by Snow, Nicole
“Are you trying to drive me crazy or something? Um, it’s working!” My entire face twists. It hurts. I not only feel like I’m losing my mind, but everything I’ve ever wanted. Some secret dream I’ve always had, yet don’t remember, no thanks to this flipping amnesia.
“Did you hear me? It’s working!” I shout at him again.
He clears his throat and stands, towering over me. “Valerie—”
“Stop!” I aim a stiff finger at him.
I might be madder than I’ve ever been, but this man, this stranger, doesn’t scare me.
If he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it long before now. So far, all he’s done is lie to me through his oh-so-perfect teeth. What I can’t figure out is why.
“Careful what you say next. If you won’t tell me the truth, the whole truth, then I don’t want to hear a single fucking word out of your mouth, Mister!” I can’t believe I usually swear so much, but right now, all I care about is the truth.
The worst part is, I have to work to shut off my empathy. Mr. Liar looks so tortured. Like he’s being split at the seams, trying to hold in whatever deep dark secret he’s kept from me.
Flint rakes both hands through his short-cropped hair, mussing it as he huffs out a breath. Then those bright sky-blue eyes look through me with such compassion I start trembling.
Trembling more, I should say. The shock, the anger already has me shaking like a leaf.
“You’re right, Val. We aren’t married,” he says quietly. “That’s a fucking sham.”
I nearly collapse, but he’s at my side, wrapping an arm around my waist.
Well, there it is. I wanted this, right?
Only...part of me didn’t want to know. Didn’t want him to confirm my worst suspicions. Didn’t want the illusion to end.
Now, there’s no going back.
“Why?” One word. It’s the only thing I can squeak out.
“I’ll tell you,” he says, tugging me to the bed. “But first you’re gonna sit down for this. I’m not risking you falling and banging your head.”
Jesus, is it that bad?I wonder.
I’m not even sure I want to sit down and find out more, but I have to. So I plop down on the edge of the bed. He sits beside me, keeping an arm snug around my shoulders that’s pure agony because it still feels like it belongs there.
“Let’s get the obvious out of the way. First, you’re gonna hate my guts, and I don’t blame you. It started as Cash’s idea. I told the fuck this wouldn’t work, you were too smart to fall for it, but...hell, it just got away from me and snowballed.”
“What snowballed?”
He draws in a sharp breath. “Cash saw some men throw you off your family’s yacht, not far from some little islands off the north point. They threw you into the yacht’s runabout, and you took off, but they also tossed a bomb or launched some kind of explosive in pursuit. You jumped out a few seconds before the ship blew to kingdom come. Cash went out there with his boat, found you in the water, and dragged you back to shore. Because of what he saw, he brought you here. We couldn’t take you to a hospital, knowing those men would keep looking when your body didn’t turn up.”
I nod numbly. It feels like there’s an electric current running through my blood.
“Then when you woke up the next morning and couldn’t remember anything...Cash—fucking Cash—told you we were married. He thought it’d help so you wouldn’t be scared to stay here with me. Don’t ask me what kind of idiot jackass he is, still trying to figure that one out myself.”
I’d closed my eyes when he started talking. My head keeps pounding about as fast as my heart.
I can feel the memories.
I can’t remember them, no, but I can feel the blast, the heat, the roaring waves. The fire, flames everywhere, hissing debris. Trying to swim away.
“Savanny?” I whisper.
“He was with you. Think you pushed him overboard in time, and I hear he’s a born swimmer. Cash saved him, too.”
Pressing a hand to my forehead, I say, “I can’t remember all the details, but I think it happened, just like you say. I feel it.”
He rubs my back, his nimble fingers arcing down. “You’re safe here, Val. That’s the only reason I ever lied, and I feel like a huge damn asshole for doing it.”
“I know,” I say, my eyes drifting down. “I knew you weren’t trying to hurt me ever since I woke up. But...but why didn’t you tell me the truth then? Even if Cash thought it’d help, why go through all this?”
He’s silent for a moment, his face dark, but then he takes my hand. “You’ve still got men looking for you, Val. Dangerous men who want to make sure you died in that blast.”
Oh. It hadn’t dawned on me, and when it does, I get my second shock of the day.
My heart hits the back of my throat, causing me to choke.
I cough, and Flint pats my back, but it doesn’t seem to help. It’s like I’m being strangled.
“I-I...can’t. Can’t br-brea—”
“You can and you will,” Flint says, patting my back hard while pushing my head down between my knees. “Focus. One breath at a time. You’ve made it this far.”
I listen. I’m not sure how he makes it happen, but it works.
The air flows in and out of my mouth, my nostrils, my lungs again. Every breath eases the panic swell threatening to crush me like this ruthless wave.
I stay like that with my head hanging down, trying to decipher everything he said.
But I don’t need to decipher anything. He’s telling me the truth about my life.
I’ve known it for some time, but I still don’t know what it is. I only feel bits and pieces. It’s so weird, so fragmentary, so many little gaps I’m missing, but I’m sure of one thing.
There are men after me. I don’t know them, I don’t know why, but they’re coming. I truly believe they want me dead, just like he said.
Who knows, maybe they’ve been after me for some time.
“To clear shit up, I only lied about us being hitched,” Flint says, drawing slow, winding circles over my back. “Cash and I were special forces. Navy SEALs, once, then we specialized in security services. He’s truly a doctor, I sold a patent, and we owned a security and rescue company together after our time with Uncle Sam. We know what we’re doing.”
“SEALs?” I shake my head, even though it’s still hanging between my knees. “You never told me that.”
“Sorry. It’s not something I fling around. Until Cash found you, we’d bowed out of the cloak and dagger shit, thought we’d left it all behind.” He turns briefly to stare out the window at all the pure, golden light falling down on another perfect island day. “It’s not paradise out there, even if it looks like it. Not yet. Our work’s not done. Not till you’re safe.”
This is so different from not remembering anything. It makes my head hurt, but in a different way. “So is Bryce really your son, or just a kid you’ve got under your protection?”
“No, he’s mine.”
“What does he know about me?” I ask him.
Flint’s hand goes still on my back. “Nothing much beyond the pointers I gave him an hour ago. You’re a friend of mine, you’re in trouble, and I’m helping you out. Keeping you safe until we catch the bad guys.”
“Does he think we’re married, too?”
Flint lets out a growly sigh. “He knows we aren’t, but my head was up my ass. Again. I asked him to pretend we are because it’ll make you feel more comfortable here. Glad there’s no need for that anymore.”
God, this is all so confusing.
I don’t even know if I should be mad at him for asking his son to go along with a wild lie, or if I should be touched he was willing to go to such extremes for me. “I think I just...I need some time to think. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Sure, babe,” he says.
I wait for him to move, but he doesn’t, just stays at my side like he’s got his feet bolted to the floor.
“Um, I
mean, alone,” I say, fidgeting with my fingers.
“Gotcha. Do me a favor and sit up first, so I know you’re not going to faint.”
I sit up, closing my eyes because I can’t stand seeing him right now.
I might start crying if I do.
For a few blissful days, I was the luckiest woman on earth. Mrs. Flint Calum.
Now, I’m just a strange woman in hiding because someone’s trying to kill me.
There goes that goose again, walking over my grave. This time, it’s dancing, I think.
My bones shiver, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, telling me how serious this is.
Right. The last thing I should bawl over is having a marriage that was never real demolished in one hard conversation.
Refusing to let him know what a mess I am inside, I say, “I’m fine. Not going to faint.”
“All right. I’ll leave you alone. Call me back in if you need anything.”
The bed shifts as he stands. I don’t even open my eyes, don’t need to.
I can feel him standing beside me. I press my hands together, to prevent reaching out, grabbing him, begging him to stay.
The worst part? I still feel the ring on my finger. The most elegant black pearl I’ve ever seen. Now it’s just this little wad of darkness, a soul sucker, devouring the beautiful lie I lived for under a week.
Tears come again, spilling out from under my closed lids as I clumsily tug the ring off. “Here. Take this back. It’s yours.”
“Keep it,” he says, his voice soft and sure. “It’s yours, Val. I bought it on a whim and always figured I’d have a good use for it, one way or another. If it helps you feel better, then there’s nowhere else it belongs.”
It really shouldn’t.
But for some inexplicable reason, it does.
It tells me someone cares. A living reminder of what he’s willing to do to keep me safe, I guess.
He shuffles away then. I don’t open my eyes until I hear the door open and close with a grim click.
Then, I drop down on the bed and pull my legs up until I’m curled into a ball.
* * *
I let the tears come until they can’t.
Then I just lie there, eyes dry and burning, wondering what I did to deserve this. Why did I have to wind up in this mess, a life so jumbled and dark and full of would-be assassins I’m not even sure I want to remember more of who I used to be.
At least I’m covered there. I still can’t remember crap, but I know who I’m not.
I’m not Flint Calum’s wife.
It shouldn’t hurt so bad. I think it’s the loneliness that’s the worst, the glaring proof I have no connection to anybody now. And won’t until I remember something.
Right now, the scarce memories I have are ugly.
I don’t want to be Valerie Gerard, whoever she was.
I don’t want to be this girl who’s horribly estranged and hunted and never found a man to love. If I had a real husband, I think Flint would’ve told me that, too, and he would’ve come searching by now.
But I don’t. I’m alone. I doubt I can even trust my own family.
So I lie there until I’m able to collect myself enough to get up. There’s something hot in my palm.
I finally slide the ring back on my finger because I don’t want to lose it, then shower and get dressed. The tears almost come again the instant I walk into the kitchen and see the box of fresh baked malasadas sitting there.
As much as I love their sugary sweetness, I can’t eat now. I’m just not hungry.
The house is silent, empty, but I hear faint laughter outside. It must be afternoon.
I walk down the hall and out to the breezy lanai. Judging by the noise, Flint and his son are just past the concrete wall surrounding the tiled porch.
Following their voices, I head for the steps leading down to the sandy beach, which is where they must be. Actually, they’re in the water.
At first, it’s hard to believe what I’m seeing.
Bryce stands on a wide paddleboard. Flint circles several feet away, encouraging him to keep the board flat as it dips and bobs in the gentle waves.
Then there’s Savanny. He’s propped up on the board with Bryce, shaking a few stray drops of water off his whiskers, looking around excitedly.
Apparently, my cat’s not just part serval, but part otter too, a water baby to the core.
Good thing, too. It might’ve saved him from drowning after we jumped off the exploding skiff. If Cash hadn’t found us in time and brought us here, we’d both be dead and forgotten.
Flint hollers to Bryce again, encouraging him. I’m not sure this man ever berates or blames.
He’s so easy to relate to.
I wait until he sees me before I cross the lanai and walk down the steps. Flint leaves the water and steps onto the sand, coming toward me. We meet in the center of the beach.
I should be downright toasty. The sand under my feet, the air billowing through my hair, the sun shining down, they’re all delightfully warm. But I’m just chilled to the core and sad.
“Feeling better?” he asks, looking at me hesitantly.
He probably thinks I’m about to faint, or stop breathing, or just...
I don’t know, need him?
That’s hard to wrap my head around, too. He’s been here for everything I’ve needed so far, without complaint.
Lifting my chin, I try to find some stamina. “Yeah, the nap helped.”
“Hungry yet?”
Shaking my head, I bite my lips together to keep from smiling. “Is that your default answer to everything?”
“No. I get that shit from my ma, she’s always trying to feed people, rain or shine. There’s malasadas inside if you want a snack.”
I nod, even though I don’t know his mother, or my own. Another chill cuts through me.
Is my own mother even alive? Or is she dead, too?
No, she’s alive. I think.
I don’t get the same sense of black hole emptiness and loss when I think of her versus my father.
When I don’t move, Flint takes my hand and nods at the ocean. “Come on, say hello to Bryce. He’s already in love with your cheetah.”
That gets a small smile. What can it hurt?
I walk beside him, letting him guide me, digging my toes deeper into the beach with every step. The sandy warmth feels so good, even if it’s not enough to thaw the ice-cold unease in my bones.
The beach feels normal, comforting like so few things are.
“I’m glad he’s made friends with Savanny,” I say, trying to shift the focus off myself and my inner workings that totally aren’t working.
“They’ve been inseparable since he got home,” Flint says. “The situation was never right up till recently to have our own pet. Kid’s been hounding me over it for years. I just started telling him maybe we’d think about it recently. After he’s had a few days with your boy, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
I glance at him as he grins my way. That warmth isn’t just in the ground anymore.
A heatwave rushes through me like pure sunshine. I swear, the grin on Flint’s face could turn January into mid-July, and it’s not just because he’s so good to his son.
I’m safe with him. That’s what I keep coming back to. Like it’s something I’ve been missing, an easy afternoon walk on the beach with this big slice of muscle who could moonlight as an underwear model. I know I’ve been starving for safety for a long time.
“Bryce, come say hello to Valerie!” Flint shouts.
“Coming, Dad!” Bryce expertly floats the board all the way to shore, where Savanny springs off without getting wet. The cat runs up and curls himself around my ankles, purring as he headbutts my leg. I give the cat’s back a long stroke with one hand.
“Bryce, this is Valerie,” Flint says.
“Aloha, Valerie,” Bryce says, stepping closer, looking me up and down. “Heard some stuff about you.”
“All good things, I ho
pe?”
He nods. I straighten and instantly notice that he has the same striking blue eyes as Flint. His smile mirrors his father’s, too, just a tad more crooked, like he’s still growing into his face.
In fact, I’m sure this is exactly what Flint looked like when he was young. For some reason, that makes me smile. “Aloha, Bryce. Nice to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, too,” he says. “I’m sorry you were hurt in the accident. I hope you get better soon.”
“Every day it gets a little easier.” Needing to give credit where it’s due, I add, “Thanks to your father.”
He grins. Pure devotion shines in his eyes as he looks up at Flint. “He’s a pretty cool dad. I like him.”
“Oh, you like me, do you?” Flint asks him, shooting him a cocky smile. “Glad to hear I’m not out of the running after Grandma spoiled you rotten for a week.”
Bryce shrugs, but his eyes glow even brighter. “Yeah, I mean...you’re cool sometimes.”
Chuckling, Flint moves like lightning, grabbing his son and launching into a flurry of tickles while he flips Bryce upside down. The laughter from them both makes me want to laugh too, but I feel like I shouldn’t.
I’m not part of this. Of them.
I’m a strange woman intruding on this happy family, a burden Flint never wanted. Happiness isn’t something I can add to their lives. I’m threatening to take him away from this.
Sure, I really have a sense of woe-is-me right now. No idea if that’s normal for me or not.
“Scat, boy,” Flint says as he sets Bryce’s feet back on the ground. “Get back on your board.”
Bryce laughs and runs to the water. He floats the board back in, climbs on, and then stands up and starts paddling with fluid strokes.
“He looks like he’s done that a hundred times,” I say.
“At least a thousand,” Flint answers. “Bryce loves the water. That’s the main reason I bought this place. This cove is perfect and pretty safe, no surprise currents or anything. We rarely get any rough waters around here. He can play to his heart’s content.”
“He’s a lucky kid,” I tell him with a sigh.
“Want to sit down?” he asks.
I look at him slowly, gnawing my lip. It’s like a change in air pressure in the space between us.