Page 59 of Unlocking Melodies

"We should probably head back," he murmured against my lips, though he made no move to pull away.

"Probably," I agreed, stealing one more kiss. "Before Mrs. Henderson organizes a search party."

The drive to Rolling Hill Ranch was comfortable in a way I hadn't expected. Soft music played from his ridiculous car's equally ridiculous sound system, and the silence between us felt natural, punctuated by occasional glances that made my chest tight.

We pulled up in front of my house, and suddenly the air felt charged with possibility. When Ethan leaned in, I met him halfway. The kiss started gentle, questioning – like he was afraid I might disappear.

“Well, isn't this touching.”

The voice came from the shadows, making us both jump. A man stepped into the porch light – someone vaguely familiar in a way I couldn't place. His clothes were worn but he wore an expensive watch that seemed out of place.

“Jimmy,” he said, spreading his arms like he expected a welcome. “Is that any way to greet your father?”

Beside me, Ethan went completely still. The easy warmth from moments ago vanished, replaced by something sharp and protective. I felt him shift slightly, angling himself between me and the stranger claiming to be my father.

“Gary.” Ethan's voice had changed – gone cold in a way I hadn't heard before. This wasn't his corporate tone; this was something harder.

“Gary Reed,” the man introduced himself, ignoring Ethan's clear hostility. “Though most people just call me Dad.” Hesmiled at me, but something about it felt wrong. “Course, you might not remember that, given your... situation.”

My head started to hurt – not with memories exactly, but with something like instinct. Every part of me wanted to step back, to get away from this man who was supposedly family but felt like danger.

“What do you want?” I managed, hating how uncertain my voice sounded.

“Can't a father check on his son?” He gestured vaguely at Ethan's car. “Especially when he hears about such interesting developments.”

Ethan's hand found mine, squeezing gently. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly controlled but carried an edge I'd never heard before. “I think you should leave.”

“Now, is that any way to treat family?” Gary's smile didn't reach his eyes. “Especially when I came all this way to help with Jimmy's recovery.”

Something about the way he said it made my skin crawl. I might not remember him, but my body seemed to – every instinct screaming that this man meant trouble.

“I don't—“ I started, but Ethan cut me off.

“If you wanted to help,” he said quietly, dangerously, “you would have been here weeks ago. Not now. Not like this.”

When Gary took a step forward, something clicked into place inside me. Not a memory exactly, but an instinct – like muscle memory but for survival. I felt Ethan tense beside me, ready to move between us, but I was already stepping forward.

“I might not remember everything,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice, “but my body remembers enough to know you're not safe.” My phone was already in my hand, Jake's number ready on the screen. Past Jimmy had him on speed dial – apparently some survival instincts transcended memory loss.

“Now, son—“ Gary started, but I cut him off.

“Leave now, or I call the Sheriff.” The authority in my tone surprised even me. Like maybe Past Jimmy had done this before, had learned how to handle this man who called himself father but felt like threat.

Something flickered across Gary's face – recognition maybe, or frustration. Like he'd seen this version of me before and hadn't expected to find it intact despite the memory loss.

“We need to talk, Jimmy.” His voice turned wheedling, practiced. “About what really happened that night. About why you can't remember.”

“No.” The word came out sharp, certain. “Whatever game you're playing, whatever angle you're working – I'm not interested.”

He actually backed up a step. Something in my voice must have triggered recognition – some echo of past confrontations, some version of me he hadn't expected to find behind the amnesia.

“You don't understand?—“

“I understand enough.” I lifted the phone slightly. “Ten seconds before I call Jake. Your choice.”

The mask slipped for just a moment – calculation replacing the fake concern. Then he melted back into the shadows, leaving behind only the echo of his final words: “This isn't over, son. Some memories need to stay buried.”

I didn't realize I was shaking until Ethan's hand squeezed mine. I was still holding onto him – or maybe he was holding onto me. Either way, his touch felt like an anchor in the storm of fractured memories and instinctive reactions.

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