By the time he returned, her food was hot, and she was getting comfortable in one of the bar chairs at the kitchen counter.
Once there, she realized she was missing water and started to get up.
“What do you need?” Leo asked.
“Water.”
Once again he moved to the fridge. The silhouette still nice, just not as distracting. “Sasha insisted on having sparkling.”
“That would be perfect,” she told him. “I think I prefer that.”
He twisted off the cap and set it down.
“Is there a glass?”
He stopped for a moment, smiled . . . then headed to a cupboard. He removed a tall wineglass and placed it in front of her.
“Thank you.”
She picked up her fork and looked at the plate of food. “What exactly is this?” she asked.
“It’s meatloaf. Pretty good, too.”
Olivia was sure she’d heard about meatloaf but couldn’t recall ever eating it. She sliced a small bite off, gave it a quick sniff first, then put it in her mouth. Ground beef, spices . . . almost like a savory hamburger patty only with gravy. “Not bad.”
Leo pulled out a chair beside her and sat. “That’s what I thought. Apparently, it’s Isaac’s specialty. Since we’re taking turns cooking, I have a feeling we’ll be eating this once a week.”
A forkful of potatoes was next.
One taste and she wanted to spit them out. “Oh . . . my.” She looked at her fork. “Potatoes?”
“The kind from a box.”
“Potatoes in a box? Is that possible?”
“Instant mashed potatoes. That doesn’t sound familiar?”
“Sounds awful.” She wiped her fork on the side of the plate and went back to the meatloaf. “Tastes worse.”
Leo smiled and watched her eat. “Interesting,” he said at one point.
“What’s that?”
“You hold your fork in your left hand.”
She looked at her hands. “That isn’t right?”
“No . . . it’s fine. A preference, I guess.”
She took another bite, feeling the edge of her hunger starting to fade. “I don’t know any of my preferences.” Her words paused, her thoughts drifting. “Isn’t that crazy? Like this meal. I know I’ve eaten a hamburger but can’t recall this. The oatmeal in the hospital . . . I ate it, knew what it was, and knew I had tasted better. But when and where I’d eaten oatmeal before . . . I have no idea.”
Leo tilted his head to the side. “That must feel awful.”
“Frustrating.” She closed her eyes, left her knife on her plate, pinched her thumb and index finger together, and brought them in front of her face. “It’s right there. I think it’s all right there, but I can’t seem to sift through the files to find it.” She opened her eyes, dropped her hand to her lap. “When we arrived here, I smelled the pine trees, thought of Christmas lights and snow but couldn’t remember one single Christmas.”
“The doctors said it will come back.”
“They also said the memory loss is a protective thing. What if I remember and something awful is there?” She looked up when Leo stayed silent.
His eyes were razor sharp, his lips pressed together, and his breathing had picked up.
Distress and worry oozed from him about something she’d just said.
He blinked. “It isn’t every day you get shot. That would prove difficult for most people to process.”
She couldn’t help but conclude he was thinking something else when those words came out.
Or maybe she was just imagining things. Everything and everyone was unfamiliar. Maybe the emotions weren’t right either.
“Clearly I’m not going to remember anything today,” she said as she picked up her utensils.
“Want my advice?”
“Sure.” She took another bite.
“Let it go. Don’t think about it. Just do what feels right and don’t question it. And when things start to come back, talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
“Easier said than done.”
Leo laughed. “Yeah, it sounded like a load of shit as I was saying it.”
Olivia laughed along with him. The movement in her chest caught just a little, and she placed her free hand on her side.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay. It’s better, actually. Much. Maybe the fresh mountain air will help.”
“It can’t hurt.” He leaned back in his chair and appeared to catch himself staring at her and looked away.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“One in the morning.”
She lifted a forkful of green beans to her mouth. “What are you doing up?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Considering the handful of hours I’ve slept in the past month, I should be facedown in a bed for a week.