CHAPTER 9
“This was delivered to the precinct, sir. It’s your personal effects from the accident site. My beat is right around here, so I thought I’d drop it off. Sorry it took so long.” The young uniform cop shrugged. “You know how it goes.”
I nodded as I took the box from him. “Thank you.”
“Have a nice day.” He turned to walk back down the hallway but hesitated. “We don’t usually make house calls for backpacks, sir. You were in paramedic training with my brother at UCLA, and I think you ran into each other again recently? Charlie Buchanan.”
I glanced at the name tag on his uniform. N. Buchanan. I knew this kid had looked familiar. He was a younger, more wiry version of his brother.
“Nick, right? You here to arrest me? Because if so, you’re going the wrong way.” I raised an eyebrow at him.
He smirked. “We don’t make a habit of arresting decorated firefighters for exercising their right to leave a hospital AMA, sir. Or any, um, accidental property damage. My brother’s ego rivals the size of his student loans these days, but his heart’s in the right place.”
I cracked a grin in spite of myself. “Noted.”
After the younger Buchanan left, I went back inside to the kitchen counter and sat on a stool while I started to dig through the box. According to the police report, which I’d read the other day courtesy of Lucas and his sources, the crash site spanned over half a mile. No casualties but a few other injuries and a shit ton of damage. Mine was the only motorcycle involved, and that was probably why everyone else walked away.
Pulling my helmet from the box, I grimaced. The entire left side was scraped to hell, dented, cracked, and the strap severed where they had cut it off of me on the side of the road. I turned it in my hand, examining it thoroughly.
“I must have nine lives,” I muttered to myself. Well, maybe only seven now. Or six. Five, at least.
The sound of Avery’s key in the lock made me jump to my feet, the helmet still in my hand. I didn’t want her to see this. The dent in the side of that helmet would do nothing to reassure her that someday her husband might remember what life was like when they were in love. I shoved the helmet in a cabinet above the refrigerator and came out of the kitchen just as she and Annabelle walked in.
“Hey,” I greeted them, taking the pizza box and to-go bag from Avery’s hands. Her cheeks flushed when I smiled at her, but when I leaned forward to kiss her cheek, she stiffened.
“Hi,” she replied hesitantly.
Damn. I really thought we’d made progress the other day when she was ill.
“Fox!” Annabelle threw herself at me and I just barely got the food on the counter in time to catch her. “You’re home!”
Avery stepped forward like she wanted to take Annabelle from me, but I turned quickly with the little girl still in my arms. If I could make things somewhat normal for Annabelle, I would.
“Hey, Bells,” I said, remembering the nickname I’d heard Avery use.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed, and I flinched a little. My left shoulder separation was still healing, but at least the pain was mostly manageable now.
“Careful of my bionic shoulder, okay?” I shifted her to the other side and tickled her ribs.
“Annabelle, don’t climb all over Fox, please.” Avery’s voice was still tired, worried. I’d rarely heard it any other way. At least, not that I could remember, and I hated that.
Avery went over to where I’d set the food and started to open the bag, pulling out packets of parmesan cheese and plastic utensils. “Are you hungry?” she asked me.
“Sure.” I set Annabelle down and she ran into the living room. “Smells good.”
“It’s just pizza,” Avery said softly.
I’d eaten enough pizza in my self-imposed solitude to make me never want to taste another slice, but I’d binge the whole pie if it’d make her happy. I used to make this girl smile. I knew I had. I also knew I’d been a dick since I woke up in the hospital, and that my previous radio silence hadn’t gone a long way to convince her that I wanted her and Annabelle here with me.
And I did.
My mind might not have remembered her, but the rest of me never forgot. Every time we were within three feet of each other, I felt like her body was actually touching mine. I was aware of every breath she took, of the erratic beat of her heart, of her pupils widening when she looked at me. She was as engrained in my skin as the angry marks left by the road — a part of me now forever.
I touched her bare shoulder lightly, felt her shiver. “I got my things. From the accident,” I elaborated when she looked up at me. “My backpack, some other stuff.”
She nodded, waiting for me to continue.
“I was thinking, after Annabelle is in bed, we could go through the box? Maybe help me figure out what I’m looking at?” I waited for her response. It would serve me right if she said no.
“Sure.” It wasn’t enthusiastic, but it was affirmative.
I blew out a breath. “Thanks.”
* * *
I poured coffee for myself and set a teabag to steep in a cup of steaming hot water for Avery. Carrying both mugs in one hand, I hefted the cardboard box with the other and headed out into the living room, ignoring my weak-ass shoulder. Can’t expect things to right themselves on their own, I heard the General say in my head. Takes hard work.
I was willing to put it in, the hard work. Avery was worth it. Annabelle was worth it. I just needed Avery to believe me, and to somehow take that look out of her eyes, the one that said that everything she thought was true had just disappeared.
“Tea?” I set the mug on the low table in front of the couch where she was reading.
“Thanks,” she said, her eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. I watched as she slid a bookmark into her novel and turned to me. A small smile played on her pretty lips as she watched me take a long pull of my coffee. “It always amazes me that you can drink caffeine all day and still sleep at night.”
I half-shrugged with a grin. “Just habit.”
This was good. It felt comfortable, sitting here with her, an easy conversation, like I’d done it a million times. In reality, I probably had. I studied her over my mug, watching the way her graceful fingers reached for her cup, the curve of her shoulder slipping out from the wide-necked shirt she wore, the way her eyes closed and her eyelashes rested against her cheek for just a moment as she took her first sip.
She looked up, caught me watching her, and I couldn’t bring myself to look away as a slow, steady blush crawled its way up her throat and curled itself into her cheeks. If there was a girl more beautiful in this world, I’d never seen her. It’s no wonder I'd thought she was an angel in my comatose haze.
“Did— did you want to look through that box?” she asked.
“Right, yes.” My voice sounded husky and distracted, which perfectly mirrored my brain.
I set my coffee aside and reached into the carton, pulling out a leather jacket. I heard Avery’s sharp intake of breath and instantly wished I had hidden the jacket along with the helmet. One entire side of the dark leather was scraped almost white from where I must’ve skidded along the asphalt, worn through in a few places, and covered with dirt, debris and, if I wasn’t mistaken, a little dried blood.
Shoving the jacket back down into the box, I turned to Avery and started to apologize. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have had to see—”
My words were interrupted as she threw her arms around me and started to cry. “I almost lost you,” she sobbed softly into my neck. “It took me so long to find you and then I almost lost you again.”
Even though I was taken aback by her sudden, forward, and lately uncharacteristic gesture, I reacted immediately to her touch. My shoulder screamed as I tightened my grip on her and shifted so she was sitting in my lap. Her sobs continued as I smoothed a hand from the top of her head down her back over and over again, letting her cry it out.
Waves of regret and shame washed over me as I listened to her heartbreak. What an ass I’d been to her, trying to push away the one person who’d stood by me unequivocally these past few weeks. I was the one who bled, but she was the one who felt all the pain.
“You promised me,” she whispered after what seemed like ages. She lifted her head and her blue eyes pierced right through me. “You promised.”
I slipped my hands up and cupped her face, using my thumbs to wipe away the streak of her tears. “Don’t give up on me now,” I told her. “We’re not over yet.”
* * *
Avery was still sleeping every night in the room we’d set up for Annabelle. After seeing what was left of my jacket, she excused herself and went to bed. I couldn’t say I blamed her. Whatever else I might’ve pulled out of that box would only hurt more at that point.
I finished my coffee and rinsed the rest of the pot down the drain. My body already felt jittery, wired, like I needed a run or a swim to get my head together. But it was late, and I didn’t want to worry Avery in case she woke up and I was gone, so I settled for the next best thing.
“Hi, Mom.” I let myself out onto the balcony, where my voice wouldn’t disturb anyone and instead let it carry off into the distance over the bay.
“Beckett? Is everything all right?” Even through the phone, Savannah Miller was one of the most perceptive people I knew.
“Sorry, I know it’s late,” I said by way of response, even though I was familiar with her night owl tendencies.
She laughed, a sound that always reminded me of music, of crystal glasses clinking together at one of her late-night dinner parties, of the wind sweeping over the ocean near the house in Malibu, of the quiet melody she hummed while she worked on a painting.
I had all of those memories, and so many more, but none of the past months. None of my wife in the other room, or the little girl who didn’t understand that I couldn’t remember her. Cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder, I scrubbed my hands over my face in agitation.
“Beckett?”
“I’m here.”
“What’s going on?” she asked again. “She liked the condo, right? The new furniture?”
I pictured Avery’s face the first time she saw the newly redecorated space. Hopeful, that’s how I’d describe it. Hopeful because I was making an effort after weeks of nothing. Hopeful, but still guarded, because I’d hurt her more than I’d reached for her.
“I’m afraid she’ll never trust me again,” I admitted. Saying it out loud had the exact opposite effect I was hoping for, as I realized it was true.
“Oh honey,” Savannah sighed. “What happened?”
“In the hospital, and after, I was so angry and confused. I pushed her away, ignored reality. You were there. You saw me.”
Saw me being a fool, is what I should’ve said. But she knew. Mom always did.
“Avery loves you. I’ve never seen someone so scared, so deathly terrified as she was when you wouldn’t wake up.” Savannah’s voice was strained but still strong. “We were all so worried, but she knew you were coming back. Even through her fear, she told me the same thing every day. ‘He wouldn’t leave me, not now,’ she said. She believes in you.”
My heart thudded slowly in my chest. “And now I’ve let her down. She thinks I don’t want her anymore, that I regret our life together, when really it’s just that I can’t imagine it — and I’m not sure I deserve it.”
“Deserve it? Why—”
“What if I can’t do it?” I interrupted. “What if I can’t come back, be the man she needs? Be the man she remembers?” The words burst out of me, out of the tightness.
“The man she knows would never give up. You do whatever you need to do so that girl believes you want to fight for her, to remember her.”
“And if it’s not enough?”
“It’s love, Beckett. It’s messy and unpredictable, but if you give it your whole heart, it’s always enough.”