I licked my lips. “Is that…? I guess,” I said, eyelids drooping.
“Yeah, Tara said that party went late last night. I guess you had a few too many.” He laughed.
Angela walked in, her socked feet silent on the thick carpet. She set my mother’s lamp back on its table next to my dad’s favorite chair. “What are you …?” I couldn’t be sure I managed to shove the last word out.
My hearing felt off.
“Just replaced the bulb like you asked,” she said, looking from me to Wes in darting glances.
“Sam’s still not feeling well,” Wes said, standing up and jingling his keys. “I’m going to get out of your hair.” He gave Angela a meaningful look. “Fee and Elizabeth are out front talking to Sam’s parents about the bug she came down with. Fee will leave some more tea. Call Tara later?”
Angela nodded and Wes disappeared down my front hall. A moment later, my front door opened and closed.
Angela looked at me, expression a little too forced and bright. “You look exhausted. Let’s crash out for the night?”
We reached the dark room, I shrank away, suddenly terrified of what might lay crouched there.
“You all right?” Angela asked. “You look lost.” She chuckled at her joke and flicked the light on before going into the bathroom to change.
I nodded off-handedly, but it was a lie. I wasn’t sure why I felt this way—I couldn’t recall a single thing that would have triggered me to feel so queasy and confused and scared of my own shadow. I’d had plenty of hang overs, gone to plenty of parties. None had ever made me feel like this. It didn’t make any freaking sense. Angela was dead right: I was lost.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sam
My head spun.
Images assaulted me, but the coloring was off, like they were being filtered through a strange lens.
A scene from my own living room I didn’t recognize with my friend Angela. Blood. Tears. Lots of fear. And something else. Me—something inside me. I was…more.
Every single thing I’d felt that night came crashing back around me. Awareness, desperation, and the truth of what I’d been about to tell them all found its way back into my memory. The weight of it all threatened to crush me and I felt some part of me—either physically or mentally—bucking underneath it all.
After that, two scenes with werewolves, both of them during my summer after senior year at aunt Kiwi’s house. Neither were memories I could have recalled before tonight. Both showed me bearing witness to men changing into wolves in the center of a circle cast by Kiwi and her wailing friends.
I filed those memories away for later as the images shifted to a back drop of Half Moon Bay.
Me working the desk at Oracle. A thousand small things I’d never wanted to see. Customers who shifted into a wolf as soon as they left and then darted into the woods instead of climbing into a car. Fur balls dropping from my purse as I lifted it to leave. Creeper Alley on Halloween.
I felt some small awareness inside myself wanting to look away but I planted myself there in the tiny hidden room behind Dave’s office and forced myself to watch it all.
If a non-human body could cry, I would have sobbed at the sight of Bernard’s blackened veins. My own veins burned white-hot as I watched my face being etched on his chest in the tiny room. A blackened outline, like charcoal on a white canvas. But definitely me. And then I watched myself as I’d bolted from the scene that night, barreling into Alex.
Alex.
I wanted to go to him now. But the energy flowing from the stone wouldn’t let me go. The first time, in Mirabelle’s office, I’d been able to let go. To decide not to stay in that space of in-between. But now, I couldn’t seem to remember how to break free of it.
I was trapped. And the images kept coming. Circling back to two years ago—back to before I’d forgotten…
Werewolves. Dozens of them. Yellow eyes, jowls dripping with saliva as they lunged at me. Blood on the grass. My shirt. The boy. Bleeding in my kitchen and then fast forward.
Alex—walking into Oracle that day.
My hands appeared in front of me, detached from the non-body I was currently traveling inside, but somehow still here. The lines of my palms lit with a white light that grew brighter and brighter until I turned away, blinded.
A final image flashed. Something I’d never seen before and somehow knew hadn’t yet come to pass. This wasn’t a memory. Alex, waking and smiling, completely healed, and then before I could celebrate his recovery: wolves. Dozens. Hundreds. Too many to count. All of them coming for me. All of them sick like Bernard had been. Too feral to reach. All of them intent on violence.
A noise broke through the images, a wailing that drew goose bumps along my arms and neck and made it impossible to focus.
My voice, I realized a moment later. It was me. I was wailing. Grief poured through me, the depths of which I’d never experienced, and I wailed harder until my shoulders shook and my bones ached.
With a whoosh, I came awake.
My eyes opened and I blinked, disoriented as I stared up into Alex’s warm brown eyes. His arms wrapped around me, strong and sure as he held me close and leaned in, his scent washing over me. My hands tightened and I forced them open, uncurling my fingers from where they clutched Alex’s shirt.
Alex.
I sighed, finally able to breathe again. Alex was here, holding me. Alex. It had always been him. All along. It had always been Alex. Standing up for me. Understanding me. Protecting me. It had always been the boy in the kitchen.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concern etched into the lines along his forehead and around his downturned mouth.
I looked around and struggled to sit up. Alex helped but he never let go of me, scooting closer in order to keep his arms around me while I looked around the room.
My circle of candles still burned near my feet with Alex and I sitting a little off-center where he’d dragged me into his lap.
Mirabelle and Wes still sat in front of me, just outside the flickering circle of candles. They both watched me with concern etched into their expressions. RJ sat less than three feet away on the edge of the coffee table, hovering nervously. Tara was on the very edge of the couch behind him, leaning toward me, casting curious glances between Alex and I.
In the background, the chimes from earlier played, and I wondered if I’d imagined the Florence song that had started it all.
“Sam?” Alex said again, and I turned back to him, throwing my arms around him and pressing my chest to his. I buried my face in his neck, squeezing my eyes shut. I was still pissed he’d lied but I’d waited two and half years for this moment. I wasn’t going to miss out on it now.
“I’m … okay,” I assured him.
“Did it work?” RJ asked.
Alex pulled away from me and glared at him. “Dammit, Sam, you had me worried,” Alex said.
“I’m all right,” I said again.
“Well, I’m not,” he said. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Here.” He handed me a tissue, using his thumb to wipe one side of my cheek.
I wiped at the other, surprised. “I didn’t even know I was crying,” I said.
“Crying is one thing,” Alex said, exhaling. “That was something else.”
“Sam?” Wes asked.
Beside me, Alex stiffened at the sound of Wes calling me back. Instantly, I felt the wall return. He was shutting me out. After everything he’d done—he was the one that lied—he was the one pulling away.
I couldn’t think about that now. There were too many new thoughts—old memories—to sift through. “I remember,” I said quietly.
“How much?” Mirabelle asked, pausing as she reached for a candle, scrutinizing me.
“Everything,” I told her. “I remember everything.
Chapter Forty
Sam
Sunlight streamed in through the single window, sending deceptively cheerful light slanting across the freshly made bed. Alex’s bag sat open and
almost full on the dresser. I could hear him rummaging in the bathroom, so I waited. If we were going to do this, it had to be now. RJ had taken Mirabelle home finally. Tara and Wes had gone to a hotel for a few hours of sleep. This was our only shot for privacy.
I straightened as Alex stepped back into the bedroom. He froze when he saw me, and I watched as a million warring emotions crossed his face. But then almost as quickly as they’d come, his mask slid back in place and he was the statue he’d been since the moment I’d admitted to having my memory back.
He’d been pulling away from me ever since and now the chasm between us was impassable. The ceremony had ended with me telling the others, haltingly, everything I’d remembered about that night. Alex had gotten up and walked out halfway through, slamming the door behind him. I’d almost succeeded in not crying after that. And I’d held back only one thing in my retelling of my own restored memory.
The only thing I still couldn’t make sense of.
When I’d finished, and everyone was satisfied I wasn’t going to start freaking out again like I’d done two years ago, the party had slowly broken up.
Alex had eventually returned. I’d pretended to doze on the couch to satisfy the others, listening as they’d all tried one by one to approach him. He’d told them all to go away. Even Tara, even when she got all choked up about apparently just learning that he was sick. Alex had chased them all away, citing new orders from CHAS. From Edie, whoever that was.
I’d learned when I’d “woken” that he was leaving. Today.
I stared down at my fingernails, pretending to be unaffected about watching him pack his bags. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I glanced up and across the room one more time. Alex had finished packing. Now, he stood across from me, staring out the window, stoic and expressionless as ever.
Apparently, I was going first.
“It’s silly that I hadn’t actually considered you leaving. I mean, of course you couldn’t stay forever,” I said lightly. “Duty calls.”
He didn’t answer.
I blew out a breath. My temper was getting the better of me.
“I still haven’t healed you, you know,” I said.
Fishing. I was fishing for more time. Shamelessly.
He didn’t answer.
“Admittedly, I don’t know exactly how that’s supposed to work just yet. But you could always stay and I could—”
“Why aren’t you furious with me?”
“What?”
He spun and his eyes blazed. “Why aren’t you cursing me to hell? I lied to you, Sam. Over and over. After I swore to you I wouldn’t do that anymore. I hurt you. I betrayed you. So what in the hell are we doing pretending otherwise?”
I blinked. He had a point. But…
“Alex, that day in my kitchen two years ago,” I said slowly, watching him carefully. He went even more rigid but I pressed on. “You stood up for me against Wes and Angela. Against all of them. Why?”
“Because I don’t agree with St. John’s… methods. Wiping your memory only hurt you in the end. I wasn’t on board.” He huffed. “But it wasn’t my decision to make.”
“It meant a lot to me that night.” I tried for a smile—and failed. “It feels good to remember that.”
Alex groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
“What?” I asked, taking a step forward. For a split second, I worried he was in pain or sick but he just looked back at me and shook his head, his shoulders still stiff with anger.
“I failed you,” he said.
I cocked my head. “Why are you punishing yourself? Shouldn’t I get to be the one to do that?”
“You don’t get it.”
“Tell me then.”
He hesitated and something in him softened, his shoulders relaxing. I took another step, sure that his temper had finally waned. That he was finally going to stop being such a brick wall. But then he hardened all over again. “I have to get back to work.”
“But I haven’t found a way to cure you yet.”
“I have Mirabelle’s medicine. It’s working out fine.”
“Alex, I—”
“Don’t. Just leave it alone, okay? It’s better this way.”
“What about your illness?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Besides, CHAS needs all hands.” He flashed a smile that was all teeth and no humor. “And killing werewolves has always cheered me up.”
I stared at him, willing him to say something, anything that meant he remembered that night in my kitchen the same way I did. But there was no indication. He went back to his bag and began zipping it up. A lump formed in my throat. This was it. He was really leaving.
“You’re such an ass,” I said.
“That’s my point,” he said, tossing his bag over his shoulder.
“No, I mean, you want me to be furious with you but that’s really hard to do if I’m busy missing you. And you’re the one who betrayed me. I should get my moment of raging at you but you’re even taking that from me with your giant pity party.” I glared at him but he didn’t react, and I couldn’t bring myself to keep going if he wasn’t even going to fight back.
He took a deep breath and I watched his chest expand with it before falling as he blew it out soundlessly. “All I ever wanted was for you to remember, Sam.”
“And now that I have?” I shot back. “What? You’re just going to forget?”
“Never,” he said quietly. He started for the door. “I could never forget.”
I watched him go, listening to his boots as they fell against the creaking stairs. As the front door opened and closed. As the house settled into silence and then finally as my heart broke and shattered into a million tiny pieces.
“You already have,” I whispered into the silence.
Chapter Forty-One
Alex
I slid into my truck, fuming, and started the engine. I hadn’t said goodbye to RJ or anyone else but that was for the best. What in the hell could I possibly say or do? I’d lied to Sam over and over even after promising I wouldn’t. And even if my feelings for her were real, the rest was so screwed up that I couldn’t possibly have argued my way out of it. And I damn sure wouldn’t have been able to cancel out that look of complete and utter betrayal she’d aimed at me just now. Not this time.
So, like the coward I was, I didn’t even bother to try. Instead, I got the hell out. She had Mirabelle and RJ. She didn’t need me.
And it was easier this way. I didn’t much want to face Tara’s tears anymore either. Edie had mentioned an assignment up north with one of her guys in covert ops needing a partner. Something to keep me gone for a while; something off the grid. It sounded perfect.
Besides, Sam didn’t deserve someone like me around. She needed loyalty. People she could trust while she put herself back together.
So, I swallowed the sick feeling in my gut that was trying to tell me I was making a huge mistake and backed out of the drive.
It was pouring out, but I didn’t mind it.
My bedroom window loomed two stories up from where I sat idling, but I didn’t give in to the urge to glance up to see if she was watching me. Slamming the gear shift into reverse, I punched it out of the driveway and onto the street.
My flight wasn’t for hours. I had no idea where I was headed. Anywhere but here.
Samantha Knight was like a damned magnet that kept pulling me back. Even when she claimed not to want me. Or looked at me like she was about to punch me in the jaw. All I wanted to do was throw myself on top of her.
It had been the same that night at her house two years ago.
Back then, I’d rejected it. Chalked it up to loneliness. And I’d actually thought I was in love with Tara Godfrey so there was that little complication. But even then, I hadn’t been able to look away from Sam. She’d pulled me in even then. I’d stared and stared at her through her freak-out and me bleeding all over her kitchen. I’d stared at her until the moment Wes had done his little
memory wipe and then the light had gone out in her eyes. And I’d finally been able to turn away.
Tonight, the light had come back. Not all the way and not for very long, but it was there. Dim. Burning, like a low lamp. And I had a feeling that when it returned, and I knew it would because nothing stopped Samantha Knight forever, I’d be done for.
I coughed, leaning heavily on the steering wheel as I hunched over in an effort to get a hold of my burning lungs.
When the fit cleared, I thumped the wheel, almost sending me fishtailing over the soaked roads. Like an idiot, I’d walked out without the medication Mirabelle had given me.
I pulled over in front of the park and dialed RJ.
“Dude,” he said by way of greeting.
“I need you to get my meds from Mirabelle and bring it to me,” I said.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I need to stop at the store for supplies and then I’ll head out of town on one.”
“I thought Edie said you were flying,” he said.
“I just made an executive decision to drive.” RJ didn’t answer. “Just call me and I’ll meet you.”
There was a beat of silence and then, “You’re a real ass sometimes, you know.”
“I know.” It was true. But I didn’t want to hear it just yet.
“Where are you going now?” he asked.
“Hopefully to kill something,” I said. “I could use a cheering up.”
“Whatever dies better deserve it,” he said and before I could ask if he was still talking about rogue werewolves, he hung up.
He was right, though.
When I finally ate it, I’d have it coming. That was for damned sure. My tombstone would read: Here lies Alex Channing. Finally taken down by the one thing he said he’d never let beat him.
Except, it wouldn’t be a werewolf. It would be a woman.
Epilogue
Sam
The rocking chair creaked in the breeze. My hair blew around my face, pricking at my cheeks and throat. My eyes tickled with moisture and I pretended that too was from the windy day—and not a parting gift from Alex Channing.
Remembrance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 1) Page 25