Page 20 of Claiming Ours (Anchor Bay #2)
The slight accent mixed with a voice so deep and familiar had me leaning in, brows pulled in tight as I studied the man’s features. Then it hit me like a punch to the stomach. I sucked in a breath and jerked back, fingers flying up to cover my gaping mouth.
He gripped the armrests, boxing me in. “Hiya, Bay. It’s been a while.”
Overwhelmed by too many emotions to identify, tears welled in my lower lids before spilling over. “Memphis?”
His chin dipped in a hesitant nod, features frozen as he studied me, waiting for my response.
Without questioning my gut reaction, I threw both arms around his neck, the motion sending me sliding forward in the chair. Warm breath brushed past my ear with a grunt at the unexpected attack. He rocked backward but somehow caught me, regaining his balance to keep us from falling to the floor.
“Memphis,” I whispered, not fully believing he was here, in Anchor Bay, in my waiting room.
As the shock wore off, a million questions bombarded me.
Pulling back, I gripped his shoulders, almost to reassure myself that he was actually here and not a figment of my grief and confusion. “How? Why? What?”
A corner of his lips curled upward in a familiar smirk. I stared in shock that I hadn’t recognized him instantly. Sure, the tattoos and piercings were new, but he was still the shy yet cocky, sexy and sweet Memphis. Mine and Dean’s Memphis.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I do, too, but first”—his tattooed hands cupped my face—“I need to know that you’re okay.
You said you didn’t feel well.” When he stood, I tried to do the same, but he kept my ass sealed to the seat with a firm hand pressed to my shoulder. “I’ll get you some water?—”
A low, menacing growl rattled out of Elvis and cut him off. We both watched as he stalked toward the glass windows, the hair on his back raised.
“That’s the second time today,” Memphis muttered to himself.
“He doesn’t normally do that?” He shook his head, not looking away from the dog. I frowned. “Okay, but what are you doing here?—”
“I’m not leaving you up here exposed.”
Before I could process his words, I was lifted out of the chair, one arm supporting my spine, the other beneath my knees.
Striding toward the back like he owned the place, Memphis inspected the first exam room and then the other, stepping inside and carefully sitting me on the chair pet owners normally occupied while I helped their furry family members.
After making sure I was comfortable, Memphis and Elvis strode back out of the room, leaving me alone and utterly confused. I gaped at the empty doorway, jaw hanging open, not sure what the hell was actually going on.
“I must’ve fallen over earlier and hit my head. This is a concussion dream. It has to be.”
Memory after memory after memory floated to the forefront of my mind of Dean’s best friend, Memphis.
It had been years since I last saw him—at least that was the excuse I was giving myself as to why I didn’t immediately recognize him even with the drastic appearance change, though it seemed he still had a flair for style.
My lips quirked at that as a soft laugh escaped. There was no mistaking the kindness in his eyes, the shyness in his smirk, and the way his presence made me feel safe and taken care of. That was exactly the way I remembered him in my dreams.
Before I left for Texas A&M, the three of us were inseparable.
Yes, he was Dean’s best friend, but he was also mine too.
When Dean was working at his job as a part-time mechanic and I wanted to go out, Memphis would take me.
Sometimes if I couldn’t get a hold of Dean and needed help, Memphis would come instead.
My thoughts came to a screeching halt as other, hotter memories surfaced.
I swallowed hard as warmth filled my veins and my core throbbed.
Recalling those moments, it seemed I’d been curious about the multi-partner relationship since high school, though I hadn’t correlated our unique friendship to the community’s lifestyle I currently lived in.
Not that anything happened between the three of us, but there was always that unspoken spark, an intensity between Memphis and me, that I refused to acknowledge at the time.
It felt wrong then, like I was cheating on Dean by being attracted to his best friend.
Loving that he was part of us and added to our relationship.
Just thinking about Dean and all those good times in high school had me slumping back in the chair and rubbing at my tired eyes.
Fuck, these up-and-down emotions were exhausting.
But unlike the past several months, the familiar punch of guilt didn’t knock the air out of me.
It was there, of course, but not like before.
Earlier with Liam, I jumped off that healing cliff, diving headfirst into a new chapter of my life. One where I wouldn’t allow what happened to dictate how I moved forward in the future.
“We need to have a discussion about the food supply situation here.” I peeked one eye open, finding Memphis filling the doorway, Elvis at his feet, that sunny smile back on his sweet muzzle. “You have one apple that’s on its last day and a half-drunk Gatorade bottle in the fridge.”
I pursed my lips to stop the growing smile as I shook my head in disbelief. How had two overprotective and obsessed-over-my-health men made their way into my life? Hell, the only reason there was an apple in the fridge at all was because of Liam.
Extending my hand, I motioned for the half-full Gatorade bottle dangling from his fingers. After removing the cap, I tipped the drink back and finished what remained from the other day.
“It has to be lingering issues from my hangover,” I murmured to myself after wiping my lips.
His words from the lobby had me jerking my gaze to him and narrowing my eyes in accusation.
“Is that why you said I was probably dehydrated? How did you know about last…?” My cheeks heated and my stomach rolled with renewed embarrassment. “Oh fuck. Were you there?”
“I was,” he said, stone-faced.
I pitched forward, burying my hot face in both hands, and groaned.
I should just move to Hawaii. I needed to run far, far away from the shit show that was yesterday and the results of my inebriated behavior.
“That’s it. I’m dying of embarrassment. It will be a new discovery in future medical journals of how someone actually died, while at work, of embarrassment from their drunken stupidity.”
A soft chuckle had me dropping my hands to glare at Memphis, who at least had the decency to hide his laughter. How dare he laugh at my misery?
“You weren’t that bad,” he said, still clearly amused. “Your friends were worse.”
I scrunched my nose. “Not sure if that makes me feel any better.”
He eyed me with an unreadable expression, pale green eyes scanning my face as if waiting for something. Then it hit me. Right, the reason he was here.
Slapping the tops of my thighs, I stood, thankful that the room didn’t spin, and tossed the empty plastic bottle into the garbage can.
“Sorry, I got so wrapped up in seeing you and the mess from last night.” Memphis’s soft lips pressed into a thin line at my blubbering and waving both hands like an idiot. “I’m sitting here talking, and you just came to have your furry friend checked over.”
Of course he wasn’t here for me, to reminisce about the good times. But why did it feel like he was and wanted to surprise me? Memphis wasn’t listed as the owner’s name. I would’ve remembered that because it was so unique.
I really wished he was here for me, not just for Elvis’s health, because a little piece of my heart that had yet to heal mended upon seeing him.
It was like my childhood home had suddenly found me, offering the warmth and happiness that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
My life here was great, but I still missed home sometimes, and now a piece of that was here at my clinic.
When I reached for Elvis’s leash, Memphis’s tattooed fingers interlaced with my own, stopping them. Confused, I studied our joined hands before blinking up at him.
“The appointment wasn’t real, Baylee.”
I shook my head, knowing I saw it earlier in the scheduling system. “No, you’re mistaken. It’s in the system, but under a different name, I think. I can show you where?—”
A wide smile spread across his face, making him appear exactly how I remembered him from high school, minus the new bad-boy look he had going on. Which, holy shit, was a good look on him.
“I mean I’m here for you, Baylee. I made up the appointment and name—sorry about that, by the way—as an excuse to come see you. Elvis is fine. Besides his very recent growling episodes, he’s perfectly healthy.”
All I could do was blink at Memphis as his words went in one ear and out the other.
Seeing my confusion, he blew out a slow breath and squeezed my fingers. “I came to Alaska for you. To talk to you. I was just chickenshit and didn’t know how to approach you, and I figured this was the easiest way.”
“What! That’s amazing and confusing and I don’t know what else,” I said, meaning every word. “You came all the way to Alaska just to see me?” I furrowed my brow. “Um, why exactly?”
Memphis looked away with a chuckle and raked his fingers through his hair. “I was hoping we could talk about the why later, but yes, I came all the way from Florida to Alaska to see you.”
I froze. “Are you the one who’s been calling me nonstop, leaving those empty voice messages?”
His features hardened, and his eyes seemed to darken with anger. “What calls? What messages?”
My brows pulled in tight as the realization hit me like a freight train that I knew nothing about the man standing in front of me. Again, I scanned his tattoos, the small scar along his cheek, and the one that cut between the brow without the ring.
I might’ve grown up with Memphis Thomas the boy…
But I didn’t really know this man.