Page 29 of Finding Love

He’s right. It might almost be worth putting up with Craig if it means regaining everything I’ve lost. The dread that’s gripped me all day dissolves, and I step outside, almost trembling in anticipation. What else can he help me remember? Finally, I might be able to get the answers I desperately need.

“There she is!” Craig calls out, beaming from ear to ear as I descend the wide stone stairs. “You look great. I was worried that you would be in bad shape.”

“Sorry to worry you.” When I reach him, he surprises me by giving me a brief hug. “I’m really feeling much better.” Funny, but his touch has the effect Luca’s used to, making me stiffen in discomfort.

“Do you remember me?” he asks as he lets go, and we stand face-to-face, our breath mingling between us. His gaze is intense enough to make me look at his chest like he’s trying to see through me.

“I recognized you when I saw you.”

“That’s great news!” Another hug follows this, and again, I go stiff. I doubt we had this kind of relationship before. We weren’t even working together long enough for me to remember him from the days before my attack.

“Come on,” I offer once he releases me. “I need to stretch my legs.” Really, I want to get away from the house, even if we can’t leave the grounds. I don’t want anybody overhearing any of my questions. I glance over my shoulder and see Luca staring at us through the glass beside the door. Suspicious, possessive—does it really matter which is the case?

“How is your memory?” Craig asks as we start across the gravel courtyard.

I shove my hands deep into my pockets and duck my chin against the cold before admitting, “Patchy. Sometimes things pop up, always when I least expect them.”

“Do you remember anything about the abduction?” When I flinch and hunch my shoulders, he makes a sympathetic noise. “Sorry. That was the wrong way to phrase it.”

Something about his apology makes my hackles rise. “It’s fine. I’m not a baby. I can handle it.”

His sudden laughter confuses me worse than ever. “It’s good to see some things haven’t changed. You sound exactly like the Emilia who drove me crazy when we worked together.”

“I do?”

He rolls his eyes before laughing again. “Please. You always knew best. It wasn’t easy to keep your ass safe, always running headfirst into everything.”

Okay, that sounds like me. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I remind him. He doesn’t need to make it sound like I was such a liability. I’m being touchy, but I have to wonder how well we could’ve gotten along. It doesn’t sound like he liked me very much. Yet there he is, making a big deal out of coming to see me. Luca said he’s been asking ever since I got out of the hospital.

“Things are a lot quieter without you, that’s for sure,” he admits, kicking a few stones out of the way when we reach the dead, frozen grass. “That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry to see you go.”

“Luca told me about the story you made up to cover for what happened… my injury,” I clarify when he looks confused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t end up with a commendation or anything for that.”

“I did,” he admits, chuckling as he crams his hands into his pockets and lifts his broad shoulders. “I won’t pretend there was nothing in it for me. It doesn’t mean I’m glad.”

“Help me remember the way things were.” Does it sound like I’m pleading? Maybe I am a little. “It’s still foggy. Like I’m trying to tune into a radio station, and I can almost hear the music, but there’s too much static to be clear.”

His indulgent chuckle makes my hackles rise again, though I fight to conceal my reaction while he explains, “We were working on building a case. You were determined to put an end to them once and for all.” There’s humor in his voice, almost like he’s making fun of me a little.

“I couldn’t have made things easy for you,” I point out. There’s something off about him. It’s unsettling, especially since I can’t pinpoint exactly what is wrong. I couldn’t describe it if I tried. He’s just… off, somehow. Twitchy. Always looking over his shoulder to where the guards are watching. What is he so nervous about? I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s been here.

“It was a real pain in the ass,” he tells me flat-out. “I couldn’t convince you to give it up. And look where it landed you.”

“Are you talking about where I currently live or my injury?”

“Both. Is that so wrong?”

This guy is a real piece of work. It takes concentration and a few deep breaths to contain my irritation. “Considering you’re on the family payroll, I don’t think you have the moral high ground here,” I quietly point out as we stroll across the lawn.

“Well, you still sound like yourself, anyway.” When I lift an eyebrow, he explains, “That’s exactly the kind of thing you would’ve said to me before.”

“I only lost part of my memory. I didn’t lose myself.” I kick aside a small branch that fell from one of the trees, but it does nothing to ease my frustration. How did I ever work with this man? The sarcasm has me grinding my teeth. It's a good thing we didn’t work together for very long, or else I probably would have cracked every single one by now.

“You never answered my question.” I feel him watching me but refuse to show it. “Do you remember the abduction?”

“Not a thing,” I lie. What is it that won’t let me tell him the truth that I vaguely remember the room I was in, the men who cut my hair and beat me, and the fight we had at the house before they took me? Some instinct holds me back, and I know better than to go against it.

“It’s probably for the best,” he decides with a sigh. “You wouldn’t want to remember something like that. You’d be better off blocking it out forever.” Why the hell does he care so much?

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