Page 52

“No. But we’ll get him.”

Silence falls again.

Glancing away, I fiddle with the earrings. His gaze is on me, and my face heats, but I don’t look at him. I’m afraid he’ll see through me.

“They’re beautiful earrings. Do you know who got them for you?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

I shake my head. “They found them on me during the accident.” A thought occurs to me and I face him, finding those intense eyes of his trained on me. Assessing. Calculating. “Why did you think someone gave them to me? Couldn’t I have bought them for myself?”

His throat ripples as he swallows and he shrugs. “Just making conversation.”

I narrow my eyes and he arches his brow as if daring me.To do what?

Knock. Knock.

Dr. Riordan enters the room, a clipboard in hand. “Is this a good time, Ms. Vaughn?”

I look at Ethan, finding him already standing. “Is everything okay, Doctor?” He sounds concerned.

Dr. Riordan looks at Ethan, his eyes widening in obvious recognition. “Mr. Anderson.” He returns his attention to me. “I’d like to discuss some things with you privately.”

Unease churns in my gut. “Sure, Doctor. But my family…” I glance at Ethan again.

“I’ll take care of them. They’ve overstayed their welcome already, and I’m sure there’s a limit to Manhattan Memorial’s hospitality, even for the Vaughns and the Andersons.” A smirk appears on his lips.

Dr. Riordan chuckles. “You’d be right. We rarely allow groups bigger than four in a patient’s room.”

“I’ll be fine, Ethan. Tell everyone thank you for celebrating with me.”

He furrows his brows, his eyes roving over my face, like he’s searching for tells. I strain another smile. “Really. I’m fine. Thanks for the tea.”

Ethan nods, his gaze searing. He leans in before I can react and murmurs, “Happy birthday, Alexis. You might feel overwhelmed with everything, but…I…we’re glad you’re here with us…because you’re unforgettable.”

Unforgettable.

A sharp pain pierces my chest and my hand automatically fists my shirt.

Why does it hurt so damn much?

I hear his ragged exhale, his hot breath brushing over my ear, his unique scent wrapping me in an embrace. Awareness seizes me. My body stills, and once again I’m hit with the urge to pull him closer.

The moment splinters and he steps back. My heart thrashes as I take in his strained smile before he turns away and leaves the room.

I stare at the closed door. What the hell just happened? Why does it feel like we just had an entire conversation, even though it was nothing more than a sentence or two?

Dr. Riordan clears his throat, and belatedly, I realize he’s still standing there.

“Yes, Doctor?”

He sits down. “So, we’ve been working on your memory for over a year now and it’s not going as well as we’ve hoped.”

The boulder appears back on my chest. At least he’s not beating around the bush. “Only random snippets of those four years.”

He nods. “Normally, I’d recommend patients move on. After all, you still have a long life ahead of you. You can create many more beautiful memories in the years to come.”

“But I—”

He holds up his hand. “Let me finish. I’d like to think I know you by now, Ms. Vaughn. You want your memories back. One could even say you’re desperate for them. I’ve reviewed your charts with your therapist and understand how much they tie into your identity.”