Remembrance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 1)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “I’m not looking for forgiveness,” I said.

  “She might not heal you either.”

  “I don’t want her to. I came to tell you our deal is off.”

  “Why are you doing this then?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

  “I’m not looking for anything from Sam,” I told her. Which wasn’t a lie. Where Sam was concerned, I wasn’t looking for anything. I’d already found it. “I just want to see her find herself.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Sam

  I was almost positive Brittany was messing with me.

  “He couldn’t have been the one if he was a twin,” she argued.

  I could only stare at her and shake my head from across our small couch.

  Outside, the rain continued to pour, dripping steadily out of the tin gutters that lined our apartment roof. English class had been boring as we’d had to listen to a reading of Red Riding Hood—a story I’d heard so many times I could recite it now. I’d come home, passed out on the couch, and woken to Brittany wanting to give me a recap of her night out with a new date last night. It was too much for my sleepy brain.

  “So, you’re saying you discount him as a potential boyfriend simply because he’s a twin?”

  “There are two of him,” she said as if I were the slow one here.

  “Britt…” I pinched the bridge of my nose as I searched for words to add to this insane conversation. “He’s a twin. Not a clone,” I said finally.

  I pulled the blanket higher around my shoulders as Brittany scowled. “I’ve seen the movie Face-Off, Sam. I know what can happen.”

  That was it. I lost it. Brittany eyed me as I laughed, clearly not seeing the humor. “Britt, he’s just a guy. A nice guy. You should have talked to him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s in my Earth Sciences class. Not your usual type, but in this case, I’d say that’s a good thing.”

  Britt’s eyes went wide. “Or is he?”

  “What are you—?”

  “What if it’s his twin in your class. Or his evil alter-ego. And you only think it’s him? He’s pretending to be a nice guy but really, he’s a killer.”

  I tried my best to hold back more laughter. “I’ve heard them call his name on the student roster,” I said.

  “Still…” She shook her head. “You never really know a person.”

  I decided not to point out that her last boyfriend had been a cheating jerk—without the added benefit of a second skin. Then again, you never really did know a person; she had a point.

  Alex had sworn to help me and clearly he didn’t want me to get hurt since he’d saved my life twice already. But there was so much about him he kept hidden. I couldn’t trust him. Not really.

  “Anyway, enough about me. What’s going on with you?” Brittany asked and before I could escape, she’d pinned me with a look.

  “What about me?” I asked. Suddenly, I regretted my decision to veto her request that we binge-watch Tiara Teens.

  “You’re always gone. Ever since that mystery guy came to the house with you, you’re never home anymore. And don’t tell me you’re working. I’ve watched you leave and it wasn’t in your work clothes.” Brittany folded her arms, a perfectly sculpted blond brow lifting in challenge. Damn. When had she become perceptive?

  “We’ve been spending time together—”

  “I knew it! Sam has a boyfriend! Whoop whoop! A mystery boy boyfriend!” She got up and danced around the living room, ignoring my protests.

  “No,” I argued loudly, trying to be heard over the sounds of her cat calls and cheers. “Alex and I are just friends!”

  Britt returned to me, her eyes lit up. “Mystery guy has a name,” she sang and I cursed myself. I was never, ever going to hear the end of this.

  “His name is Alex. He’s my friend,” I said with special emphasis on the last word. But it didn’t matter.

  Brittany crowed and grinned, scooting closer and snagging some of the blanket for herself. “Tell me everything. Is he hot? Does he drive a nice car? He’s not a twin, is he?”

  “He is not a twin. He drives an old restored truck. And he’s rude.”

  “You didn’t answer the first question,” she sang, completely ignoring the rest.

  I sighed. “He’s hot,” I said. Hearing myself say it aloud shot tingles into my fingers and toes. My gut twisted a little, hating to admit it even while knowing he was also not really mine. Not my boyfriend and not really even my friend. Not after the way he’d acted the last time I’d seen him. It was infuriating. But I wasn’t ready to talk about that with Brittany or anyone else. She’d have to think what she wanted.

  Brittany broke into applause. “I can’t believe it. I should take a picture,” she said.

  I glared at her. “We are not taking a picture.”

  “I’ve never once heard you say those words out loud since I met you. We need to record this moment.”

  She held her phone up in selfie-mode and hit the button, not bothering to ask for a smile. Probably a good thing as I was currently considering reaching over and shoving her off the couch.

  My phone rang, saving Brittany from a hard fall.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Sam, it’s me,” Alex said. I glanced over at Brittany, my cheeks heating, which earned me a knowing smile.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Listen, I need you to come by. There’s … I think I figured out how to get your memory back.”

  “Seriously?” I sat up straighter, hoping like hell Brittany couldn’t hear him. I jumped up and walked away just in case. “How?”

  “It’s … complicated. Can you come over? I can explain everything then.”

  “Of course,” I said, already heading for my room for a change of clothes. “I’ll be there soon.”

  I hung up, frowning. Alex had sounded off. Even more than usual. Something about the caution in his words as he’d told me about a possible solution. Nerves, that was it. Alex was nervous to invite me over. And Alex Channing was never nervous. Was he worried about how we’d left things before? He hadn’t called me since I’d gotten pissed and stormed out after shutting off the water for him. Maybe he felt bad.

  I wasn’t sure what had made him sound that way but I knew for sure he wasn’t getting away with it without an apology. Something told me Alex got out of those more often than not and I wasn’t going to let it slide. He owed me an explanation and I wasn’t leaving without it—memories intact or not.

  Alex’s truck was gone when I arrived. But Mirabelle’s car was at the curb. I parked Brittany’s car behind Mirabelle’s and killed the engine, watching as the gas light went dark too. In exchange for borrowing it, I’d promised to bring it back with a full tank but that could wait. I ran for the porch.

  “Where’s Alex?” I asked, already breathless when RJ answered the door.

  “Running an errand,” RJ said, handing me a mug full of something hot.

  I took it but shot him a look. “He called me and now he’s not even here?”

  RJ and Mirabelle exchanged a look that only heightened my sense of wrongness about this whole thing.

  “What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

  “I’ll go call him and see when he’ll be here,” RJ said and hurried out.

  I pinned Mirabelle with an expectant stare. “Well?”

  “Alex is out retrieving the last missing piece. When he returns, everything will be ready for us.”

  “Ready? For…?”

  “Your Remembrance,” she said and then her lips thinned and she didn’t look happy about any of it as she added, “it’s time.”

  I shook my head, thoroughly confused and irritated I was being kept in the dark. “I don’t understand. Did something happen? How did we go from no idea how to get my memory back to ‘it’s time’ and Alex somehow knowing what we need?”

  She eyed me over the rim of her mug and said, “You’ll have to ask him about that later.”
/>   I growled, but it was clear Mirabelle wasn’t going to say anything else.

  With nothing else to do but wait, I gulped at the hot coffee. It was either this or Tequila and I pretty sure shots wouldn’t he helpful if we were about to try and make me remember things.

  Mirabelle sipped her tea and set it aside. “He’s going to be fine,” she said, startling me as I realized who she meant.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “He’s important to you.”

  It wasn’t a question. Or something I could deny. Not with Mirabelle anyway. It also wasn’t really an answer to my question.

  “Yes.” Saying it aloud changed something and I wasn’t at all sure I liked it. I rubbed my suddenly clammy palms on my thighs and came away itching with tiny clumps of hair.

  “More fur in your hands?”

  I sat back. “How do you know about that?”

  “I see more than you think, Sam. I’m not blind. Also, you told me.”

  “I... Did I?” I squinted, struggling to remember.

  She smiled. “You don’t remember. It’s not the first time,” she said, way too unconcerned in my opinion.

  My jaw fell open. I’d forgotten something else—again. I thought about Dave and my phone call with him. About how I’d apparently also forgotten about Bernard attacking me on Halloween. And then burying him a few nights later out in the redwoods. A pain hit my chest. Guilt.

  I was a hypocrite if I was still keeping that secret.

  I blew out a breath and pushed the words out before they could escape me. “While we’re confessing things… You should know that Bernard’s dead. He attacked me and Alex…killed him. I’m sorry, I didn’t…It’s not his fault.” I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. “Alex was only protecting me.”

  Mirabelle reached out and laid her hand over mine. “I know.” Her voice was gentle but the words shocked me.

  “How?”

  “Alex told me.”

  I should have known. He had said he’d take care of it. “The deliveries… you never sent me on any more of them—” I began.

  “I knew you needed some space to work it all out. Don’t worry. Dave and the others have been informed. I left word with Kiwi as well.” That brought me relief I hadn’t expected. I felt…lighter. “Do you remember Halloween?” she asked.

  “No. Dave told me… what happened, but I don’t remember it. Not really. How do I keep forgetting these things?”

  “That’s only half the question you should be asking,” she said.

  “All right. How do I remember?” I asked.

  “Alex will be back soon and then we’ll begin. Before that happens, I want you to really understand that information, feeling, energy—it’s all connected. It’s not so much what you’ve forgotten as how it makes you feel to know it.”

  “Mirabelle,” I said, “not helping. What do I do?”

  “Controlling how you feel or even simply letting yourself feel it is all about your energy. And true energy work is a discipline. A practice,” she continued and I groaned.

  “Practice implies time. So far, two years have gone by and I’m not any better off,” I pointed out. “And if we’re about to do this now, a little more specifics would be nice.”

  She went on like I hadn’t spoken. “From what I saw on Halloween and after, you are forgetting that which you are unable to face. You have to revisit the hard parts. The things your brain has blocked from you. The things you would rather deny. Show yourself that you can handle it and it will all come back.”

  “How do I revisit if I don’t know what it is I’ve forgotten?” I asked.

  “Remembering will be the easy part,” she said and I eyed her skeptically. She sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Or like she knew something I didn’t. “It will be the feelings wrapped around it that will challenge you to your core. Do you have the stone I gave you?”

  I reached into my bag and produced the Epidote still wrapped in a sock—earning a strange look from Mirabelle. I wasn’t even sure why I’d brought it. Usually, I didn’t want anything to do with the thing. But something about Alex’s words on the phone, the possibility this could really be it, had made me grab it on my way out.

  “The day I gave this to you something happened. Or something began happening. Do you remember?”

  I snorted. “Why do you think it’s wrapped in a sock?”

  “I think you were projecting somewhere. Travelling through spiritual space back to the memory site. I’d like to try it again.”

  I gulped. “And this will work?” I asked, heart pounding at the realization that I was actually going to let Mirabelle perform magic. That I was going to participate.

  “If you let it,” she said. “If you face it.”

  “If it’s up to me, I don’t hold out a lot of hope,” I said and Mirabelle patted my hand reassuringly. For some reason, that only made it worse. Like I was about to disappoint not only myself, but her too. “Mirabelle, whatever I forgot… whatever happened to me… I mean, I remember my whole life as a child up until now. I don’t know how recovering a single memory will change things. I mean, I know some crazy things have happened to me with that Tarot card and this fur—”

  “Don’t forget the stone,” she said, sounding way too excited about it all.

  “Right. But… they are happening to me. I didn’t mean to make them happen. I’m not a witch. I’m just a normal girl. I can’t work this energy you’re talking about. I can’t do magic.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. A witch isn’t born. She is made, darling. Now, come. Alex will be back soon and we need to gather some materials. First and foremost, you need a ceremonial dress.” Mirabelle stood and grabbed my hand.

  I groaned as I let her lead me from the table. “How did I know this would all end up with you forcing your hippie clothes on me?”

  Mirabelle laughed.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Alex

  I was a sucker for punishment. I’d taken the chicken-shit way out and gone to pick Tara and Wes up from the airport myself, opting to face them rather than her. But then they’d asked for a detour, and I’d dropped them off at a rental car agency with no choice but to head home and wait for them to follow.

  So, now I was going to face Sam after all.

  On the ride back, Tara hadn’t said much, but I could feel her watery eyes on me, and I knew what she was thinking. That this was her fault. But she had it wrong. I had only myself to blame for the fact that I was dying. Didn’t matter that she’d infected me herself a couple of years ago by accidentally biting me. I’d recovered from that one with a transfusion of her blood. In fact, that transfusion was the only thing keeping me alive this long. And even though it wasn’t going to work forever, she’d done her part; this one wasn’t on her.

  But Sam—that one was all Tara’s idea. She could have all the blame she wanted for that.

  I parked my truck in the driveway and walked slowly up the stairs, pushing the door open lightly. I had no idea what to expect—or what Mirabelle and RJ might have told her by now—so I was braced for the worst.

  This was it. After this moment, there was no going back for us. I took a deep breath, blew it out, and stepped inside to face my fate.

  I took three steps into the living room and stopped short, awestruck and completely mentally blank on whatever it was I’d been so afraid of a moment ago.

  Sam stood in the center of the room, barefoot on the hardwood in a candle-lined circle. She wore a white dress, sleeveless, with a fitted top and flowing skirt that brought out her olive skin and just barely showed off her gorgeous legs. Her black hair was down around her face in flowing waves, cascading as she moved until she looked like some kind of gypsy princess.

  “Hi,” I heard her say, turning to face me, her dark eyes pinning me where I stood.

  I was lost for words. I watched as she drifted closer, coming to stand in front of me. All I could do was stare, mesmerized by the hint of her nipp
les showing through the tightly woven top. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Fuck me. I was such an idiot. For lying. For coming clean this way. She deserved so much better than this.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, her tone only curious. Not angry. So they hadn’t told her everything. Of course not. Mirabelle would wait for me to do that.

  I shook my head to clear it and focused my gaze on something else so I could think straight. Mirabelle stood over her shoulder on the other side of the room. I kept her in my line of sight, knowing full well that her expression would kill the erection trying to take over right now.

  “I had to run an errand,” I said. And then, because my voice sounded strained, I cleared my throat. “Sam, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began.

  “Okay.” Her brows knitted as she waited for me to go on.

  But I couldn’t make my tongue work. She looked so beautiful. So open, so alive, so herself. And I was going to ruin it. Again.

  “Well, spit it out,” she said, impatience crowding out the confusion. Her temper was always so quick, so close to the surface. It was one of the things I loved about her. Today, though, I had a feeling I wouldn’t enjoy watching it aimed at me.

  “Your memory… what happened to you… it wasn’t voluntary.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, eyes immediately narrowing.

  “You didn’t do it to yourself,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. She’d only ever hear this once. After that, she’d probably stop letting me explain anything. I had to get this right. “And it wasn’t an accident.”

  When she met my eyes, there was already such a wall there, a distance I hadn’t seen between us since the day we met at Oracle. My chest tightened, more from the barrier she’d put up than the words being said.

  “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “Because I…” The words left me and I started again. “Your memory was altered… removed by someone and … I know who it was.”

  She stared up at me, uncomprehending, impossibly beautiful. Slowly, it came together and her eyes filled with understanding. Even then, she shook her head, rejecting it. Like she didn’t want me to be guilty of a lie like this.