Page 83 of Forget Me Not

Allowing myself to be free of the guilt I’ve always associated with Jack’s death feels like I’m not holding myself accountable. It would be freeing to be able to live a life without this dark cloud over my shoulders, but how can I do it? How can I allow myself the possibility of moving on with someone who might be leaving in a couple weeks, anyway?

“And,” Mom adds, looking at the bright blue nail polish on my fingers. “If Reid turns out to not be the one, then at least he’s hot.”

It catches me so off-guard that I snort and Mom laughs. She places her hand on my leg, patting my knee.

“You’re a good girl, Nova. I love you. I know someone in this world is going to fall head over heels with you. You’ve just got to let them.”

“Girls, are you decent?” Dad calls up the stairs, his cheerful laugh following soon after.

“Well, there’s your father,” Mom rolls her eyes and we both chuckle. “Ever the patient one. Give me a hug.”

She pulls me into one of her warm, Mom-hugs and I wipe the wetness off my cheeks.

“I love you, sweetie.”

Footsteps shuffle up the stairs and Mom pulls back from me, gathering the sheets in her arms. “Alright, alright, we’re coming.”

Dad pauses at the doorway, his gaze flicking between us.

“Reid?”

“He’s waiting for you out by the fire. Told me to go on ahead while he hung out with the dog.”

“Everything’s all set for tonight,” I tell him, descending the stairs. “I even put special pillow cases in there that should help you sleep better.”

“Drugged pillow cases?” he asks Mom, who just shrugs. “Well, this wasn’t on the brochure.”

Once we’ve said goodnight, I watch their tail lights as they make their way back to the inn.

They’re good people. I don’t give them enough credit. They have always went above and beyond for me. Especially after Jack. If it weren’t for them, I don’t know what I would have done.

Mom’s right. It’s time to lay Jack to rest. I can’t keep letting the ghost of him back me into a corner, chase me in my dreams. I need to face what happened.

Unfortunately, it starts with the man at the fire.

I pause when I step out of the back door. Reid’s watching the fire, his gaze wary. Guarded, just like he was that first day I met him. I don’t like it. I can’t escape the sinking feeling that he and my dad talked about a little more than they were supposed to.

Was I set up by my parents? Did Mom and Dad separate us to talk to each of us individually? I wouldn’t put it past them. My stomach twists in knots, thinking about what all Dad could have said, but I don’t get time to think about it because the walk from the back door to the fire pit just isn’t long enough for long-winded worries.

“Hey,” I greet, voice every bit as choked with anxiety as I was hoping it wouldn’t sound. There’s something different about him than before I went inside and I can’t fight the sinkhole opening up in my stomach. I mean, he’s always quiet. Only now, he won’t look at me.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat.

Shit.

“Want another beer, or something?”

Jesus, I sound pathetic, even to myself.

“No,” he replies, his voice cooler than I’ve ever heard it.

“Whatever my dad said, I’m sorry. He’s just trying to be a dad.”

“Nova, who’s Jack?”

I pause, the air getting stuck in my lungs, my heart freezing in my chest and ice filling every one of my veins. I just stare at him, locked in place and of course, he chooses this moment to grace me with his gaze.

That dark gaze, swimming with emotions and thoughts I can’t pick up on.

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