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Both men nod.
“I don’t remember the accident,” I admit. “All I remember is waking up in the hospital, with Michael standing over me with tears in his eyes.”
Nausea pools in my gut as I meet Grey’s face. He remains impassive, his strong features an impenetrable mask of indifference.
Beau listens just as intensely, but he doesn’t hide his emotions as well.
It’s obvious he’s upset.
Wilson nuzzles my hand with his head, and I scratch his chin as I continue.
“I don’t rememberanythingabout my life before the accident. My family, my friends—I had to learn it from Michael.”
“Holy shit,” Beau mutters to himself.
“You don’t rememberanything,” Grey repeats, his voice low. “So, he filled in the blanks for you?”
There’s a pause as I swallow. “Yes,” I admit shamefully.
Oh, God.
The nausea is back, this time accompanied by tears.
“And the thing is,” I choke out, “I don’t think he’s been honest with me. He told me that my family is dead, but that I wasn’t in contact with them before, which is why I have no pictures of them. He told me he was my only friend, and—"
My throat closes and my voice falters.
I put my head in my hands and squeeze my eyes shut.
There’s a long silence, and when I look up again, Grey sits on the chaise lounge, drumming his fingertips on its wooden arm. Beau slumps in the reading nook, looking as sick as I feel.
“So, long story short, I don’t know who I am at the moment. I mean, I didn’t even know I enjoyed gardening until this morning.” I give Beau a small smile.
“I don’t think you’re allergic to cats,” he points out, as Wilson’s loud purr echoes through the room.
I can’t help but laugh, but Grey stares out into space, his fingers still drumming on the armchair.
“Has he hurt you?” he asks carefully. Pointedly.
It’s obvious what he means.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “That’s why I’m here.”
The air grows thick with tension, and a low rumble sounds from Grey.
The Alpha isgrowling.
Grey stands up slowly, straightens his shirt collar, and walks to the doorway. “Excuse me,” he mumbles. I stare at his form until he disappears from view and his footsteps fade down the hallway.
Then Beau and I are alone. He leans against the nook, sighing heavily. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
“Did I piss him off?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. It’s what that asshole did that pissed him off. We just all channel our anger differently.”
Great.
“So, now you understand why I should leave. It’s baggage that you guys don’t need.” I pick at the comforter, biting my lip.
