Page 86 of When Hearts Remember

And now, I’m afraid. Terrified.

Anderson men aren’t lucky in love.The belief, which has faded ever since Alexis came into my life, comes barreling back with the force of a tsunami.

Unbidden, Cleo’s parting words—words I dismissed before because I hadn’t met Lexy yet—whisper into my mind.Why couldn’t you have protected me?

I should’ve known. Should’ve. Should’ve.

I have a feeling, the same ominous feeling from earlier, but tenfold stronger.

Things will never be fine again.

Chapter 29

Present: Nine Years After the Accident—Twenty-Nine Years Old

“Your cubicle is allset up, and this packet contains your initial login information. Restrooms are down the hallway by the elevators to your right and the kitchen is to your left. Don’t heat smelly foods. Please…” Felicity from HR blabs a mile a minute, strutting toward the marketing bullpen, as she calls it.

Quickening my pace, I hurry after her. The woman walks like she’s running. What would she look like if she were actually on the run?

I stifle a giggle and rub my damp palms on my black skirt—a simple white blouse with a pencil skirt can’t go wrong—when what she says stops me in my tracks.

“Mr. Anderson will meet with you in half an hour.”

“What?”

My mind flashes to a certain dark-haired man with banked fire in his eyes who looks like he’s one wrong move away from detonating.

The mysterious, self-righteous asshole.

Felicity stops and cocks her brow at me. “Why do you look so surprised? He’s your boss—the head of the marketing department? He likes to greet new hires—interns and employees alike. You’re lucky. He’s the most easygoing Anderson out of the bunch—we all like him. Well, Lana’s wonderful too, but the others?” She mimes slitting her throat with a knife.

Oh. Rex.Chief Marketing Officer. Of course.

My chest deflates, crushing relief mixing with…disappointment?

Why the hell would I be disappointed? I should be ecstatic I’m not meeting with the storm cloud of the Anderson family. I don’t need to endure another “you should take care of yourself better” cryptic comment from him.

I don’t even know why the man shows up all the time like a relentless shadow. Two weeks ago, he appeared when Liam helped me move into a small apartment in the Flatiron District. My brothers weren’t happy about me getting my own place. But I need them to treat me like an adult—someone who can handle whatever life throws my way. I’m not a child; not a teenager.

And certainly not a patient.

“Don’t push yourself, Alexis. Grabbing life by the balls is great, but you need to let yourself fully recover,” Ethan had muttered, his voice low and clipped.

“I’m not a fragile flower. I know my limits, Ethan.” My words wobbled as a sharp pain sizzled down my bad leg and I faltered.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

The cold in his eyes shifted—ice crackling under pressure—but it hardened again. “Doesn’t look like it from where I stand.”

Before I could respond, he stepped in and took the box from my hands. Carefully, like he knew how much its contents meant to me—like he had done this before.

“Hey—” I started, a flare of irritation rising. I didn’t want the movers to handle this box. These were things I’d never let strangers touch.

Something I’d never let strangers touch.

Ethan paused, those intense eyes of his dimming as he stared at my journals. He swallowed and rasped, “You shouldn’t carry things that matter if you’re going to risk dropping them.”

Something in his tone made my heart twist. Like he wasn’t talking about the box at all.

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