Page 18 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

“Sort of.” He blinked. He was having trouble concentrating. Sleep seemed determined to pull him back under.

“You are such a liar!” But she didn’t seem mad. Not really. Her gaze moved to his lips, and for the briefest of seconds, he thought she might lean over and kiss him. She didn’t. Instead, she sighed, and he caught the hint of a fragrance, a perfume that was slightly familiar. “I’m your girlfriend.”

That didn’t sound right. He looked at her. Gorgeous and maybe . . . but nothing. And didn’t the nurse say something about Megan being his girlfriend? He was groggy, but he was sure he had that right.

She read his mind. “Wow. I just hope this . . . amnesia? I hope it’s temporary.”

“You and me both.”

She sent a hasty, almost secretive glance around the room. “Listen, I’m not supposed to be here. Nobody knows I came, and no one can find out.”

“Why?” He tried to push himself into a sitting position but was only able to lever himself onto the elbow of his good arm.

“You’re not supposed to have visitors.” She glanced at the door, which was slightly ajar, almost but not quite closed. “I had to sneak in, wait until there was a change in the nursing shift and some kind of emergency down the hall.” Her gaze swept the room. “As it is, I’m sure I’m on camera, but I tried to disguise myself.”

“Why can’t I have visitors?”

“Not sure. Either doctor’s orders, or it comes from the police.”

The cops. Again. His insides clenched. Despite the pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“I just wanted to see that you were all right.” She turned, as if to leave.

He reached out, grabbed her wrist like he had the nurse’s. “Why would the cops keep me from seeing anyone?” he asked, trying to keep his mind on the conversation. It seemed important. It was important.

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

She glanced at his hand, wrapped firmly over her wrist. He let go.

“Oh. Maybe you don’t. It’s because of Megan.”

A fleeting image sizzled through his brain, a split-second recollection of a woman, her face twisted in anger, her hair damp with snow, her pale eyes sparking with hatred. And then she was gone, the mental picture dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

His gut twisted.

That angry woman was Megan. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure of it. “What about her?”

“She’s missing.”

“Missing?” So that was what the nurse was going to tell him when the doctor cut her off.

“Yeah, like in vanished.” Sophia threw up her hand. “No one’s seen her since the night you were brought in here. Everyone says you two got into a huge fight, and then she disappeared.”

Again, a face appeared behind his eyes, the angry countenance of a woman yelling at him, accusing him of cheating . . .

“According to the news, no one’s seen or heard from her, and even her car is gone, can’t be located.”

This wasn’t making any sense. And yet bits and pieces of that night were poking at his brain, little shards of memory cutting through the fog.

“I figured the fight was about me,” Sophia whispered. “I mean, that’s what everybody thinks.”

“Who’s everybody?” he asked, trying to keep up while the memory of the woman, so furious she was nearly spitting, began again only to wither away. What had happened? What had he done?

“Well, you know. Everyone at the inn and the Christmas tree farm, they’re sure she’d found out about us and was pissed.”

He held up a hand, then winced with the effort. Damn it all. “How would you know?”

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