A nurse turned the corner at the end of the hall, and I spun away, walking toward the elevators so I wouldn’t get caught in conversation. The tap-tap-tapping of my sneakers against the squeaky-clean tile floor was impatient. The ding of the elevator arriving seemed to take forever.
I stepped inside, thankful I was the only one in the car. Bracing my hands on the wall, I leaned my bowed head against it to look at the floor. Behind me, the doors began to close, so I pushed off, turned around, and watched the entrance to the hallway grow smaller.
Right before they shut completely, a flash of movement stunned me. An arm jammed through the narrow opening and damn near got crushed.
I gasped, covering both hands with my mouth, anticipating the doors snapping shut and the arm being lobbed off and landing at my feet.
My imagination needed a serious chill pill.
Instead of cutting off the arm, the doors bounced back open.
“Eddie!” I said, rushing forward. “Are you okay? Your arm!”
“You see that?” he asked. “Almost got it cut clean off.”
I smacked him. “That was stupid!”
He was standing in the hallway; I was still in the elevator. The doors began to close between us again. I squeaked and backed up. All this talk of dismembering made me paranoid.
He cursed and jumped forward, landing inside the small box with me.
“What are you doing!” I exclaimed dubiously as the doors firmly closed and the car began to glide down.
Eddie swung around and promptly hit the emergency stop button.
Beneath our feet, the thing lurched to a stop, making us rock unsteadily.
“That was the stop button!” I yelled.
“What gave you the first clue?” he drawled quite sarcastically. “The bright-red color, the giant size, or the fact it says STOP in bold writing?”
“What’s with the surly attitude?” I asked coolly, crossing my arms over my chest. If anyone had the right to be surly, it was me.
“You saw us,” he intoned, stepping forward. It was a rather menacing step.
My body thought it was delicious.
I lifted my chin. “In bed together? Yep. Got an eyeful.”
His lip curled. “You thought you could run out without a word?”
“You looked busy,” I snapped.
He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his already wild curls. “This is why I hit the stop button,” he murmured.
“What?”
His eyes flashed up to mine. He walked forward against me until my back was pressed to the wall, his hands flattened beside my head, caging me in. “We’re not getting out of this elevator until I make something crystal clear.”
“What’s that?” I asked, holding his stare.
“What you saw back there wasn’t what it looked like.”
“I know that,” I replied. “You were comforting her. She needs it.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. “She had a rough night. It’s, uh…”
I laid a hand on his chest. “You don’t have to explain. I know. She was your best friend. Your first love. You spent a long time wondering what if.”
His eyes bounced between mine. Searching. I didn’t know what he was searching for, so I couldn’t give it to him.
“I hurt you. Seeing me like that with her hurt you.”
“Maybe a little,” I admitted. Then quickly I added, “But I know it shouldn’t. I know—”
“Stop right there, Am,” he growled.
My eyes grew wide.
“Your pain isn’t any less important than hers. If anything, yours is more important.”
A little part of me sang a joyous song. Clearly, I had some real issues here. “Hers is much more recent.” I allowed.
“No.” He came forward, his body pressing all along mine so I was sandwiched between him and the wall. His nose caressed my cheekbone; his lips brushed against my jaw.
I sighed. His touch was always my undoing.
Drawing back, he said, “Look at me.”
Obviously, I listened.
“I’m in love with you. You. No one else. I thought you understood that after last night.”
“I do.” I promised. “I was just caught off guard this morning.”
“I get it.” He nodded. “If I saw something like that, I probably would have given the guy a bloody nose.”
I wrinkled up my face. “Probably?” I mean, we all saw what he did when I got shot with a paintball, during a game.
His head tipped back when he laughed. “Definitely.” Taking my hand, linking our fingers together, his face turned serious. “I can’t promise you won’t ever see Sadie in my arms again. She was my best friend. She needs someone to be there for her…”
I put my fingers against his lips. “I know that. I completely understand.”
He nipped at my fingertips, and I yanked them away.
“No, you don’t. What I’m trying to say is Sadie is my friend, and I feel responsible for what happened to her. You know I do.” I nodded, and he went on. “But I’m in love with you, Am. Not her. There are parts of me, so many, that will only ever belong to you. I might hold her when she cries, but you’re the only one I will climb into a shower for, fully dressed. The only girl I would lose an arm over trying to get into your elevator. Yours are the only lips I want to kiss. The only one I reach for when I wake up in the morning. Your body is the only one mine craves.” His head rested beside my ear, our fingers still entwined. “I love you,” he whispered. “Only you.”
That little piece of me singing a joyous song?
It turned into a full-on choral performance.
“I wish I could say I didn’t need to hear that, but I did.”
He grinned. “I saw you scurrying from the room like we were in some bad soap opera. I was afraid you were going to be like one of those overdramatic characters who jumps in her car, drives erratically, and hits a tree because her heart is eternally shattered.”
I blinked. “What?”
Oh my Lord, his grin unraveled me. Both dimples appeared, white teeth flashing. “Honey, if you think reality TV is bad, you should try some soap operas.”
Curious, I asked, “They’re on TV, too?”
Chuckling, Eddie grabbed me and pulled me in. I forgot all about whatever he was talking about. My belly overturned, landing somewhere near my feet, when his body folded around mine.
It was the kind of hug that consumed me. His large, tall frame hunched in, closed around me, and I was entirely surrounded. The scent of his skin, the warmth of his clothes, the sound of his heart beating steadily. I hugged back, holding him tight. My eyes slid closed, and all the insecurity I felt completely melted away.
“You brought us breakfast?” He pulled away but kept our hands linked.
I nodded. “I remember how grateful I was when you brought me food when I was here.”
He kissed my temple. “You’re a good person, Amnesia.”
“I was hoping I could talk to Sadie,” I blurted out, as if him calling me good was too much for my conscience to handle. I had so many questions.
“Of course you do,” he murmured. “So do I.”
“How is she?” I asked. “Does she seem… capable of answering? Does she seem…?” I faltered.
“Sane enough to believe?” He finished.
I nodded, feeling guilty.
Eddie reached behind him, hitting the emergency stop button again. The elevator groaned and started moving instantly.
“For the most part,” he answered.
I tilted my head, silently asking him to elaborate.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened.
Eddie leaned forward and hit the button for the floor we’d just left. Turning to me, he said, “I had to convince her to leave the island.”
Shock rendered me immobile. “She didn’t want to go?”
“She wanted to, but she’s scared of him. I almost feel she’s been brainwashed.”
“
Widow West sounded the same way when she was going on about him.” Without thinking, I reached up and tugged the ends of my hair nervously.
Eddie’s hand came over mine. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
He knew I was thinking about what Sadie said yesterday. It was very similar to what the widow had said. He was going to be angry I cut my hair. He was going to punish me.
The elevator opened, the familiar hallway back in sight. Eddie led me off, stopping by a few windows that overlooked a parking lot.
“Do you think she’ll be up to talking?” I asked.
“I think there’s only one way to find out.”
As we went back toward Sadie’s room, my tummy filled with nervous energy. I couldn’t help but be a little scared of the things we might learn.
Torn. I felt torn between two women. Stretched so thin I was in danger of ripping.
For so many years, I begged the lake to give back Sadie. I bargained. I threatened… I prayed. I sank deep into the depths of guilt, what-ifs, and unknowns.
The lake replied. And in true Lake Loch fashion, what I was given was a mystery within the mystery. An answer that unwrapped a million more questions.
Not one girl, but two. And me with only one heart.
The lake was probably laughing now, proud of the game it played so very well.
Be careful what you wish for?
No.
I would rather struggle than not be here today. It didn’t matter that what I begged for came in a package I wasn’t expecting.
I had Sadie back. And I had Amnesia.
Those were two regrets I would never have.
I did feel some remorse, though. This was hurting Amnesia. She tried to hide it, but her poker face was nonexistent. I was glad for that because it was easy to see when she needed something (except when it was dark). Or maybe I was just that in tune with her, that perceptive of her emotions.
She might not have much memory. Unfortunately, she made up for it tenfold with loss. For a while there, I really thought she was Sadie. After the allergy, I changed my mind, but I’d slowly been changing it back.
Now we knew who she wasn’t. We just didn’t know who she was.
Even though we were never sure she was Sadie, finding out she wasn’t? It was like ripping away her identity all over again. Amnesia had lost herself twice.
That’s twice more than most anyone ever experienced.
She thought it mattered to me. Her identity. Maybe at first it did. It was all I thought about. But the longer I sat beside her bed, the more and more I was around her, everything inside me shifted. Toward her. Like the cells in my body permanently rearranged themselves to match up to her indefinitely.
I was already gone, fallen deep. I fell in love with the person she was, not the name she might have had.
Amnesia halted just before I could open the door to the room. “I’m nervous.” She confided.
“I think it would be weird if you weren’t.”
“Do you think she knows me?” Am asked, anxious. I knew she was afraid of what she would learn. She was also afraid she wouldn’t learn anything at all.
Talk about a double-edged sword.
“She knows you.”
Her eyes rounded, and suddenly, I had a craving for milk chocolate. “How do you know?”
“She told me she did. On the island.”
Am gasped before I could even say more. “You didn’t say anything to me!” I watched as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared.
“Don’t look at me like that, woman. I don’t like it.” I reached out and tugged her arms, trying to rid her of that defiant pose.
“Well, I don’t like you not telling me things.”
“If you would let me finish,” I drawled and took her hand. “She told me she knew you, but in the rush to get off the island, I didn’t think it was a good time. And last night…” I cleared my throat. “You didn’t need information last night, baby. You just needed me to be there.”
Her eyes softened. “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“Aww, don’t be like that, Am. I’m telling you now.”
She rolled her eyes. I thought it was kinda cute.
“Tell me.”
“She says your name is Lily.”
“Lily,” she echoed. I watched thoughts play over her features. I watched her try and recognize the name. She tried so hard my heart pinched when she looked up at me and frowned. “It means nothing to me.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” she insisted.
“Hey.” I cupped the back of her head and pulled her in. She resisted. I released her and bent so we were eye to eye. “Give. It. Time.” I urged. “And who knows? Maybe Sadie is mistaken. That’s all she told me about you. Maybe she was confused.”
“That’s all she said?” she asked, crestfallen.
“Well, she did tell me you two were sisters.” Amnesia gasped, and I held up my hand. “But Sadie is an only child, so that’s not true.”
She slumped forward. I wrapped an arm around her. “If you aren’t up for this, it can wait.”
“No. I’m ready,” she asserted, left my hold, and went through the door ahead of me.
Sadie glanced up the second we walked in. Her eyes went first to Am, then moved to me. She smiled. “Eddie, I wondered where you went.”
“Just stepped out to talk to Amnesia. Didn’t want to wake you.”
She held out her hand to me, wiggling her fingers. Suppressing my inward cringe, I went to her. But instead of taking her hand as she wanted, I picked up the drink tray Am brought. “Look, Amnesia brought us some breakfast.”
“It smells amazing!” she said and smiled at Am. “Thank you.”
Amnesia came forward. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred coffee or hot chocolate,” she said. “But I brought both,”
Sadie glanced at me, and we both smiled. “Coffee,” we said at the same time.
“There’s cream and sugar in the empty cup holder, there,” Amnesia said, pointing.
“Thanks, baby,” I said, handing Sadie a cup of coffee.
I felt her eyes when she took the drink, but when I lifted mine, she just smiled. I grabbed the cream and sugar and plopped it in her lap. “You used to use this,” I said.
“Thank you.”
After I plucked the second black coffee out of the tray, I took the hot chocolate out and carried it over to Am. “How’d you know she’d pick coffee?” I whispered when I handed it over.
“I didn’t,” she said simply.
She would have handed over the drink I knew she got for herself if that’s what Sadie had chosen.
“What’s in the box?” Sadie asked, pulling me around.
“Monkey bread muffins,” Amnesia said. “I’ve never tasted anything better.”
“Joline is still the best baker in Lake Loch?” Sadie asked, stirring the add-ins into her coffee.
“Of course,” I replied. “That woman can outbake anyone.”
“Is everyone else still here in town?” Sadie asked timidly. “Has anyone else passed?”
My heart clenched. “We’ve had a few people move to town, a few people move away. Most everyone is still around, though.”
“Except my parents,” she murmured.
I cleared my throat.
“I’m so sorry to hear about them,” Amnesia offered, moving closer to the bed. “I’m sure they loved you very much.”
“I loved them,” Sadie replied, her voice sad.
I pulled the chair close and gestured for Am to sit down.
“What about you, Eddie?” Sadie asked.
“I’m good,” I said, sipping the coffee.
“Sit,” Sadie patted the bed.
Instead of making everything more freaking awkward than it was, I sat on the end of the bed, leaving my feet on the floor.
“You must be starving,” Amnesia said, setting aside her cup and picking up the box to offer Sadie a muffin.
/> Sadie glanced at the food, then away. “Actually, I really don’t have much of an appetite.”
Amnesia nodded, sympathetic. “I can understand that.” She started to put the box back.
“What about me?” I complained.
She laughed, the sound like the sun peeking out on a cloudy day. “Here,” she said handing me the box.
I snatched one up and took a huge bite off the top.
Amnesia laughed again.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. She looked better this morning. Not as haggard. She was still obviously tired, and worry lined her eyes, but at least she didn’t appear on the verge of falling.
“Bite?” I asked and shoved the muffin in her face.
Smiling, she plucked a piece off the top. It was extra gooey with icing—those were her favorite bites—and delicately put it between her lips.
“You take such girl bites,” I told her and shoved more in my face.
“Because I don’t eat like a pig?” Am retorted.
I snorted.
An odd feeling wrapped around me, and I glanced over. Sadie was staring between the two of us with an odd expression on her face.
Amnesia cleared her throat and put the box on the table. Both her hands wrapped around the hot chocolate, and she sat forward in her chair.
“Sadie? Would it be okay if we talked?”
Sadie looked at Amnesia. “About what?”
Am glanced at me, and I nodded. “Eddie said you told him you know me.”
“You don’t know me?” she asked.
Slowly, Amnesia shook her head. “I don’t remember anything before waking up here in a coma.”
“Nothing at all?” Sadie asked, pulling the coffee into her chest.
“Well, I do have a few memories that have come back, but nothing that tells me anything about who I am.”
“What do you remember?”
Amnesia swallowed. “The cave we found you in, that place was familiar. And hair braiding.”
Sadie’s face lit up. “We used to braid each other’s hair all the time.”
Amnesia’s body tensed. Admittedly, so did mine. I didn’t say anything, though. This was their time.
“We did?” she asked, sitting back. “Every once in a while, I’ll hear giggling, like maybe we liked it?”
Amnesty: Amnesia Duet Book 2 Page 14