Page 37

Present: Nine Years After the Accident—Thirty-Three Years Old

Twenty-one.

I throw myself into another lap, my arms thrusting forward as my body rips through the water at five forty in the morning.

I should’ve stopped at the twentieth lap.

That’s my routine—a routine that has carried me through eight dark years without her.

I have a shit ton of work waiting for me in the office.

Under my direction, Trey has unearthed more suspicious financial transactions and Liam has sent me preliminary findings to review.

I should stop fucking around in the pool and go back to my damn routine and responsibilities.

But I can’t.

Because my mind is cluttered with thoughts, worries, and impulses.

All about her.

Twenty-two.

I flip under the water and pummel toward the other side of the pool inside The Orchid, my butterfly strokes strong.

I almost broke down two days ago when she sat next to me in the office.

When she gazed at me with those beautiful blue eyes, pride shining in them after she drew the house, and realized she could use a story to remember formulas.

My heart splintered then.

I didn’t think it could break any more, but apparently, I was wrong .

My Nova carried pieces of me in her broken mind.

She remembered what I taught her all those years ago.

But she doesn’t remember me.

What am I doing?

I hurl myself into another lap.

Twenty-three.

The words I said to her the first time I kissed her all those years ago echo between my ears.

“If a rock smacked you on the head and you lost your memories, I’d do everything in my power to make you remember. Even if that meant recreating our love story, reminding you with every touch, every word. Because there’d be no way I’d let you slip away. No way.”

The what-if questions were our inside jokes—they made me laugh whenever I’d read her wild, outlandish questions.

I never thought there’d be a day when I’d be holding onto those answers like a lifeline.

Like my promise to her, I’ve tried over the past year to tease out her memory, all without disobeying her doctor’s orders.

I’ve brought Alexis her favorite foods, asked her about her earrings, made sure I drew attention to the cuff links she gave me.

I’ve even asked the Letters of Hope administrator to assign me as her pen pal, hoping trading emails will jog her memory.

Rex thought I was nuts when I insisted Lexy start The Strata revamp project with me, and I’ve been attending every single meeting when I’d normally ask Trey to sit in on these things in the past.

Lana finally cornered me last week after our family dinner.

“What’s going on between you and Lexy? And don’t bother denying it because it’s obvious. The random meal changes, canceling meetings, asking me where she was at when we were clubbing? And don’t get me started with this Project Dreamer naming business.”

I grit my teeth and look away.

My sister is too damn perceptive.

“You love her, don’t you? Were you part of her missing four years, Ethan? ”

I don’t answer her.

Despite my efforts to recreate our love story, Alexis’s beautiful eyes are blank, not a flicker of recognition in them.

If anything, there’s wariness.

I don’t miss how she’s in pain whenever she has those visions, or even when I’m too close to her.

Like I am causing her pain.

“Ethan, are these visions memories? Why is the past so painful?”

I want to scream at the top of my lungs.

As much as I want my Nova to stare at me like I’m everything again, seeing her in agony guts me.

I’d much rather flay myself with knives than witness her go through this horrendous journey.

So, I told myself to stay away.

Twenty-four.

The words she wrote to me in her latest email appear behind my eyes.

Words I’ve memorized—down to every comma and period—just like every email she’s sent me this year.

For the past decade, I not only grieved the loss of the woman I love, but also my confidant, pen pal, and journal partner.

The woman who inspired me to write poetry again.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Missing Pieces

Dearest Polaris,

I’ve found my haven thanks to you.

It’s a library as well—perhaps we are kindred spirits.

There’s a certain peace in surrounding myself with books and feeling hope in the air.

The place is filled with stories—people who’ve gone through unspeakable tragedies but have found their way to the other side .

When they left this earth, they carved their mark on its history.

It makes me feel my problems are minuscule.

Can I tell you a secret?

Ever since I woke up, there’s something missing inside me.

Not just my memories, but the physical sensation of a hole in my chest. The spot above my heart aches at random moments.

Sometimes, it’ll be when I hear a certain phrase or when I’m staring at my lucky hummingbird earrings, other times it’ll be from a flashing vision, images I’m not even sure if they’re real.

I can’t trust my mind.

But I think my heart is trying to tell me something.

Do you think there’s someone out there who can tell me what those missing pieces are?

Someone who can find them for me?

Is it worth looking for this person?

Yours,

Alexis

When I read her email, I had to physically restrain myself from bolting out the door to find her.

To tell her those missing pieces were of me.

Us.

The best years of my life.

I wanted to tell her I was her Polaris, and I never forgot the girl who was afraid of being forgettable.

But then I’d think about her guardedness whenever I approached her.

The fact I couldn’t tell her why I wanted to hold her and kiss her without revealing our past, which would disqualify her from the medical trial.

Twenty-five.

Throwing myself into another lap, my lungs burn and eyes water, but I persist.

I should end our pen pal relationship.

I should recuse myself.

It’s a betrayal of her trust in the pen pal program.

But I can’t.

Damn it.

I’m not strong enough.

If this is the only way I can have a small piece of her, then I’m a selfish bastard.

A fire sparks in my chest and desperation grips me.

I throw myself harder into my strokes, my form erratic as I attack the water like it’s my enemy.

I can’t tell her anything.

Her medical trial. I can’t tell her anything.

Recreating our past isn’t working.

Nothing is working.

I tell myself to stay strong for her.

Lexy is trying so hard to reclaim her life.

But deep down, there’s a fear that works better than any reminder.

What if, after everything, she still doesn’t remember?

Even after I tell her the truth.

What if her love for you is just like her memories, lost and gone forever?

A roar shreds my throat as I come up for air.

I slam my hands onto the concrete edge and heave in desperate gulps of air.

“Damn. Someone looks pissed off enough to burn the world.”

Leather shoes appear in my vision and I look up, finding Rex frowning, dark circles telling me he slept little last night.

I swipe the water from my face and hoist myself out of the pool.

“What are you doing here? It’s before six. Shouldn’t you be asleep? If it weren’t for work, you’d probably roll out of bed at noon.”

Grabbing a towel, I walk toward the showers.

“I’m here to give you a heads-up, D. The cavalry is on its way to drag you to the club for breakfast in half an hour.”

“What’s this, an intervention?”

“It’s something all right. Actually, Elias texted me yesterday to gather everyone, and if The Kent says something is wrong with you, then something is wrong. ”

“The Kent?” I snort.

I’m sure the king of the underground appreciates a nickname that sounds like a hotel name.

“What? I wanted to call him Hades, but he shot that down.”

Hades.

The Greek god of the underworld.

Lexy loves Greek myths.

Fuck.

“You guys have too much time on your hands.” I take a fresh towel from the attendant and head toward a private spa shower in the back.

“Half hour, Ethan. Don’t make me come down and find you!” Rex hollers at my back.

A quick shower later, I take the elevator up to the gentlemen’s club and fight the need to run away and swim more laps in the pool.

I check the time. Six fifteen.

I should be in the office reading my morning debriefs now.

My routine is a mess.

A few acquaintances greet me and I force out a fake smile and make small talk—ask about their kids, grandkids, the new sports car they got.

Unlike the fresh-faced Delaney, who felt like he had something to prove, I’ve earned my right to walk these halls.

I’m a worthy Anderson now.

A few minutes later, I enter our private room, finding the gang all gathered by the dining table.

Their heads snap up in my direction.

I should thank Rex for warning me.

My lips twitch. Damn Rex.

He may fool everyone with his devil-may-care attitude, but deep down, he has a sensitive soul.

He knew I’d need the heads-up.

“I’m here. Now what?”

I plop down in an open chair and Rex slides a fresh cup of coffee in front of me.

“Steven got drunk off his ass at a racetrack when he and Grace had the debacle. Maxwell punched Ryland in the face when he was in his shits with Millie,” Elias murmurs from the corner, his green eyes sharp as he plays with his damn lighter again.

“Hold on. How did you know about that? You weren’t there,” Steven mutters, throwing a glare at him .

Elias arches his brow, the movement drawing attention to the long scar marring his face.

“Fuck. Pretend I never asked. I wouldn’t be surprised if our phones are all equipped with surveillance cameras or some shit.”

Everyone shifts in their seats and eyes their phones.

Elias’s lips quirk up.

“Surveillance cameras? That’d be too juvenile.”

I roll my eyes.

“Your point, Elias? Why are we all here?”

“Let me finish. Maxwell got into a car accident when he was racing in the fucking rain while he was going through his issues with Belle.”

“Like you never made a poor decision in your life.” Maxwell shakes his head, then scrolls through his phone.

“Poor decision, yes. Stupid decision, no.” Elias snaps his lighter shut.

“And I continue, then there’s Charles, well he…”

Elias frowns.

“I what?” Charles lifts his brow, a wide grin on his face.

“Wasn’t an idiot like the Andersons were with women?”

“Hey! Don’t include me in the mix. I’m single,” Rex grumbles.

“You’re an idiot all the time,” Ryland supplies and twirls a fountain pen in his fingers.

The fucker is already grading papers.

I have him to thank for putting Alexis in my orbit again with his internship improvement ideas.

“My point being,” Elias resumes his annoying lighter flicking habit, “you guys are ridiculous when it comes to women.”

Charles clears his throat.

“Fine. Vaughn excluded. So, when a little bird told me someone was screwing with his routines, canceling meetings, dancing at a nightclub—”

I frown.

Hold on a second. This sounds familiar.

Too familiar.

I stare at my friend and he falters, then shrugs.

“Watch where you’re going with this.” I glare at Elias, then look at Charles, who’s cocking his head to the side .

I’ve never told anyone about what happened at Mystique with Alexis.

How all common sense flew out the window when I caught her in my arms—when she pressed herself against me and melted into my embrace.

When she begged for more.

Almost a decade of celibacy caused my mind to snap.

It wasn’t right of me and I’m ashamed.

But damn if I’ll admit that to her older brother.

“That being said, I thought this was overdue. Since your almost trip to Tibet a year ago, you’ve been acting strange. I recognize all the signs of an Anderson in trouble. Unfortunately.”

Elias clasps his hands in front of his lap and stares expectantly at me.

“Since Elias brought it up, I’ve always wondered.” Charles taps his fingers on the table, his blond hair gleaming like a crown on his head.

“Whenever you mentioned Firefly in the past…it’s always been in present tense. Even when I’ve given up hope.”

He heaves out a heavy exhale.

“Of all people, I should’ve held out hope for her. I’m her brother.” His voice is thick, and he looks at me.

“But you never gave up, Ethan. Why?”

The tie cinches my neck and I struggle to breathe.

My face heats, and I stride to the towering windows and look at Central Park sprawled far below.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? She’s awake now. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you.”

“I know she doesn’t. Lexy’s that type of person, but that isn’t my question. If what I suspect is true, why are you standing here looking so miserable? Why aren’t you doing something about it? If this is about my blessing, you damn well have it. Is this about Liam?”

I think about my best friend and the oath I swore to him about not touching his sister.

Deep down, things have changed.

Years have gone by and his concerns about me—breaking women’s hearts and whatnot—aren’t relevant anymore.

I haven’t been in the scandal rags with any woman for the past nine years.

I know Liam would be okay if I told him.

He’d probably punch me in the face first for sneaking around his back, but he’d come around .

“She doesn’t remember anything, Charles.”

“And you can’t force her to love you.” A hand clasps my shoulder.

Maxwell.

People often told me I resembled my oldest brother the most, and I didn’t notice it until now, when he’s staring at me with understanding in his eyes.

His jaw clenches, then releases, his gaze trailing to the gloomy scenery outside.

“It’s miserable to hold everything inside yourself, Ethan. I, of all people, know that. Don’t do this. You owe it to yourself.”

“Her medical trial, Maxwell. I can’t jeopardize that. I’ve tried reminding her of things she liked before, phrases we used to say. But she’d shrivel up in pain. I don’t want to cause her pain.”

“That’s a dilemma, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, a shadow appears in the reflection.

Elias murmurs, “Not everyone has a chance to make the woman he loves fall in love with him all over again.”

Make her fall for me…

again.

“Forget the past and look forward, don’t you think?”

What if Nova and her north star belong in the past—a past only I remember?

The crushing loneliness of being the only one who carries this secret.

A love story born between towering shelves in a hidden library, sparked by a love of words and poetry.

But…what if I forget the past?

What if I make her fall for me again?