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“I know,” I muttered. “The memory ended before that, but I somehow knew that a few hours later.”
“What else?” she asked, more encouraged than before, but I just shook my head, afraid to give her this.
“Litany,” I finally said after nearly a minute had passed. “I knew who she was. I knew her name—knew her asLT.” I met Scarlet’s eyes when she went still beside me. “And I knew I shouldn’t be near her.”
“LT,” she said numbly. “You...you rememberher.”
The hurt-fueled words weren’t phrased as a question, but I still said, “Yeah. Just her name and that feeling. She came into the house today when Brandon and Konrad were here, and I felt like I was choking on the guilt I’ve been living with whenever she looked at me.”
Scarlet sat back with a pained huff. Eyes wide and stare faraway before she gave a quick shake of her head and looked at me. “But you—you can’t stand her.”
“That’s what the guys said.”
“No. No, youhateher,” Scarlet informed me as if she couldn’t wrap her head around it, even as emotion shook her words. “I’m always asking you to be nice to her, and you tell me she doesn’t deserve anyone’s kindness.”
I lifted my hand and then let it fall to hers. “I felt like you needed to know.”
“Okay, but it still doesn’t mean anything,” she said, the words almost a plea. “It could’ve been because a part of you remembered you don’t like her. It could’ve been—” She floundered as she tried to explain the rest. “It could’ve been so many things.”
“Right,” I murmured as uncertainty built and built between us. “Does she have a key?”
“To our house?” When I grunted in response, she gave a quick shake of her head. “No. Well—I don’t...I don’t know. Maybe. Anna and Samantha do. I might’ve given one to her too.” From the way Scarlet’s expression abruptly fell, I had a feeling that she’d just remembered shehad.
That she’d just started wondering if one of her closest friends could’ve been behind this morning on top of whatever else had the potential to tear us apart.
“You leaving?” The words pushed from my lungs on a hesitant breath and had her sagging against the back of the couch.
“Chase,” she said just as softly as her pained stare met mine.
For what felt like an eternity, we just sat there. Watching each other as the weight of the question and her answer pressed against us.
“It’s like you said to me that night all those years ago,” she finally began, voice steady and words careful. “Anything less than everything isn’t enough. I need all of you forever or nothing at all.”
My body stilled to the point of pain and my heart twisted as I sat there, silently begging her not to do this, all while I knew I would let her. After today, I would make it easy for her to go, knowing she deserved so much better.
And I’d tear my fucking heart out as I watched her walk away.
“When we met, I gave you my heart without thought,” she went on. “But I was too afraid of consequences and hurting people to give you the rest of me the way you deserved and the way I wanted to. And I almost lost you because of that mistake. But right now, we’re just assuming. So, until the day I find out with one hundred percent certainty that youchoseto stop giving me all of you, I’m not going anywhere.”
A strangled breath left me as I reached for her. Grasping her chin to press my mouth to hers. The kiss nothing more than feather-soft brushes and teasing claims.
“Don’t deserve you,” I whispered against her lips as I pulled her closer.
“That isn’t true.” Weaving her fingers through my hair, she pressed her forehead to mine as she effortlessly slid one of her legs over mine so she was straddling me. “Until we know, stop thinking that way. Stop saying those things.” I started to argue, so she hurried to add, “You’re getting pieces of things that can be explained away as anything else. Don’t let those incomplete pieces make you believe you did something.”
I nipped at her full bottom lip and muttered, “No promises.”
Her eyes rolled as she leaned back. “What else?” When I lifted my chin in question, she asked, “What else have you remembered?”
I drew in a slow breath as my gaze drifted to where my sketchbook rested between us and then snapped back to her. To her chest that was barely covered by that old shirt and the design I could see peeking out between her breasts.
“That,” I said a little uncertainly because I could only see the top of it.
“You remember my boobs,” she said dully, eyes dancing with amusement when I met them.
“No, the tattoo.” I started reaching for the shirt, only to stop. “Can I?”
Understanding and need mixed with her amusement. “It’s weird to have my fiancé ask if he can see one of my tattoos. Especially considering he did it.”
