Page 86 of Unearthed Dreams
“Your wyrm commander wouldn’t say ‘indeed’ here.”
The memory hit like a gut punch, completely out of nowhere. A deep voice, amused but certain. The smell of whiskey and old books. Warm hands gesturing as they explained...
My head throbbed, but I chased the fragment. It felt important. Real.
I flipped through the pages until I found the scene. There it was—the word “indeed” crossed out in red ink, replaced with something simpler. More honest.
Like the commander himself, the voice whispered in my memory.
“Kai,” I breathed.
The room spun as images crashed through my mind. Kai’s apartment above the bar, walls lined with books. His silver hair falling loose from its bun as he bent over my manuscript. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. His hands...
“Oh god.”
I scrambled for the trash can, barely making it before my stomach rebelled. Not from nausea this time, but from the force of remembering.
Kai’s hands on my skin. His voice in my ear, teaching me how to touch myself. The cold storage room wall against my back as he kissed me. His body curved protectively around mine in his bed.
I love you, I’d told him. On my birthday.
“Charlie?” Mom’s voice came through the door. “Are you alright? I heard?—”
“I remember,” I choked out. “Mom, I rememberhim.”
The door opened, and her arms were around me before I could say more. She’d known. Of course she’d known.
“How long?” I managed between sobs.
“A few months.” Her hand stroked my hair. “He’s been at the hospital every day, sweetheart. Even when you were sleeping.”
Until I’d woken up and looked at him like a stranger.
“I have to see him.” I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. “Mom, please. I have to?—”
“Charlie, you need to rest. Your body’s been through?—”
“No.” I gripped the bedside table, pulling myself up despite the protest of healing bones. “I’m not staying in this pink prison for one more second. Not now that I remember.”
“At least let me drive you.”
I paused in my wobbly attempt to find clean clothes. “You’d do that?”
Mom’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “Sweetheart, I watched that man sit by your bed for five weeks straight, talking to you about dragons and magic and everything else under the sun. He loves you. And if you remember that now...” She grabbed my keys from the dresser. “Well, I’m certainly not going to let a concussion keep you from him.”
“I look terrible,” I realized, catching sight of myself in the mirror. Bruises still healing, hair a mess, wearing my oldest pajamas.
“He won’t care.” Mom handed me a sundress—the same one I’d worn the first time he’d kissed me. “But if it’ll make you feel better...”
Ten minutes later, we pulled up outside Callaghan’s. TheCLOSED sign hung in the window, but light spilled from beneath the door.
“Go get him, baby.” Mom squeezed my hand. “I’ll wait here until I’m sure you’re okay.”
My legs were steadier now, adrenaline and determination replacing weakness. I had a key—mykey, the one Kai had given me for our late-night manuscript sessions—but my hands shook too much to use it.
Instead, I knocked.
Please be here.
