morning because he’d found me, and what else I might have interrupted today. I didn’t actually know anything about Holden, no matter how much I felt like I did.
Then his hands slid down to my neck to dab at something, and I convulsed, pulling away before I even knew what I was doing. I swallowed a yell, but couldn’t stop myself from scooting away and bringing a hand up to hover in front of my neck protectively.
Holden held his hands up, his eyes wide. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I should have realized—I’m sorry.”
I breathed hard, watching him warily and trying to find that thick braid of trust I’d felt moments ago. It hadn’t hurt, Holden touching my neck, but just the whisper of someone’s hand there had filled me with an animal terror.
“I’ll uh—I’ll let you do the rest.” Holden stood up quickly. “You’ll want to—I mean, I shouldn’t—that is, you wouldn’t want—yeah. I’ll be—I mean, if you need me, I’m, uh. Downstairs. You’ll—you’ll figure it out.”
With a final stammer, he backed out of the room, leaving me staring at him slack-jawed.
Shit.
I hadn’t meant to react like that. But nothing about my body’s reactions had been predictable since waking up. I looked at Frog helplessly, but all he did was lift a leg and begin washing himself in a very salacious manner.
At least someone was enjoying himself.
Grimacing, I forced myself off the bed. All I wanted to do was collapse and pass out for approximately a million years, but with all the bloodstained tissues and comments Holden had made, I needed to look at myself in a mirror.
When I hobbled to the far side of the bookcase though, I wished I hadn’t.
Holden was right. I was in rough shape. I was wearing a sweater that might have been blue and white at one point, but was now a dark, watery gray, and jeans that had twisted around my legs, molding themselves to my calves like a stiff, painful second skin. Both articles of clothing were torn, like someone had raked a pitchfork over me, and there was a rip across the bottom of my right sock.
But that was nothing next to my body.
I was covered in cuts and bruises. My face, my hands—my neck. Fuck, no wonder I’d freaked out.
My neck was marbled and dark, like someone had spilled a bottle of ink across it and fingerpainted in the mess they’d made.
I brought a hand to my throat and placed it against my skin. Only for an instant, but it was enough to make my lungs seize up. I dropped it immediately.
Had someone strangled me?
I looked like I’d been beaten up by an elephant. A herd of elephants. My left shoulder ached like it was trying to declare secession from the rest of my body, and my throat felt like someone had poured lava down it.
Tears leaked from my eyes as I regarded myself. What the hell was I going to do?
I looked so pitiful, standing there crying, and after a moment, I shook my head. I wasn’t going to give up like this. I wasn’t going to just sit around crying. I might not know who I was, but that just meant I got to decide who I wanted to be.
I wanted to be someone who was strong. Someone who wasn’t the kid Holden saw. Someone who could handle what life threw at him—even if what it threw was an ass-beating, a case of amnesia, and a disturbingly hot rescuer who seemed to want me gone.
Stumbling back to bed, I lay down on my back and pulled up the bottom of my sweater a few inches. A mottled bruise the color of blackberries spread across my abdomen. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what the rest of me looked like.
Frog crawled up next to me and sniffed at my skin before pulling away like I reeked. I probably did.
I needed a shower. And a computer, or a newspaper, or something to help me start searching for answers. I needed my life to stop smelling like saltwater and memory loss.
I’d get up in a moment and find a bathroom. Some spare towels. Maybe a change of clothes. I’d find Holden and ask him to point me to a computer.
I just needed to lie down for a moment first and catch my breath. Just close my eyes for a second. Just rest for a minute.
Sleep rolled over me like a wave, pulling me into the deep.