my surface, beyond my new darker hair. A chill scurried over my arms and legs as silently he stripped away my rebuttal.
“Reid, it must have been the sleeping pills.”
“You did know an Anna, Lorna. You worked with her.”
I shook my head and walked toward the kitchen. “Oh yeah.” My dismissive tone reflected my desire to end this conversation. “That was a long time ago and even so, I haven’t thought of her, well...since I left that fleabag hotel.”
My stomach twisted as memories returned, ones I’d cast aside when Mason moved me to this tower.
Inhaling, my husband’s wide chest inflated as his expression grimaced. “I’m not Laurel. I don’t understand how memories work or how they can be recalled. Last night, after you were asleep, I asked Mason about Anna.”
Spinning in place, I slapped my hands on the countertop of the breakfast bar and looked into the living room. “If you have questions about me, ask me. Again, I’m not made of glass. And I’ll answer. There’s nothing to recall. She was a bitch of a manager.”
“You said you remembered smells and being told you were pretty like your mother.”
Simply hearing his words caused my already-twisted stomach to drop and my skin to feel tight. “No, you’re wrong.”
“I know what I heard.”
“Maybe you were dreaming, or you’re delusional. Or maybe I was. I’m still fighting memories or the drug that’s blocking them. Those thoughts and confusion are caused from recent events, not twenty-five years ago.”
With concerted effort, my husband moved his feet from the sofa and slowly stood.
“Stop, you need to rest.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as he slowly came my way.
“Last night, you said that Nancy told you rape only involves intercourse.”
This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have or thoughts I wanted to entertain. My mouth felt unusually dry. Spinning toward the sink, I reached for a glass from the cupboard above and after turning on the faucet, filled the glass, listening to the water instead of the man coming nearer. As I drank, my ears filled with the pounding of my pulse thundering in my ears.
As I put the empty glass on the counter, Reid’s words penetrated my thoughts, coming in fragments or syllables.
Reaching for my shoulders, he spun me until I was facing him. “Lorna, are you listening to me?”
Even though I nodded, my truthful answer was no. I wasn’t listening. I was watching his full lips, knowing their movement as they spoke my name, imagining their taste when we kissed, or their power of persuasion when that kiss deepened. Leaning toward him, I stood taller on my tiptoes and brought my lips to his. When I backed away, I feigned a smile. “Let’s not talk about this. You should rest.”
“Lorna, you lived in Englewood when you were young.”
My head shook as I rubbed my suddenly cooled hands together. “I lived in a lot of places when I was young.”
“His name was Gordon Maples.”
The shaking of my head increased in speed. “He wasn’t significant. I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Gordon Maples didn’t deny my accusation.”
“Stop.” I stepped farther into the kitchen. “I should make us dinner.”
Reid’s strong hands were again grasping my shoulders. “Lorna, you were a child. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No. No.” My pitch rose above his deep tenor. “Stop talking about it. We can’t discuss it.”
Oh God, I remembered his yellow teeth and dirty hands.
The stench of him.
Reaching for the collar of my top, I pulled it up, stretching it over my lips and nose as my shoulders rolled forward, and I looked down at the floor.
Our floor wasn’t like his. Our home was clean. There were no stacks of empty beer cans, no stains on the carpet, and no piles of dirty laundry.
With veiled eyes, I peered up at my husband. “Please, Reid.”
“Talk to me, Lorna. God, I want to help you.”
The room blurred as I sniffled, pushing my blouse down from my face. “This isn’t helping me. I haven’t thought about...” Would saying the words aloud bring the darkness back?
“He hurt you.”
“He hurt everyone including Mason and Nancy.”
Reid’s arms surrounded me, securing my arms to my sides as he pulled me against his hard chest. Tucking my head under his chin, he enveloped me—captured me. As my eyes closed, I was surrounded by his warmth, the rhythm of his breathing, and the lingering scent of his cologne. His baritone voice and steady cadence vibrated his chest as he spoke. “Lorna, I’m not trying to upset you. Fuck, I’d do