Page 41 of Day Shift

Atticus gave me a firm, reassuring pat on the back. “I knew it would all work out.”

Pulling away, I noticed Conan off to the side. He was clutching a big bunch of colorful flowers in one hand and standing uncomfortably, his other hand buried deep in his pocket. He looked up with a sheepish expression, eyes wide and apologetic—exactly like a kid caught stealing cookies but hoping to be forgiven.

He took a hesitant step forward, his usual bravado absent. “Angel, I’m…I’m really sorry for not being around these last few weeks,” he said, his voice rough around the edges.

This man, who was usually so sure of himself, was standing here in front of me looking all unsure and regretful. It did funny things to my heart.

“I had to stay away,” he said. “There were reasons, good ones, I swear. I’ll explain everything once we’re back at Sam and Atticus’s place.” His hand shot out, giving me the flowers.

I nodded, relishing the earnestness in his eyes. “Okay. We’ll talk later,” I agreed. I was unsure what this was all about, but willing to hear him out. For now, the relief that this was all over was enough to keep the smile on my face.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, following behind Samantha as she and the others turned to leave. We walked out of the courtroom and into the hallway.

Before we’d reached the courthouse exit, I nearly collided with a man who stepped directly in front of me. He was about my age, with dark hair and intense light blue eyes that locked onto mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Do I… Do you know me?” I blurted out, the words slipping from my lips before I could think. There was something familiar about him. A nagging sensation at the back of my mind screamed I should know who he was, yet the details were just out of reach.

He said nothing, just stared at me, not moving an inch to let us pass. His intense behavior threw me off-kilter. I felt a strange mix of recognition and confusion, but no words came from him. He merely continued with that deep, penetrating stare.

“Hey, buddy, you need to step aside,” Conan barked, ratcheting up the tension, his tone sharp with a protective warning. He stepped up beside me, his presence reassuringly solid.

But the guy didn’t flinch or so much as blink in response. He never took his eyes off me. His expression remained unreadable. It was unsettling, the way he held his ground, unaffected by Conan’s size or the obvious threat.

Conan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and shot a look at Atticus, who nodded subtly, ready to intervene if needed.

With a protective squeeze to my arm, Conan shouldered the man aside—not gently—done with the strange, silent confrontation. The man stumbled a bit but regained his balance. He kept his gaze locked on me while we moved past him.

“Who was that?” I whispered to Conan as we hurried out of the courthouse.

Conan shook his head as his brow furrowed. “No idea, but I didn’t like how he was looking at you. We’ll make sure he doesn’t follow us.”

As we walked away, I glanced back over my shoulder. The man still stood there, watching us leave, a strange, almost pained expression on his face. It was a look that tugged at my heart. But for now, I had to let it go.

Chapter twenty-three

Stepping into the bright sun of a warm summer day, I paused and shut my eyes. Before this morning’s ride to the police station, I hadn’t been out of the hospital since waking up—and that had been almost a month. God knew I’d never take the sun’s radiant warmth on my face for granted ever again.

Sam and Atticus were making small talk as they made their way across the parking lot. I stopped, taking a minute to enjoy the sun, and took a couple of cleansing breaths. When I opened my eyes, I found Conan standing next to a hunter-green Jeep that had its doors and top off. Atticus was opening the passenger door to a black Mercedes across the lane. I wanted nothing more than to ride with Conan and feel the breeze rush across my skin, but I wasn’t ready to talk about his disappearing act, so I walked over and got in the car behind Sam.

The ride to Atticus and Samantha’s house was filled with a strange mixture of optimism and tension. The odd encounter with the intense guy at the courthouse still lingered in my thoughts, but having all the charges dismissed was a huge load off my mind.

Sam turned up the radio and sang along with a song. Trying to relax and make myself mentally move on from all that had happened, I focused on the flowers in my lap, tracing my fingers over the stems and soft petals. It was sweet of Conan to get them for me. I wondered if, in my old life, other men had bought me flowers. Something in the back of my mind—the place where my memories were locked away—told me no one ever had.

Sam turned, peering over her shoulder. “It will take us only a few more minutes to get to our house. It sits on a lot overlooking the water in the Horsehead Bay area. We moved in a few months ago, and I still have a hard time believing I get to live there.”

“Thank you guys again for allowing me to stay in your home,” I said. “Hopefully, I’ll get my memories back soon and can get out of your hair.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said. “Seriously, we have plenty of room. I can’t wait for you to meet Bethany and Braxton. Well, actually you have met Braxton, since he was the EMT who brought you in the morning of your wreck.” Sam reached over and ran her fingers through the back of Atticus’s hair. He glanced over, and she smiled as he rested his hand on her leg. The love between them was obvious.

“That’s right. You’d told me my misadventure was a family affair,” I said with a soft laugh.

After another song came and went, we turned onto a long driveway dappled with sunlight streaming through the trees. It led to a stunning home nestled in a lush, wooded area. The tall trees and expansive lawn were a far cry from the sterile hospital environment I’d left behind.

“Wow,” I breathed out, genuinely impressed by the sprawling estate. “This place is incredible.”

“Thank you! And because of Atticus’s obsession with security, it’s probably safer than Fort Knox. Since the kidnapping incident, his protective paranoia has been in overdrive.” Samantha laughed as we approached the security gate. “Atticus installed this sci-fi system that includes cameras and sensors for everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows every bird that flies over and every squirrel that visits a tree.”

When we pulled into the garage, my eyes caught the gleam of something spectacular—a red 1967 Firebird convertible. It sat there like a piece of muscle-car history, perfectly preserved and radiating a vibe of untamed freedom. How I knew the details of the car, I didn’t know, but I did. Now if I could only figure out what my name was, I’d be getting somewhere.

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