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“How did you know I love tomatoes on my sandwiches?”
“A little bird told me. One with a very big meat cleaver and an attitude.”
She found herself giggling. “Kim let you in her kitchen?”
He puffed out his chest. “All I had to do was turn on the Tephra charm.”
“You didn’t bully her to death, did you?”
Offended, he turned defensive. “Would I do such a thing?”
She snickered and continued eating. It was just so good.
When she finished the last bite, she noted he was still staring at her with a bit of awe on his face. He was only halfway through his sandwich, but he wiped his fingers and handed her a bottled water. “You need to stay hydrated.”
She accepted it, downed half, and then sighed with relief over her full belly. “My mother always claims food tastes better if it’s been prepared by someone who—” she caught herself right before she saidloves. “Someone who cares for you.”
His bushy brows lifted ever so slightly, and then he glanced down at his remaining sandwich. “Sounds true to me.”
So he did care for her, right? God, she felt like a fourteen-year-old high school girl, trying to catch an older boy’s attention. Now that she had it, she was all kinds of flustered.
Granted, she’d had few relationships in her lifetime. For the most part, she’s always been a quiet, introverted geek. In college, she preferred to stay in her dorm room and study, rather than go out and party with friends. By the time she was in grad school, she didn’t really have many. She’d always been more devoted to her studies and learning than socializing.
Which…now made her feel as awkward as could be. It was one thing to talk with patients during sessions, easing their stress and encouraging them about their rehab. Alone with Rory was as opposite of that as you could get.
He cleared his throat. “Your mom and stepdad seem nice.”
She fiddled with her napkin, creasing it in half and then half again. “They are. I’m lucky to have them.”
“And your biological father?”
Although he never talked about himself, Rory knew everyone’s background—it was part of his job. He helped Beatrice recruit employees, making sure they were a good fit for SFI. She assumed he knew the details of the fire that had killed her dad and destroyed their home. Yet, she understood he wasn’t asking for facts surrounding her dad’s untimely death, but rather her relationship with him.
The memories were bittersweet. “I was nine when he died, but he was my whole world. When I lost him… I lost a piece of me.” She shook herself out of the melancholy. “You would’ve liked him. He was an electrician, but he tinkered with things. All kinds of gadgets. Computers, phones, radios, and TVs. Had a big workbench, dozens of his projects strewn everywhere. Drove my mom crazy. I loved it—it was like hidden treasure. He could take pieces and parts from a bunch of things and put them together to create something new. I always wanted to be able to do that.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he taught me all kinds of random stuff, like a modern MacGyver. He knew Norwegian, of all things, and how to solder metal. He showed me how to make pasta from scratch and how to hot wire a car.” Rory laughed and she nodded. “He took karate and taught me this self-defense move where you—”
Her mind went blank, then there was a flash. Shoes. She saw her favorite sneakers in her lap. She was in the backseat of a car, it was night.
“Amelia?”
Her head snapped up. She was sweating again. Using a fresh napkin, she dabbed at her hairline. “Sorry. What was I saying?”
Rory studied her with more intensity, his dinner forgotten. “About your dad teaching you self-defense.”
“Right.” She twisted the napkin. Her mind seemed to blank out again as she tried to recall what she was about to say. It was like waking from a dream that seemed real but faded so fast you couldn’t remember it.
Her stomach clenched, another sliver of memory rose unbidden—a dark alley, the sound of footsteps. She reached for the back of her skull, pain making her gasp. “Rory?” Her voice trembled.
He was beside her in an instant. “What is it? Do you need to lay down?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I think I…”
Another shockwave hit—this time behind her eyes. She cried out and pitched forward, all sense of balance gone.
He caught her, managing to lift her into his arms. Cradling her, he limped his way to the bed and laid her down gently. “It’s okay. Deep breaths. I’ll get Jax.”
She grabbed his forearm, holding on for dear life. “Don’t leave me.”
He bent over her. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. But I need to alert Jax. Take you to the infirmary.”
