Page 51 of When Hearts Remember

My breathing quickens and cold sweat beads on the back of my neck.

I can’t breathe.Dammit. Breathe.

I need to breathe—

“Quiet! Can’t you tell she’s not feeling well?” Ethan’s sharp words slice through the excitement, plunging the room into silence.How did he know I was panicking inside?

Closing my eyes, I rake in a deep inhale, followed by a long exhale. Acid sloshes in my gut and I fight the urge to dry heave.I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m tough as nails.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Can you guys give me a minute?”

I keep my eyes closed, because if I open them, I’ll find pity in their gazes, and I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.Dammit. Get a grip, Lexy.

“Sure thing, we’ll be back, okay?” Grace whispers.

“I’ll go kill the idiots. They were too loud. It’s their fault.” Taylor squeezes my arm.

I nod, still unable to look at them, and I hear the scraping of chairs against the floor and the scuffling of footsteps followed by the soft click of the door.

My lungs expel a deep breath as my heart rate slows. Without everyone’s scrutiny, I can finally breathe.

Opening my eyes, I look around the room, taking in all the beautiful gifts and cards, before opening the drawer on my nightstand. In it are clues to my past, things I’ve examined multiple times, wishing something would click, that somehow I’d recognize them. They were supposed to be birthday gifts Charles and Liam bought me over the years, and the things I had on me that day of the accident.

My wallet and IDs. A bracelet Taylor told me was a friendship bangle and she had its twin. A beautiful set of gold-tipped hummingbird earrings, so exquisitely made, my breath stalls in my throat whenever I look at it. Then there’s a small wooden box with random trinkets inside—an antique Spanish gold coin, a small tin of ghost pepper spices, three pieces of glass shards, each a unique shade of red, blue, and green, a small bottle of what looks to be sand, and an intricately tied tassel with jade beads on it.

Tears prickle my eyes. My chest aches whenever I look at the items—things I swear mean nothing to me, and yet, I can’t bring myself to throw them away. I’ve asked my brothers and Taylor, and they all don’t recognize them. They said I was found with a messenger bag strapped across my chest. So they assumed these items were in that bag.

I swallow, and hold up the earrings to the sunlight, watching the golden rays glint off the ruby bellies of the birds. Did I buy them? Why does it feel like I have the answers at the tip of my tongue?

“Do you know that in many cultures, hummingbirds are a symbol of joy, positivity, resilience, and love?”

My heart skips a beat at the gravelly voice, and every inch of me goes on alert. Ethan closes the door quietly behind him, a Styrofoam cup in his hand. My mouth dries. The same coiled tension, searing intensity,and raw masculinity clad in a crisp blue shirt with the collar unbutton, revealing an expanse of tanned skin.

A man. Not like the high school boys in my memories.

“Here. Be careful. It’s hot.” He hands me a cup of tea, but a unique scent wafts to my nose and I take a sniff.

“It’s lavender chamomile tea from the nurses’ station. They don’t have lavender tea by itself and I thought hot tea would be better than iced when you just had a panic attack,” he murmurs, answering my unasked question. “Go on. Drink. You’ll feel better.”

Bewildered, I take a sip, surprised at the hint of honey he must’ve added to it. Warmth suffuses me and my tensed muscles slowly relax.

“You’re bossy,” I mutter. “But thank you.”

He smirks, then pulls up a chair and sits down. The familiar scent of amber and leather reaches my nose. “Someone should boss you around and make sure you take care of yourself.”

And just like that, all the warmth I’ve been feeling dissipates in a flash. Biting my tongue, I turn my attention back to the earrings in my free hand and the room falls into silence again.

Ethan Anderson is a quiet man. If he doesn’t speak, he’ll fade into the background. But his presence is loud.

And oddly reassuring.

“I heard from Charles you’re busy at work. An investigation of some sorts?”

He shifts in his seat. “Embezzlement. It’s unfortunate.”

I snap my head up and take in his appearance again, particularly the dark under-eye circles which are more apparent up close. He does look tired. Maybe Charles was right—I was too harsh on Ethan.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did you catch the bad guy yet?”

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