somehow, laughter just takes more out of me.
Fine, Mr. Sea Glass. I’ll play along.
I close my eyes and tell myself I’ll just relax for a few minutes.
When I wake up, there’s a light throw blanket covering me from head to toe.
I tuck it under my chin and close my eyes again, just for a few minutes, waiting for the last dregs of drowsiness to pass. Maybe it’s my memory, trying to shine through like headlights through a thick, soupy fog.
There’s something right on the edge of my mind.
Something significant.
The accident again?
It’s this quiet, needling urgency. Like my brain needs to work now to fend off disaster.
I reach up and press my palms to my temples, fighting this dread sinking weight in my belly.
“Val?”
I open my eyes. Flint stands next to my chair with a glass of tea.
“Yeah, just waking up. I’m fine.” Savanny is still sleeping on my legs and I don’t want to disturb him, so I carefully fold back the blanket and take the glass.
“You sure?” His gaze cuts through me.
There’s no point in hiding it. I’m very not fine.
After a couple long refreshing sips, I ask, “The accident...were you there with me?”
“No,” he says slowly, tilting his head. “I was tied up.”
It’s still there. That hint of something heavy.
I feel like the steady, resonate slap of the ocean washing ashore in the distance just makes it stronger. It has to do with water. Lots of water.
“What was I doing out there, anyway? You said it was a boat. Do I work with boats? Or shipping? Do I spend a lot of time on the water?” I feel like I’m searching, grasping for another memory nugget, but I can’t quite find it.
He takes the glass from me, thankfully.
My hands are shaking. I look down and see goosebumps covering my arms.
Holy hell. Why would a few easy questions do this?
“You getting another inkling?” he asks.
“I don’t know, actually.” I press a hand to my forehead. “Almost.”
I shake my head. Frustrated and a little scared.
“Easy, babe. You do too much thinking before you’re ready and it’ll just get you pissed all over again.”
“I know. I just...I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like that annoying little blue circle thing on the computer or TV when something’s trying to load. That’s my grey matter. Searching, but not finding a connection. Everything just spins.”
“Don’t let it spin. Clear your head.”
“I’m trying, Flint. My mind kinda has its own plan.” Sigh. I have to know more. “It might help if you’d drop a few hints. Like...where do I work? I mean, do I have a career? A passion for something? Protecting something, maybe? It’s strange, but I feel like it’s important. Something to do with the ocean. I don’t know. Fish? Coral? Turtles?”
None of that clicks, but it’s close. I know it is.
The urge to lend a helping hand has never been stronger. But to who, or what?
He’s staring at me oddly. It makes my heart skip a beat. Air doesn’t want to stay in my lungs. I have to suck it in hard, consciously breathing.
Then he sits down on the chair beside me and takes my hand. “You’re working yourself into a tizzy, Val. I know it’s shit, I know you’re freaked, I know it must be frustrating as hell just waiting around for your head to get sorted. But, babe, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”
“But why won’t you tell me something? One little clue, Flint.” The tears finally come, burning my face. “It’s scaring me to death. Not knowing. The way you seem so...I don’t know, indifferent?”
“No. That’s not even half of it,” he growls. “I’m just trying like fuck to make sure you don’t wind up hurt again. Maybe you’re right about me holding some cards close to my chest. I’m just doing what Cash said. You want the truth?”
“Please. I’d like that a lot,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.
For a second, the shine in his eyes disappears as he looks down. But when his gaze comes back to me, his eyes are brighter than ever, drunk on determination.
He holds the tall glass to my lips. “Take a sip. Let me think.”
So I do, taking a drink. I don’t think it’s just mango tea that eases my fears, but they slowly subside.
It’s driving me insane.
I can’t tell why he’s acting this way—if he’s acting any kind of way at all.
I can’t be sure of anything when I barely remember my own freaking husband.
How do I know