Dirty, Reckless Love - Lexi Ryan

by Ryan, Lexi

  “I don’t use that phone anymore.” The police seized my phone at the scene but returned it after they were satisfied they’d gotten everything off it they might need. I haven’t turned it on since. Just one more tie to the life that almost killed me.

  I wanted to cut all ties with Jackson Harbor, but the fact that this man is here shows it’s not going to be that simple. The fact that I don’t want to walk away from him proves no one can make a clean break from their past.

  He brings his dark eyes back up to meet mine, and I see anguish written all over his face. I don’t understand the emotion or why it tears me apart inside. “I thought we were going to lose you,” he whispers. “And then you lived. And we lost you anyway.”

  “Can you blame me?” I search his face, looking for answers, trying to figure out what I mean to him. “I almost died.”

  Those words seem to hit him too hard, because he closes his eyes for a beat. What is he thinking? Is he feeling sorry for the poor girl whose boyfriend beat the shit out of her? “Can you remember any part of that night?”

  I shake my head, not wanting to say more.

  I was right. He doesn’t know about my amnesia. I was still in a medically induced coma when Mom had me moved to a hospital in Chicago. It’s possible no one from Jackson Harbor even knows about my condition. We haven’t advertised it. If anything, we’ve been extra private since I was discharged. Colton hurt me, and if he’s still out there, I don’t want him knowing anything he doesn’t have to.

  “You can’t just cut us out. That’s not fair. I’ve been so worried about you.” The man shakes his head. “Christ, I’ve missed seeing this face.” Slowly, he reaches out and brushes a knuckle down the side of my cheek. Electricity races through my nerve endings at the contact. “I’ve missed hearing your voice.”

  Why is he here, looking at me like I’m his everything, like he wants to take me home and hold me? And why do I have this ache in my chest that makes me want to let him?

  “Where are you staying?” I ask.

  “We’re at a house down the street. An Airbnb thing.” He slides his thumb down the side of my neck. I know I shouldn’t let him touch me, but I can’t make myself back away. “You could come back with me. We could . . . talk.”

  “Is she there?”

  He pulls his hand away as if I’ve burned him. “Who? Ava? You won’t speak your best friend’s name now?”

  Ava. My best friend. I wait for the words to click into place in my consciousness. Instead, they float in empty space with no context. Like two random puzzle pieces found under the couch.

  The man sneers, disgust all over his face. “You owe her an explanation, at the very least. If you’re pissed that she wanted you to stay with Colton, tell her. If you can’t forgive her for knowing about Molly’s kid and keeping the secret, fucking tell her. But enough of the silent treatment already.”

  I open my mouth, but I’m not even sure what I want to ask. Who is Molly? What does her kid have to do with anything? Why would my best friend have wanted me to stay with a dangerous man? I have so many questions—but instead of any of the reasonable ones, I hear myself ask, “Are you with her? Ava?”

  He blanches. “How could you even ask me that? Is that what you think of me now?”

  “It’s just . . . the way you touched her.” You love her. You have some sort of connection to her.

  “She’s marrying Jake. And I . . .” He searches my face. “Do you think so little of me? Just because of what happened with us?”

  I think everything of you, and I don’t even know you.

  It’s the strangest feeling, but it’s there as much as the skills I don’t remember learning—like how to drive a stick shift. That came as a surprise when I borrowed Brittany’s car. Skills, the doctor said, aren’t like memories. They’re from a different part of the brain. That part must also hold the belief that I can trust this stranger. It’s part of who I am, and I don’t even know his name.

  “Do you have questions about what happened while you were in the hospital? Have they talked to you about the investigation?” He studies my face, and I feel like he’s cataloguing every centimeter. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “Do you wonder about the people who love you and are waiting for you back home?”

  I have so many questions, but none of them matter if I’m not safe. “Do you know where Colton is?”

  The dark-haired stranger turns away from me and toward the bar. He doesn’t like the question. “Nobody knows. My guess is somewhere at the bottom of Lake Michigan.” There’s no glee in those words. Only pain. An ache that reverberates through the syllables.

  “You think he’s dead?” Does anyone else think that? I know my mom doesn’t. She speaks of Colton like he’s in hiding, not like he might be in trouble.

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “But you’re his friend?”

  He shrugs. “You know he wasn’t telling any of us shit about what was going on with him. Not even Molly.”

  There’s that name again. Molly.

  “You’re afraid of him?” he asks.

  “Of course I am.”

  The man searches my face. “That’s why you won’t come home. You’re afraid of Colton.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with that life.”

  He exhales heavily and rolls his shoulders back, as if he’s trying to shake off a ghost. “That’s not fair to the rest of us. To everyone who loves you, everyone who was sick with worry when they put you into that coma. Not. Fucking. Fair.”

  I shrug. “Maybe losing a child and almost dying has made me a little selfish.”

  His gaze drifts down to my stomach, and I cover it with my hand without thinking. “I’m sorry about the baby.”

  I nod, tears springing to my eyes. “Me too.” So sorry.

  “I understand if you want to live here now, but don’t cut us out. We all lost something that night.”

  “Did you?”

  He narrows his eyes. “You think I didn’t care? That this was all some game to me, and losing you was nothing?”

  I wrap my arms around my chest, as if the pressure might weaken this force pulling me toward him by the solar plexus, this inexplicable need to be closer and let him wrap me in his arms. “Losing me? When was I ever yours to lose?”

  He jerks his gaze away from me, slides off his stool, and downs the rest of his beer. “Thanks. I guess that clears up where we stand after everything.”

  I open my mouth to apologize but swallow the words and meet his steady gaze.

  Then he backs away and grabs his bags off the bar. He pulls an envelope from his pocket and hands it to me. “I was going to leave this for you with the barista next door, but I guess I can save myself the trouble.”

  “What is it?” I ask, staring at the crisp black calligraphy that reads Ellie Courdrey.

  “An invitation to Ava and Jake’s wedding. Despite what you seem to think of me, I’m not fucking my future sister-in-law.”

  “Their wedding?”

  He nods. “They thought about canceling after everything, but . . .” He stares at me for a long beat. “They decided to put love first.”

  That feels like a jab. At me? At them? I don’t know. “I don’t want to go back there.”

  “Maybe it’s not always about what you want.” He shrugs as if it’s no different to him either way, but I can tell by the tension in his shoulders that it matters a lot.

  He steps forward—too close—and I let him, closing my eyes at his scent. Then a flash.

  He’s over me. The weight of him presses into my hips, his calloused hands holding my face, his fingers in my hair. “You’re sure?”

  I nod. Slide my hands down his back and lift my hips. “Yes. Please.”

  He searches my eyes. “No regrets.”

  I hold on to the memory of this man, wanting to examine it, to figure out what it means, but I’m too distracted by his closeness in this moment. He’s big. Strong. Warm.

  He lo
wers his mouth to my ear. “I never stopped loving you. Even when you told me to. Even when you chose him.” And then he walks away.

  Levi

  “I take it grabbing dinner didn’t go so well?”

  I turn around from where I’ve been tinkering in the kitchen and see Ava stepping out of the bedroom and wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry. I woke you up, didn’t I?”

  “No, not at all. I can totally sleep through banging cabinet doors and the mutterings of angry men.”

  I wince. “Sorry.”

  She grins. “It’s not a big deal, Levi. I needed to get up anyway.” She scans the carryout boxes on the kitchen island, then the empty beer bottle by the sink and the half-empty one in my hand. “What’s gotten into you?”

  I grip the bottle too tightly. “I saw her. I saw Ellie.” Ava’s eyes go wide and her face turns so hopeful that it hurts me to say more. “She came into the bar where I was grabbing our dinner.”

  “Is she good? Did she say anything? Is she coming home?”

  I shake my head. “She . . . It was weird. I don’t . . .” I don’t even want to put into words the way she treated me, the way she was so cavalier about not wanting us in her life anymore. “She said she’s too scared to come home.”

  Ava presses her palm to her chest. “Of course she is. They still don’t know who hurt her, and—”

  “I think she believes Colton’s the one who assaulted her.” Fuck. I’ll kill him myself if that’s true.

  Ava stumbles toward the chair in the living room and sinks into it. Neither of us wants to think Colton could be capable of hurting Ellie in that way. “My brother did that to her?”

  I put my beer down and walk around the counter to join her, sinking into the seat beside hers. “She doesn’t remember that night at all, but she seems to believe he’s responsible.” I shrug, swallowing hard. Only Ellie and Colton know what happened between them those last few days before the paramedics found her unconscious on her living room floor. If she believes Colton hurt her, nearly killed her, then she probably has good reason to believe it.

  “I understand if she’s too scared to come back, but why isn’t she talking to us? Taking our phone calls? Why won’t she see us?”

  “Guilty by association?” I shrug. “I don’t know, but she asked me where he was.” I shake my head. “Like I’d know. As if I’m helping to hide him or something.”

  Tears roll down Ava’s cheeks. “It’s bad enough that I’ll be getting married without my father or my brother there, but now I’m supposed to do it without my best friend?” She shakes her head. “It’s such bullshit. And it’s not fair.”

  “You could wait,” I say. It’s not the first time I’ve suggested it. After everything Ava’s been through in the last two months, we’ve all suggested they postpone the wedding. Even Jake asked her to consider waiting, and he was the one who initially insisted the wedding be sooner rather than later.

  “I need something good in my life,” she says, meeting my eyes. “Jake, this baby, and your family are the good things in my world right now, and I need to do something that puts my attention on the good instead of all the bad shit.”

  “I understand.” I swallow. “I gave her your invitation.”

  She wipes her cheeks and brightens a little. “You did?”

  I nod. “Don’t get your hopes up, okay? She’s not going to come back to Jackson Harbor. There was so much fear in her voice when she talked about it, when she said she didn’t want to return.”

  “I’ve been so selfish.” She presses her hands against her cheeks. “She’s terrified, and I want her to put that worry to the side just so she’ll be at my wedding?”

  “Not selfish. Normal. She was your best friend.”

  “Is.” She lifts her chin, and it’s good to see that stubborn, defiant Ava hasn’t lost her spunk. The last two months have been hell. “She is my best friend, Levi.”

  “Okay. Is.”

  “Did you two talk about you at all?”

  I shrug. “I said what I needed to say. I can’t force myself into her life.”

  “Okay.” She exhales slowly, and I watch her deflate. She was more optimistic about this visit than I was, and I hate seeing that hope drain out of her. “We’ll go home in the morning.”

  I nod. “That’s all we can do.”

  Ellie

  When I get home, I go to my room and close the door behind me, leaning against it as I sink to the floor. I put my head in my hands and bite my lip to trap the sob in my throat. My mom and sister are in their rooms getting ready for bed, and I don’t want them to hear. I don’t want them to know that I saw someone from Jackson Harbor, or how torn up I am by our conversation. I don’t want them to ask me what I remember.

  I ball my hands into fists and press them against my eyes. I can’t remember the man’s name or understand my relationship with him, but watching him walk away felt like someone cut my chest open. How can this hurt so much?

  I knock my head against the wall, trying to shake out the questions rooting themselves there, the suspicion, the feeling that I need the answers I’ve been avoiding. My family is trying to protect me. Brittany told me that when I moved to Jackson Harbor, I barely visited anymore, but when I was hurt, they picked me up and brought me home. I should be grateful for them, not sneaking around behind their backs looking for answers.

  My purse drops to the floor, and a corner of the white envelope peeks out from inside it. The invitation. My hand shakes as I open it.

  The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

  Jacob Montgomery Jackson

  and

  Ava Grace McKinley

  I run my fingers across the embossed lettering. Ava’s last name is McKinley, the same as Colton’s. His sister?

  The wedding’s next weekend in Jackson Harbor, and the reception is at Jackson Brews immediately following the ceremony.

  Jackson Brews. The words niggle at my memory. Does the name seem familiar because I remember it from my time living there, or because I’ve heard of the brewery before?

  I pick up the envelope to return the invitation, and a folded piece of paper slides out. I unfold it and see a handwritten note.

  Dear Ellie,

  Ava doesn’t know I’m doing this. When I agreed to help her with invitations, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to slip you a note. I mailed a card to your mom’s house, but since your family wouldn’t let us see you, I’m guessing you didn’t get it. The plan is to hand-deliver this one, so here’s hoping.

  We all miss you. Girls’ night isn’t the same without your quirky sense of humor, and Ava isn’t the same without her best girlfriend. I’ve been able to have my sister by my side as I plan my wedding, but Ava’s doing it without you. She wants to let you heal. She wants to respect your request for distance. Are you sure this is what you want?

  Know that we all love you, and you’ll always have a home here, whether you want to return to it now, next month, or in a few years.

  I hope to see you at Ava and Jake’s wedding, or as soon as you’re ready. We can be patient.

  All my love,

  Nic

  My request for distance? When did I ask them to stay away? And why?

  When my mom and sister talk about my life in Jackson Harbor, they make it sound like I was running drugs, and days from living under a bridge. Girls’ night and a best friend who wants me to help plan her wedding don’t fit into the picture they’ve painted of that world.

  Nic said she mailed a card here, but I never got it. Is Mom hiding my mail? I was too busy being afraid of Jackson Harbor to consider that my friends there might have reached out to me.

  I check the hallway and see Mom and Brittany’s lights are off. After slipping off my shoes, I pad down the dark hallway to the stairs and into the kitchen. Mom keeps the mail on the counter in the corner nook. I thumb through it and don’t find anything but bills and advertisements.

  This morning, I wanted nothi
ng to do with my old life. But the life I’m imagining from Nic’s note and from the words of the man at the bar? A life where people send me cards and make special trips to hand-deliver wedding invitations? That’s one I need to understand before I can walk away.

  I grab an old notebook and take it to the kitchen table, prepared to make a list of all the names I’m connecting with that old life.

  Colton McKinley – my fiancé, maybe missing, maybe dead?

  I stare at the word dead and wait to feel something. I was going to marry the man, and I can’t muster a single image of him beyond the ones I’ve been shown—photographs with accompanying instructions of “Call the police if you see this man.” But I must have loved him, so why can’t I feel anything?

  Taking a breath, I continue to write what I know.

  Ava McKinley – my best friend, engaged to Jacob Jackson—Jake? Why did I ask her to stay away? Is she Colton’s sister?

  Jacob Jackson – Ava’s fiancé, stranger’s brother?

  Nic – friend from girls’ nights? Also planning a wedding? To whom?

  Closing my eyes, I try to recall my conversation with the stranger. Who else had he mentioned? There was a Mandy? No, Molly. He mentioned her twice, so I add her name to the list.

  Molly – secret kid, connection to Colton? Who is she? What does the kid have to do with anything?

  I stare at the list and tap my pen against the notebook. I felt like I was flooded with information at the bar, but now that I see it on the page, it seems like nothing at all. What about the sexy stranger? What about my new memories? Were those memories?

  Tattooed stranger – friend of Ava’s? My former lover???

  The words mock me from the page, and I close my eyes, remembering the heat of his breath against my ear. “I never stopped loving you. Even when you told me to. Even when you chose him.”

  I go to the living room to find Mom’s laptop. I sink into her recliner and open up Facebook. My fingers type the password before I can even question if I should know it, and when I realize what I’ve done, I give a little prayer of thanks to muscle memory.