CHAPTER FIVE
“You don't know who you are?”
Skeptical would have been a kind way to describe the man’s rough timbre. Annoyed – exasperated, even – would have been better descriptors.
I hesitantly shook my head.
“What’s that even mean?” he demanded. “Don’t tell me you’re some hopeless hippie who got lost in the woods trying to find yourself.”
“No…” I denied, but anything else I longed to say got stuck on my tongue.
“Then what? Surely you can’t mean…” he trailed off, and I watched as the crease in the center of his forehead deepened, a crack forming in what had been his immediate reaction to my declaration: denial.
“The last thing I remember clearly,” I confirmed slowly – carefully, “is waking up in your bed.” I couldn’t stop a flush from heating my face at the words and knew my cheeks must have been colored pink.
A pause.
“You’re telling me that you really don't know your name? Where you came from? Nothing?” Derek clarified in a voice steadier than I felt.
I swallowed. “No.”
I wasn’t sure if the tense set of his shoulders was due to the fact he thought I was lying or he believed me. His eyes drilled into mine like they could somehow pull the truth from them by staring alone. “Who’s the president?” he demanded suddenly – briskly.
I blinked at the seemingly out-of-place question. “Uh… Barack Obama, right? He’s our first African American commander-in-chief.”
His eyes narrowed. “And who won the World Series last year?”
“Why…?” I asked, but stopped myself before my mouth could form the rest of the question. I frowned, suspecting I knew where this was going. “The Royals, I think?”
His eyebrows rose. “But you didn't know it was July?” he demanded, voice drenched in cynicism.
“I knew it was 2016,” I defended myself before shrugging, “or I was pretty sure, anyway. I just wasn’t certain if it was spring or summer.” I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath in through my nose. “Look, I know how it sounds, alright? But I know things – common knowledge things – like that Washington is a part of the U.S. and that its capital is Olympia. I know who Oprah Winfrey is and Harry Potter. I know that two plus two is four and that gorillas are critically endangered. I just… I just don’t remember anything about myself.”
Derek snorted. “Right,” he agreed, green eyes flashing. “You expect me to believe that you know all that, but you can’t remember something as simple as your name or favorite color?”
My eyes flitted back down to my lap where I had folded my hands in an attempt to keep myself from fiddling nervously with my fingers. “Well, if it helps… I think I might have an affinity for green,” I said, hating how shy I sounded.
My face positively burned, and I hoped he didn’t associate my statement with the fact that he had striking, dark emerald eyes. I could feel his gaze where he continued to stare intently at the side of my head. When he finally looked away, focusing his attention on the windshield, I was filled with a rush of relief… and okay, maybe a bit of disappointment.
He sighed. Then… “Do you even know how old you are?” he asked in a strange, strangled sort of tone.
My eyes shot back over to him, and this time it was me staring at his profile. He almost sounded like he believed me. Trying to keep the hope I could feel rising in my chest at bay, I focused on his question. How old was I? “Well…” I said, uneasily.
He immediately picked up on my uncertainty. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, digging his palms into his eyes sockets with something akin to frustrated disbelief. “You’re just a kid.”
Something inside of me snapped at the derogatory way he spit out the word “kid”.
“No,” I bit out sharply, surprising even myself at how firmly I asserted it. “I’m not a kid. I think I would know. I mean…” I paused, thrown for a moment by the intensity of his stare as he lowered his hands, and his eyes once again found mine. “I’m pretty sure I’m eighteen, at least,” I finished weakly.
He snorted. “Eighteen, at least,” he repeated, shaking his head. It was obvious that he considered anyone that age a kid, too. Which was a bit ridiculous, considering he didn’t look any older than thirty. “I should take you straight to the damn sheriff’s office, that’s what I should do. Hell, maybe even the hospital if you think you suffered some kind of traumatic brain injury.”
“No!”
The intensity of my reaction surprised even myself.
“No?” he repeated, his thick eyebrows shooting up incredulously. “What makes you think you have a say?”
I swallowed, trying to force the jackhammering heart that had jumped into my throat at the thought of him dropping me off somewhere alone again back where it belonged. “I can’t explain it,” I said, trying to do just that, “but something inside me tells me… well, I could have gone with Officer Ash, couldn’t I have? At the bar? But I didn’t. I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I bit my lip, forcing my eyes to stay connected with his, hoping he could somehow see how intent I was on this. “Please don’t take me to the police station or hospital, Derek.”
It was the first time I’d said his name aloud, and it tasted desperate on my tongue, resonating in the air between us like a plea.
The sternness of his brow softened for just a moment at the sound of it. He sighed. “Don’t you think someone’s looking for you?” he asked, lowering his voice, almost like he was talking to a scared animal instead of a human girl – me.
“Maybe,” I acknowledged before pausing. “But… what if it’s no one good?”
It was a feeling that had been hanging over me since I’d woken up in Derek’s cabin – a sense of imminent danger that was as illogical as it was tangible, trailing after me like a shadow.
Even though I had no memory of how I’d ended up on Derek’s property, some deeply ingrained instinct told me that I had been running from something – someone, even. The only problem was that I had no idea who. As illogical as it was, Derek made me feel safe. Regardless of the fact that he was a virtual stranger, something about him made that sensation looming on the edge of my consciousness, begging to be acknowledged… well, he made it go away.
“Are you trying to say you think someone’s after you?” Derek demanded, any softness I’d thought I’d seen in his expression disappearing in the blink of an eye. “Is that how you wound up in the woods? Did… did someone hurt you?” He sounded incensed, his grip tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles were bone white. Although I strongly suspected his anger wasn’t directed at me, I fought the urge to sink into my seat in the face of it.
“I… I don't know,” I admitted quietly.
Derek’s jaw clenched at my non-answer, the muscle in his cheek ticking. “You don't know much of anything, do you?”
My chest tightened, and stupid, traitorous tears sprang into my eyes at the remark. “You’re right; I don’t,” I snapped, blinking furiously in an attempt to hold back the waterworks. “You know what? Forget I said anything. I-I’m sorry for bothering you, but you’ll be pleased to know that you don’t have to worry about me any longer.” I blindly reached for the door handle, fumbling with the cold metal for a moment before successfully pushing open the heavy truck door. “I’ll just go and… and I’ll…”
And I’ll what?
I had no idea.
“No!”
Thankfully, I was saved from having to elaborate by Derek reaching across the space of the cab, his hand moving faster than my eyes could follow. He snatched my left wrist, his long fingers easily wrapping around its circumference, his thumb coming to rest over my pulse.
I was sure he could feel my fluttering heartbeat under the calloused digit.
“Look,” he said, voice strained, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…” he paused, his face twisting into a grimace like he was flabbergasted by what was about to come out of his mouth, “you can stay with me at my cabin if you want. At least until you figure out who you are or someone shows up looking for you.”
Despite the conflict playing out across his face, his grip on my wrist was firm – unyielding, even – and I knew he meant what he said.
Hope blossomed in my chest. “Really?” I asked, unable to stop myself from double-checking. A safe place to stay until I could figure out what I was going to do? The offer seemed too good to be true, even if the man I’d be living with did seem like an incurable grump.
“If you stay out of my way,” the man – Derek – confirmed. (I supposed I should start referring to him by his name if I was going to be staying with him for the foreseeable future.)
“I will, I swear,” I hastened to assure him, hoping he could hear the sincerity – the earnestness – in my voice. “It’ll be like I’m not even there.”
Derek sighed. “Right.” And then lower, under his breath as he hesitantly released my wrist. “Somehow, I doubt that.”