Page 58 of Wanted

Her trusting nod swells my heart three times its size, and I guide her out the door.

The first step into the cool night feels like resurfacing from underwater. The fog from our shared bubble clears. Numbers tease the edge of my consciousness. The threat of her ex lingers, but I’m aware of the danger he presents this time.

For the past two weeks, he’s been a fictional character in Frankie’s story.

Now he’s the villain in mine.

“I think I screwed up.”

I pause in pulling my seat belt over my shoulder, turning to give her my full attention. “How so?”

She twists her fingers together in her lap and worries her lip.

A tingle begins in my fingertips, and sweat dampens my palms. I count to three before she starts talking again.

“When I was talking to Dillon, I said something about him dropping me off on the side of the road.” She licks her lips.

“That isn’t what happened.”

“I know.” She shakes her head. “I just, I think for a moment I forgot the details. I got confused.”

My heart crashes against my ribs. I grab her chin in my palm and tilt her face back to study her eyes. They look clear. Her pupils are equal size, dilating slightly the longer as I study her.

“Is this new?”

“I haven’t been able to remember since you found me.”

“What?” I bark, loud enough for her to jump. I slap my seat belt on, checking that hers is secure before cranking the engine and pulling out.

“My scans came back clear. The doctor said this can happen sometimes, and it’s often temporary. I think Dillon caught on to the fact I don’t remember and tried to twist the facts of what really happened in his favor.”

“What did he say?” I rage inside at the thought of that fucker using the knowledge against her.

“He said we had a fight. I just don’t remember what we were fighting about.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I snarl low. “I suspected you were bloody for reasons other than your tumble from his car. That motherfucker put his hands on you.”

Her breath hitches, and she exhales slowly, grounding herself. “I believe that too and it terrifies me that I don’t remember,” she admits quietly.

I yank the wheel in a hard left and park us in a residential driveway. “Come on.” I kill the engine and hop out.

Before Frankie has her door open, I’m at her side of the van. She steps out, and I pick up her hand again. Towing her gently, I ease my pace.

“Where are we?”

Three thunderous knocks on the front door is my answer. When thirty seconds pass without a response, I hammer on the door again.

“Open up, Jake!”

The porch light clicks on, bathing us in a yellow glow.

“Who’s Jake?”

The door creaks open. “What the hell, Jude? I’m sitting down to dinner.”

With Frankie’s hand still tight in mine, I drag her inside. “You owe me a favor.”

“Sure, come on in, buddy. Make yourself at home,” Jake says sarcastically. The door clicks shut behind us.

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