AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Drink the potion,” I pleaded. “You need your life back.”
He hesitated, watching me like he might suggest we go into the bedroom after all. Did I want him? Absolutely. But we couldn’t. I couldn’t. And I wanted to believe that if he asked, I could make myself say no. In his crosshairs right then, I wasn’t so sure I was strong enough.
He broke eye contact and looked at the bottle. Then he picked it up and tugged the cork free. A faintly solvent smell drifted to my nostrils. Owen gave the bottle a sniff and made a face as he looked away.
“Eww.” He gagged. “This isn’t going to taste good, is it?”
“Probably not.”
He managed a laugh, but it was halfhearted at best. Then he took a deep breath and met my gaze. Raising the potion in a mock toast, he said, “Bottoms up.”
And then he downed the contents like a shot.
Chapter 13
Owen
The potion tasted worse than it smelled. Bitter. Herbal. Chemical. Nauseatingly sweet.
For a few seconds, my mouth watered so much, I wondered if the nasty stuff would even stay down.
The revulsion quickly receded. My watering eyes cleared.
Across the island, Matteo cautiously asked, “Do you feel anything?”
I shook my head. “No. I… Maybe I should’ve asked him how long it takes.”
Matteo pursed his lips as if he wasn’t sure what to say. In his shoes, I probably wouldn’t either. I didn’t inmyshoes.
I searched for the slightest hint of… something. A tingle? A vibration? Maybe my balance going wonky? What would this even feel like, anyway?
But so far… nothing.
In my mind, I’d fallen asleep the night I’d brought Matteo home from the airport, and I’d woken up in this unfamiliar new life a year later. There was only the space of one night between those realities.
But then…
Holy shit.
Remembering things was one thing. I could recall a few minutes ago clear back to some hazy memories as a little kid. Sometimes memories showed up on their own. Sometimes they were triggered by something. Totally normal.
Having that many memories all come crashing in at once? Jesus. I grabbed the edge of the counter for support as an entire year’s worth of life slammed into me like an avalanche, all the sights and sounds and emotions, big and small and life-changing and forgettable, coming through crystal clear and one on top of the other. Holding my newborn nephew for the first time. The logo on the bottle of wine I’d picked up at the supermarket just before Thanksgiving. My coworker’s outdoor wedding where it had rained but we’d all danced anyway. The paper cut I’d given myself while shuffling some reports one stressful Wednesday afternoon. Waiting for Dad to call and let me know Mom’s surgery went okay. A new restaurant’s caprese pasta that tasted even better as leftovers the next day.
The misery of the past year. The combined intense relief and crushing heartbreak the day my sister had supervised him moving out and I’d come home to find every trace of him missing from the condo. Sleepless nights wishing I’d never met him, wanting him there beside me, and hating him for what he’d done.
And searing its way to the front of my memory as vividly as if it were happening right now was the one night that had left its stench on every day since.
Matteo sitting on the couch, grasping my hand in both of his and not looking at me. “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay?” I put a hand over the top of ours. “What is it?”
His jaw worked. He refused to meet my gaze.
And somehow, somewhere deep in my core, I knew. I felt it. I didn’t want to believe it, but I fucking knew, because he was never evasive, but he’d been weird ever since he’d come back from the conference.
“Talk to me,” I whispered even though I didn’t want to hear it.
He still didn’t speak. Still didn’t meet my gaze.
