Page 85 of Hounded: Ashes to Ashes

“I’mthe man who asked you,” I cut in. “It’sme.”

“But you didn’t know it,” he replied. “We were strangers, and if I’d told you we were getting married, you’d have thought I was crazy. Or desperate.”

I frowned because he was right. He’d tried to tell me, not about the engagement, but other things, and I hadn’t always been kind. Waking up in an unknown world with an unknown man was a little like being kidnapped, then gaslit or Stockholmed into submission.

And my confusion must have felt like cruelty to Loren.

“I don’t want to demand your love, Indy,” he said softly. “I don’t want to insist on it.”

“So, instead you’ve been trying to earn it,” I murmured. “For a hundred years.”

Little wonder he was tired. And sad. And shielding himself from me now when I was more myself than I’d ever been. He’d had enough of my bullshit and baggage: the bad habits that chased me from one life to the next.

I slumped on the narrow bench seat until Loren slipped his arm around me and pulled me onto his lap.

The Wonder Wheel had stopped with our gondola at the top, giving us a bird’s eye view of Luna Park and the distant Brooklyn skyline. I tipped my head onto Loren’s shoulder and let the silken strands of his hair cushion my cheek.

“Doll,” he whispered. “Even if you didn’t forget, I would still try to earn your love. There’s nothing I want more.”

I couldn’t cry, but my eyes shimmered. It made the carnival lights swim and streak, and they were every bit as beautiful as I’d wished they would be. Without the drugs. Without the high. This wasn’t a memory to chase. It was the precious present, and I knew exactly how Loren felt every time I popped another pill, trying to go back in time and visit with ghosts.

We were the same people. I was the same man who asked him to marry me, and he was the same man who said yes.

Maybe, once I got clean and was sure I could stay that way, I would ask him again.

Loren

I’d beenreluctant to believe that Indy had his memories back, but I could deny it no longer. On the Wonder Wheel, we sat and reminisced about all times we’d come to this place and done these things. Indy recounted them as clearly as I did, and it was… strange. Odd to be so open with him, reminding myself I didn’t need to be as choosy about how and what I told him. Or that I didn’t need to tell him some things at all. His questions were deeper now, and they prompted answers that were nearer to secrets and perhaps better left unsaid.

Honesty hurt us both, but the pain had always been there, we just kept it to ourselves.

We kept too much to ourselves.

After the ride ended, we filed out onto the boardwalk where Sully and the hounds were waiting. Sully held a plush blue whale prize from the dart game I’d seen Whitney playing. His expression had a gleam of cheer that gave me pause. Had I ever seen him smile in Hell?

“Congrats on the win.” Indy offered a high five Whitney awkwardly returned.

The other hound took up his post at Sully’s side, and she looped her arm around his the same way she had when we first arrived. It was jarring to see him playing escort to anyone other than Moira, and his good humor faltered when he caught my quizzical squint.

“Rides now?” Gunnar’s wide eyes pinpointed the Cyclone coaster rattling along its track.

“Nathan’s first,” Indy replied, then slipped his hand into mine. “You need something in your stomach if you wanna throw it up later.”

My nose wrinkled while they laughed, and our group headed for the hot dog stand.

I adjusted the foam earplugs that were doing a decent job keeping the audio clutter to a minimum. They made my hearing closer to human, a welcome reprieve from what was often overwhelming. Even when I was a child, the world had been too much. I hid in my mother’s skirts until I was far too old to do so and counted on my younger sister to speak and make decisions for me. Indy reminded me of her, brazen and bold, shining brightly in spaces where I preferred to fade.

While the others queued up in front of Nathan’s, Indy turned to me.

“Baby, do you want some cotton candy?”

I didn’t, but that wasn’t the real question.Hewanted cotton candy. The classic pink vanilla flavor he would dab on my tongue so he could taste it when we kissed.

Glancing around, I spotted a food trailer with bags of cotton candy hanging on clip strips. I pointed it out to Indy, then told him, “Be right back.”

He nodded and rejoined the others in line.

I may not have trusted the hounds to protect him the way I would, but I didn’t think they would harm him. Still, I kept close enough to act if something went awry and trained my eyes andnose to signs of danger as I ordered and paid for a large bag of pink cotton candy.

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