The names shot through Xavier’s head. Pressure was building. These were people he should know. “My brothers?”
The sheriff stood. His knees popped.
Large eyes full of confusion, searching his face. “Elijah is your cousin.” She said then lifted her face to the other man. “He already left for his honeymoon. Damian doesn’t do crowds or people in any form. He left for his cabin hours ago.” Her body shifted, and she leaned closer to him. Honey and wildflowers soothed him. Her warm breath caressed his ear. “Damian is your younger brother. He’s back from the Middle East.”
Her grip around his wrist tightened, holding him in place. Feeling trapped, he wanted to jerk away from her and run, but he knew she was just holding on to him out of fear and shock. He was free to walk if he wanted, he reminded himself. He was free.
“You don’t remember them either?”
He shook his head, unable to form any words yet.
“Elijah and you were so close. More like brothers. He was your best friend and business partner. Your father had guardianship of him and Belle. You grew up together.” A desperate edge lined each word.
Cantu made his way up the steps. “Belle’s inside?”
“Yes, with a few others.” Her gaze stayed linked with Xavier’s and her hand went back to his face. “You’re here. Right in front of me. How did this happen? Why were we told you were dead?”
His hand rolled into a fist under her hold. Xavier fought the urge to push his forehead against his palm. He didn’t know these people. But he couldn’t allow himself to show any weakness. His jaw gritted, he stared straight ahead.
“Let me get Belle and send everyone else home.” Two steps later, the sheriff stopped. “What about the ki—”
“My dad took all the kids to my house. We were about to clean up. Belle’s in the backyard,” she replied, her voice sounding stronger.
When the door opened and closed behind the sheriff, he was alone with a wife he didn’t remember. Shifting, he pulled out of her reach. If he had any chance of controlling his ability to speak and think, he needed space.
Leaning against the post opposite of her, he looked out into the night, past the lights and into the darkness. In the silence, he could make out the waves hitting the distant shore.
Homesickness was a sucker punch to his gut. It almost knocked him back. Until this moment he hadn’t realized how much he had missed the ocean. “The ranch? Does it go to the Gulf?”
She got to her feet but didn’t move toward him. “Yes. There’s over a mile of coastline. About half is sandy beaches, the other half rocky. How do you not remember?”
“We were ambushed. I was unconscious for a few days. When I came to, I had no memory. I woke up in a hidden camp.” His voice was raw and low.
“The rebel group?” She moved closer.
Turning, he tried to study her face. He nodded, and pain shot up his neck, going straight to his eyes.
“None of that matters right now. You’re home. It’s a miracle.” A soft laugh floated in the air. “I don’t use that word lightly. But I don’t know what else to call it when a man returns home from the dead.” Her mouth turned up at the corners. “At Christmastime, no less. My eyes say you’re here, but it doesn’t seem real.” She cupped his face, her thumb smoothing over his cheekbone.
Giving in to the pain, he lowered his body to the steps, dropped his head in his hands. He closed his eyes, but the torturous Christmas joy drove through his lids with each pulse.
Following him, she sat at his side. Her gentle touch was warm on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Can I help?”
He stiffened against the desire to lean into her. “Lights.”
Coldness set in as soon as she pulled away. “Oh. Of course. I’m so sorry.” And with that she was gone.
Alone, he rubbed hard against his scalp, pushing the pain away. It was stronger than him. He heard the door open, and immediately the lights went dead.
The peaceful light of the moon was a welcome relief and he took in a deep breath. The door closed, and her soft footsteps stopped right behind him. His gaze stayed focused on his boots.
“Is that better?” Her voice was as soft as a summer shower washing away the heat and grime.
He nodded when all he really wanted to do was beg her to hold him. He might not have clear memories of her, but she was somewhere inside him. The need to be close to her had him wanting to share his fears and concerns.
He didn’t share with anyone.
Despite his best efforts to keep her at a distance, she settled in next to him. One more inch and she could rest her head on his shoulder. His gut tightened. “We’ve done this before. Sat on the steps and looked at the stars. You’d rest your head on my shoulder.” The memory was like an old photograph, without any sense of time or reason.
One move and she had her head resting on him, her hand flat against his heart. “You remember.”
He hated the hushed excitement in the soft voice.
“No. More like a feeling of déjà vu.”
The smell of honey and wildflowers surrounded him in the quietness of the night. The scent made him want to bury himself in her hair and hide, but he didn’t. The scent was so familiar. More so than his own name. He snorted at the irony of that.
“What is it?” she asked him.
He reached out and touched a strand of hair falling along the side of her face in a long, lazy curl. The rest of her hair, dark and thick, sat in some sort of fancy twist on the top of her head. “I know your scent. Summer Sunshine.” He closed his eyes and groaned.
Before the last word was out, he wanted to pull it all back. “That sounded kind of creepy.”
“How do you not know me, but you know the name of my shampoo and lotion?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe smell has its own memory bank?”
“It’s from a local farm. I’ve worn it since high school. No matter where you were, each Christmas I’d get a basket full of the soaps, shampoos and lotions, even laundry pods and candles from you.”
“I haven’t been...” The words stopped. Not a single found it to his lips. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
She waited but then must have realized he couldn’t speak.
“No.” She sighed. “I was debating whether to go and buy it myself. It would mean you were really gone. But you must have set it up on an annual thing because I received a box in the mail. The first year I cried like a baby.” She sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Receiving the gift was strangely like losing you all over again.”
Unshed tears were in her voice, but she wasn’t crying. He wanted to make it right but didn’t have a clue how to go about doing that.
With a sigh and her face turned to his, she touched the corner of his eye, tracing the scar that went to his jaw. “What do you remember?”
He searched his memory, trying to pull up something, anything, that might make her smile, but it was still blank. “I’m sorry. Until they extracted me from the camp, I thought I was someone else. My brain is a scrambled mess of false information.”
She stood and walked to the other side of the steps, gripping the railing. He readied his body to catch her if she fell again. To his relief, she settled in one of the rocking chairs.
“You know my scent, but you don’t know who I am?” she repeated.
Xavier didn’t say a word. Instead, he studied the night sky. In her voice there was so much hurt. Hurt he had caused. “Now that I’m home, the doctors say I have a good chance of recovering most of my memories. And with therapy, my eyesight could be healed.”
“Your eyesight?”
He tapped his fingers against his head. “I had some damage. Brain trauma. My vision was affected.” He stopped talking and closed his eyes. “But I know your voice. It’s here.” He touched his temple. “I just need to sort through the
information.”
She gasped. “You’re blind.”
“Not really. More of depth issues and...” He rubbed his forehead. “Words are sometimes hard to form. There’s a disconnect from my head to my mouth. It all comes and goes.”
Wife. Selena. Yes. Those words he knew. They just needed filing in the right place, connected to the right images. Then he could get his life back.
Carefully, he opened his eyes and tried to explain again. But how could he when he didn’t understand it himself?
“Xavier, this is just so overwhelming.”
Before he could reply, the door opened. He stood, not wanting to be in a position of weakness. A blur of figures rushed the porch. One didn’t stop at the steps but leaped from the porch into his arms.
All four of her limbs wrapped around him. She was crying his name repeatedly, her words coming so fast he couldn’t organize them.
But the smell of her was so familiar that tears burned his eyes.
“Belle, sweetheart. Ease up a bit.” Selena now stood behind her.
This was his cousin, raised with him as a sibling. She squeezed, silently refusing to let him go. His arms tightened. He had hurt her. This tall woman he had protected since she was a small girl. He had promised to always be there for her through all the trials they had faced together. To the world she had looked strong and fierce, but he had known the truth.
She had needed him in ways no one else had.
Was that why he remembered her instead of his own wife? He took in the front of the house. And then it hit him.
This was where he had grown up. Memories bombarded his brain, images, sights and sounds ricocheting and pinging around his mind until he couldn’t make any sense out of them. Pain and anger mixed with laughter. It was like someone recording as they made a mad dash through an art museum.
He tried closing his eyes again to block the imagery, to take control and slow down the flood of memories he didn’t have the time to process.
Belle pulled back and gripped his face. “It is you! How? I can’t believe this.”
Selena gently tugged her off him. “He doesn’t remember us. Give him some space.”
A small sob came from Belle.
Guilt kept him from pointing out he did know Belle. Not any detailed memories, but he knew who she was to him.
One more hug and she dropped to her feet. Reluctantly he let her go. The two women were complete opposites in stature. Tall and strong, Belle looked more than capable of running a ranch. He turned to the woman behind her, his wife. She was the opposite. So small he could imagine she’d break easily.
More people gathered on the porch. He took a step back. Unable to make out details or faces, he closed his eyes again. How many of these people was he supposed to know?
Xavier glanced around, uneasy at all the unfamiliar people staring at him. His head was pounding, his stomach upset, his whole body aching. He leaned closer to Belle and lowered his voice. “Is there somewhere more private I could sit down?” He brought his eyes up to his sister’s face. “I’m sorry. I just...”
His sight blacked out, his heart raced, and heat suffused his body. All the signs of a panic attack were being checked off. He needed to get somewhere fast.
Soft hands touched his upper arm. Looking down, he fell into the large golden-brown eyes of Selena, his wife. A memory surfaced of sitting across from her in a booth, laughing as she stole food from his basket after claiming not to be hungry. She worried that her tiny hourglass figure would turn into a beach ball.
He had laughed, but his words had never reassured her, so he had let her steal his fries without comment.
Her fingers squeezed his arm, bringing him back to the present. “Do you want to follow me? There’s a room in the house we can go.”
He wanted to tell her about the memory, but it was too late. His mouth couldn’t form a word.
People were talking, asking questions, everyone blended into one giant mob. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and nodded. He followed her blindly through the small crowd as people touched him, greeting him. They all meant to be friendly, but it was too much.
As she opened the door, he heard Sheriff Cantu explaining to everyone that it was time to go home.
Home. Would he find the answers he needed? Would he ever be whole enough to finish the job he started? He didn’t know what that meant yet, but his brain wouldn’t let go of the phrase.
Return and finish the job. He didn’t know who or what, but he would get it done. That’s one thing he knew about himself. He never left a job undone.
He just needed to figure out what the job was and who he was working for. Then he’d go back and take care of business. He closed his eyes to ease the pressure in his skull. One day at a time. First, he needed to heal his body, regain his memories, and then he could go back to Colombia.
Chapter Two
Selena led him deep into the house, where they’d be surrounded by silence instead of curious stares. The office was at the end of the hall, behind the kitchen. She closed the door. “You can open your eyes now, if you want.”
Selena dropped his hand and stepped back. And for what seemed like an eternity, they stared at each other. There was so much to say, but all she really wanted to do was look at him. Since she’s received the news of his death, a part of her had expected him to show up, walk through the door, back from another secret mission. But everyone told her that was a normal part of grief. What they didn’t know about was the guilt.
Especially with the way they had lost him, with no real closure. Just a box of ashes and belongings. It had seemed so surreal, but now he had walked back into her life and it was just as unsettling. “Whose ashes do we have?”
“Pedro Sandoval. They thought I was him and that Xavier De La Rosa had been killed. Our I.D.s had been switched, and I don’t know why.”
She sat on the edge of the small sofa and pointed to the chair across from her. He sank into the soft leather. She tried to gather her thoughts. That proved to be impossible.
Raising his head, he took in the room, then shot up from the chair. “I don’t want to be in here.”
Searching for the door, he spun until he found it. His chest expanded in short, shallow pants and he pressed his forehead to the solid wood.
Selena jumped up and took his hand. When she opened the door, he shut it again.
“There are people out there.” His voice was raw.
“It’s okay. We’ll go across the hall. No one will see us.” He nodded, clinging to her fingers.
As her bare feet hit the wood floors, she mentally slapped herself for bringing him into one of the worst places for his memories. She wondered if he remembered clearly what had transpired in this office, or if he merely got a bad feeling being in here. His old room was close by, but it was covered in his nieces’ love for pink and horses.
She led him into the girls’ bedroom. “This is better, right?”
He dropped her hand and flexed his fingers. “Great, now you think I’m a complete freak.”
She couldn’t stop a giggle. “You could always find humor at your quirks. This is your old room. Now Belle’s girls share it.”
He sat on the edge of one of the twin beds, looking a little out of place on the old-fashioned quilt with its blocks of bright pink and purple.
“So my quirks aren’t new. Not sure how I feel about that.” His eyes turned darker. “Why did that room upset me?”
“Sorry about that.” Selena moved the wicker chair from the small white desk closer to the bed. To him. “Did you remember the room?” A catch in her voice warned her she was barely holding on.
He shook his head. “There were shadows reaching for me, pulling me under. A major anxiety attack was hovering, waiting to hijack me.” He lowered his head and massaged his temples. “This room doesn’t do that. A
ll the pink and purple scares the shadows.” He looked up and the crooked grin that melted her heart every single time emerged. That smile had gotten him out of trouble more times than she could count.
Her throat constricted, and she pressed her lips together to stop the sob. She didn’t think she’d ever see that smile again.
“I think it’s okay if we’re confused and overwhelmed.”
He scoffed. “That might be an understatement. What was that room?”
“Your father’s office. You always hated that room and refused to go in it.”
Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was like dark clouds were trying to swallow me in there. I couldn’t breathe. Memories were fighting against my own brain.”
She grimaced. “Sorry. I imagine some of his worst punishments happened in there.”
He jerked his head up and sat straight, on high alert. Unspoken horrors flooded his gaze. “My father. Where is he?”
The heaviness of something close to hatred crept into the room. Her skin crawled.
She felt the need to hold him and went to him, taking one hand in both of hers. She savored the feel of his warmth. “I’m sorry.” She bit her lips. There was so much to tell him. “He’s dead. He died six months ago.”
His eyes narrowed, shifting between green and gray. He tilted his chin to the ceiling as if looking for answers. “I should feel something, right? Is it wrong that I’m not upset?” Confusion clouded those beautiful eyes. He shook his head. “How?”
“Damian found him on the back five hundred when his horse came in without a rider. Basically, he drank himself to death.”
For a while, the room was shrouded in silence. Selena’s hand stayed on his forearm. She just wanted to stay here, not push or pull him. Xavier was alive and well. There were so many problems lingering over them, but for now she wanted to forget everything and absorb this marvel of him sitting next to her.
She wanted to live here, in this peace. The man that had held her hand as she grew into a woman was home. Even if everything was different now, she wanted to hold off from reality as long as possible and just be in this bigger-than-life moment.
The Texan's Surprise Return Page 2
