Page 72 of Forget Me Not

Did I ever even come back from that muddy river in Missouri?

Or . . . am I dead?

“Little bird, you’ve got to wake up.”

The roar of an engine that seems like it’s right above my head sends me bolting upright from my sleep.

I’m just short enough that I don’t crack my head on the ceiling of the cabin of Hope’s Grace.

Reid’s arms come around my waist, pulling me back.

“What happened?” I ask, my heart racing in my chest.

“We’ve got to go. They’re opening up the docks. People are leaving.”

The docks. We spent the night here. Reid and I . . .

Suddenly, my skin heats as my memories come rushing back.

Oh, no . . .

I reach up, smoothing my hair down, which is, of course, a rat’s nest. You don’t just sleep on curls. It’s a death sentence.

“You look beautiful,” Reid grumbles, stilling my hands and tugging me back into his chest. “Come here.”

He smooths my hair down and presses a kiss to the back of my neck, just below my ear, his lips lingering there for a torturous moment.

Heat floods my core despite my ragged heartbeat. I have half a mind to just stay here with him, hiding out for the rest of the day, morning breath or not.

“You were having a nightmare?”

Reid’s arm bands around my stomach, and his voice is husky and full of sleep and probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

“No. I wouldn’t say that.”

“You were talking in your sleep.”

Oh my God, please tell me I didn’t say anything stupid.

“What did I say?”

“Uh . . . pigtails, actually. Pink ribbon, gray, and then, just black.” He lists them off like they make no sense to him. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to think of them. Why do I keep going back to that night? I try to run as far from it as I can, but it always seems to catch up to me, filling in the little details I’ve blocked out over time.

Things I’d much rather forget.

“Must be the lack of sleep.” It’s a lie. He knows and I know it. Still, for once, he doesn’t push me to tell him more.

“Am I a bad influence on you?”

He moves out from behind me and pulls me until my back hits the mattress. Looming over me in the early morning sun, my mind plays all kinds of tricks on me. Like my inner thighs growing slick with need. Or the way my heart races in my chest like a nervous schoolgirl about to have her first kiss.

“What will my father say?”

Reid opens his mouth to speak, but just as he does, another engine cuts on, this one right beside us.

“We’ve got to go,” he chuckles, slipping from the bed and offering me his hand. “Can I walk you back?”

He holds out his hand to me and I slip palm in his. It’s warm. Electric. Too intimate for Reid and me.

---