by RC Boldt
Aside from him being one of the most decent humans I’ve met in my life, he’s also the most astute. The farmer who also serves as the town preacher, he’s told me himself that he turned his life around long ago—went “from darkness to light,” as he says.
But I’m not stupid enough to think his past even comes close to resembling mine.
Rumor has it, he’s also a bit of a psychic—a seer of some sort—although if you were to ask him about it, he’d laugh it off.
The thing about rumors I’ve learned along the way is there’s always a fraction of truth behind them. And the more I get to know this man, the more I believe he just might have a unique gift.
When he’d looked straight at Alex and told her she was a beautiful angel, it fucked with me.
If she’s a beautiful angel, then what the fuck does that make me?
The first time Pablo knocked on my door was two years ago. He’d brought me a bottle of homemade seco—sugar cane liquor—and insisted on drinking with me after I’d delivered his niece’s baby breech without any issues.
That had been my indoctrination, of sorts, for this place. Once that happened, once Pablo gave his own stamp of approval, I became one of them.
Though the locals here may be kind and polite, albeit wary to visitors, they don’t exactly roll out the red carpet to encourage anyone to put down roots and stay. They speak Spanish, but the ones who know English keep that under wraps until they trust you.
I needed one place that was untouched from every goddamn dirty thing I’ve done. To be surrounded by people who hadn’t been drawn into the darkness I lived in for what seems like fucking forever.
I knew what I was getting into coming here. But I wanted this. Hell, I needed it. It was life or death for me, and I decided to embark on my own route.
And I had to follow through with it because the alternative was unacceptable.
I don’t doubt for one moment that Pablo doesn’t somehow know I’ve led a fucked-up life. That he doesn’t see through me. That he isn’t aware that I battle demons.
The fact that he senses it and still treats me like a decent man is a wonder in itself. When I leave for a few days to donate my time and work in other poorer towns, he never asks questions.
That’s what makes me believe he knows more than he lets on. It’s like an unspoken agreement between us. As long as I don’t allow my darkness to cast over his people and town, I’m welcome.
And every goddamn day I let pass without ending it means one day closer to dragging Pablo and all these good people down with me.
“Once again, I owe you.” Pablo’s smile is weary but genuine. His English is heavily accented but flawless.
I shake my head. “No, amigo. The only thing I want from you is for you to get better.”
And it’s true. I have more than enough saved from my previous career to keep me afloat for years to come.
With a sigh, his smile dims before he silently tips his head to Juan, and the man slips out the door. Pablo casts a glance past us down the hallway, where Alex’s door remains closed. I’d thanked her for her assistance before using the excuse that Pablo wanted to speak to me in private.
I refuse to admit that as soon as she left the room, her absence was tangible. It had felt like a four-ton weight was poised on my chest even with the knowledge that she was only a few doors down the hall.
Gaze holding a touch of melancholy, Pablo lowers his voice. “She’s a good woman, but like you, she, too, has demons.”
I suck in a sharp breath because this is the first time he’s ever come out and said anything so boldly. I hold his gaze without saying a word…because I can’t.
I can’t afford to say a goddamn thing.
But I do pick up on his words. She’s a good woman, but like you, she, too, has demons.
Not: She’s dangerous. Watch out for the trouble she brings to your door.
Not: Watch your back with this one.
When his mouth curves into a knowing smirk, he shakes his head. “She’s the one. She’ll tip your world upside down, make it messy. Make you rethink everything. But in the end, you won’t want it any other way.”
With a sigh, he turns to the screen door. I hold it open for him, but before he exits, he murmurs quietly, “Dios está vigilance sobre ti.” God is watching over you.
Then he quietly steps through for Juan to drive him back home.
I rake my fingers through my hair and stare at the door the men just left through.
God is watching over you.
His parting words linger in the air, and I can’t help but wonder if he knows that God gave up on me long ago.
After I lock up and ensure everything is sanitized, I pad down the hall to Alex’s bedroom.
Internally, I’m warring with myself as I raise my fist to knock on her door. She opens it quickly as if she was expecting me. Her hair is slightly mussed as though she’s run her fingers through it. Wringing her hands nervously, she winces, and her words rush out frantically.
“I know. You have every right to be upset with me. It’s crazy, but I just somehow knew what needed to be done. I didn’t mean to overstep, but I wanted to help, and now I wonder if maybe I was a nurse or something, and you’re probably mad as hell at me and—”
“It’s okay.”
Her mouth snaps shut, blue eyes going wide. Voice growing smaller, she breathes out in a near whisper, “You’re not upset with me?”
I scrape a hand over my face, my scruff rasping beneath my palm. “I haven’t had an assistant in years, but even then, I didn’t have anyone I didn’t constantly have to bark orders at.” Leveling a thoughtful look at her, I murmur, “Not like you. It was flawless, and I appreciate it.” With a millisecond pause, I add, “So, thank you. I know Pablo appreciated it, too.”
Her shoulders go slack in relief as she peers up at me. Those eyes of hers seem so pure. They draw me in like a moth to a flame. When her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, my dick goes from zero to sixty.
I want Alexandra—the woman with no memory. A woman who’s a mystery to herself and becomes a bigger one to me each day that passes.
I want to take her mouth and see if it tastes as sweet as the innocent air she possesses.
Or if it’s sweet like deception.
I force myself to take a step back. “Go ahead and relax. You earned it.”
I war against my hope that it’s disappointment and yearning I see crossing her face…and hoping like hell it isn’t.
I can’t do this with her—to her. As much as I’m beginning to wish this could all end differently.
Because if there’s anything I do know for certain, it’s that it won’t.
Chapter 26
HER
I wish I knew if cleaning was something I do when I’m stressed or just feeling…off.
Since Liam left to do house calls and run errands, I plugged in the radio and discovered a station run by local expats that plays a variety of songs in English. The music has kept me company while I’ve been mopping and dusting in an attempt to shake off this incessant ache in my lower abdomen.
It isn’t until I finish dusting the living room and take a restroom break that I realize how idiotic I am.
The smear of blood on the inside of my underwear glares back at me. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
I quickly rummage beneath the vanity, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Liam has feminine products left over from a girlfriend. Unfortunately, I come up empty-handed. I suppose once I get a fresh pair of panties, I can wad up toilet paper and stuff it in them until Liam returns, and then I can ask him…
Ohgod. As if my circumstances aren’t bad enough, now I have to ask him to purchase my feminine products. Talk about a humbling moment.
Once I rectify things as much as I possibly can, I resume my cleaning. Time flies by, and I’m grateful for the music and busywork to keep my mind off the million-dollar question that plagues me.
Who am I?
As th
e beginning notes of a new song begin, my movements stutter. My hand pauses as I reach for the cleanser inside the large cabinet of cleaning supplies.
Celine Dion. “The Power of Love.” How is it that I know this song, but I can’t recall my own name?
How is it that I know the lyrics, yet I can’t remember ever hearing it before?
An odd dichotomy of melancholy and affection washes over me, and I find myself turning up the volume before heading toward the bathroom with the cleaning supplies in hand.
As I scrub around the bathroom sink, it happens before I realize it, but I’m unable to stifle it. I belt out the words even though I’m off-key.
My hips sway slightly as I work, and a wistful smile tugs at my lips. Inherently, I know that this song is special. Meaningful.
As I finish cleaning, I close my eyes and put my all into the end of the song, my voice reverberating off the bathroom tile. Sadness clings to me at hearing the final note, and I open my eyes on a sigh.
That sigh turns into a sharp scream. Because I’m face-to-face with Liam.
“Ohmygod!” My cheeks flush with heat. “Is there any chance you could pretend that never happened?”
His expression is as unreadable and placid as always. “That what never happened?”
A relieved exhale passes my lips. He’s playing along already. “Okay, good.”
“That you were just belting out Celine Dion in the bathroom?”
Eyes going impossibly wide, I gape at him. But it’s not solely because he addressed my embarrassing moment. No, it’s because his voice holds a quality that sounds almost like…amusement. And his features aren’t quite as cool and collected as they normally are.
Before I can bask in that small nuance, he steps closer. Brows lowered, he appears both fierce and somber. “You remembered the song?”
My breath catches in my throat because I get the impression he’s expecting an explanation I’m unable to offer.
“I did remember it. And it feels important somehow.” Confusion and frustration take hold of me, coloring my voice. “But I don’t know why.”
He holds my gaze for a beat as though he’s assessing my admission for its validity. Then he blinks and takes a step back.
Raking a hand down his face, he clears his throat, a frown marring his handsome features. “I noticed you had some, uh, trouble, so I wanted to let you know I have some items in the cabinets in my exam rooms, if you need them.
“It should hold you over until the morning. I’ll head to the farmacia and grab whatever you need. But they’re already closed for the day, so…”
Dammit. He noticed the panties I’d scrubbed and draped over the open lid of the washer. I thought I had more time before he returned for the day.
“I’m sorry—”
His brows descend dangerously as if my apology angers him. Then, as he grips the back of his neck, his eyes dance away from mine briefly, giving me the impression he’s unsettled by the conversation. “Do you have an idea of what you’d prefer me to pick up?”
“I… Honestly, the first thing that came to mind was that I needed pads, so I guess that’s my answer.”
This is, by far, the most mortifying encounter I’ve had with him, and that says something since the man removed my damn catheter. If only the floor could swallow me whole right this instant.
Why am I so embarrassed by this? It’s not like he’s unaware that women have menstrual cycles. I mean, he’s a doctor, for heaven’s sake.
“Okay. I’ll pick those up, then. Let me see how many I can scrounge up for you in the meantime.”
When he turns to leave, my entire body slumps in relief. But it doesn’t last for long.
He pauses just past the threshold with his back to me, and his voice holds an unfamiliar quality to it that I’m unable to place. It’s not flirtatious, of course, because that’s not at all his personality. “I must say, I never would’ve taken you for a Celine Dion fan.”
A snicker spills past my lips, and once he disappears from sight, I cover my eyes with my hands. Ohmygod.
With a few quick deep breaths, I do my best to shake off my embarrassment. A short moment later, as I’m putting away the cleaning supplies, Liam walks past me and into the kitchen with some sanitary pads in one hand.
Instead of giving them to me, he rummages around in the far corner cabinet while I wash my hands at the kitchen sink. As I dry my hands on a towel, he says, “Here you go. This should help for now.”
He hands me the pads and a chocolate bar, practically shoving the items at me. I stare down at everything I’m now clutching, noting the chocolate bar is locally made, according to the label. Something lurks in my memories, attempting to dredge itself to the surface, but fails.
“You don’t like chocolate?”
My eyes snap to his. “I do like it. Thank you.” Frustration sears through every inch of me. Dammit. Why can’t I remember?
Drawing in a breath, I repeat in a calmer tone, “Thank you, Liam.”
A strand of hair that’s gotten loose from my ponytail falls forward when I tip my head to the side. Eyes gleaming with an intensity that has me riveted in place, he lifts a hand slowly.
Entrenched in my own confused frustration, I force a smile, hoping it looks genuine and not as brittle as it feels on my lips. “At this rate, I’ll owe you more than my life by the end.”
A flash of censure crosses his features before he drops his hand at his side, taking a step back. His expression is shuttered, and I wonder what I did to cause it.
“I need to get some work done. Good night.” He turns and disappears down the hall to his office.
Perhaps it’s just the way he is. Closed off. Composed. Placid.
But I swear, for a split second, I thought he’d intended to tuck my hair back for me.
Inwardly, I scoff at the thought. I’m just a woman who’s currently under his care.
Regardless of whether or not a part of me yearns to be more.
Thirteen Years Old
Oh my gosh, I seriously thought Papa was trying to drive me mad. He broke out his Celine Dion CDs yesterday and played them nonstop.
His favorite song is “The Power of Love,” and while I can admit that it’s a beautiful song, after he listened to it on repeat about a hundred times in a row, I finally had to push the pause button on the CD player.
It’s terrible to admit, but I’d been caught up in my own irritation at him listening to the CDs all day and hadn’t noticed anything beyond that. But once I finally snapped out of it, I realized something was wrong with Papa.
He finally sat down with me and told me he had found out some bad news. A dear friend of his had died, and she had been very special to him years ago. He apologized for playing the song repeatedly but said it reminded him of her. That they’d danced to it once.
I wanted to ask him more about her, but the look in his eyes stopped me. I’ve never seen Papa look so sad before, like if he continued to talk about her, he would actually cry. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just went over and sat on his lap—even though I’m way too big for that these days—and hugged him.
I’m not sure he’s ever squeezed me so tightly before, but I knew he needed that hug more than ever.
My papa is strong and does everything for me, but I wish he had someone special—even if he tells me he doesn’t need anyone else. Every time I mention it, he says, “Little One, you are all I need. We are a perfect family as we are.”
I know he means it, but still.
Anyway, “The Power of Love” isn’t as annoying to hear now. If it brings back a happy memory for Papa, then I’ll keep my complaints to myself.
Later on last night, I offered to dance with him to the song. I wasn’t sure if he’d want to, but his eyes actually lit up, and he said yes.
We danced, and he even twirled me around all fancy. At the end, he kissed the back of my hand and thanked me. I think I eased his sadness a little bit.
I know I’ll do anything for Pa
pa, just like he does for me.
Always.
Chapter 27
LIAM
She sings.
She fucking sings. Not overly well, either, but for some reason, it didn’t faze me.
Instead, it made me look at her through a different lens. One I’m not entirely comfortable using.
That song resonates with her, but I could tell she didn’t know why. It had been written on her face, clear as day, when she’d belted out the lyrics with her eyes closed.
I’d gone in search of her after seeing her underwear draped over the washer’s lid. When I’d stepped closer and spotted the faint outline from blood, I cussed myself out.
She’s been here for weeks, and I didn’t give a thought to her possibly needing anything for her menstrual cycle.
Tone it down. She’s not your fucking girlfriend.
Bile rises in my throat at the instant dismissal. Because as much as I try to remind myself that she’s simply under my care for the time being, that rogue voice in my head taunts me. She’s more, and you know it.
It would explain why I’d given her the chocolate bar, wanting her to have something that might comfort her. To try to ease her embarrassment.
Instead, I made it awkward because I’d surprised her. And fuck it all if that didn’t grate on my damn nerves. Knowing she was caught off guard by me simply doing something nice for her.
I’d gotten wrapped up in the moment…and I fucking know better than to do that. I’d been about to reach out and smooth back the hair that had come loose from her ponytail. I’d come so close to touching her.
“At this rate, I’ll owe you more than my life by the end.” When she’d said that, the pit of my stomach had lurched as if struck by a nasty bout of food poisoning.
Seated in front of my computer in the confines of my office, I force myself to pull up files on patients I saw earlier today to update them. But my eyes are blind to the details. Instead, all I can see is her.
