Page 11

As soon as I pull the helmet over my head and my face is covered, I burst into a silent sob.

It’s the kind that consumes my entire body and shakes my shoulders.

Tears roll down my cheeks in steady streams as I spend all my energy forcing my feet toward my bike.

It’s hard to move when the air feels like black sludge entering my lungs.

A door opens behind me. “Trey!”

Fuck. It’s her voice. For a second, I think about turning around and scooping her up. I’d rip my helmet off and kiss her until she’s breathless. She’d say my name again and look up at me with that precious recognition in her eyes.

But it’s not her. It wasn’t her when I showed up here after leaving z-prison, and it wasn’t her I gave my photo to either. My Arella is gone, and no matter how much this woman sounds, looks, or even acts like Arella, she isn’t my Arella.

That’s why when she calls my name again, I don’t stop. Actually, my slouchy walk toward my motorcycle turns into a dead run. I have no desire to talk to a woman who reminds me of someone I lost. Someone I have zero chances of ever getting back.

“Trey,” she calls again as I straddle my bike.

The key is still in the ignition. I turn it, and the engine awakens with a soft rumble. I’m about to back out of my parking spot when she runs up next to me and places a hand over my forearm.

“Trey, wait!” Her touch doesn’t feel like Arella’s. It feels more like pain and heartache. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

I can’t answer her with words, because if I do, they’ll come out through a choked sob.

Silent tears are still rolling down my cheeks, wetting the inside of my helmet.

I’d wipe them away, but that would require removing my helmet.

I can’t let this woman see me cry. She wouldn’t understand, and from what I know about her, she doesn’t care to, so I simply pluck her hand off my forearm, give it back to her, then roll my motorcycle back.

Like Arella, this woman is difficult as fuck. She runs behind my bike and throws her hands up. “Trey, please! Wait!”

With a sigh, I twist the key. The engine dies like the way I am on the inside with each passing moment I’m in this woman’s presence.

She returns to my side. “I just want to talk to you.”

I circle my hand in the air as if to say, So talk then.

“Can you take off your helmet?”

Holding back my sobs, I shake my head.

“Please? It feels weird to talk to someone when I can’t see their face.”

If this woman is anything like Arella, she won’t give up until she gets what she wants. The faster I do what she asks, the faster I can get outta here.

Looking anywhere but at her, I reluctantly drag my helmet off and set it on my lap. A light breeze blows against my damp skin as I stare at the bike key I want to twist so badly.

Ari lets out a little gasp. “Oh, Trey...”

I bet she didn’t expect to see me like this. I probably have red cheeks and even redder eyes. I drag the bottom of my shirt up to wipe off my wet face.

In the corner of my eye, I see her attention drop to my bare stomach.

She stares at my abs while I dry my cheeks.

Her fingers used to trail little figure eights over my abs whenever she rode on the back of my bike.

She doesn’t remember that, but I do. I’ll remember it for the rest of my miserable existence.

“Oh, Trey...” she says again. I wish she’d stop saying my name.

It’s in Arella’s voice, and I used to love hearing her say my name.

Hearing it was like hearing my favorite song pop on the radio.

Hearing it now is like hearing skips on a record player.

It’s still Arella’s voice, but something is off about it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I bet if I could sense her emotions, they’d be somewhere between shock and pity. I don’t want her pity. The only thing I ever wanted from her was for her to hear me out. For her to try to remember me. But she didn’t want to hear me out. She didn’t even want to try.

Arella never pitied me. Even when I told her about witnessing my parents’ murder, the only way Arella ever looked at me was with understanding. I don’t think I’ll ever find that again.

Since this woman isn’t getting to the point, I muster up the courage to force out some words. They come out more broken than I intend them to. “Just, uh, s-say what you came out to say so I can l-leave.”

“Um...” In the corner of my eye, I see her rub the ends of her long hair between her fingers. Arella would do that whenever she was anxious. I’ll miss seeing that. “Caleb confirmed that what you said is true. He said that I remembered you.”

I’m surprised Caleb told her the truth. I didn’t think he would.

“How did that happen?” she asks.

I keep my eyes glued to anything but her. “Don’t you think that if I knew, I’d do anything and everything in my power to make it happen again?” Permanently this time.

She goes silent as my question sinks in. “Um, Caleb also mentioned that I said something about you getting stabbed. He said I remembered putting pressure on your wound. Is that true?”

Slowly, I nod, unsure where she’s going with this.

“Where did you get stabbed?”

“In my side.”

“Can I see it?”

Ah. That’s where she’s going with this. She wants physical proof that I was stabbed because simply hearing it from her stupid boyfriend isn’t enough.

Suddenly, I wish I hadn’t been fixed up by the z-prison Healer, because then I’d have something to show her.

Unfortunately, if I wasn’t healed, I probably wouldn’t be here.

Either way, having proof changes nothing.

I know that now. Even if she saw the remnants of a stab wound, she still wouldn’t remember me.

She would still have another man waiting for her in their apartment.

She would still have no recollection of us falling in love.

Therefore, this conversation is pointless.

“I don’t have a scar from it.” I tap my fingers against my helmet, itching to put it back on.

She cocks her head at me. “How is that possible?”

“The same way it’s possible for you to not remember a single thing about me.”

“So, like, magic?”

It’s offensive as fuck to call anything from the Zordinary world magic . Our gifts are passed down through genetics. There’s nothing magical about that.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?” I ask, a little clipped. I know I shouldn’t be mad at her. It’s not her fault I’ve been erased from her head, but all my energy is being used to keep my shoulders from shuddering. I only have so much energy left to say things nicely.

“I guess not.”

“So can I go now?”

Her face drops, and I’m not sure why. What did she expect from this exchange? For me to have all the answers? I don’t, and I’m more upset about it than she is.

She swallows thickly. “Yeah, you can go.”

I waste no time dragging my helmet back over my head, then turning my bike key. The engine rumbles again. Ari steps back, giving me enough space to back out. Once I do, I ride away from her, leaving behind my entire heart in her hands.

It may not belong to her, but it belongs to her soul. Arella is still in there somewhere, and I want what belongs to her to stay with her.