Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I laugh harder.
Ledger smiles just barely and it warms me.
Then, as I walk past a tray of cooling pastries, something happens.
A spark. A flash.
A sensation.
Me, laughing. Flour on my cheek. He is leaning against the counter, teasing me about burning something. My hand swatting at him playfully. His fingers catching my wrist gently. My body coming alive. His mouth brushing my temple—
I gasp and grab the table for support.
“Kelly?” Ally rushes toward me.
Ledger is on me faster.
He’s at my side instantly, steadying me by the waist. “What happened? Pain?”
“No,” I breathe. “I remembered something.”
Both of them go still.
“What?” Riot asks, voice rough.
“It was small. A moment. You were here. Leaning right there.” I point to a spot near the counter. “And I had flour on my face. And you kissed me.”
Heat creeps up my neck. Ledger’s eyes darken with something intense. Something raw.
“That happened,” he shares softly.
The electricity between us crackles again. He steps closer, too close, then stops himself, jaw clenching.
Ally looks between us, eyes narrowing knowingly. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
She disappears to the front. The bakery feels suddenly quieter, warmer, too full of something I can’t name. Ledger keeps a careful hand near my waist as I steady myself. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Better than okay.”
He searches my face. “You sure? That memory, did it hurt?”
“No. It felt good.” I swallow and tell him the truth. “Like something important. Like we had something special.”
Something shifts in his gaze a softness mixed with pain.
“You asked me earlier if we ever had real dates,” he says. “We didn’t. But we came here together after closing sometimes, before you opened other days. Sat at that table.” He points to the small round table near the window. “Drank coffee. Talked.”
“Talked about what?” I inquire.
He hesitates. “Things you cared about. Your family. The bakery. Your dreams. All kinds of things from the little to the big and everything in between.”
I tilt my head. “And what about you? Did you talk?”
A corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Not much to say, Sunshine.”
“So I babbled at you?”
“You didn’t babble,” he murmurs. “You talked. And I listened. I liked listening.”
My stomach warms. We’re standing too close now. Close enough that if I inhale a little deeper, I’ll feel the heat from his chest. Close enough that the tension between us wraps around my ribs like silk and barbed wire.
“Ledger,” I whisper.
His eyes drop to my mouth. Just barely. But I see it. Feel it. I want him to kiss me.
He takes a slow breath, steps back half an inch, enough to cool the moment, not enough to break the connection completely.
“We should go,” he admits, voice thick. “Too many eyes here.”
“Eyes?”
“Can’t be sure you weren’t followed.”
A chill runs through me bringing me back to reality. He walks me to the truck, hand steady at my lower back. The moment we’re inside and the doors are shut, I finally ask the question brewing in my chest:
“Ledger, were we more than friends?”
His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.
“We were,” He exhales. “something.”
“Something what?”
“Something that couldn’t be labeled. Something I wasn’t ready for,” he admits. “Something you deserved more of.”
“And now?” I ask softly.
He looks at me, really looks, his gaze traveling over my face like he’s memorizing every line for the second time in his life.
Now hangs thick between us.
“Now,” he states roughly, “I just want you safe.”
I swallow hard. “And after that?”
He doesn’t answer.
But the look in his eyes does. The silence in the truck is loud with things we’re not ready to say out loud. My heart pounds.
Because even without my memories…I know one truth, being near him feels right.
It’s like coming home to a place I’ve never been and somehow have missed all my life.
Eleven
Ledger
Whoever is behind this picked the wrong prey to hunt.
* * *
I don’t take the truck straight back to the cabin.
I should.
That’s the protocol.
Bring Kelly to a safe place, secure the perimeter, notify Chux, update Nitro to know the camera movements. I’ve done this dance a hundred times with a dozen people under our protection.
But none of them have been her. None of them made my hands shake the way they are on the wheel right now. None of them made my chest tight with a fear I don’t want to name.
Instead, I circle the block twice. Check for tails. Monitor every reflection in every shop window. Scan every car that idles too long. I feel her watching me the entire time, quiet, nervous, trusting.
When I’m finally convinced no one followed, I pull toward the clubhouse.
Kelly shifts in her seat. “This isn’t the cabin.”
“No,” I confirm, scanning the lot. “We need to make a stop.”
“You mean you need to,” she says.
“I don’t leave you anywhere alone.”
She looks out the window, swallowing. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t escape me.
“You’re safe,” I add quietly.