by V. Vaughn
“I want to know the truth,” she demands.
I don’t look at her. I’m such a coward. I let out a sigh and lift my gaze to meet hers. Lexi deserves that. “I wanted to see you, and I kept asking until you gave in.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls away. “I—I have so much guilt over the whole thing.” She wraps her arms around herself as tears fill her eyes. She’s retreating from me, and my heart feels as if an iron fist is squeezing the life out of me. “Lexi? Please.” I beg with all I’ve got. “Please. Can you forgive me?”
She studies me with cold eyes. Lexi knows me better than anyone. She’s always been able to see right through me into my soul. “I don’t know, because you aren’t telling me the whole truth.” She shakes her head and turns to walk back to the SUV. “I want to go home.”
I get in the car with her, but before I start to drive, she says, “Take me to my home. Something tells me that’s where I should have been all along.”
I swallow down the emotions welling up in me. Her tone is hard, and it’s not one I’ve heard before. Lexi has always been so carefree and quick to forgive everyone. I’m not sure she hates anyone. But I may be the first person. And to be honest, I can’t blame her one bit.
The silence on the way to town is deafening. She stares out the side window the entire time. I ask if she wants to stop and get some groceries since whatever is in her fridge has likely gone bad, but she doesn’t answer. I’m desperate to keep her as long as I can, so I stop at a convenience store to grab her a few things anyway.
I can’t stop glancing over at her, but she makes me by saying. “If I die after all of this because you can’t keep your eyes on the road, I’ll kill you.”
Her words don’t make any sense, and any other time she’d laugh at herself. But there was so much venom in her tone, her meaning is perfectly clear. And I know I deserve it. Anything she wants to dish out, it’s all mine. Because even after I almost lost the woman I love by holding on too tight, I still can’t figure out how to let her go.
Chapter 34
LEXI
The drive to town is excruciating. I’m so mad at Tristan my jaw hurts from clenching my teeth. My anger is eating me up inside, like a dark, evil parasite chomping on my soul. I want to slice into my chest and cut it out before I say or do something I’ll regret forever. The desire to hurt Tristan is intense, so I don’t speak at all instead of risking it.
The thing is I know he’s hurting too. He’s being destroyed by his guilt over what happened to me, and I could forgive him for convincing me to drive in the rainstorm if I thought he was telling me the whole truth. But he’s not telling me everything, and how am I supposed to absolve him for something I don’t know?
I remember so much now. I recall how I woke up from my accident full of fear. Strangers were all around me, and there was so much pain. I was confused and realize now it was because of my amnesia. I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in the hospital.
But what I remember most is how much I love Tristan. So much I’d do anything for him. But perhaps without my memories he doesn’t know I still do and always will because he doesn’t trust in our love enough to tell me whatever it is he’s hiding. And without that trust… Well, without it, we don’t have the kind of relationship that can stand the test of time. Neither of us deserves less. If I’m the one who has to make the hard decision for us, then decide I will.
Once we’re on Main Street, we drive by the bookstore where we had our first date, the park where we watched shifters play, and the movie theater he shifted inside of as a teen. Then he makes a series of turns that bring us into an area I recognize. I remember the quaint, quiet neighborhood full of people I know and like. The school where I teach is just six blocks away. This is where I live and have lived for the past four years.
Until now, I haven’t wanted to come back to my own place. It was easy to stay in the protected world of Tristan’s cabin, far away from questions and a constant barrage of things that would remind me of how much I didn’t know. I was afraid I wouldn’t remember anything about my life, that I wouldn’t recognize the people in the photos on my walls or remember where all the dishes and pots are located in my kitchen or know that I always sleep on the right side of my queen-size bed surrounded by scores of pillows. I was afraid it would’ve destroyed me. But now that everything is coming back to me, I realize I was a fool to be afraid and that I should have insisted on being among my things.
Tristan parks in front of the cute little bungalow I own, and I recall how happy the bright blue door makes me every time I see it. I get out and walk toward my house as I take it all in. My flower gardens are overgrown, weeds are starting to take over, and my lawn needs to be mowed. For some reason, tears well in my eyes as I look at it. I’ve neglected my home, and my heart aches with missing something I’ve only just realized I had.
Tristan has gotten out of the car too, and his voice has a desperate tone when he asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the cabin with me? I can make you some hot cocoa just the way you like it. I could massage your feet while you read—"
“No,” I say, maybe a bit too abruptly. I don’t mean to be cruel. It’s not that I don’t still love him or that he hasn’t been incredibly kind throughout my ordeal. And I’d be lying if I said I don’t still want desperately to be in his arms, to feel the safety and security of his body next to mine. But I have to do this. For both of us.
If we’re going to have a chance to save our relationship, Tristan needs to figure out how to tell me what he’s avoiding saying. And I need to figure out how to live without him. I stand at my door and wonder where I might hide my spare key. I’m sure I’m the kind of person who does that. And I’m also sure that Tristan has one, too. I turn to face him, and he steps forward to unlock my door for me. The lock clicking open seems unusually loud, and I realize it’s because something about it feels final.
The door creaks open as if it hasn’t been used in a while. The odor of sour garbage wafts toward me as I look at the man I love but can’t stand to be around right now. I say to him, “You have something you need to figure out how to tell me to fix us, Tristan. And I need to remember who I am without you. Please understand.”
He nods and drops his head like an animal deferring to his alpha. And I suppose in a way he is because he believes I have all the power right now. It’s a position I don’t want to be in. The funny thing is he could change the dynamic with a few simple words, but he won’t. Not yet, anyway. I’ve made it too easy for him not to by the way I’ve let him do everything for me in the past couple of weeks.
Tristan sets the bag of groceries down, sensing I don’t want him to come any further than the entryway. He holds out my key. For a fleeting second, I think he’s admitting defeat, but then I realize he’s doing it because I don’t have one. It’s lost somewhere with my memories between the accident and the hospital. I take the key and squeeze it tightly in my palm. The pain of the sharp edge cutting into my skin feels right, like I’m supposed to be punishing myself right now, too. “Thank you,” I say.
“I—” Tristan stops abruptly and doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say. “Take care of yourself, Lexi. I’m just a phone call away if you need anything.”
I give him a wry smile and pretend I don’t see the tears well up in his eyes. I turn away and let him leave with dignity, and when the door snicks shut softly behind me, I take a deep breath and let the memories of my former life in.
I pad softly over the Oriental-style carpet in bright shades of blue, purple, and green, and I recall buying this house when I moved to Heartland from California. I’d heard about a wonderful shifter community all the way up in Wyoming, and it seemed like the perfect place to land with my teaching degree. When my parents died, my aunt invested the insurance policy money my parents had left for me, and I was able to put a big down payment on the place. I remember how I got a job teaching at the local elementary school almost immediately because the last kindergarte
n teacher had moved away.
I step into my kitchen and open the cabinet where I keep my garbage to pull out the bag. The stench makes me stop breathing through my nose, and I grab a can of odor neutralizer to spray before I make my way to the back door and deposit the bag outside.
When I step back inside, I glance around my living room and smile as I remember buying most of my furniture at yard sales that first summer. I learned to repaint things with chalk paint, to hide ugly scars and features with bright colors that make me happy. That was how I met my bestie, Hillary. She spotted me at a yard sale just down the street and chatted me up about the bureau I was purchasing. Our friendship was instant. It hits me how much I miss her, and I wish I’d made her feel more welcome in Tristan’s home when she came to visit a few days ago.
Now that I’ve gotten rid of the stinky garbage, I take time to inspect the flowers, plants, and cards that cover all available surfaces in my kitchen. I read the note on my fridge from Evelyn McMaster, my elderly-next door neighbor. She frequently bakes me pies and comes over on Sundays for tea. Sometimes we play cards. She always wins.
The note reads, I’ve been bringing in your deliveries. That explains why my garbage got so stinky. Evelyn is a pigeon shifter who has almost no sense of smell. I continue to read the message. We’ve all been so worried about you. Can’t wait till you’re home. Lots of love! Evelyn.
It’s difficult to accept that I’ve been away from home for so long, while people I care about were worried about me, praying for me, sending me love and support. And I didn’t know. I was holed up in Tristan’s cabin, and I feel a bit robbed of the outpouring of my friends’ compassion. Not that I expect people to drive almost an hour to visit me, but I wonder what they knew, what Tristan told them, and why he never mentioned any of them to me.
Although to be fair, I didn’t ask about friends, and maybe he believed I would want to know more when I was ready or that my memories would come back sooner than they have.
I suppose I needed the time to figure out who and what I am, and being in a town where shifting is so open likely would have been hard for me to deal with. I’m not sure if I’m upset because Tristan didn’t push me or if it’s because I didn’t try. I shake my head at myself. It hasn’t been that long since Tristan found me, and now that I’ve got my memory back, it will be much easier to reconnect with everyone.
A calla lily plant catches my eye, and I grab the small envelope attached to pull out the card. It’s from Fiona, and I remember that we are good friends. Sure, she cares about appearances, but she also cares about people, and the charity ball she organizes each year, donating hundreds of hours of her time as she does, raises a lot of money for local charities who desperately need it. And I formed an opinion about her based on what Tristan thinks.
Not that he dislikes her, but she’s social and has a hard time comprehending a man like Tristan who would rather stay in his cabin than be an eligible bachelor for a dating auction or even attend her ball.
The fact is, for the past two weeks I’ve joined him in that cabin, removed from the rest of the world while I figured out who I was, and maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.
Since every memory I’ve regained has been connected to him in some way, I don’t even really know who I am without him. I don’t know just Lexi. And it’s time I find out who she is.
Chapter 35
TRISTAN
I sit in my car and watch Lexi through her kitchen window. She takes out the garbage before she returns to look around at the flowers, candy, and gifts people sent her, taking it all in, likely making connections to the memories she’s been experiencing. I want to hold her and protect her from the onslaught of it all. I want to knock on the door and ask if she’s going to be all right, hoping she says no and that she wants to return to my cabin with me. My protector instincts are in overdrive right now. My tiger is even pacing around anxiously in my head. But Lexi’s going to be fine.
Because that’s not what’s upsetting her right now. Lexi enjoys her friends and neighbors, and it won’t take long for her to adjust to it all. No. What’s really bothering the love of my life is me and the fact she knows I’m hiding something.
I should tell her that I want to marry her and that it was the reason I’d asked her to make the dangerous drive in the horrible storm. But that would make things even worse. Now that she understands who we are, she’ll know that my need to have things on my terms was so great that I put her life in danger instead of going outside my comfort zone for what should have been a special night for both of us. She’s the kind of person who would want to squeal with her happiness and show anyone who’d look her new ring. And while I couldn’t see it then, I realize now I’d have taken a precious moment from her. If I share the depth of my selfishness now, it would only chase her away forever.
What’s even worse is that I’m so much better for her now than I was before the accident. Taking care of her the past couple of weeks has made me do things I never imagined I’d do for someone. And I didn’t even give any of it a second thought. My love for Lexi has made me a better man, and when it was time to rise to the occasion, to step up and do what had to be done to help my mate, I did. And in the process, I saw how selfish I’ve been. I rarely cooked or cleaned for her because she’d do it first. Even when I’d get in stress-baking mode, she was the one who’d take care of the mess I made. She was so good at taking care of me it never occurred to me that I could take care of her. But now, that’s all I want to do.
When Lexi moves from the kitchen to deeper in the house where I can no longer see her, I know I should leave. But doing so is like a final goodbye. Because I’m going to lose her. Heck, I already have. Emotions I can’t handle rush to the surface, and I slam my hand on the steering wheel. Man alive, I really screwed everything up.
I start the SUV and look toward the house, hoping to see her face in the window looking out at me or her running out the door to keep me from leaving, but I don’t. And my heart nearly bursts with the pain as I drive away. My tiger wants out, and I know I need to go for a long run to burn off some of my despair.
As I turn down Main Street, the yellow neon sign of the Lion’s Den glows in a reflection off the wet street, and I recall the first night I met Lexi in the pub. I notice Bruce’s truck parked out front, and I stop, back up, and turn into a parking stall. He’s the one person I know will run with me, no questions asked. And as much as I hate to admit it, or even believe it, I don’t want to be alone right now.
I get out of the SUV and go inside the pub. I walk in to the dark space, thankful it’s a quiet night. The noise level is low, and I find Bruce easily. He’s in the corner playing pool with another guy named Dave who works with Bruce at the auto body shop.
Bruce’s stick smacks the cue ball, but he misses his shot because he’s spotted me. He grumbles in what I know is actually his attempt at humor. “I must be dreaming. No way has Tristan Brooks walked into a pub without me twisting his arm.”
I give him a look that tells him I’m not in the mood for his razing, but we shake hands. “Saw your truck out front.”
“Hey Tristan, good to see you.” Dave offers his hand, and we shake.
“You too.” I gesture to Bruce. “I need to run.”
Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. I’ve never asked him to run with me. I usually prefer solo. I’m fiercely protective of my time, space, and privacy.
But he doesn’t hesitate. He sets down the cue with a clatter, yanks a couple of twenties out of his wallet, and hands them to Dave. “Get my tab, man?”
Dave nods, and we leave. We drive back up the mountain to my cabin, Bruce following me in his truck. When we park the vehicles and get out, he doesn’t say anything. He’s known me long enough that he doesn’t need to. He knows all I want is him by my side as I work out my shit.
We strip in my mudroom in silence before we step outside, shift, and bound into the dark woods. I don’t run at my top speed but lessen my gait a
little so Bruce can stay alongside me, though he runs fast for a huge, lumbering grizzly bear. Together, side by side, we run. I dodge trees while Bruce takes out a few small ones. There’s nothing quiet about us, and the destruction in our wake is like I’m leaving bits of my heart behind as it’s torn to shreds. When we get to the pond at the clearing, we stop for a water break. Bruce growls quietly, and his bones thud on the ground as he lays down to wait while I get whatever I can out of my system.
I run. Through the woods, over logs, across swampy mud, even up a tree or two to expend some energy. But what I’m really expending is the guilt, shame, and self-loathing I feel over what I’ve done. And it hits me that the reason I can’t tell Lexi I was going to ask her to marry me is because I didn’t deserve her and never should have thought I did. And I think I’ve known that since I almost lost her to the accident. That’s why I was so intent on keeping her up at my cabin all to myself. I needed her to love me again, but I made it happen at her expense.
Even after I come to that realization I continue to run. So hard and fast that by the time I come back around to the pond, I’m panting, and my body shakes with nearly complete exhaustion. I collapse onto the grass beside my friend.
He chuffs at me, then sets a big old paw onto my head, and it nearly covers my skull completely. I chuff back, because while I’m not whole, and may never be again, I’m better. This is just what I needed to clear my mind.
I know that I need to be patient and wait. I believe I can be the man Lexi deserves, but the final thing I need to do to prove it to her and to myself is to let go. I can’t push Lexi any more than I already have. I believe in our love. I believe in it with every fiber of my being, and now I need to wait until she knows the same.
