at my lips as my mind flashes to orange flame, churning water, me screaming for Savanny through this dark, fierce chaos. It makes me cringe.
“You okay?” Flint asks.
I nod glumly, but then ask, “Do you know the men after me?”
He shakes his head. “Not personally. They were wearing the symbols of a local group, though. Real shady assholes.”
“Do you know why they’re after me? What they want?”
He looks at me intently for a moment, then says, “You didn’t do anything. Let me carry Savanny out to Bryce, then I’ll come back and tell you what I do know.”
I nod, watching him walk over to the cat. Flint shouts to Bryce, who turns his paddleboard around and moves closer to shore. Flint picks up Savanny and carries him into the water, and I notice his back then.
Scars. Terrible ones, round and glinting in the sun, as if he’d laid on something scalding hot a long time ago.
Only, they seem too deliberate, too orderly to be from an accident.
God. Did...did someone do this to him?
He sets Savanny on the front of Bryce’s board. The cat sprawls out and holds his head up like he’s turned into the figurehead on the bow of a boat.
It’s so silly it makes me smile.
Just for a second, I’m able to forget what I saw.
Then my stomach churns again. King Heron Fishing.
That’s why those men are after me. Something to do with my family’s company.
Whatever it is, it’s bad. I place both palms on my temples and press down. Something has to help me remember.
“Need another pain pill, Val?” Flint’s voice. He’s back.
I blink, opening my eyes.
I shake my head. “No, just trying to remember.”
“Don’t.” He sits down beside me. “Cash warned you not to stress, and you’ve been through the wringer today no thanks to my lying ass.”
I drop my hands.
“Yeah, about that...can we stop being vague?” I instantly feel guilty about snapping at him. It’s not his fault. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just so maddening. Almost like I can sense how a memory made me feel, but I can’t hold on to the finer parts. I can’t remember it, not entirely. Does that make sense?”
“Sure. Like when you get a whiff of something, cologne or bacon, say. You just know it reminds you of somebody or something, but you can’t always pin it down.”
“Exactly.” I sigh. “That’s my brain on amnesia.”
“Sounds fucking rough,” he growls, a sincerity in his tone that makes me feel weirdly appreciated.
Sighing again, I prop my hands on the towel and lean back. “It’s my family, isn’t it? They have something these people want. It has to do with King Heron.”
“That’s what I’ve gathered, yeah. You remember anything else?”
“No. It’s just a hunch at this point.”
“I’ve been looking into it. Trying to follow up on leads with Cash, but I haven’t uncovered much.” He puts his arms behind him and stretches, looking way too much like a regal lion in the sun.
“Will you tell me when you do?”
He hesitates. “You sure you want me to, or would you rather wait until you remember more?”
“I’m not sure. I know it sounds crazy, but…I really don’t know. It’s like the answer scares me, and I don’t know why. Who wouldn’t want to know why their life is such a flaming mess?”
He nods, brushing his hands together, wiping off sand. “Give it some time. I keep saying it, but knowing or not knowing won’t change shit right now. It might make you try to remember harder, something you shouldn’t be doing today.”
Tired of talking about me, and somewhat afraid he’s going to stand up, I ask, “So where’s Bryce’s mother?”
“She died.” It comes out of his mouth easy and point-blank.
“Oh.” Empathy rises inside me and I try to hide my surprise. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He’s better off without her.”
Wow, what? It’s so..ld. I’m frozen.
Flint must see it on my face now since he grimaces slightly.
“Yeah, I know. Makes me sound like a real asshole, but the woman cared more about her next high than she ever cared for him. He was nothing but a pawn. A bargaining chip to get what she wanted out of me. I got full custody of him before he was three, and thankfully, he doesn’t remember much about her.”
My lip tucks into my teeth. My heart splinters, caving in a few more pieces.
“I can’t imagine. This world is full of all kinds,” I say, fighting the urge to ask him if he’d loved her.
None of my business, clearly, but