Page 31

“Don’tAmeliame. Go away.” She made shooing motions. “I need to talk to Vivi.Alone.”
The neutral mask vanished and the pain on his face made Vivi cringe. Poor guy. He gave her a pleading look before he wheeled and marched away.Thump, thump, thump.
They listened to his retreat until the noise disappeared. Amelia, still in the doorway, forced a bright smile. “Sure you can’t rearrange your schedule?”
Vivi motioned to a chair and got up. “How about a coffee?”
“Sure.” Amelia made it to the seat while Vivi turned on her espresso machine. “If you have time.”
There was never enough of that, but right now keeping busy and not thinking about what had happened with Ian and that plane was needed. With all her heart, she wanted him to hang around here and be with her. Not twenty-four-seven, but within easy reach. She liked when she saw him in the hallways, texted him to meet her for a clandestine tryst in the middle of the day. Right now, he was at the J. Edgar Hoover Building, helping lock up the case on Beyar Ingstrom, the human trafficker he’d fingered at the airport. That was only one of the man’s many aliases. “With Ian gone and a bunch of paperwork that I have put off far too long, I’ll be working into the evening. I need the break.”
She hit the button to grind the beans—she preferred fresh coffee—and considered how she could help Rory and Amelia. She wasn’t technically a couple’s counselor, yet it felt like she was doing a lot of that these days.
The machine made comforting whirring noises as it filled the first cup with the delicious smelling brew. Once she had a pair of drinks ready, she handed one to Amelia, who’d laid her crutch beside the chair. Vivi returned to her desk, inhaling deeply as she sat. Nothing beat these small moments of happiness, especially after her time in a black site prison.
“Wow,” Amelia said. “This is yummy. A lot better than what we get downstairs.”
Vivi, still thinking about how grateful she was to be here rather than that awful, dank cell, touched her hair. The ends hung around her earlobes now and she planned to never cut it again. The Sinead O’Connor look the prison had given her was not her style. “Don’t tell or my office will become a coffee shop, but you’re welcome to fix yourself a cup anytime.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s the head?”
Amelia fingered the spot where she’d been hit. “The swelling is gone but it’s a bit tender.”
No mention of her lost memories. The forehead bruise was barely noticeable. “And the ankle?”
“I never realized how hard it would be to stay off my feet. I hate the crutches and forget to use them half the time, but if I don’t, Jax will put me on bed rest.” She visibly shuddered. “Can you imagine me stuck there for six weeks?”
“No pain?”
She shook her head, her ponytail swinging. “Not much. I haven’t needed any of the pain meds for it.”
Vivi sipped her drink. “Are you still having headaches?”
“A few.” She set her cup on the edge of the desk and scooted forward. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Is it unusual or abnormal for a blow to the head to…”
Vivi waited but she didn’t continue. “Are you having other issues? Vertigo? Nausea?”
“No.” She fiddled with a sleeve. “It’s not that. I’ve remembered something.”
“Oh.” Vivi exchanged her coffee for a pen. “That’s good news. Did you share it with Beatrice?”
“It’s not about the attack. It’s about…the night my father died.”
“Oh?” Thiswasinteresting.
Vivi had brought her budgies to the office that morning and Sherlock mocked her, echoing the word as he hopped onto the edge of the desk and studied Amelia. “Oh?Oh?Ooooh, Ian, you rascal.”
Vivi tried not to blush at the shock on Amelia’s face. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“Is that weird? For me to recall something from that night?”
“The brain in general acts in illogical ways at times. For all of our studies and experiments, science can’t figure out or explain certain things about the way it functions.”