‘You don’t need to clean up after me.’
Lillian had left an hour ago, and Billy had been hiding in his bedroom since. I was left alone, the ring in my back pocket, feeling anxious about meeting up with Tyler in a few hours and sad in a way that couldn’t be measured. I’d started tidying the place to help out and keep busy. It wasn’t a big deal.
But now he was being an asshole about it.
‘Why the fuck are you angry at me?’ I snapped.
He jerked back, and his eyes widened, his icy expression shifting to something I couldn’t read.
‘Why the hell are you encouraging Lillian to sleep with Blake? She’s in the middle of a fucking divorce.’
That was not the reason he was angry with me. But I went along with it.
‘Because sometimes people get lonely.’
He marched up to me. ‘You have no idea what she’s been through. She doesn’t need to be hurt again by fucking someone when she’s on the rebound.’
I
couldn’t control the anger in my tone, unable to stop my voice from rising. ‘And you obviously don’t understand what it’s like to be lonely! How it feels to sleep on your own night after night, feeling like no one in this damn world gives a shit about you! How sometimes it’s better to sleep next to someone—anyone—if it means not being alone!’
He glared at me. All I felt was my rapid pulse, but I couldn’t look away from him.
Until I had to look away from him.
I dropped my gaze to the ground when he set me ablaze with his eyes.
‘A temporary fix doesn’t solve the problem.’
‘No,’ I replied, staring at my shoes. ‘But it makes the problem easier to deal with.’
Especially when the problem was loneliness.
‘Lucy …’
When I didn’t look up, Billy said my name again, calling me to meet his gaze, and I did.
‘Being with the wrong person only makes you feel more lonely. Trust me,’ he said softly.
Somehow I knew he was right. Somewhere, deep in my core, I knew I’d been lonely long before I’d met him, long before I’d lost my memory.
And somehow, I knew that I used to be with someone. Sleeping beside Billy had stirred something in my brain—the most distant recollection that I used to be somebody’s. I’d become certain of it, with my body pressed against Billy’s, the warmth of his skin on mine. Even though he hadn’t touched me once, I knew I’d slept beside someone before I lost my memory. That someone’s body felt invisibly sculpted to mine, molded to fit my every curve and dint and bump. Like we had slept side by side, night after night for a million years.
My phone let out a sudden shriek, vibrating on the coffee table, and Billy looked at it suspiciously. I knew what he was thinking: who in the world is contacting her? She doesn’t know anyone.
I wanted to lunge for it, to hide Tyler’s message from him, but I didn’t move. Instead, it was Billy who reached for my phone.
He handed it to me. ‘Someone’s messaging you.’
I swallowed. I didn’t understand why I felt I couldn’t tell him about Tyler. ‘Thanks.’
Call me Lucy: An Enemies to Lovers romance Page 12