Page 50 of A Reckless Memory

His laughter was a lot like when he made the omelet. Head tossed back, throat working. His big shoulders shook. That damn scruff made it hard to keep my hands on the food prep and not running over his chin.

We sat at the island. I crossed one leg over the other and sat straight like Meg taught me. He leaned over his food, poking his fork into steak and potato and running the load through steak sauce. His ass was half off the stool, and his weight rested in his boots on the floor. He ate like it was his last meal, and it was a relief. I slumped and dug in.

My exes were like Daddy in a way, using their resources to control aspects of their lives. Food had been one of them—Lawson with his persistent critiques of what I ate and when, and Penley acting like every meal was a five-course event served by Gordon Ramsay himself.

When we finished, Ansen took both plates to the sink and stuffed all the dishes we’d dirtied into the dishwasher. “Goddamn, that hit the spot, Aggie baby. Want to catch a movie?”

My breath caught, and I was back in his cabin. We’d cook together, and if he didn’t have to go back to work, we’d watch a movie, all curled up on his little discount couch. I’d sleep over, and he’d make me come at least three times before morning.

I had thought that would be the rest of my life, and losing that dream had been devastating.

He froze when he noticed my expression. His jaw worked before he finally said, “I guess a movie’s out.”

“I can’t do this. I can’t always wonder what your intentions are. I can’t...”

His shoulders fell. “I understand. Thanks for the meal.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, a friendly gesture, which made me feel like shit, and went to the door. He paused. “Hey, before you settle in, I need to run and grab something for you.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He slipped out, and I looked around my empty house. Tex snoozed on his dog bed in the corner of the living room. The meal was nice. Cooking with Ansen had been more than pleasant. I didn’t care about making meals otherwise. Preparing food was something I had to do, like my bedtime routine. I would look forward to cooking with Ansen every night.

I stayed at the island, staring at the faux marble. He told me we couldn’t remake past decisions with present-day facts. Had I made present-day decisions based on facts I had years ago?

When he returned, he knocked.

Wishing I didn’t feel like my heart was breaking all over again, I pushed off my stool and answered the door. He had a shopping bag in his hands, an old one full of a million wrinkles, and handed it to me.

“These are yours. I should’ve shipped them back to you. I didn’t know where you went, and by the time I talked to Barns...I don’t know. Thought it’d be weird.” He lifted his hand like he was going to adjust his hat, but he wasn’t wearing one. His coat crackled in the cold.

I opened the bag, and he turned to go.

“Wait.”

My books. The ones Tex had torn up during my argument with Ansen. They weren’t in their original used condition, but they’d been taped back together. I took out Murder on the Orient Express. The cover had been painstakingly pieced together and taped. I set the bag on the end table and ignored the cold flowing through the open door. Paging through the book, it felt different than when I was a kid. Though heavier from the tape and less pliant, the cover had been puzzled together from the shredded pieces, and he’d taped the interior together too. The first two chapters were nearly laminated with all the tape he’d had to use.

He did this...and held on to them for years...for me? He had so few possessions, but he’d kept these, and they weren’t even his. Just like I’d taken Tex and cared for him, Ansen took my books, fixed them as best he could, and kept them. Just in case.

“I felt like crap Tex destroyed those. I knew how much they meant to you.” He cleared his throat, his voice gruff. “Took me forever.”

This man. I let out a soft exhale. Stunned. Touched. Flayed open. There was no hiding what I really felt for him after seeing these books.

He was complicated but so simple. He hurt me. We hurt each other with what we said, but he still tried to fix something that got wrecked because of him, and he’d carried these around all those years.

“Ansen.” I carefully set the book on top of the others. Then I grabbed a fistful of his coat and yanked him inside. “I can’t believe you held on to them all this time.”

“They were important to you.”

“So was your dog.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his small smile. “And you took care of him. But you don’t need to give him back. Good night, Aggie.”

I hadn’t let go of his coat. I snaked my hand around the back of his neck and brought his mouth down to mine. “Stay.”

Ten

AGGIE

He didn’t push the kiss fast and deep like before. This time, he gently broke away. “What am I staying for, Aggie?”

I ran my tongue over my tingling lips. His gaze touched on my movement and heated. Was I brave enough to tell him I wanted him to take me to bed and destroy me? “I want...”

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