Page 160

“Saar, nobody would blame you if you decide to start anew away from him. But I think it would always bother you. It would always hang above you as this unresolved part of your life. What is the worst outcome, anyway?”

“That I won’t remember, and I will be staying with a stranger. A stranger who is clearly suffering from my memory loss the most.”

“Or you will remember, and this nightmare will be over. Or you fall in love with him again.”

“Was I in love with him?”

She sighs, the sadness rolling off her, seeping into all corners of this room. To all dark corners of my heart. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that something I should feel rather than remember?”

She looks at me, her eyes full of compassion, glistening. “Fuck, Saar, I don’t know. Do you feel unsafe returning there?”

Unsafe? The question gives me pause.

Weird. Full of doubt. Confused.

But when I close my eyes, what I remember is that fleeting touch of his lips on my forehead when I regained consciousness. It burned my skin in the most familiar way. It warmed my heart, like being home.

Before my mind registered who he was, and I squashed the feeling. But its imprint is there, inside me, vibrating with something I don’t understand.

“I don’t worry about my safety.”

“So what do you worry about?”

I don’t really have an answer. “You’re right. The worst-case scenario is that I won’t remember. He was hurt when I sent him away.”

“He must have had something to say about that. That man is a bully.”

I stare at her. A bully? That sounds more like the Cormac I know. But he just left, his head down. “He looked broken. I don’t want to hurt him again if I don’t remember and leave.”

“Does he want you to return to his place?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t really talk.”

“Then let him decide if he wants to risk it.”

I stare at the ceiling, the sleep evading me. The monotonous humming of the heart monitors should act as white noise, but I’m nowhere close to tired.

Perhaps it’s the pain. My arm throbs, but I lied to the doctor to lower the dose of the drugs. I don’t want to be sedated. The painkillers make my head foggy, keeping me further from accessing those lost memories.

Maybe I should just call the nurse and confess, so I can get some sleep. Five more minutes and I’ll request medication.

I check my phone again. I texted Corm after Lily left, but he hasn’t responded. He must be sleeping.

And yet, I’m strangely disappointed. And relieved.

He has a role in my accessible memories. And that role is not a pleasant one. I can’t wrap my head around that animosity ever changing. And yet, apparently it did.

I check the phone yet again and then drop it to the nightstand, reaching for the nurse call button.

A soft knock on the door spikes my heart rate.

The cone of light stretches on the floor, and when I look up, my breath hitches. God, the man is breathtakingly beautiful.

He’s in jeans and a navy V-neck, his hair messy like he’s been running his hand through it. I have seen a lot of models in my life, but God, he rivals them all.

“Hi,” he rasps.