“My mother? You’ve met my mother?”
“Of course I’ve met your mother.”
“Who in the hell is responsible for notifying her?” He was no longer just mildly irritated, he was about as angry as she’d ever seen him.
“That would be me,” Piper answered. “I called her when you were taken to the hospital. I thought she should know.”
“You thought she should know? You? Who the hell are you to make that decision? You’ve really overstepped your boundaries this time, Jordan.”
“I—I’m sorry you feel that way. I was only trying to help.”
She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of there. “I won’t make that mistake again.” She popped to her feet and fled the room before he took another verbal swing at her.
The second she was down the hall and around the corner, she slipped into a lounge and sank onto one of the vinyl couches like her bones had turned to pudding. It took her fifteen minutes to stop shaking and pull herself together enough to get to her feet and get the hell out of there.
She climbed into a cab and rattled off the address of where she’d been staying with Hannah. For the sake of convenience, and the simple fact that she didn’t particularly want to be alone, they’d been staying at Riggs’s apartment. It was a lovely, roomy place with all the style and hominess of a hotel lobby. But, she had to admit, it was more than she could call home, so she relished in sharing Carter’s private space with someone she considered a friend. She didn’t have many of those, and Hannah was one she wanted to keep on her short list. Now it looked like that wasn’t going to happen either. Staying friends with an ex-lover’s mother just didn’t sound like a practical prospect.
She let herself into the apartment and headed for the master bedroom Hannah had insisted Piper use instead of the smaller guest room, which Hannah had claimed. Piper hadn’t put up much of an argument, since the idea of sleeping in his bed had held a great deal of appeal. Walking into the room now held nothing but shattered plans of a life she’d hoped to build with him.
There wasn’t all that much to pack since so much of what she’d been wearing had belonged to Riggs, all of which she neatly folded and prominently stacked in the middle of the bed to let him know she hadn’t kept a single thing that was his. All she’d ever really wanted from him was his heart, and that was the one thing he hadn’t been willing to share.
She hesitated, her breath catching in her chest, when she reached to fold the white dress shirt. He had, after all, told her he didn’t want it back unless she was in it. Another lie? If she left it with the rest of his shirts, would he remember the significance and what he’d told her? She doubted it. It was probably just postcoital rhetoric after all, she concluded. Would he miss it? she wondered. She doubted that, too. He had two dozen more just like it hanging in his closet. Fuck it. She was keeping this one. He could hunt her down if he wanted it back.
She was reaching for her jacket when she heard the key in the deadbolt. She’d left a hastily scrawled note for Hannah explaining her sudden departure and had hoped to get the hell out of there without a big farewell. She should have known not to expect anything to go as planned, not considering the way her day started.
Piper steeled herself to face the woman she’d grown to care about as she slipped on her coat and left the bedroom with backpack slung over one shoulder. She was determined to be on a plane out of Dulles before dark.
“What are you doing here?”
“My name is on the mailbox, so that must mean I live here.” Riggs flipped the key ring once around his index finger before tossing them onto the entry table. It was such an automatic gesture he’d obviously done it many times.
Any other time she would have smiled at his attempt at lighthearted banter. Today was not one of those times. “What I meant was, why are you out of the hospital?”
He didn’t look at all like a man who’d had brain surgery just a few days earlier. If anything, he looked more like the surgeon than the patient, since he wore pale blue scrubs and a pair of rubber clogs instead of normal street clothes. There was even a surgical cap covering the bandage on his head.
“They don’t know you left, do they?”
He shook his head and moved a little farther into the room. “My mother seems to think I owe you an apology.”
She hoisted her backpack a little higher on her shoulder and started for the door. “Forget about it, Riggs. You don’t owe me a thing.”
“That’s the problem. I have forgotten—the last week or so at least—something about the surgery causing retrograde amnesia.”
“Amnesia?” Piper reiterated.
“I was hoping you’d be able to fill in some of the blanks.”
“I ran into some trouble down in Colombia and you came to my rescue. There were a few problems along the way, but as you can see we made it back relatively unscathed. That’s about it. Consider your blanks filled.”
Carter frowned and shook his head again. “I might not remember the details, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.”
“Nothing else happened that you need to bother yourself about. It’s over, move on. That’s what I plan on doing.”
“That’s the problem, P.J., I can’t move on until I know what happened. I lost part of my life and I think I want it back. I’ve always relied on my gut instinct, and it’s telling me what I lost was important.”
She pulled a thick manila envelope out of a side pocket of her backpack and handed it to him. It was already sealed and stamped, and ready to drop in a mail slot on her way to the airport.
Taking it, he asked, “What’s this?”
“My official, detailed report on the last week’s events,” she said.
He tossed it aside, right next to his keys. “The things I want to know aren’t in that report, are they, P.J.?”
She wished he’d stop calling her that. Every time he used it was like twisting a knife. It had once been a welcome term of endearment, spoken when his guard was down and his heart was open. She knew that wasn’t the case today. It was an automatic response, a habit of sorts, nothing more than dropping his keys by the door, and she wasn’t about to let herself read anything more into it.
“It’s all you need to know,” she told him. There was so much more she could tell him—personal things, intimate things, even a few regrettable things—but words failed her. They stuck in her throat and strangled her from uttering a single syllable. A heavy awkwardness filled the space between them. It stretched from floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall, and Piper couldn’t find the strength to breach it.
“My resignation is in there, too,” she added when the silence grew unbearable. She figured that would get a reaction. All he did was turn away.
“So this is it, huh?”
“Yep,” she said. “This is it.”
“What are your plans now?” he asked as he stared out the window. The familiar dome of the capitol peered above the distant horizon.
“I’m going back to Texas. I can’t make plans for my future until I settle a few things from my past.” She stared at his broad back, willing him to turn around, to look at her, to see her for what she was—a woman who loved him. She couldn’t tell him what they’d once been to each other, he had to see that for himself.
She took a step toward him, aching to touch him one last time, look into his eyes. Maybe then she’d have the strength to walk out that door and never look back. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to see what wasn’t there. She preferred to remember the way he looked at her the last time they’d made love, how his beautiful hazel eyes turned decidedly more green than brown when passion fueled his gaze. She pulled her hand back, curling the outstretched fingers against her palm to quell the urge.
“Take care of yourself, Riggs.” There was nothing left for her to do but leave. His memor
ies might be gone, but hers were still painfully intact.
“I love you.”
The declaration was hardly more than a whisper and she wasn’t sure if she’d heard it or if it was just a pitiful case of wishful thinking.
“What did you say?”
He looked at her with eyes flashing the most glorious shade of mossy green. “I said I love you and I don’t want you to go. I may not remember the specifics, but I know that something wonderful happened between us and I don’t want to lose it.”
“So there are things you remember?” A spark of hope flickered deep, deep inside. It warmed her in a place that hadn’t been touched in a very long time. It was a place she didn’t know she still possessed, and it triggered something else she didn’t know she had in her anymore—an overabundance of tears. They fell silently and profusely, and she let them fall freely.
“No,” he said with a sigh. “The doctors said it’s unlikely I’ll ever recover the memories I lost, but I was kind of hoping you’d help me make new ones.”
“I’m going to give you a memory you’ll never forget.”
Her trusty old backpack hit the floor for the very last time.
* * * * *
About the Author
As an only child, Michelle has been creating playmates and building their stories since she was a little girl. She never lacked for companionship because her friends were only a thought away. Many years and a lifetime later, she’s still never at a loss for companions because there is always someone needing her to tell their side of the story.
Her first published work, The Viking Stones, an anthology she wrote with two very real playmates, went the way of the dodo when the publisher went out of business. However brief, her first publishing experience fueled Michelle’s resolve to persevere, resulting in the contemporary romance Damn the Man, a 2006 RWA Golden Heart Award finalist. She didn’t win, but swears, “It really is an honor just to be nominated.” Damn the Man and its sequel, Damn Good Man, are available through Amazon and The Wild Rose Press.
Michelle lives in northwest Indiana, where both of her Damn books are set. Breaking Protocol is her first book with Carina Press. Piper and Riggs are her most adventurous characters to date, and caused Michelle many a sleepless night worrying about how to get and keep them out of trouble. She was not always successful.
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ISBN: 9781426896262
Copyright © 2013 by Michelle Witvliet
Edited by Megan Records
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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