Page 27 of Memories of Us

“No... no, sir. I'll be—”

“We'll meet you up front.”

The second the wide-eyed woman walked off, I turned back to Beks, who was still focused on the ground.

“What do you mean I paid for it?”

With a huff, she fell on to a display rocking chair and leaned back. “Brenton, do you really want to know? It's Pandora's box. Once you know one thing, you'll want to know the rest. Can't we leave it as the way things are now? I was happy then, you were happy, and we ended.”

“What are you hiding?” Needing to train her focus back on me instead of the lock of hair she was intently studying, I dropped to a crouch and rested my forearms on her thighs. Her shoulders rose and fell in a noncommittal shrug. A dull ache settled deep in my chest at her slumped shoulders. “Hey, come on. It's okay. Nothing will change.”

Unshed tears lined her lower lids when she finally looked up. “That's what you said before. Don't you get it, B? It didn't end well. You left me. I told you.... You knew, and you signed a very cut-and-dried document stating I could never reach out to you again, never find you, never mention we ever happened. I woke up in the hospital alone. Alone and scared. You turned your back on me when I needed you most. That's why I hate you.”

She choked back a sob but couldn't stop the tears from escaping and falling down her cheeks.

“You paid me off. The money put me through undergrad. So every class, every book I bought, I thought of you and how to you I was a disposable fling. I loved you, you fucking bastard.”

Her palms connected roughly with my shoulders. The hard concrete of the store floor did nothing to absorb the impact of my ass slamming against it. Still in shock at her assault, I stayed sitting on the floor as she shoved from the chair to stand over me.

Gone was the insecurity. Gone was the sadness.

Pissed-off Beks glared down with hurt and anger in her honey brown eyes.

The idea of her taking the money didn't sit well, especially since I had no fucking clue why she was paid off. She still wasn't telling the full truth about our story. And yeah, I was fucking pissed at myself for not remembering. I shouldn't take my anger and frustrations out on her, but like she and I had discussed the night before, I was an asshole and always got the final word.

“Sounds like you weren't too heartbroken over losing me like you've been making it out to be. What was I worth? Couple hundred grand? A million? Tell me, Rebeka, what price tag did you put on us?”

“Fuck you.”

“Believe me, baby, I'm dying to, but you said no touching.”

The fierce fire behind her eyes and the fisting of her hands had me shifting back an inch. She looked like she was about to fucking explode. Instead of resorting to violence, which was shocking based on her body language, she flipped me the bird with both hands and stormed toward the front of the store.

Damn, did I know how to pick them.

I shoved off the ground with a groan and dusted my shorts off as I scanned the store for her but came up empty.

Huh.

At the checkout counter, I rapped my black American Express on the wooden counter while the salesgirl took her sweet-ass time ringing everything up, Beks still nowhere in sight. A sinking feeling told me that wasn't a coincidence. When I pushed through the front doors, the two salespeople at my back, I was somewhat prepared for what I'd find and didn't overreact.

No idea why, since she stranded my ass in the truck I'd just bought her, I laughed at the empty parking space where the truck had been.

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