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His jaw shifted irritably even as his bright eyes drifted over my body again and again as if he was making sure I was really there. But everywhere his eyes touched had my body coming alive. Everywhere they lingered felt like an open flame.
When his gaze landed on mine again, he nodded and turned away. Calling out, “Coffee?” as he did.
With a shuddering breath, I forced myself to move. To follow him. And struggled to find the courage to explain where I’d been. To explain whatI’d done. “Chase—”
“I’m sorry,” he said over me, then turned to lean against the counter. Tattooed arms folded over his chest and highlighting that he wasn’t wearing his sling.
But now wasn’t the time to get on him for that.
“You told me you never walked away from me before, and that’s all I seem to make you do. I made youleave,” he ground out. “I made you feel like you couldn’t go back to the place where you live.” He pressed his good hand to his chest before folding his arms again. “I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t sure why I expected anything else. I shouldn’t have expected anything at all. And yet, his apology had my shoulders sagging. Because when I’d received thatI’m sorrytext from him yesterday morning, I’d been hoping the apology was for something else.
“That’s what you’re sorry for?” I asked and tried to mute the deprecating laugh that bubbled free.
His eyes narrowed, but that coldness was met with a well of remorse. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I know you are, Chase. But I—” I clenched my hands into fists and stopped myself from begging him to apologize for everything he’d said to Harper and to me the other night at his parents’.
With a strained breath, I confessed instead, “You need to know the wedding’s been canceled. Every—” The word hitched in my throat, but I forced myself to get out the rest without breaking down. “Everything’s been taken care of.”
“What wedding?”
My entire body jolted from the impact of his question.
Jesus, how could I still be so hurt by him? How could his words still crush my spirit so completely?
“Ours,” I managed to say.
His eyebrows shot up. “We were getting married?”
“Chase, you know we’re engaged! Itoldyou we were getting married in a few months.”
“When did you tell me?” he asked, the question filled with equal amounts doubt and shock.
I struggled to remember exactly when it had been, my head shaking as I sputtered, “I don’t know. Right after you woke up.”
“So, when I thought you were lying about who you were,” he said roughly. “When I thought everyone was lying to me about everything.”
A wounded sound wrenched from me. “You still think we are,” I whispered as I turned to head to the bedroom.
“Scarlet, you’ve only told me two...maybe three things about our life together,” he began when I’d made it only a step away. “Why is that?”
My head slanted in his direction. “What does it matter? You don’t believe me anyway.”
His eyelids closed as a whispered curse escaped him. But when he focused on me again, the intensity of his stare stunned me. Seizing every part of me that had always belonged to him because that look was anger and desperation andfear.
“You were there when the doctor told everyone it might help if I was told and shown the memories I’d forgotten. If I wasinthe life I don’t remember,” he said. “But you haven’t said anything about it. I want to know why.”
“Before I answer, I want to know what you’ve tried to find out on your own with what’s available to you.” At the furrow of his brow, I turned fully to face him and explained, “Your phone. You have hundreds of pictures and videos of us. You have years’ worth of conversations.” His head began shaking and his lips parted, so I hurried to add, “Your sketchbooks.”
Chase stopped moving.
Everything about him was so eerily still that it looked like he was carved from stone.
“It’s there,” I said softly. “Weare there. So, what have you tried to find out?”
“Where are my sketchbooks?” he asked instead.
