“Because I can hear you slipping further away each time we talk on the phone. I don’t think that taking a break from our appointments for this long is a good idea. You still need a lot of help.”
“I think being here is helping me.” Even as Braden said the words, he wasn’t sure they were true.
“Maybe it is. But so are our sessions. So is your medication. I need to make sure you stay on track.”
“I’m fine, Doctor.” What he wanted was to be left alone. That was why Braden had come here. Yet nothing had gone the way he planned.
“No more blackouts?”
Braden ran a hand over his face, wishing he could deny the allegation. “I’ve had some blackouts.”
“Maybe we should up your medication.”
Braden sliced his hand through the air. “No! I don’t want to medicate myself even more. Whenever I take that stuff, I feel like half a person. I can’t stand it.”
“You know it’s important.”
“I know. And I’m taking the dosages you told me to take. But I’m not interested in increasing those.” Braden shook his head. “I’m sorry you came all the way out here for nothing, Doctor.”
Dr. Larson said nothing for a moment. “Did you have anything to do with that man who was beaten?”
Braden’s spine stiffened. So this was what it really boiled down to. Had someone called the doctor here for an intervention? Who? “How did you hear about that?”
“It’s been all the buzz since I arrived on the island. Even on the ferry over people were talking about it. It’s a small town here. News travels fast.”
“I didn’t do it.”
Dr. Larson nodded toward his hands. “Then what happened?”
“I don’t know.” Braden was tired of answering that question. Tired of not knowing.
Dr. Larson stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Braden, I’m afraid that you’re going to become violent toward yourself.”
Braden blinked, uncertain if he’d heard correctly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve seen things like this too many times, and I know how it ends. I don’t want you to be one of those people.”
“You mean, suicide? You’re afraid I’m going to kill myself?” How could he even say that?
Dr. Larson raised his hand, as if to halt the thought. “I didn’t say it that way exactly.”
“But that’s what you’re implying.” Adrenaline—and anger—pumped through Braden.
“I’m only saying I’ve seen it before.” His voice sounded placating and irritatingly calm. “All the right factors are in place, and now you come here alone?”
“Is that what this is really about? You’re afraid I came here to end it all? Would that tarnish your professional reputation or something?”
“No, Braden. I just want the best for you. You know I feel a personal connection to your story.”
Thomas’s death had connected them all. Braden had felt like part of the family as he wandered through grief with them. It was a bond only death could bring. But maybe seeing him as a therapist was a mistake. Maybe there were too many personal connections.
“I’m not the enemy,” Dr. Larson said.
“I know. I just . . . I need some time right now.”
He took a step back. “Well, I’ll be staying at the inn in town. If you need me, you can find me there. Or you can call, and I can be here in a few minutes. I’m staying until Thursday. I made the long trip here—there’s no need for me to turn around and go right back.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Guilt bit at Braden a moment. Had he overreacted? And was that overreaction a sign that Braden was on edge—on the verge of doing something destructive? He didn’t know.
“You’re welcome, Braden.”
After Dr. Larson walked away, Braden leaned against the frame of the porch.
Was he losing his mind? Was he the only one who couldn’t see it? Because he didn’t beat up that man. He wasn’t thinking about ending it all.
But everyone around him seemed to have a different perspective.
Dear Lord, please help me. Because maybe I am losing it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Against Lisa’s better judgment, she found herself at Braden’s place at 10:00 p.m. that evening. Blinding darkness surrounded her—darkness like that only found on an isolated island that jutted into the Atlantic. A place void of streetlights and filled with dark, empty houses. A sleepy community filled with pirate folklore and buried secrets from the past.
Before knocking on the door, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and felt the bullet casing there.
The one Braden had given her.
It reminds me of the battlefield. Of how hard that time in my life was, but how necessary for the bigger picture—the picture outside myself. When I think about that, it gives me the strength to make the right choices, even when those choices are unpleasant or hard.
Wes and Austin’s trucks were in the driveway, so Lisa knew she wouldn’t be here with Braden alone. She knew she probably shouldn’t be here at all. But she couldn’t not do anything.
She wouldn’t stay long—just long enough to get a better feel for the situation.
The voice in her head turned into Dr. Larson’s. His words echoed in her ears.
Sometimes we can do everything within our power to change someone. We can hope and believe. We can pour out our love. But that doesn’t change the fiber of who a person is. It doesn’t change their past or their reactions to the present.
Lisa didn’t want to believe that, though. Maybe it made her a fool. An optimist. Some might even say it made her stupid.
But she didn’t view Braden as a dog who’d lived on the streets too long and who’d never be normal.
And it angered her that anyone would think of Braden that way.
She’d seen Braden’s eyes—the windows to his soul, as some said. And she’d observed someone who was good and kind and compassionate.
In the end, she had to trust her gut and stop listening to everyone else’s voice.
Including John Linksi’s, something internal said.
That was right. Lisa had to shut out the voices of the critics also. She had to focus on the call God had placed on her life and the path she’d chosen to walk.
Life was too short to second-guess herself. To listen to naysayers. To not take risks.
Which could be why Lisa was here now.
She needed to take this risk.
She knocked at the door and, a moment later, Wes answered. His eyes widened, and he leaned against the doorframe, effectively blocking her from entering.
“Lisa. What are you doing here?”
“I want to be a part of this,” she announced, stepping under his arm.
Wes gently grabbed her wrist and lowered his voice. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea that you’re here.”
“I’m only staying for a little while.”
“Lisa . . .”
She raised a hand to stop his thought. “I know how it might seem. But I feel like I’m the only one here on this island who believes in Braden. I need to see for myself what’s going on.”
“Are you sure it’s not just because you have a crush on him?”
Lisa wanted to deny it. And to call it a crush seemed too superficial. What had happened between them was much more than that.
Or was it?
She and Braden had only known each other a few days. It was too short of a time period to be more than a crush.
Yet she knew her feelings went deeper than that.
“I’m sure,” she said.
Just then, Braden stepped from the hallway into the great room.
His eyes lit when he saw her. “Lisa.”
She nodded, resisting the urge to step toward him. “Braden.”
“What brings you here?”
She held up the bag in her hands. Food was always a great excuse to stop by. “I have more of that leftover pie. I’m trying to stop myself from eating too much of it.”
&
nbsp; “Leftover pie?”
Her heart sank. Of course he didn’t remember it. What had she been thinking?
“I was doing some experiments, and I thought you might all like to try some of them.”
“I’m always game.” Austin took the bag from her. “I don’t mind if I do.”
“Great. I’ll help serve it.”
She went into the kitchen and drew in a deep breath, hoping she didn’t regret any of this.
As Braden bit into his piece of apple pie, a flash of memory hit him.
A memory of the taste.
Of eating this pie.
As he closed his eyes, he saw blankets. Pillows. Candlelight.
He saw stars and darkness outside.
But it was the feeling in his gut that stood out the most.
A feeling of contentment and joy.
What . . . ?
Was this a memory? Or a dream?
He had no idea.
“What is it?” Lisa asked. She sat beside him at the kitchen table, only a bottle of water in front of her as she watched his face intently.
Wes and Austin had taken their pie and were talking quietly on the other side of the room—probably talking about him. But he didn’t care.
Braden shook his head. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve eaten this pie before . . . and somehow there’s a lot of joy surrounding the memory.”
A small smile played on Lisa’s lips. “Is that right? Maybe you have.”
He studied her, curious about her reaction. “Have I had this pie before?”
She nodded. “You have.”
“Was I with you?”
She nodded again. “You were.”
Lisa was one mystery he wanted to solve. Braden wanted to ask her if there had been more to their relationship. But, if there had been, wouldn’t she have told him? Why would he block all those memories out? It made no sense.
He pressed his lips together, deciding not to ask any more for now. Austin and Wes were here. Even though they were caught up in their own conversation about some possible new development on the island, this just didn’t feel like the time or place.
“This is really fantastic,” he told Lisa instead, eating his last bite.
Her cheeks reddened. “Thanks.”
As Wes and Austin joined them with empty plates, Braden cleared his throat. “Listen, I appreciate all of you being here for me. I realize you don’t really know me, and I know this isn’t convenient.”
“It’s not a problem,” Wes said. “We’d hope someone would do it for us if the roles were reversed.”
“I thought you should know that my therapist stopped by today.” Braden had to be honest with them. What if their lives were in danger? How would he ever forgive himself? He couldn’t. That was why he didn’t want to hold anything back.
“Is everything okay?” Lisa asked, her eyes holding an unreadable emotion. Concern? Maybe. But there was something more.
“I guess he felt like my condition was serious enough that it warranted a special trip out here to try and convince me to leave.” Braden paused and glanced at everyone here. “I felt like you all deserved the heads-up that he thinks I’m unstable. I’ll understand if no one wants to stay here this evening.”
“That’s why Wes and I are staying here together,” Austin said. “Safety in numbers.”
“I just don’t want to put either of you in a position that you shouldn’t be in.”
“We appreciate that,” Wes said. “But we’re in this. We want answers just as much as you.”
“I appreciate that.” Braden stood. “That said, let me get this cleaned up. And thank you all again.”
Lisa stood also. “You mind if I use your bathroom real quick before I go?”
“Not at all. You know where it is, right?”
“Right.”
Lisa stared at herself in the bathroom mirror a moment. Stared at her gaze, which was full of worry. Stared at the circles forming beneath her eyes.
The past few days were taking a toll on her. But it was mostly the fact that Braden had forgotten just how special the bond they’d shared had been.
And then there was Dr. Larson’s visit.
His warning.
All the uncertainties.
Yes, Lisa had just said life was too short to second-guess herself. But putting that into practice as an active belief was much harder than simply believing it.
She splashed some water on her face, grabbed a clean towel from the cabinet, and dried her face. As she did, the pill bottles on the counter caught her eye.
She knew she shouldn’t do it. But she still found herself picking one up.
The name of a medication she’d never seen—and that she definitely couldn’t pronounce—stared back.
What was this? And why was Braden taking so many? There must be eight different kinds of prescriptions here.
She was no expert in these things. If at all possible, she tried not to take medication. She believed that often the side effects were worse than the actual diagnosis.
But she understood that sometimes a person had no other choice. That medicines could save lives.
She wasn’t sure why, but she used her phone to take photos of the different pill bottle labels. She was going to do her own homework this evening.
Lisa knew she was crossing major boundaries by doing this. But she had to have some answers, and she hoped Braden would forgive her for digging into his business.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket. But guilt had already begun to eat away at her.
As she joined everyone else in the living room, she attempted to smile like nothing was wrong. “Well, I’ll be going. I hope things go well here tonight.”
“Do you mind if I walk you out?” Braden asked.
“No, that would be fine.” Actually, it delighted her.
They stepped outside, into the brisk darkness. Neither said anything as they walked down the stairs to the drive below. Down here, it was even darker. The stars and moonlight were concealed, making it either more romantic, more dangerous, or both.
Braden paused in front of her car, his eyes seeming to swim with questions. “Why do I feel like there’s more between us?”
Lisa’s breath caught. Even if Braden’s mind didn’t remember, his heart did, didn’t it?
Lisa said nothing. The words caught in her throat and wouldn’t exit.
Braden stepped nearer, the energy coming from him seeming to draw them closer. “There was, wasn’t there?”
Lisa nodded, even though the action took much more effort than it should have. “Yes, there was.”
“But those memories are blocked.”
“Yes, they are.”
He reached for her, his body bent in agony as he rasped, “I want to remember.”
“I want you to remember too.” Before she could question herself, she reached up and rested her hands on his face, relishing the feel of his scruffy beard beneath her fingers.
Braden seemed to instinctively put his hands on her waist and pull her even closer.
There was really nothing she could say. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and reached up for him. Lisa pressed her lips against his. Quickly—but long enough. And then she pulled away and stepped toward her car.
Her heart couldn’t handle going through this again. Of having him not remember. Of trying to remind him how great they’d been.
“Goodnight, Braden.” She opened her car door, about to step inside.
Braden stood there, a stupefied look on his face. He said nothing, only watched her.
But there was nothing left to be said.
Lisa climbed into her car and drove home, her thoughts battering her from the inside out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
First thing in the morning, Lisa called Wes. She wore the remnants of her sleepless night in the circles beneath her eyes and her limp hair. But she didn’t care.
She was showered and dressed and perched on her couch, anxious to jump i
nto the day. “How did things go last night?”
“It was fine,” Wes said, hints of weariness in his own voice. “Braden was in his bedroom all night. We didn’t hear anything from him. It was . . . uneventful.”
Lisa’s heart pounded in her ears. “That’s good news—right?”
“I guess so. We know he didn’t sneak out and wreak mayhem all over the island or commit any other crimes, for that matter.”
She released the air from her lungs. She’d take whatever information she could get. “Thanks for doing that, Wes. I appreciate it.”
“It’s not a problem. Austin and I are both going to run in a minute. Braden said he’s going to stay in today and try to rest.”
As soon as Lisa hung up with Wes, she called Doc Clemson. He was the island’s doctor—and, by default, the island’s medical examiner. But he was also a regular customer at the Crazy Chefette, and he’d grown to be a friend.
“What’s going on, Lisa? You have a new recipe you want to tell me about? I can help you name it. Heart Attack on a Plate. Acid Reflux but It’s Worth It. Shave Years Off Your Life but Die Happy.”
She chuckled—but barely. “Not quite. I actually have a question about some medication that I was hoping you could answer.”
“I can’t speak specifically about any patients of mine, you know.”
“Don’t worry—I’m not asking you to. These are just generic questions, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“You give me a piece of that apple pie Mac told me about, and you got it.”
Lisa smiled. “It’s a deal. This is what I’m wondering about.”
She read the names of the medications Braden was taking. She’d done her own research last night, but it had been hard to find definitive answers—especially about mixing medications. She knew she had to talk to someone in-the-know if she really wanted the truth.
Mixing ingredients for crazy food combinations? That was fun.
Mixing drugs? That was a recipe for disaster.
“Hmm . . . that’s an interesting mix you have going on there. I’m not sure what this is pertaining to, but I can say that those are drugs commonly used for anxiety, sleep, and pain.”
“So these are drugs you’re familiar with?”
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