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But I was left out in the cold.
“You have to let me see Greyson too,” I whispered. “I need all of you. I need to get my memories back. So I can protect myself from whoever it was…You have to stop fighting.”
"Kennedy," Jack whispered, his eyes filled with concern. "We understand. We don't want you to feel trapped by us. We just want to protect you.”
"Let's work together then," I offered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need you guys, but also…I need Greyson."
I was sure he was the reason I was alive now…the one who had sent a protector to watch over me.
A protector who was dead now.
That was probably the only reason Greyson hadn’t reached me already…because the man who had kept me alive had died without being able to tell him what happened.
“Why?” Carter exploded. “You don’t need him!”
The words sent me over the edge, and the next thing I knew, tears were pouring down my cheeks.
“Jesus Christ, Carter!” Jack shouted at him, then pulled me into his arms, in a tight hug. “It’s alright,” Jack told me soothingly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Tears blurred my vision as they each tried to comfort me, their voices soft and apologetic. But in the end, I couldn't find solace in their words or their touch, not when my heart felt like it was being torn apart.
"Please," I whispered, choked by emotion. "I just want to go to bed. I need some space."
"Of course," Carter murmured, his voice filled with concern. He led me to the guest room, the others following silently behind us. They helped me into the plush bed, tucking the blankets snugly around me, trying their best to make me feel safe and secure.
"I'm sorry, Kennedy," Carter said, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I didn’t mean to be such a dick. I just…”
He shook his head, and when he blinked, the sheen of tears was gone, and I wasn’t sure if I’d just imagined it. He turned and paced out of the room.
There was a darkness hanging over him that I didn’t know if he could escape…if he could ever love me and let me love Greyson.
"We'll be here for you," Jack promised, his lips brushing against my cheek. "No matter what."
"Sleep well," Sebastian murmured, planting a gentle kiss on my other cheek before leaving the room, the door closing softly behind them.
I lay there in the darkened room, feeling the softness of the sheets and the warmth of the blanket enveloping me. But despite their efforts to comfort me, I couldn't shake this feeling of unease.
Of course, I couldn’t actually sleep. I’d just needed some space. It bothered me that Greyson would be going crazy, knowing something had happened, and the guys wanted to keep it secret from him.
I wanted all four of my men. It felt impossible, and that hurt so much that it felt as if I were cold and lonely even in the guest room of their lavish penthouse.
I shivered, wondering if it was just me convincing myself that I was cold without Greyson in my life. Or maybe it was the incredibly high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere that made the penthouse chilly, at least when I didn’t have a tall, powerfully muscled, warm hockey player to wrap myself around.
Since I was currently frustrated with all the tall-and-muscled smirking men in my life, I decided to find an extra blanket. I climbed out of bed and pulled open the door to the walk in closet. It took me a second to find the light switch, and when I did, I was surprised to see the closet was full, with a series of totes lining the wall. On the shelf above the totes were a few thick, snuggly soft blankets and extra fluffy pillows, and I pulled down a soft, cozy fleece blanket and cuddled it to my chest.
I almost went back to the room without seeing anything else about the totes.
But then neat handwriting—Jack’s, almost certainly—in Sharpie on masking tape across one tote caught my eye.
Kennedy.
A wave of confusion washed over me as I reached for the nearest tote. I cast a glance at the door. What the hell else were these guys keeping from me?
I carefully lifted the lid and peered inside. There were photo albums, an old hoodie, several Barbie dolls who had seen better days. My hands trembled as I picked up a small, worn teddy bear, its fur matted with age.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart," my mother beamed, her eyes sparkling. She walked the bear across the pile of shiny wrapped presents on the kitchen table. “Presents first? Then chocolate cake for breakfast?”
The memory jolted through me like an electric shock. I could barely breathe. When I tried to focus, tried to sharpen the memory, it faded away.
