It was enough.
“Am, I’m sorry.” I began, tugging her fully against my body. The way her nose nuzzled against my chest caused my throat to constrict. “I know you love me. I just got frustrated.”
The words sounded stupid to my ears. Useless. Some words were more powerful than others, and sometimes it seemed the words that hurt weighed more than any apology.
“I do love you,” she said, the softness of her mouth brushing over my skin as she spoke. Her voice was muffled, but I understood every word. Amnesia pulled back, enough to tilt her head up and look me in the eyes. I still saw traces of hurt there, but more than that wariness. “I don’t even think I can explain how much you mean to me.” Her voice faded. “I just—”
“Stop,” I cut her off. “You don’t have to say anything else.” I rubbed my palm over her shoulder, hoping it was a soothing gesture. “You’ve been through so much shit. It’s literally not even funny. And it’s even less fair of me to push you to move in here when you aren’t ready.”
“I wish I was,” she whispered. Her throat worked to swallow.
“The second you are, just say the word. The offer never expires.”
The guarded veil dropped over her eyes again. Amnesia somehow convinced herself I was one day not going to want her. That there was something out there with the capability to change the beating of my heart.
Or…
Am wasn’t the one who convinced herself. Someone else did it for her.
More specifically, that old bat lying unresponsive in the hospital.
Fuck not pushing. Fuck biding my time. If that bitch was somehow manipulating my girl’s head, even in her “catatonic” state, I was going to put a stop to it.
PS: I used quotations around catatonic because, let’s get real, the psycho was probably faking.
“What did she say to you?” I demanded, though I tried to do it gently.
Amnesia’s eyes moved away. “Who?”
“Am,” I growled.
She sighed. “I—”
The doorbell rang.
I swore to all that’s holy I was going to rip that ringer right off the side of the house. And then I was going to beat whoever it was that pushed on it with the broken pieces.
“Why do people always show up when we’re in bed?” Am wondered.
I made a rude sound. “Because people are assholes.”
Am giggled, and the sound lifted the darkest of the black settling over my mood. “Or maybe it’s because we spend too much time in here.”
I screwed up my face in horror. “I should make you eat a banana for saying that.”
She cringed.
The doorbell rang again. Repeatedly.
Instead of jumping off the mattress, I wrapped an arm across her waist and kissed her loud and sloppily all over her cheek. Her laughter floated out the door behind me as I finally stormed toward the front of the house.
“This better be good!” I roared and flung it open.
“What the hell, man!” someone roared back.
“Robbie?” I asked, even though he was standing right in front of me.
“Are you still in bed?” He scoffed, taking in my undressed state and glowering.
“What are you, my mother?” I retorted.
“If I was, I’d be half blind, because, dude…” He glanced down. “You need to adjust your junk.”
I glanced down and frowned. “I already adjusted it.”
“Made you look!” He announced and smacked me on the shoulder. His palm made a slapping sound against my skin.
“What are you, in fifth grade?” Even as I asked, a grin tugged at my lips.
“Those were the days.” He reminisced. “Cindy Vans was so hot for me.”
I rolled my eyes. “She still is.”
He smirked. “I know.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked. As fun as this was, I had better things to do than shoot the shit with him while I stood around in my boxers.
He laid a hand over his chest. “You wound me.”
“You should seek counseling.” I deadpanned and started to shut the door in his face.
His palm thumped against the wood when he slammed it down to push the door wide again. “You stood me up.”
“Eddie?” Amnesia’s voice called out from behind me. Both Robbie and I spun around as though we’d been caught doing something we weren’t supposed to.
“Um, whoa.” Robbie whistled below his breath behind me.
In the center of my back, I felt my shoulder blades slam together. I glanced around, giving him a hard look. “You better keep those eyes up.” I warned.
“You think so low of me.”
“That’s because I’ve known you for a long ass time.”
“And this is why it’s so painful you stood me up today.” He made a sound like he might cry. “On our annual date day.”
Shit. “That’s today?”
“What’s today?” Amnesia asked.
“Second Tuesday of every October.” Robbie tapped on the pretend watch around his wrist.
I cursed. “Sorry, man. I haven’t been able to keep up with time lately.”
His eyes went past me toward Am. “You have a good reason.”
I glanced back around to see her watching him curiously. I sighed. “Am, Robbie. Robbie, Am.”
Robbie let himself into my house, across the living room, and shoved his hand out to Am. “Nice to meet ya, finally.”
I growled. “Do not even think about touching her when she’s not wearing pants.”
Amnesia gasped. Robbie laughed.
“What happens on the second Tuesday of every October?” she asked.
“Paintball,” Robbie answered.
I watched her mind work, brow furrowing. Seconds later, she looked at me. “What’s paintball?”
Robbie and I looked at each other.
He grinned. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“This is ridiculous.” I said, still not even sure what we were doing.
Eddie paused in his task, the rattling of the plastic bag silenced when he stopped to give me his trademark grin. “But fun, yeah?”
His smile was infectious, and even though I was standing in the middle of some cornfield while he strapped a plastic grocery bag over my casted wrist, I found myself beaming just as wide. Though I knew my grin wasn’t as ornery. Or able to make people literally stop and glance my way.
People actually did that. The more I went out in public with Eddie, the more and more I realized just how drawn to him everyone was.
His chuckle was low and deep as he returned to making sure my cast was completely covered.
“Can I even play paintball with one hand?” I asked, entirely skeptical.
He tilted his head to the side. “Can’t wait to find out.”
I mock gasped.
He threw back his head and laughed.
The fact I seemed so clueless about this so-called sport only made Eddie and Robbie more intent to bring me along, though I tried really hard to get out of it. Okay, not so hard. Just a little. I’d probably follow Eddie just about anywhere.
I could tell he wanted to go by the way the blue of his eyes sparkled with mischief and the wide smile Robbie wore when he tried to explain what paintball was.
Basically, it was when a bunch of people dressed up in old clothes, ran around a field, and literally shot balls of paint at each other. Of course, the object was to not get hit with said balls, but when you did, you were instantaneously splattered with paint.
For some reason, I didn’t see this as something a lot of women did. Yet here I was, dressed in a pair of jeans, sneakers, and some old Loch Gen shirts. Oh, and let’s not forget the uber-attractive grocery bags being duck taped around my arm.
“That should do it,” Eddie said, admiring his taping skills.
I felt the sharp edge of my teeth sink into my lower lip. He laughed softly, swung an arm around me, and pulled me into his side. “I got you,
Am. If I didn’t think you could do it, I would never have brought you.”
“I trust you,” I replied.
His thumb and forefinger grasped just beneath my chin, lifting my face. The intensity of his eyes when they connected with mine sent a jolt of energy all the way to the bottom of my feet. Instead of using words, his face lowered, capturing my lips with his. I pushed up onto my tiptoes, our mouths locked in a sweet yet fierce kiss.
“There’s no kissing in paintball,” Robbie announced, coming up behind us.
Against my lips, Eddie smiled. “Rules are there are no rules.” He countered, lifting his head.
Robbie made a sound, shifting all the stuff piled in his arms. “Here’s the rest of the gear.” He let it all fall at his feet, giving me a smile. “Better suit up. Times a’wastin’!”
I watched Eddie and Robbie “suit up” as though they were preparing for war. Over their old, already paint-splattered clothes, they dressed in what looked like sensible onesies. The kind auto mechanics wore to protect their clothes from grease.
I don’t know how I knew what auto mechanics wore. Seemed that was some odd detail my brain shouldn’t identify, right? I was beginning to accept that as my reality, though—my brain filled with a ton of useless information and nothing about me.
Once they zipped up the suits, they strapped on wide belts with a bunch of canister-looking things hanging off them. Eddie winked when he pulled up the hood attached to the suit and covered all his dark, spirally curls. Once it was tied beneath his chin (seriously, how did he still look sexy in that getup?), he pulled a helmet with a full-on face mask over his head. It had thin vents so I could hear his voice when he talked.
“Is this war or a game?” I asked, dubiously looking between them.
“What’s the difference?” Robbie cracked.
“I’ll help you,” Eddie said, chivalrously holding out the suit for me to step in. Once I was dressed just as horribly as the men, they both laughed, the sounds muffled by the headgear.
“What?” I said, noting they were staring at me.
“You look like you’re about to fall over,” Robbie answered.
“Not all of us can look like Rambo.”
How do I know who Rambo is?
Robbie laughed again. “Dude, I like you.”
“I’m not so sure about you yet.”
“I grow on people,” he remarked, and I was pretty sure he winked at me behind the mask.
“Is that too much weight on your hips?” Eddie said, drawing my attention as he stepped forward and reached for the canisters filled with what I now knew was my ammunition.
“I think it’s okay,” I said.
I saw the frown in his voice. “Maybe I should carry some of it for you.” Before I could say anything else, he was relieving me of my paintball stash and putting it on his own belt.
“What the hell is this?”
Eddie made a rude sound. “She’s on my team.” He reminded his friend, as if that somehow made it all right.
Maybe it did, because Robbie didn’t argue.
We stood at the edge of what I thought of as the battlefield. Before us, other people ran around, and the sound of paintball guns going off and people squealing echoed all around the field. Apparently, this wasn’t just any old paintball game.
This was Lake Loch’s fall edition. That meant the barricades and walls to hide behind were giant hay bales all covered in bright-colored paint. Not only that, but they created a maze-type play zone, so not only did you have to worry about not getting shot, but also about not getting turned around.
There were large pumpkins sitting around everywhere, all of them splattered with paint. Some of them had actual holes in them. When we first came in, there was a tent where all the gear was rented as well as a smaller tent beside it with apple cider and donuts.
The air today was crisp and almost cold, not that I could feel it with all this gear piled on me. Not an ounce of my skin was actually exposed… well, except for my one hand.
“Just stay near me,” Eddie said, drawing my attention. “We play until we run out of ammo.”
“He means the balls,” Robbie explained. He just wanted to say balls.
Eddie snickered inside his helmet. It was nice to see this side of him. More carefree almost. I wondered why he never mentioned Robbie to me before. “We’re red; he’s blue.”
“I’m coming for you, Sa—” Robbie began, but Eddie moved so fast it caught us all off guard. He shoved his friend back with a full body check. Robbie stumbled, but didn’t fall.
“Her name is Amnesia,” Eddie growled.
Robbie didn’t shove back or even seem mad over Eddie’s actions. Instead, his shoulders slumped a little. “I’m sorry, for real. It was an accident.”
Eddie’s shoulders were so tense he practically vibrated. He wasn’t going to let his friend off so easily.
Rushing forward, the canisters banging against each other as I went, I hurried to say. “It’s fine! No big deal.”
Did Robbie know Sadie, too? He must think I’m her.
“Am.” Robbie came forward.
I held up my hand. “Don’t apologize again.”
We all stood there awkwardly, a few tense moments floating in the air. I hated it. It always came back around to this… I wanted a break. I needed one.
Eddie, too.
I bent down and picked up a nearby gun. “Who’s going to show me how to shoot this thing.”
“You’re holding it backward,” Eddie informed me.
“Like this?” I adjusted.
“Sure, if you want to shoot yourself.” Robbie cracked. “FYI, I wouldn’t recommend that. From that range, you’d be hurting for days.”
Eddie materialized beside me, gently relieving me of the gun, spinning it around and demonstrating how to hold it.
“Does it really hurt to get hit?” I asked.
“It stings.” He glanced at me through the helmet. “Don’t worry, baby. No one’s going to hit you today.”
“Isn’t that the point, though?” I wondered.
“The point is to shoot other people.” After finishing his demonstration, Eddie handed me the gun.
“You and Robbie do this all the time?”
“Not as much as we used to.”
“How long have you been friends?” I asked, taking the weapon.
“Since kindergarten.”
I paused, swinging around to face him. “That’s a lot of history!” I couldn’t even imagine… To have memories that went that far back. “You’re lucky to have a friend that long.”
Something passed behind his eyes, but it was unreadable.
“C’mon, let’s do this!” Robbie called.
After they both gave me a few more pointers, the three of us stepped out onto the field, and the game began.
I learned something about myself. Something to add to the list of things about me.
I sucked at paintball.
In all likelihood, I sucked at all sports, but I wasn’t yet ready to put that broad of a statement on my list.
Also, I didn’t get it. We literally ran from hay bale to hay bale, diving behind them for “cover” while balls of paint flew at our heads. Eddie and Robbie took this game seriously, though.
It was almost funny. Actually, it was funny. At one point, I started laughing at them and nearly got my head blasted with a random paint bullet. Eddie stepped in front of me, though, shielding me with his own body and taking the hit.
His body jerked in front of me when it hit him, and a sick feeling wormed into my belly, making me lightheaded for a moment. But then he was there, wrapping his arm at my waist and tugging me behind the next blockade.
Even though I stunk at the game, it was still kind of fun. I got some shots off. None of them hit anything, but that was okay with me. It was nice just being outside, listening to the guys trash talking each other, and listening to everyone else laughing and screaming around us.
It almost felt normal.
Like a normal fall day in Maine. Like maybe these were the kind of days I missed when I’d been missing… the days Sadie should have had.
You aren’t Sadie.
Eddie made a loud whooping sound, bringing me out of my dark thoughts. “That was the money shot!” He celebrated. “You see that, baby?”
I blinked, looking up from where I leaned against the hay.
“Am?” he said, suddenly serious. His body bent close, our eyes connecting. “You okay?”
“Of course,” I said, offering a smile he probably couldn’t see. “Nice shot!”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. He was covered in paint. Most of it was blue. Some of it was yellow and green, because at one point we all teamed up against another team.
We all teamed up = Eddie and Robbie ran in front of me and let me make poorly aimed shots that hit no one.
“Dude, I’m out of ammo,” Robbie said, coming around to where we stood.
“Good game.” Eddie offered his fist and they bumped them together.
Robbie glanced at me, his low whistle echoing beneath his helmet. “Didn’t even get hit once.”
“No one wanted a piece of this,” I said, tapping my chest with the gun I was holding.
They laughed.
How rude.
“C’mon, we’re done.” Eddie reached for my gun, and I handed it over. The three of us wandered through the path until it opened up into the field. As we were walking toward the rental tent, my mind wandered once again to Sadie and if Robbie had known her, too.
Something hard slammed into me from behind. A sound erupted out of my throat as I pitched forward. A sharp stinging sensation exploded across my lower back, an ache forming beneath it.
“No!” The word ripped roughly from my throat, and for endless seconds, the world as I knew it slipped away, another one taking its place.
The sharp sting of leather cut into my back, making my eyes water and ears fill with the distinct sound of my ragged breathing. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He likes it when you cry. Another slice of pain slashed through me and my knees buckled.
“This is all your fault, Sadie. All your fault.”
I would have crumpled to the ground, but Eddie lunged forward and caught me, tucking me right into his chest. “Am,” he called. His voice seemed so far away. “Amnesia.”
Amnesty: Amnesia Duet Book 2 Page 3