I didn’t want to wake up. This bed was deliciously comfortable. But my head was pounding and I was thirsty. I could get up, grab some aspirin, and crawl back into this perfect bed. I could stay here all day and relax. Wouldn’t that be a luxury? I could do something people thought movie stars did all the time.

I knew that wasn’t something I could do. I had to start my day. First, with a detox tea and my morning meditation on the dais overlooking the ocean. I hoped by the end of my practice, the headache would be gone.

I let one eye open and then another.

I shrieked when I saw the stern woman sitting next to me.

“Who are you?” I croaked. My voice was hoarse. “Wh-what are you doing next to my bed?” It was an absurd question. One I was certain I had never asked anyone before.

“Look who’s awake.” She patted my wrist. “I’m your nurse.” Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had deep lines on her forehead.

“Nurse?” That didn’t make sense.

The headache pounded at the base of my skull. I looked around. I didn’t recognize this room. I wasn’t in my Malibu beach house. I looked over the nurse’s shoulder at the towering trees outside. Nothing looked familiar, yet I felt a strange connection to the room. I couldn’t place it. Everything felt a little fuzzy and distant.

She rose steadily and placed the back of her hand on my forehead the same way my mother did when I was a child. “Yes, I’m your personal nurse. Mr. Westbrook hired me to take care of you and assist with your recovery.”

“Mr. Westbrook?” I eyed her. I must have misunderstood. There’s no way. No possible way.

“You don’t mean Asher Westbrook?” I asked again.

I tried to sit up. Everything was wrong. As I pushed into the bed with my elbows a stinging pain shot through my arm. I looked down at the bandage wrapped around my left bicep.

“Yes. He has personally seen to everything. He’s been worried,” she whispered. “But I knew you’d be fine. Just a scratch on the arm and a bump on the head. Just a few stitches here and there.” She smiled. “But he wanted everything a certain way. His instructions.” She patted the back of my hand. “Don’t know that I’ve met a man like him before.”

I think she was trying to comfort me, but I still hadn’t processed I was here – wherever here was – because of Asher.

Asher was a name I had wiped from my existence. My staff wasn’t allowed to say his name. The fact that this woman said it so casually meant she had no idea what that man had done to me.

“No fever,” she reported.

I smiled weakly. “That’s great.”

I had a thousand questions for her. How had I ended up here? What did Asher have to do with it? Where did this raging headache come from? And could I please just get up and go pee?

But as she finished up her basic examination, the air shifted.

I didn’t have to hear his voice to know he was in the room. My body knew. I’d always had an uncanny Asher radar under my skin.

“Why didn’t you page me?” he asked the nurse. There was a darkness in his voice that made me shiver.

“She’s only been awake a few minutes, sir,” she answered.

They spoke as if I weren’t here between them.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to look in his eyes. I didn’t want to hear his voice. I closed my eyes, praying the nurse would stay as a buffer between us. I didn’t know her, but I was willing to throw myself on her to keep her from leaving.

“You may leave us, Agnes,” he dismissed her casually. “I’d like to talk to Miss Tessier. Alone.”

No!

“Whatever you need, sir. I’ll be in my room checking supplies and updating Miss Tessier’s records.” She reached for a canvas bag and walked out. As soon as Agnes was gone, I knew I was trapped. I couldn’t run. I could barely prop myself up. What in the hell was happening?

“How are you feeling?” Asher asked, as if this was somehow normal. As if we were normal. He walked closer.

“Terrible,” I answered truthfully. Was it terrible because we were in the same room together? Terrible because I was confused? Terrible because my entire body felt foreign to me?

“Are you in pain? I have every medication you were prescribed. I can get you anything you want,” he offered. “Possibly more. Just say the word. Agnes is the best. The absolute best at pain management.”

I shook my head. “No more pain meds,” I responded. “That’s not necessary.”

“That’s a positive sign.”

“Sign of what?”

He rubbed the scruff along his jaw. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. I was afraid to study his face any closer. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to gaze into his eyes. Oh no. Not happening.

“That your recovery is going well,” he answered.

“Right. My recovery.” I glanced over the mound of blankets to where my toes wiggled at the foot of the bed. Agnes had layered several quilts on top of me.

I hated being in this position. He knew something I didn’t. It seemed he knew everything about this situation. He understood the circumstances and what had happened. He knew the nurse and knew this bedroom. My fingers curled around the soft comforter in frustration. I hated being at a disadvantage, especially in front of Asher. I still didn’t understand what was happening. The worst part was I had to depend on him for answers.

“I think I’m better now,” I lied. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you do whatever it is you do now.”

I didn’t know if it was possible to walk out of this room, but I wanted to try. I wanted to get as far away from Asher Westbrook as I could before we exchanged anymore small talk. Before he asked question. Before he told me something about himself. Some tiny anecdote that I wouldn’t be able to forget. I had to get out of here before any of that happened.

Asher towered over the side of the bed. “Journey, don’t you remember what happened to you?”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Of course I do.”

“Journey.” His voice was stern and controlling.

How many times had I heard that tone? But it had been two years since I was in a room with Asher. Two long years of doing everything in my power to erase his memory. Erase the hold he had on me.

“What?” I refused to look at him.

He moved closer. The air was suddenly thicker. His body was next to mine. His finger landed on the underside of my chin and tilted it upward.

“Do you know why I brought you to Big Bear? Do you remember anything about the attack yesterday?” he asked.

If I stared at his chest it would be better. I tried to tell myself not to think about how sculpted and chiseled it was. How muscle met muscle in hard angles under his crisp white shirt. I spotted the gun tucked at his waist. Holy shit. What was going on? Was he a bodyguard again?

“I’m tired.” I sighed. “And thirsty. And honestly, I’d like to get up and pee. So could you call the helpful nurse back in to give me some water?”

“Journey, look at me.”

I never wanted my eyes to drift to his. But there was something about Asher that I couldn’t deny. I blamed the long eyelashes. The smolder was undeniable. And how when he looked at me it was as if he could read my soul. He wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. Not now, not ever.

But I did as he told me. I wasn’t prepared for the sudden well of tears. His eyes said everything. He was worried and scared. He was protective and overbearing.

“What?” I whispered. Once I started, I couldn’t look away. It was everything I had fought against.

If we held this gaze, was it possible to get to know each other again without having to say a word?

“It’s ok if you can’t remember. It will come back to you. And you’re safe here. Nothing and no one will hurt you. I promise. You have time to recover. Time to remember when you’re ready.”

My lip started to tremble. What was he doing to me? There were two vacant years between us. He didn’t deserve my tears. He left me. He walked out. I wasn’t prepared for any of this. The pain he had caused was unbearable. How did I shield myself from him?

Maybe I didn’t know why I was here or what happened to me, but I wasn’t ready to forget the hollow feeling he had created in my chest. I hadn’t forgiven him. I had no intention of ever forgiving him.

“I-I just want to get up and take a shower. Please.” I turned my head before he could see the first tear fall.

“I’ll get Agnes. Hold on,” he offered.

He strolled out of the room. The tears were heavy on my lashes. Asher Westbrook was a liar. A horrible liar. Because as long as he was here my heart was going to break over and over. There was no way he could protect me from that kind of pain.