Igniting the Spark

by Fleur Smith

  I sobbed at his words.

  “I hate that you’ve made me doubt what my father told me, that from the very first time I heard your voice, I questioned everything he tried to make me think was true. I’ve been trying to convince myself that he had to be right.”

  He took a step farther away from me.

  “I hate that I allowed him to manipulate me into trying to hurt you and that I didn’t know better before I did potentially irreversible damage. I hate that I believed the vicious things that he said about you and about the fae—especially now that I see that this place is like one giant family where everyone genuinely seems to look out for one another.”

  His continued confession made me wrap my arms around myself and step backward until my back hit the crib. I reminded myself of the two tiny people relying on me to hold myself together. Even that wasn’t enough to stop me from wanting to slide to the floor to let the pain take me. I gripped the side of the crib to keep myself upright.

  His words were a stark reminder that I’d been so selfish. I’d only considered how I was hurting with loss and confusion over his lies. Since learning that he’d lied to me about his returned memories, I hadn’t given a thought as to what Clay must have been going through. I’d barely considered what the confessions he’d made to me might’ve cost him to make.

  I gazed at our children, unable to focus on Clay. He might be suffering, but he could easily have cost them their lives. He didn’t specifically deserve to be hurting, but I couldn’t carry the pain by myself.

  “Above everything else I hate looking at you.” His words drew my attention, and I raised my tear-soaked eyes. He was closer than I’d expected, just inches in front of me. He was close enough that I could reach out and touch him. I’d backed myself up so far that I had nowhere else to go.

  “Since I told you the truth, there’s this look you keep giving me.”

  “W-what do you mean?”

  “Every time I so much as glance in your direction, I see you staring at me with the same look in your eyes. It’s like I’m disappointing you for something that I didn’t even do, something I can’t control.”

  Violent sobs ripped their way loose from my chest. His arms surrounded me an instant later.

  It felt so right, so natural, for his body to be wrapped around me and for the scent of his familiar musk to surround my senses. I couldn’t enjoy it though. Despite how wonderful it was, it sent a sharp pain into my heart that all of the things that were so natural to me would have felt unfamiliar to him. Reluctantly, I pulled out of his embrace and stepped sideways.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be who you think I am,” he murmured.

  Our son started to cry, and I turned away from Clay to attend to him.

  “I think you should go,” I said as I pulled our son from the crib, knowing I couldn’t deal with the fallout of Clay’s confessions right now. I needed time to think, to try to understand what I wanted—what our children needed—before I could even consider Clay’s issues.

  When he didn’t move to leave the room, I swung around to look at him with pleading eyes. “Please?”

  I needed a moment to be alone. There was too much in my mind to process it all with him watching me, staring at me through my lover’s eyes when he wasn’t that person anymore. He didn’t move, and I closed my eyes.

  “I can’t,” he said. “I’m under house arrest, remember?”

  I flinched as he said the last word. That one stupid word was the cause of all of our problems. If only he could remember.

  “Can you do me a favor and go to the ensuite then, please? I need to feed this little one again.” I knew I would have to give our son a name soon, but even that thought made me anxious. How could I name him when Clay—my Clay—wasn’t around to help me pick something suitable?

  Holding our son tightly in my arms, I crossed the room to the bed as Clay nodded to confirm he’d do what I asked.

  “I’m just going to have a shower,” he said as he walked to the bathroom.

  One thing was becoming very clear to me: I had to force myself to accept the fact that Clay was truly gone. I was a widow even though my husband was still alive and currently living in the same room as me.

  I glanced up at Ava to make sure she was still sleeping soundly as I shifted my son into position to feed. While he fed, I brushed my fingers across his forehead. “What are we going to do about your daddy?” I murmured under my breath. “And what are we going to do about your name?”

  I relished the relative quiet of the room; it gave me a moment to think about everything that had happened since Clay broke into the house earlier that day.

  If the fae thought he hadn’t changed from the man who’d attacked the guards stationed in front of the house, they would punish him for the atrocities he’d committed in his attempt to get at me. I recalled Fiona’s description of the Void and the thought of Clay having to spend time mentally locked away there made my heart ache. Even though he wasn’t my Clay, I had enough sympathy for the man he was—at least the one I knew he could be—to not want him to spend years serving punishment for one rash decision inspired by his father’s lies.

  He didn’t kill anyone. They’re all recovering. They’ll be okay.

  I truly believed something had shifted within him after his revelation and he would no longer pose a threat to myself or the fae, but I wasn’t sure I could convince the fae of that if they knew that my Clay wasn’t back. Aiden especially would be difficult to persuade. Unless, of course, Clay’s memories genuinely had returned . . . or at least if we were able to convince everyone else they had.

  After I finished feeding our son, I covered myself up and called Clay back into the room to explain my epiphany to him. Then I told him what I thought we would have to do. He sat on the end of the bed while I cradled our son back to sleep.

  “You want me to keep pretending?” he asked.

  “Just while we’re here. If they think your memory has returned, I don’t think they will hold you responsible for what happened while it was lost.”

  “But it hasn’t returned, and I am responsible. I could have killed my brother.” Emotions that had been absent before began to seep into his tone, confirming I was making the right choice standing by him. “I could have killed Ethan.”

  “Knowing what you now know, would you do it again if you had the chance to do it over?”

  He stared at my face for a moment before shaking his head.

  “Then you don’t need to face extra punishment for your father’s issues.”

  “You believe me, just like that?”

  I sighed. “What other choice do I have?”

  “And you’d lie to these people, ones that you consider family, for me?”

  I chuckled darkly at how ridiculous his statement was. If he had even one memory of me, he’d know I would do anything for him. “I already have, haven’t I?” I asked. “Even if I didn’t know it at the time. If it bothers you so much, we can just call it wishful thinking.”

  He flinched at the second part of my sentence. “And then what?”

  I shrugged. “Then after we go back home, we say that the burden of twins was too much for us to handle and you needed to leave.” Even saying the word hurt, but it would hurt more for him to be in the Void if I could keep him away from that punishment.

  “Won’t they all hate me for leaving you alone with two babies?”

  “Maybe, but what’s the alternative?” I asked. “I couldn’t bear to see you forced to endure the Void because of lies you were told that led to a stupid mistake on your part.”

  “I’m not sure it will work anyway,” he said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  He reached for our baby boy, and I reflexively pulled him back to my chest. In response, Clay sighed and pushed himself off the bed.

  “Because they won’t believe you if you can’t trust me.” He turned back toward me, scrubbing the back of his neck.

  Knowing that he was right, I glanced down
at our little boy. “Do you promise that you won’t hurt him?” I asked, still reluctant to release him from my arms into the hold of a possible killer.

  You can’t think like that, I chastised myself. It’s Clay. Even if he’s not himself at the moment, he’s still the one who was willing to walk away from the Rain, from everything he knew, for you.

  “I had the chance to do that while we were alone at your house.”

  His choice of words stung—once upon a time, it would have been our house—but he was right. If we were going to fool his family, I needed to prove to them that I believed in him. Despite my reluctance, I slowly lifted our baby in my arms and passed him to Clay. The sight of Clay holding our child gently, cradling his head in the nook of his elbow, made my throat constrict tightly as tears threatened to overtake me again.

  “What’s his name?” Clay asked, glancing quickly between our baby boy and me.

  “We hadn’t picked one,” I said. “We both assumed I would have a girl. Only a girl.”

  “What names do you like?”

  “I really haven’t given it much thought, but I guess David, after my father. Or maybe Luke.”

  “Luke?” Clay asked.

  I shook my head because I didn’t want to go into all of the details of the poor boy who’d unwittingly given his life for me. “Just some kid I knew once.”

  “Well, what about David Luke . . .” he trailed off. “I’m sorry I don’t know your last name.”

  Another bout of tears threatened, but, with some difficulty, I held them at bay. Just. “Jacobs. We’re married.”

  His eyes fell onto my left hand, and he nodded as he saw the simple gold band there. I noticed his own finger was bare.

  “I took it off,” he said when he caught the direction of my gaze. “I’m sorry, it . . . It just didn’t mean anything to me.”

  I nodded as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Each time I started to forget that things weren’t what they’d been, something offered up a painful reminder. Each one hit harder than the bullet I took months earlier. That had only been a physical pain, this echoed through my whole soul.

  “I left it at Dad’s house,” he murmured.

  “Maybe you could send it back to me when all of this is over,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “It may not mean anything to you, but it means a lot to me.”

  “Of course.” A sorrowful expression crossed his features as he nodded. “You really loved me, didn’t you?”

  “I would have died to save your life.” I didn’t add that I almost had—multiple times. “And you felt the same about me.”

  “I’m sorry for attacking you,” he whispered. “It must be impossible to understand. I was told you were responsible for my memories and my . . . vision.”

  I chuckled darkly. “Depending on how you look at it, I guess I am.”

  “What do you mean?” He walked over to the crib and placed a now-sleeping David—the name was definitely growing on me—beside his sister.

  “How can I explain everything about us in a few minutes?” I asked the room before giving him a very brief rundown of the history of his family, our meeting, our reunions and partings, and finished up with our wedding.

  “Huh,” he said when I finished before scrubbing his neck once more. Some things never change. “We’ve really been through a lot, haven’t we?”

  I gave him my best “you think” look and bit my lip to stop myself from crying as I considered just how much we really had been through. For it to end this way, well, it was fair to say I felt cheated.

  “Why didn’t we just give up?” he asked. There wasn’t any malice in his tone, but he seemed genuinely confused why we’d go through so much just to be together.

  “Because it wasn’t an option for me,” I said. “You were worth fighting for.”

  “Am I still?” he asked. There was an unknown intensity in his eyes that called out to me.

  “Is that something you want?” I asked, my heart in my throat as I considered that maybe he wasn’t entirely lost to me. Maybe his heart remembered what his mind had forgotten.

  He sighed and turned away from me. “If you want your plan to succeed, you’re going to have to convince everyone that you think I still am. You can’t stop and pause like that.”

  Any hope that he was asking because he felt even a semblance of his past emotions faded away instantly, and I had to choke back my tears as I explained my pause to him. “It’s hard. You look like the man I love, you sound like him, and in every physical way, you are him. Everything about you should make it easy for me to be around you, but it’s just so hard because you’re not him. Not anymore.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, I really do, but you’re the one who came up with this plan.”

  “I was, and I still think it’s the best option. You’re right. I do need to work on it, and you need to do the same. You need to act like you still love me.” Cold hands squeezed at my chest in an icy death grip as I said the words. I would have to let him caress me like he always had, all while knowing that he felt nothing for me. I was setting myself up for massive heartbreak, but I couldn’t just abandon him to the punishment he’d face. “Can you do that?”

  “I can try.” He smiled sadly. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to look at you like that though.” He indicated toward the photo of us from the night before the Bayview attack. “It’s strange, I can clearly see the devotion there, but I just . . . I don’t feel that way.”

  Hearing him confirm the words I already knew hurt more than it probably should have.

  “I understand,” I whispered, not trusting my voice with any more volume.

  His eyes tracked a path across my face, and he mirrored my sorrowful expression. “I wish I could, if only to take away the pain this causes you. I just, well, I don’t know you. I’m willing to try to emulate that though, to convince everyone, if you still think that’s the best idea?”

  I didn’t miss the irony that the one person who had gone to the ends of the Earth to research my heritage, who had found answers about my true nature that no one else—not even my parents—could provide, now had no recollection of me.

  I nodded. “It’s the best plan I can think of. But we’re going to have to learn to be close again if we’re going to convince everyone you’ve got your memory back,” I said quietly.

  “I agree, Lynnie.” He smiled suitably proud of himself for remembering my nickname, but that name off those lips was just wrong.

  A fresh sob broke free from me. “It’s Evie,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “My name . . . you always called me Evie. Aiden is the only one who calls me Lynnie.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He met me during a time in my life when I didn’t want to be me.”

  “But I knew the real you?”

  I smiled at the memories his words brought to my mind, until it served as a reminder that those same memories were lost to him forever.

  “Yeah, you did,” I said. “Better than anyone else ever could.”

  “Tell me something about you that only I would know.”

  “I still wake most nights to dreams of smoke and fire. You’re the only one who can help me back to sleep when the nightmares come.”

  He frowned and the silence between us grew awkward. I couldn’t continue, and he huffed out a breath and turned away. Both of us seemed unwilling to play the game any longer. I thought briefly about going to get something to eat, but I couldn’t. Even though I was trying my hardest to trust him, I wasn’t willing to leave him alone with Ava and David just yet. I still wasn’t sure how I was going to leave them in his care to see Aiden and talk to the púca.

  The minutes ticked into hours with very little additional conversation between us. Neither of us knew what to say to the other. It would have been awkward enough to share this intimate space with a stranger, but sharing it with one who used to be my husband was almost impossible.

  After almost
two hours, the babies woke from their nap at about the same time, and both cried out loudly to be fed. Almost instantly, I rushed across the room to pick them up. It was only when I saw another pair of hands reach into the crib that I realized Clay had acted just as instinctively as me.

  “You feed Ava,” he said. “I’ll take this one and keep him happy while you do. He fed most recently.”

  My heart ached for Clay. The man I loved was missing out on these precious moments with our children, and instead I had to contend with a stranger who seemed like such a natural father but hadn’t been offered a choice in becoming one. He’d had a family forced onto him without his consent, at least until we had a chance to clear his name. Then he could choose to be free of them, and of me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I WAS JUST finishing feeding David when a knock sounded on the door. Holding Ava tightly in his arms, Clay headed to the door to open it. He murmured a quick apology that I was still busy and would just need a couple of minutes before he closed the door again. He glanced at me briefly before turning away with pink ears at the fact that I was not completely tucked away yet.

  “Who was it?” I asked his back, trying to let his embarrassment—and mine—slide.

  “It’s the two fae from before,” he whispered.

  “Aiden and Mackenzie?” I asked.

  “I think so, yeah.”

  “Aiden probably wants me to go meet the púca,” I murmured. “And Mackenzie is probably here to check on Ava.”

  “Are you ready for this?” Clay asked as he turned toward me again.

  “For what?” I asked with a falsely sincere smile to indicate that I was ready for the lie.

  “I’m not sure I am,” he murmured.

  “Just be quiet and let me answer the questions,” I said.

  “That doesn’t sound like me,” he challenged.

  I found myself laughing at the truth in his words. “It’s not really, but I’m sure they’ll understand you being like that given everything that has happened.”