“Thanks.”
“You’re still okay with coming to my house?”
“Yes, I’m okay with it. I mean, if it’s still okay with you.”
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t want you there.”
“That dream I had the other night…I can’t remember all of it, but you were in it. And in my dream you were someone I trusted. I’m hoping my subconscious is trying to tell me you’re not a sociopath.”
I involuntarily flinch a little. “When we first met, you said something similar. You asked me if I was a sociopath.”
“I did?” She closes her eyes as if she’s trying to conjure up the memory.
“Yep. This is good, right? Maybe you’ll start remembering things soon. Being stuck inside these four walls probably isn’t conducive to your recovery.”
April
“Wow, your apartment is huge,” I exclaim as soon as I walk in. “And look, is that the ocean?” I squint toward the balcony.
“Yeah. It’s a great place to sit and think. Come.” He leads me to the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything you want. There’s a half bathroom right there.” He points to a door. “Over here,” he says, escorting me toward the hallway, “is my room, and yours is over there.”
“This is so kind of you, Matt. Thank you.” He nods, and I can tell by the twitch in his jaw he’s not happy. That twitch appears every so often, and it leaves me utterly confused. I don’t want to be ungrateful, but I feel as if he hates that he is helping me. Feeling awkward and in the way, I say, “I think I’m going to take a shower. Is that okay?”
“Of course. The shower is in the bathroom off my bedroom.”
I go with him into his room, looking around in the process. His bed is unmade, but otherwise the room is neat.
“Are you remembering anything?” he asks, and I look around some more, hoping there will be some sort of trigger. But there’s nothing. Just emptiness. “Nothing.”
“There are towels in the closet and a robe you can use behind the door.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time,” he says, and then leaves me to it.
Matt
I’m sitting in the living room reading a newspaper when I catch April walking back to her room, still wearing the same thing she had on before she went into the bathroom.
“Hey.” I put down the paper and rush to her. “What happened?”
“In the hospital the nurses helped me dress and undress, but now…” She looks down at her arm.
“Oh. Of course. Come on, I’ll help you take that off.”
“No!” she yelps.
“It’s not a big deal, April. We’re both adults, and I’ve seen you naked before.”
Her face turns red. I haven’t seen this side of April before.
“Yeah, but…I don’t remember that. I’m not…I’m not even wearing a bra.”
“April, really…”
“No. I’m humiliated enough. I don’t want you to see me naked.” She goes into her room, closing the door behind her.
Yep, she’s still fiery. At least that hasn’t changed.
I pull out my cell phone. “Katie, I need a favor.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“We just got home and April needs a shower and doesn’t want my help. Because of the broken arm she can’t manage the clothing.”
“I’ll be right down.” Katie has a deep-rooted fear of elevators, along with a bunch of other things, so I know she’s likely taking the stairs if she’s having a bad day.
I knock on the guest room door, and April opens it a little. “My brother’s fiancée, Katie, is coming down. She lives upstairs with him.”
“Okay.”
“She can help you change or shower or whatever it is that you need.”
Nodding, she closes the door.
A few minutes later there’s a knock at the door. “Hi there, Matty,” Katie chirps as soon as I open the door. I know she isn’t big on touching, but I always hug her and she has never pulled away. I think it’s something she’s grown accustomed to when it comes to me. “I’m proud of you. Helping her, it’s a very nice thing to do. So, what does she remember?”
“Not much. She hasn’t asked much, and Dean told me not to upset her.”
“So it’s like a don’t-ask-don’t-tell kinda thing?”
“More or less.”
“I don’t like lying, Matty.”
“I don’t either. But I’m not going to bombard her with shit now. She knows we dated for a while. That’s about it, though.”
“Okay, but at some point you need to tell her everything.” She looks around. “Where is she?”
“In the guest room. I warn you—she’s skittish.”
“I don’t blame her.” She walks to the guest room and knocks on the door. “Hi, April? It’s Katie. Nico’s girlfriend.” Then she adds, “Nico, Matt’s brother?”
The door opens and April steps out, her fingers laced in front of her, fidgeting. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Katie says, and extends her hand. “It’s nice to see you. I know you don’t remember, but we’ve met before. Can I come in? Or do you want to go to the living room?”
April looks over her shoulder at me and then back at Katie. “Uh…the living room’s fine.”
“Did Matty offer you a drink? Food?”
“Matty?” she says, almost like she’s trying out the words in her mouth. “Sounds nice. Like a big bear.”
Jesus Christ. This woman is going to kill me.
Matty bear, Matty bear, Matty bear, you are definitely not soft anywhere.
“Aw, yeah, I can see that,” Katie coos. “With less hair, though. Matt, grab the poor girl a drink.”
I shake off the memory of us in bed together and head to the kitchen to get her some water. It’s awkward as fuck having her in my house—a woman I’m pissed off with but at the same time feel sorry for. The emotions are battling each other, and it’s fucking with my head.
“I’m okay. I’m not thirsty,” April says meekly. When April was June, she was feisty and sexy. She was a goddamn force, with her vibrant smile and assertiveness. She could control a room with just her presence. Even after the press conference, when I met April briefly at Panic and was a complete asshole, I still got the vibe that she was tough. She was an undercover cop, for chrissake—there was no possible way the woman had one submissive hair on her head. Now she’s standing here with her head down, her teeth are nibbling on her lip, and everything about her screams scared.
Needing a moment to get my emotions in order, I fill a glass with water for her anyway. “Katie, you want something?” I holler.
“No, I’m good,” she responds.
When I come back into the room with April’s water, I tell her, “I have to go get your prescriptions at the pharmacy, and the doctor said you have to take them with food. So what do you feel like eating?”
“I can make you anything you like—I’m a great cook,” Katie offers.
“She is,” I add.
April looks up to the ceiling in thought. She’s moved from biting her lip to chewing on her nails. “Um…pizza?”
“Pizza?” I repeat.
“Yeah, pizza,” she says, more assuredly this time.
I shrug. Pizza it is, then. “Okay, cheese?”
“Pepperoni,” she adds. “Oh, and bacon.”
Jesus. It’s June.
“Is that something I like? I think it is, right?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, April. Pizza with bacon is definitely something you like.” I shake my head and look for the number. “You and Nico want to stay for dinner?” I look at Katie almost pleadingly. I don’t want her to leave. I don’t know how to handle this female.
Katie takes out her phone and quickly calls Nico, who says he’ll be down in a few minutes. So it looks like it’ll be a full house.
“You want to try to shower before Matt gets back with your meds and the pizza? I can help,” Katie offers.
>
“Oh, that would be great. Yes. Thank you.”
“Cool. Come on,” Katie says, helping April up.
As I head out the door, I’m glad that at least one thing about her wasn’t a lie. Fucking pizza.
—
Katie and April are on the balcony and I’m in the kitchen with Nick. “This is so awkward,” I blurt out.
“It’s not. You’re being weird, but it’s actually very pleasant. She’s obviously scared and nervous, but when she relaxes, she’s pretty great.”
“I guess.”
“You guess? You were in love with her. You know she’s great.”
“Nah, man, I don’t. I know fuck-all about her. I knew June. I don’t know April.”
I drop the kitchen towel on the island and head toward the balcony. Before I open the door, Nick stops me. “Give it a chance, Matt. Don’t be so stubborn. She’s a nice girl.”
“Don’t let her fool you. She’s a fucking liar.”
When we walk out Katie and April are laughing. Katie probably has April wrapped around her finger already—or maybe it’s the other way around. “What’s so funny?” Nick asks.
“I was just telling April about the first time I met you.” Katie passed out at Panic from an anxiety attack and had to be carried to the office. Nick was furious and accused her of taking drugs.
“I was there. I don’t think it was a funny story,” Nick says, sounding confused.
“No, it wasn’t,” Katie agrees. “But I was telling her how I kept thinking how beautiful Nick’s eyes were at the same time as I wanted to jump out a window just to get some fresh air.” Nick and I glance at each other, both of us equally puzzled. “Okay, so it doesn’t sound funny, but April gets it, right?”
“Yep,” she says shyly. She looks at me and asks, “How did we meet?”
“Well, that is an actual funny story,” I say. “I was tending bar at Panic and some jerk pushed you to get to the bar and you poured your entire martini on his head. I thought the guy was going to kill you. But you held your ground. The guy had olives in his hair.”
“Really?” She smiles brightly. I’ve missed that smile, even if I hate to admit it.
“Total badass,” Nick says.
And then it hits me—she was only there to lure me into giving her information. And I’m pissed all over again.
I spend the next twenty minutes moving food around on my plate, trying to push down my anger. Every time I look up, I see April watching me, even though she averts her eyes quickly. She’s smiling and talking at the appropriate times, but I know that she notices the change in me. It’s as if somewhere deep inside she knows me, even if she doesn’t remember.
As soon as Nick and Katie walk out the door, April wastes no time before pouncing on me. “Tell me, what’s wrong? Please don’t say it’s nothing. I know something is wrong.”
I’m turning on the dishwasher, facing away from her. Do I tell her? I want to tell her. I want to yell at her about all the ways she fucked me over. How my mind is all jumbled up because of her. I throw the sponge into the sink and turn, ready to tell her everything. Screw it. Dean doesn’t want me to hurt her while she’s like this…but what about me? What about my anger and frustration and pain? How long can I keep this secret? How does this make me any better than her?
But her eyes are wide and soft and clearly full of confusion. So much so that the fight leaves my body. Her blond hair is up in a cute ponytail and she’s in jean shorts, a T-shirt, and Chucks, making her look young and innocent. And I just can’t hurt her. I can’t.
“Why don’t you sit?” I ask, pulling out a chair for her. I sit across from her. “I was very much in love with you. And all of this, having you close, it’s bringing back a lot of memories.”
“I…I don’t know what to say. I wish I could remember.”
“Nothing to say. It is what it is.”
“That’s it? It is what it is?” she practically shrieks. “I clearly hurt you, and you’re completely unfazed?”
“Unfazed?” I laugh without any humor. “I’m the opposite of unfazed, but what can I do?”
“Maybe I should just go. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own home.”
“No. I gave you my word. And you need to recover. You were important to me once. I’m just having a hard time. I’ll be fine. I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Are the memories…are they good?”
“Very good.” And then tainted with black shit—but I don’t tell her that. I don’t want her blaming herself. Not like this, while she’s still recovering. But at least this way, she knows why I’m struggling too.
“Can you tell me more about myself?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Well, you’re very funny and confident. When you’re nervous you get a little tic under your eye and you worry that everyone can see it, but the truth is, it’s not noticeable. You like to jog in the mornings. But you also love to laze around in bed before you get up. You’re fiery and like to get your way, but when we were alone and it was just the two of us in bed…” I don’t want to think about how she lost control and let me do wicked things to her body. And I definitely don’t want to think about how my body is reacting to those thoughts I’m trying to avoid.
“I what?”
“You were…um…we were good together,” I say, not wanting to get into too many specifics.
She looks at me somberly. “Whatever I did, or whatever the reason, I’m sorry.”
“You can’t be sorry for something you don’t remember, April.”
She pushed her chair back and stands. “I can. Because even if I can’t remember, I know you wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me. I feel it in my bones. And it’s not because of the stupid background check or even Dean’s word. It’s how you’ve brought me here and cared for me when you didn’t have to, even though you’re struggling with something I must’ve done to hurt you. I may not remember, but I’m not stupid or naive. Maybe you cheated on me, maybe you were an asshole, I can’t be sure, but if you did, you’re not that person now, and I doubt you were that person before. So I’m thinking it must’ve been something I did.”
Maybe instead of thinking of all the bad things June did to me, I can start thinking of April as her own person and get to know her. Forget June once and for all.
“Sometimes you look at me like you hate me. Is it because of the breakup? Did I hurt you that badly? Please, just…I’m…” Her lips start to tremble. “Please, put yourself in my shoes. I come out of a coma, I can’t remember anything. Then I’m told we’re friends and I should go home with you. A complete stranger. A complete stranger who hates me.” Her voice comes out in a painful cracked sob. “I don’t know you. I don’t even know me. I’m so scared, Matt. So scared and alone.” It’s as if she’s been holding that in and it comes out in a single gut-wrenching breath. Any anger I have left melts away at that moment.
“C’mere.” I pull her close and wrap my arms around her as she sobs into my chest. “I’m sorry too. You’ve been through a lot. Whatever happened between us before won’t affect us anymore. I’ll help you remember and get better, and once you remember everything, we can talk some more. Maybe then you can answer some questions I have for you.”
“What if I never remember?” she asks. I know she’s heard the doctor say over and over again that such an outcome would be very unusual. Not unheard of, but rare.
“Then we move on,” I reply softly, hoping that I’ll be able to.
April
It’s been a week and my memory isn’t getting any better. I’m frustrated, irritable, and just plain grumpy.
“Argh!” I yell, and toss the pan into the sink with a loud clank.
A moment later Matt comes walking through the front door, his gym bag over his shoulder. “What happened?”
“I wanted to do something nice for you, so I tried to make a pot roast, but…” I point to the sink. “I did something wrong. I mean, I followed all the directions. Why is it so hard
?”
With a huge smile on his face—revealing those gorgeous dimples that leave me all googly-eyed—he looks in the sink, then grabs a fork and pokes the meat, but the fork won’t go through; it’s that tough. He throws his head back and starts laughing, the kind of laugh that’s totally infectious, and suddenly we’re both bent over, tears in our eyes, unable to catch our breath. “I’m sorry,” he says between snorts. “I don’t mean to laugh. It was very sweet of you to make dinner, but you should probably know that you can’t cook.”
“I can’t cook?”
“Nope. And you hate doing it too.”
“No wonder I was so pissed off while trying to make it,” I say, and he starts laughing again.
He takes a few steps to me and gives me a quick hug. “Let me shower and we’ll go grab some burgers.”
Damn—now I’m thinking of him showering. What is wrong with me? This sweet man takes me in, and all I can think about is how delicious he probably looks naked. I need to get a grip on my out-of-control emotions.
We walk over to a little burger place he says I used to love. It feels good to get out of the house. I still have the fading bruises on my face and a few dried-up cuts and scrapes, plus the cast is still on my arm, so I’m definitely not looking my best, but overall I’m feeling better.
We sit down at the table and when the server comes to take our order Matt asks for a double cheeseburger for himself and then for me a single fully loaded with bacon, two baskets of fries, a water for me, and a beer for him. I’m practically salivating at the sound of that burger.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have ordered for you. Old habit.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s exactly what I would have ordered.”
He’s ripping apart a napkin as he speaks. “Good. I’m glad.” The guy is always moving around, always full of energy. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just his disposition, or if it’s because he’s nervous or uncomfortable around me.
I put my hand over his to stop him, but he pulls away so quickly I feel like I’ve been slapped across the face. “Sorry. Sorry,” I say, bringing my hands down to my lap.
Make Me Stay: The Panic Series Page 16