by J. Andersen
“Back so soon? And here I thought you might have a minute amount of common sense about you. Apparently, I was wrong. You need to leave, Micah.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Kate.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. What you did back there upset her. For one day, she trusted you, and you forced her past her limit. I’m not going to let it happen again.”
“Forced her past her limit? What are you talking about? I didn’t touch her. She was free to leave at any time. All I did was make her remember.”
“Did you now? Are you sure about that?”
In the background, Kate is throwing things into a suitcase. She sees me from over Saul’s shoulder, which is still blocking the door. “Kate, you remembered. What did you see?”
Crossing the room in three steps, she’s at the door and pulling Saul out of the way. “Let me deal with this,” she tells him. He backs away, not even asserting his power over her.
“Look, Micah. I don’t know what you think you were trying to do, but I didn’t remember anything back there. My mind is still blank. As much as I’d like to have a homecoming party with all my so-called friends, I don’t remember who they are. What I do know is that Saul has looked out for me since I woke up. He’s been the one who’s protected me from people like you. He told me the truth.”
“How do you know it’s the truth if you can’t remember, Kate? Tell me that, would you?”
“I know. I can feel it in my gut.”
It’s my last chance. I have to go for it. I have to try. So before Saul can look back, I pull her into me, mashing our lips together. Remember me. She squirms a bit, but with my arm around her waist and my hand wound in her hair, careful not to hurt her neck where the incision is, her lips press against mine. There’s no escape from our kiss. No escape from our love. She has to remember.
When I hear footsteps, I let go and step back. Kate disappears into the house, fingers still touching her lips. I will make her remember if it kills me. And from the look on Saul’s face, it just might.
“Get the baby,” he yells to her.
His massive shoulders fill the doorway and in each hand is a suit-case. “You should thank whatever you consider holy that I’m not going to tear your head off your puny little neck for what you just did. Now, here’s how this is going to go down. We’re leaving. You’re going to let us leave without a fight. Consider it cashing in on my favor. If you even try to follow us, I’ll see to it that this place is destroyed until you can’t even find a splinter of evidence that the rebels ever existed.”
“You don’t even know the way out,” I say.
“Is that right? Pennington, I’ve known how to get to this godforsaken town from long before we got your pathetic excuse for a life out of The Institute. I followed Kate here when she came the first time. I know where Jaxon’s garage leads, and I know how to get vehicles in and out. I can come and go as I please. I have already. Hell, I’ve even memorized all your streets despite your efforts to prevent that, so I can be damn sure to get back here quickly if we ever need to have a reunion.
“If you don’t let her leave without a fight, I’ll return in a day or so. Only this time, I’ll come with my men, intent on destroying every last corner of this so-called Hidden City. So, as I see it, you have a choice to make. Let her go and save your friends and neighbors or run after Kate, force her to leave, make her hate you, and destroy everyone you love. Seems like an easy decision to me.” His lips pull up in a sneer, imitating a smile, but it’s more sinister.
After that, Kate’s at his side, Brody in her arms.
Saul heads to a car parked on the road. “Say your good-byes now. It’ll be the last time you see us, if you behave yourself, that is.”
“Kate—”
She holds up her free hand to me. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Kate, please.”
“If what you say is true, and if I do remember, then I’ll come back. But until then, I don’t trust a word you say. I’m leaving with my son and his father. And you need to let me go. Whatever this is, this fascination with me, you need to let it go. I’m not that girl anymore.”
“You are that girl. You’re still the girl I fell in love with and the one I’d die for even now. But I promise you this. I will not take my last breath until you love me again. Count on that.”
She looks shaken at my promise but quickly covers it up with a clenched jaw and eyes that narrow. But somewhere deep under the surface, I know she still loves me. In that split second before she brushes past me and heads to the car, I see something in the way she looks at me. My mind is reeling as she straps Brody into the back seat and climbs in next to Saul. I have to get her back. I will. But for now, I watch her drive away, trusting the enemy with her life.
The car fades into the distance until all I can see is a blur. Then something flashes before me. I blink, but the fuzziness doesn’t go away. A shape forms in my vision, the outline of a man. But he’s not in front of me. I can see right through him.
“Micah Pennington? This is Maxwell Dennard. Kate’s father.”
Then everything goes black.
Please enjoy an excerpt from the next book in the series: Legacy's Impact:
1-Clean Slate
(KATE)
People talk about wanting to start over, correct their life’s mistakes; I just wish I could remember mine. Getting a clean slate isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Saul says I should be thankful not to remember my past. Says it’ll be easier to move forward if I don’t have the burden of mistakes and screw ups holding me back. But he’s not the one struggling to remember who he is. Makes me wonder if I was really such a bad person. And if I was, why is he with me? Besides, it’s all those mistakes, the bad choices as well as the good ones, the memories we want to keep and the ones we’d rather forget that make us who we are.
Right now, I’m nobody.
***
Saul pours a cup of coffee and places it on the table in front of me.
“Thanks,” Imutter, barely awake.
He pats my shoulder like he’s unsure how to touch me. “Feeling better today?” I know what that really means. He wants to know if my memory has returned. It hasn’t. No matter how hard I search, my mind is a black hole prior to two weeks ago when we left the hospital to come back to The Institute. “I feel fine.”
He pulls out the chair across from me, sits, and sips his drink. When he places the mug on the table again, he turns it so the handle is perfectly sideways. Then he centers the spoon on the napkin to his right. The actions are precise, perfect. And I can’t help but wonder how that characteristic plays out in his work life. Everything in order. Perfection. Planning. Probably what made him so successful.
“You going to the park today?” he asks.
I glance at the clock. 9:00 A.M. “Not for another hour.”
Having a schedule helps. Gives me an ounce of peace. I rely on the routine because it provides a sense of stability. Right now, schedule is the only thing I can count on. Everything else is unpredictable. Uncertain. Even my own mind.
A small smile brightens his face, but it’s quickly diminished by his usual set jaw and suspicious eyes. I can’t tell if he’s upset when he looks at me like that or if it’s just normal for him. And since I can’t remember …
Part of me thinks he hides behind his tough exterior. And I’m sure that underneath is the sweet man who cares deeply. But every once in a while, a fire rages behind his eyes, and I think he might explode at any minute. He never has. Never at me anyway. And never at my … our … son.
His eyes soften for a second. “Maybe you could go out a few minutes earlier. Do something different. Challenge yourself. Walk a different trail or go to the diner for a change of scenery.”
I give him a look then instantly regret it when I see the frustration setting into the lines around his lips. He’s trying to be patient and encouraging, and I’m being stubborn.
The cords in his neck flex as he stands and takes my empty cup to the sink, rinses it out, dries it with a towel, and places it in the cupboard, twisting so it’s facing forward. He’s not the type to show brokenness or frustration. That I know, but the way his shoulders slump slightly as he leans against the edge of the sink and looks out the window tells me he’s holding in his angst. Even though I can’t remember his tells from before my memory loss, I’m relearning what makes him tick. If we’re going to be together, I have to work hard to discover him again.
I cross to him, slip my arms around his waist, and kiss the middle of his back through his shirt. A deep breath allows me to inhale in the crisp scent that lingers on his skin, and I try to recall the smell from my past.
Nothing.
I don’t want to disappoint him. Not after all he’s done for me. For taking care of me and Brody, so I say, “Maybe I will. Today might be a good day to try something new.”
Turning, he places his hands on my waist and pulls me closer. His caramel-colored eyes search mine. For a second, I think he’s going to tell me to do what I want, but instead he says, “Wonderful. I think it’ll be good for you. It might be hard, but you know you can call me if you need anything.”
Was he always like this? Pushing me beyond my comfort level? His soft smile gives me confidence, and I smile back at him. Maybe I can do this. It’ll be good for Brody, too. He needs to get out more. If I can break past the fear of doing something new, I might discover a new piece of who I am.
The thought motivates me. Maybe this is what I need. I could talk to people or poke around at the library. There must be something on me in the public records. A prick of interest breaks through my fear. This could be a good thing.
Saul glances at his watch. “Gotta go. Training’s at 9:30. Can’t be late if I’m in charge.” His lips brush my forehead. When he pulls away, his mouth clamps into a tight line. Then he exhales and blinks, holding his eyes closed for a moment longer than normal. “Call me later?”
“Yeah.”
He’s upset with me. Not sure what he has to be upset about. Or maybe he’s not telling me something. It’s so hard when I can’t recall the inner workings of our relationship before a few weeks ago. I want the memories of my love for Saul to come rushing back, but instead I’m stuck having to fall in love with him from scratch.
All I want is to remember who I am, but since Saul refuses to talk about our past, I’m left to discover it on my own. He claims forcing the memories on me wouldn’t be good, but what if my brain is broken forever? There has to be something to hold onto. A sliver of hope.
If it’s not my love for Saul, then what is it?
