“Yes, they are.” She smiled hesitantly and found my nametag. “I’m Thea Hughes.”
Seven. Seven times now.
“Jim Whelan,” I said.
She offered her hand. Again. I took it robotically, enduring her one-pump shake. Again. Her fingers didn’t linger in mine but released immediately, the way you do with a stranger.
“Nice to meet you, Jim Whelan.”
Fuck. I can’t do this.
I rose to my feet. “I have to get to work.”
Her face fell. “Oh. Bummer. Will I see you again?”
I could promise her I would, but she wouldn’t remember. There was no promise. I could tell her the sky was falling or my name was Abraham Lincoln and she wouldn’t know the damn difference. It’d vanish, like every other word we’d ever spoken to each other. I vanished every time her reset hit and was recreated over again in Thea’s eyes. I could be whatever I wanted; whomever I wanted. And yet she was the one woman I might’ve had a chance to be myself with.
The terrible irony of it was like copper in my mouth.
“Sure, Miss Hughes,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 5
Thea
(five minutes earlier)
I open my eyes for the first time.
A beautiful man sits across from me. Strong and built. His hands are large, his knuckles scarred. His biceps and forearms are cut with lean muscle. He’s wearing white. A uniform?
At the next table sits an old man with a dent in his head.
Am I in a hospital?
Yes, because there was an accident and now I’m back.
Jesus, how long have I been away?
My heart pounds and blood rushes to my ears. My hand is clutching a pen and my knuckles hurt. It’s hard to breathe. There was the accident, and now I’m here in this room. But how long between then and now? How did I get here? How much time have I lost?
“How long has it been?” I ask the beautiful man.
“Two years,” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper. “But the doctors are working on your case.”
He’s right. The doctors are working on my case. That’s one of the Things I Know.
My name is Thea Hughes.
There’s been an accident.
The doctors are working on my case.
This man knew that, which means he must know me somehow. My hands unclench a little.
“Yes,” I say. “They are.”
But two years? God, I’ve been away a long time, but I’m back now. I ease a sigh of relief and the panic ebbs. Still, I can’t find… something. Something is lost and I need to find it. If only I knew what it was.
I find the guy’s nametag. Jim.
Jim is beautiful. And sexy. His sexiness is like a black leather jacket—it makes any outfit look good on him. He doesn’t sprawl in the chair, doesn’t man-spread like he owns the furniture or like he’s commanding the room to pay attention to him. His posture is quiet, arms crossed on the table, shoulders a little hunched. He doesn’t know how sexy he is, which makes him even more delicious. I fight a crazy urge to press my face into the crook of his neck and inhale him. Can’t help it. I haven’t been touched in forever. No sex. No food. No drink. Nothing.
Instead, I offer my hand. Delia is always yapping at me to be polite. And not that I mind touching this guy. “I’m Thea Hughes.”
He sounds almost disappointed as he answers, “Jim Whelan.”
Even his name is sexy. Masculine. Solid. But a softness lurks in him, making him more like a Jimmy than a Jim. I’m about to say so when a sudden, pained look crosses his handsome features and he rises to his feet.
“I have to get to work.”
Disappointment bites me deep. I don’t like being alone. A silence loiters on the outskirts of Jim and me—tight and airless—and it’s so scary.
“Oh. Bummer,” I say casually, hiding my desperation. “Will I see you again?”
Please say yes, Jimmy Whelan.
He hesitates, his dark eyes gazing intently into mine. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, I want him to find it.
“Sure, Miss Hughes,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Then the beautiful, handsome man in a white uniform gets up and walks away.
I miss him already. I wish he’d come back. He has such kind eyes. Built like a brick wall with a sturdy jaw shaded with stubble, yet he’s not intimidating to me. He’s a good man. I want to keep talking to him.