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“Yes.”
His mouth parts and an impressed ‘humph’ leaves him. “Youwereright.”
But my correct forewarning doesn’t make me feel any better. “He told me you said you couldn’t look after me. Why?”
“Because I’ve lived with the regret of not telling you the truth my entire life. I failed you. I failed everyone.”
I know I shouldn’t be angry, but I am. I can’t help but feel cheated. “You had no right to choose that for me. I fell in love with a lie. I fell in love with Sam because I thought he was the one who sent my heart into overdrive. But it was you. It’s been you all along.”
A tsunami of emotion rolls through me and I am beyond the point of no return. I’m so angry that the choice was taken away from me. “I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore,” I confess, blinking in disbelief.
He strokes over my eyes, my lips. “You’re you, Lucy. My little Lucy Tucker.”
Those words only make things murkier. I need to breathe. “I need time to clear my head.” I stand, shivering.
“Time? Why? This changes how you feel about me?” He’s on his knees, begging me to stay.
“This changes everything!” I cry out. “Sam should have told me. You both should have.”
His face falls and he blinks once. “It doesn’t change my feelings for you. It’ll always be you. But I understand if you hate me.”
His uncertainty and pain tears out my heart. “I don’t hate you. I just need time.”
“Are you still going to Syria?” he asks, holding his breath.
“I don’t know, Saxon! Nothing makes sense anymore.”
He nods, his eyes overflowing with nothing but sadness. Unleashing his secret hasn’t given him freedom. It never will.
I need to find my clothes and get out of here. I can’t make any decisions with him looking at me the way that he is. I need time, space, and silence. But just as I slip my dress over my head, a stale silence rips through the barn, resonating all the way to my soul.
“Saxon?” I spin around and gasp as I stare into the eyes of my true love—Samuel Stone. Saxon is still on his knees, the sight too monumental.
“Lucy?” His voice isn’t laced with the usual anger, hostility, or hatred, it sounds like my Sam—the old Sam.
“S-Sam?” My skin pricks with tiny goosebumps, and it has nothing to do with the gentle wind. Rays of sunlight kiss his face, highlighting the bright red collecting at his temple and trickling down his cheek. “You’re bleeding!” Finally finding my feet, I run over to where he is standing dazed, in the doorway. He appears confused, fearful, and dejected. “What happened?” I avoid his gaze, brushing back the matted hair at his brow.
He sniffs and raises his broad, bare shoulders. “I don’t know. I think I blacked out. When I came to, I was lying on the shower floor. I can’t…remember…”
“You can’t remember what?” I wheeze, my heart in song with a steady staccato. When he reaches for my wrist and secures his bitter cold fingers around me, I hold my breath. His touch feels so wrong.
“Can’t remember much of anything,” he replies after a sluggish silence.
I still can’t meet his eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?” I let out the trapped breath as he releases me.
“I-I…” he falters. Gathering whatever courage I have left, I lift my eyes and meet his lost, vacant stare. “I remember getting ready for our wedding day,” he replies in a distant tone. “But I have a feeling I never made it?” I nod, envious that he has the luxury of forgetting the past few months, while I’m forced to remember every single heartbreaking detail.
“You honestly don’t remember a thing?” I can’t believe he gets given a fresh slate.
He shakes his head. “I remember nothing. Everything is so muddled. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.” He raises his hand and rubs at his brow. When he pulls away, blood coats his fingertips. His cheeks turn a deathly white. He hisses in a pained breath through clenched teeth.
He remembers. But how much does he recall?
“What happened?” he asks, begging me to appease his pain. When he reaches out to touch me, I can’t help but shrink away. He shakes his head, frowning. It appears he only just sees Saxon, on his knees, partially nude, when he shifts his gaze to the floor. His nostrils flare. “It appears a lot has happened.”
I’m suddenly wrapped in a blanket of culpability. I should be happy, but I’m not. This time, when he reaches out to touch me, I don’t recoil, but I should. Sam looks at me and I almost feel naked. I feel the need to cover my nudity and hide my sins from his knowledgeable eyes.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in years. I feel like something has…changed.”
