by Trisha Grace
Her gaze once again paused on the scar that appeared painfully red under the white lights of the living room, and Emily couldn’t help wondering what happened to him. When she pulled her focus from his scar, she noticed Alexander scanning the living room.
She hadn’t made many changes to the place. The only thing she’d done was remove all the framed photos that peppered the house.
Her heart ached for Alexander when she saw the uncertainty swimming in his eyes. He had no idea how much life had changed for him.
Swallowing a sigh, Emily moved toward the sapphire-blue loveseat and gestured for him to have a seat on the couch.
“Where are my parents?” Alexander asked as he sat.
Emily pursed her lips. She shouldn’t be the one to break the news to him, but he deserved an answer. Especially since she suspected he had—and would continue to have—plenty of questions that he would not have answers to. “They passed away soon after you did.”
His eyes widened.
“I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?”
Emily drew a deep breath through her nose. She might as well give him all the terrible details at one shot. “Your father had a heart attack around two weeks after your funeral. A week after that, your aunt found your mother dead at home. The police believed she’d fallen down the stairs in the middle of the night.”
His shoulders slumped further, and he pressed a palm to his forehead as his features twisted.
“Are you okay?”
“Headache,” he spat through clenched teeth.
The journalist in Emily had so many questions for Alexander. What happened to you? Why did the military think you were dead? The official newspaper reports had stated that two marines had been hurt while another two were killed in a military exercise when their boats exploded due to an engine malfunction. Alexander’s body was never found, and the military wasn’t optimistic about finding it.
Emily had supposed that meant Alexander’s body had been blown up in the explosion.
Yet here he was. Besides the still red scars on his neck and his lost memory, he seemed perfectly fine—physically at least.
She had covered enough military stories to know that what was reported wasn’t always what actually happened. National security and all. But it was obvious Alexander was in no state to answer her questions.
Emily got up and hurried into the kitchen, then returned with a glass of water and two aspirins. “Here.” She took his hand and dropped the tablets onto his palm.
After gulping down the tablets with a swig of water, he glanced around the place. “I should go.”
“Where will you go? Do you have the keys to your aunt’s place?” That was if he knew where Donna’s house was, because she didn’t. “She’s on vacation, by the way.”
“My aunt.”
“Donna Price.”
He stared at her for a moment.
“You lost your memory.”
He nodded.
“Then how did you get back here? Why didn’t the military inform your family that you’d been found and that you’re alive?” Perhaps that would have prevented his parents’ deaths.
“It was classified until I could be debriefed.”
“When did the military find out you were alive?”
“Two weeks ago.”
That was not long after his mother’s death.
He shifted forward on the couch. “I should go.”
“And where will you go?” Emily could never do something as crazy as letting a stranger stay in her house. Despite what her parents thought of her, she had sense.
But something about Alexander was different.
Perhaps it was because she’d been through his and his parents’ things. Perhaps because she was still living among the Lewises’ things, she felt as if she’d known him her entire life.
“I’ll figure it out.” He got to his feet.
“At—” Emily glanced over at the clock on the wall “—two in the morning?” He probably didn’t even know where he could go to get a room. Did he even have any money to get a room?
She went over to the windows and peered out. The only car sitting out there was hers, so he probably came in a cab and wouldn’t even have a car to sleep in.
She licked her lips. Don’t do it, Emily.
No matter how certain her gut was that she could trust him, Alexander Lewis was still a stranger. She couldn’t possibly allow a stranger to stay at her place. Could she?
Home To You
Chapter 2
Where will you go? The question bounced around in Alexander’s head.
He pulled his back straighter.
Alexander didn’t know where he would go, but he supposed that was now the norm for him. These days, he didn’t know much.
But he would survive.
He had thus far.
“You can stay,” Emily said, and Alexander wondered if he’d imagined it. “You can stay,” she repeated, as if she could read his mind. She laughed softly at his continued silence. “You don’t have to look as if I’ve just saved your life.”
His lips curled back. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Emily Bennett.”
“You’re British.” Alexander wasn’t sure how he could recognize accents. Since waking up with no memory of where he was, everything had been confusing. He had been in a house, tended to by a woman who spoke a language he didn’t understand.
All he knew was that he belonged to the US military, only because the villagers who had found him washed ashore had kept his dog tags.
The villagers of the small town in Tunisia gave him some clothes and whatever money they could scrape together, then off he went in search of an American consulate. It took him a week of walking and hitchhiking, but he eventually got where he needed to be.
Then he was whisked back to the States and went through a series of medical tests and interrogation before they finally released the information he had been asking for.
He was Alexander Lewis. He was a marine.
His files had stated that he was living here with his parents. So when the doctors cleared him to leave the hospital, he came back home.
Only it wasn’t his home anymore.
“Do you have any clothes with you?” Emily’s curious eyes roamed over him, probably noting how the T-shirt and cargo pants he wore didn't fit him. She had, after all, figured out he’d lost his memory without him saying so.
Her gaze flitted to the winter jacket he’d hung up on the hook behind the door, then returned to study him.
Alexander did the same. He stared at the petite ginger-haired woman sitting across from him. She was so small she barely came up to his chest, yet she’d dealt with his intrusion so courageously.
Her hair was down, spilling over her shoulders in a tousled but sexy mess. She was in a black sleeveless tank top and dark gray sweatpants.
She looked comfortable in the house—her house.
Emily Bennett pulled the white throw on the back of the couch over her shoulders and wrapped it close when she noticed his stare.
Alexander turned away. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable, but he couldn't help being drawn to Emily. There was something about her.
Her courage? He’d been taken aback when she managed to flip him over. His body had easily covered hers, so she needed some skill—which she’d executed perfectly—to turn the situation around.
Alexander had to consciously fight his instinct to slam her back to the floor. She wasn't holding a weapon anymore, so he had no reason to hurt her—even when she tried to bash his nose into his face.
Then her honey-gold eyes locked on to his, and he forgot where he was. Even when her eyes widened with surprise, even when shock flashed across her delicate features, he felt sure that everything would be okay.
Alexander’s gaze found its way back to Emily. What was it about her? Her kindness? Her generosity?
<
br /> Or maybe it was just how she hadn’t treated him like he was a monster. Everyone he had met along the way had given him a head to toe scan, then quickly slipped away as if he carried an infectious disease. Alexander couldn’t be sure if that was the result of his size or the scar that now occupied half his neck.
“Alexander?”
Had Emily said something? If she did, Alexander had completely missed it. “I’m sorry?”
“Do you have any clothes with you?”
He shook his head. He didn't have anything. The military had already packed up his things and sent them here. But since the house had been sold, it meant all his things were probably gone. Everything he had on him was donated, as it had been since he woke up.
He ran his hand through his hair. His commander had bought him airplane tickets and given him five hundred dollars to help him get back home. Alexander had thought that was more than enough. He already had a ticket. All he needed was a taxi ride here.
But now that he didn't have a home, he wasn't sure how far the money would go.
Where would he go after tonight? Where would he sleep? His commander had gotten him a winter jacket too, but Alexander wasn’t sure if that was enough to survive a night out in the dead of winter.
Would he know how to survive? Probably. He had been a marine after all.
But then, what next?
Could he find a job? What could he do? Alexander had no idea what he was good or terrible at.
“All of your things are in the basement.”
He jerked his head up, and Emily’s gaze softened.
“I really should video your reactions,” she said.
“You must be an angel.”
Emily laughed again. Her lighthearted chuckle made him smile.
“That’s a first.” She stood. “Despite that, I’m still going to ask. Do you have any weapons on you?”
He grinned. Courageous. Kind. Generous. And smart. “None.”
“Mind if I check?”
He stood and raised his hands by his head. He remained in that position while Emily patted down his pockets and legs.
It was clear she knew how to handle herself, that she had been in situations that required her to be vigilant to stay safe.
Alexander stared at Emily as she straightened with a satisfied nod. What trouble could an angel like her have gotten herself into?
“And the gun.” She glanced over at the different pieces on the floor. “You’d better know how to put them back together.”
He lowered his hands. “I’m … not sure if I can.” He moved over to the dismantled gun. The moment he picked up one part, he knew exactly what he had to do to put everything back together. “It seems I do.” He handed the gun back to Emily.
“Thank you.” She tucked the gun into the back of her sweatpants and cocked her head to the side. “Come on. I’m sure you’d like to get back into your own clothes.”
Alexander grinned. She really was perceptive. “Are you a detective?”
“Investigative journalist—was. Now I’m a murder-mystery writer. Why?” She led the way past the stairs to a door in the middle of a hallway that connected the living room to what he assumed was the kitchen in the back of the house. “Have I already begun to annoy you with too many questions?”
“You haven't asked much.”
“Because I don't think you know much.”
“And I appreciate that.”
“Then keep this night in mind when I start to annoy you.” She gave him a teasing smile before pointing down another corridor directly perpendicular to the door she was standing in front of. “That’s the study. I’m using that as my office.” She opened the door behind her and switched on the light. “This way to the basement.”
Emily strode down the stairs, then switched on another light when she got to the bottom of the steps.
The large basement was laid with beige carpet and had two long sofas arranged in an L-shape. Large brown boxes were stacked up in the space in front of and next to the sofas.
“You have a lot of stuff.”
Without stopping to wait for him, she moved over and lifted one of the many boxes. “It’s all yours.”
Alexander hurried over and took the box from her. “Let me.”
“Oh.” She blinked, seemingly caught off guard by what he had done, and Alexander thought for a moment that he’d somehow offended her.
“Okay.” She shrugged. “Just put it anywhere.” She turned back to the boxes. “Well, most of it belonged to your parents.” She bent over and tore off the masking tape holding the flaps of the box he just put down. “I’m glad I decided to pack your room last.”
“Thanks.” He dug into it, looking for something comfortable to wear tonight and for what he could take with him tomorrow.
“Why don't you just bring the whole box up? You can take your time unpacking.” She tapped on a few more boxes. “These are all from your room.”
He stopped what he was doing to look up at her. “Are you offering to let me stay more than one night?”
“Do you have another place to go?”
He began to shake his head, then stopped. “Well, I don’t know.”
“Then stay,” she said matter-of-factly as if she didn't see the generosity in her offer. “Until you figure things out.”
Emily Bennett. What was the chance of him coming home to an angel? Alexander couldn’t help but wonder why or how this gorgeous British woman ended up buying his home.
For the first time since he woke up, he found himself asking questions beyond his circumstances and his past.
“Let me show you to your room.” She turned back to him just as he lifted the box with his clothes. “How did you get into the house? Did you pick the lock?”
He shifted the box to hold it with one arm, then pulled a key from his pocket. “I found this under a rock outside.”
Her brows drew together. “I didn’t know that existed.”
With the key pinched between his thumb and index finger, he extended his hand toward her.
“Keep it,” she said.
“You’re going to trust me with the key?”
“You’re already in the house, Alexander. That key isn’t going to do anything to keep you from hurting me, if you are going to.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His words probably meant nothing to her, but he wanted to assure her nonetheless.
“I wouldn’t let you stay if I thought you would.”
“You should change the lock.” He wasn’t sure why, but the idea that someone other than him could have come into the house while Emily was here alone didn’t sit well with him. She had a gun and—as she had demonstrated—could handle herself, but still … “You should change it immediately.”
“If you’d showed up next week, it would’ve been changed.” She headed up the stairs. “I already have a motion sensor linked to a security camera, so I wasn’t that worried about it. Wait.” She whirled around to him and almost knocked into the box he was carrying.
Alexander jerked to a stop. “What did I do?” he asked when her eyes slitted.
“How did you know where to find the spare key if you’ve lost your memory?”
“I don’t know.” He hated those three words. Since waking up, that had been the answer to most of the questions everyone had for him. “I just did. Just like I can tell you have a British accent.”
“Just like you know how to dismantle and reassemble a gun,” she turned and continued up the stairs, “like you know where to hang your jacket.”
Right. He hadn’t given that any thought.
They were silent as they made their way up to the second floor. Alexander was tempted to ask Emily what was going through her mind.
He turned his attention to the surroundings to distract himself. Everything was unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. He ran his hand along the wooden handrail, certain it had been here when he was living here.
At the top of the stairs was a squarish a
rea with a small dark blue couch on a large cream-colored carpet. Three dark brown shelves were mounted on a white wall, each shelf packed from end to end with books.
“Your parents were both readers, I think.” She walked over to the door on the right, one of the two doors on that floor. “This was your old room. I haven’t done much to it. I didn't do much to the whole house.”
She stepped back so he could move forward.
“So the house looked like this when I was living here.” Was that why he felt so at ease here with Emily?
Since waking up without his memory, he’d been constantly fighting a headache. At times, he found himself forgetting to breathe through the tension that was always plaguing him.
But that was gone now.
“There were a lot of photos. Lucky for me, your parents didn’t nail them to the walls. There were just tons of photo frames everywhere.”
Alexander entered his bedroom. Light gray sheets covered the king-sized bed in a dark brown frame. On one side of his bed was a small cabinet, while a black standing lamp stood on the other side.
“I’m not sure how long those sheets have been on the bed. I can't quite remember where I packed the sheets either.”
He waved it off. “This is more than I could ask for.”
“I’m in there.” She pointed to the room across from his. “I have this.” She pulled the gun from her back. “I always sleep with my door locked, and I’m going to shoot first before asking questions if my door opens.”
“Understood.”
She grinned, and he couldn’t help but do the same.
“Everything will be okay,” Emily said when she got to her bedroom door. “I’m sure everything is confusing, but things will get better.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything, knock.”
“Promise you won’t shoot if I do.”
Her grin widened. “I promise. Get some rest. We’ll talk and figure things out tomorrow, okay?”
“Emily.” He really liked her name. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
Click here to continue reading Home To You for
FREE on Kindle Unlimited or $2.99 on Amazon
