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I lift my head, finding his electric eyes. “I don’t fuck people I like, much less people I trust.”

He grins like I just told him he won the lottery. “You trust me.”

I scowl. “I’ve never had a man this excited to be off my sex radar. I think I’m insulted. Help me up. I don’t want to be in your lap if it’s not doing anything for you.”

He bites his lips to dampen his smile but can’t mask the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

With some awkward navigating, we manage to get to our feet. I pull down my T-shirt from where it rode up my stomach, and Chastain tugs at his tie.

“Do you feel better?” he asks.

“A little discombobulated, but yes. Clearly the only cure for a mental breakdown is reminding me you don’t want to get in my pants. Nothing like a blow to the ego to put things in perspective.”

He bites his lower lip so hard it turns white. I roll my eyes. “Laugh at me, Leo. Do it.”

He does.

I frown at him the whole time, pretending I don’t love the deep, infectious sound of his laughter. Finally, he quiets.

“Are we done for today?” I wait for his nod, then blurt, “Amnesia?”

His humor fades fast. “Selective, post-traumatic amnesia, yes.”

I hug my arms to my chest. “I have a bad feeling about this. What if I’m not supposed to remember? This is fucking surreal. And Jameson knows about this?”

He nods again. “It’s why he called us. You’re safe, Amelia. I’ve got you.”

“Is that what you think?” I ask sadly, then shake my head and walk to the door. “No one’s got me, Doc. Too many missing pieces.”

10

LOVE AND WAR

DAY 9

“Amnesia?”

“Yeah.” I take a drag of a contraband cigarette. “Wild, right?”

“Dude,” Callum says heavily. The tip of his cigarette glows in the darkness. “Wild.”

“For real.”

We trade wry glances at our juvenile vocabulary.

Callum pivots to face me, turning his shoulder against the back wall of his cabin. “What do you think happened?”

“Like you said, something bad.” I blow a stream of smoke toward the starry sky, then flick the cigarette to the ground and smother it with my shoe. “Or maybe nothing?”

I don’t like the question in my voice, but can’t help it. I wouldn’t be here if it was nothing. I just hope it wasn’t something hugely tragic. Had someone been in the car with me? Had anyone died?

We stand silently for several minutes, each of us lost in thoughts. Callum finishes his cigarette and pops the cherry out before tossing the butt.

“I had a restraining order put out on me.”

I tense. “You don’t have to?—”

“It’s okay. I want to.” He sighs. “Another model. Her name was Frenchie.”