Chapter Seventeen

We drive to his house first, and he drops his backpack inside. I call my parents while he’s gone, claiming a study session with some of my SAT friends. He slides back into the car around the time I hang the phone up, and then he’s watching me. Holy crap, I’m not sure I’ll ever look at this guy without thinking of kissing him.

“Are they cool with it?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Good. Turn off your phone.”

I open my mouth to argue, and he frowns at his hands on the steering wheel. “What do you think the chances are that Blake won’t call or text you in the next couple of hours?”

“Hours?” I ask, feeling my brows arch.

He looks sideways at me with a smile that makes me blush. “You in a rush?”

“No,” I say, powering down my phone with trembling fingers. “So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I love surprises,” I say, grinning.

He grins right back, reaching over to take my hand. “Yeah, I thought you might.”

We drive twenty miles south of Ridgeview, and I don’t feel desperate to fill the silence. Instead, I revel in the peace of it, watching the stark beauty of the winter landscape roll past my window.

Before I know it, we’re in the heart of Corbin, a town about the same size as ours without the benefits that come with being on the lake. I have no idea why he’s brought me here, especially after five, when the few shops and businesses are closed.

Adam pulls into a gravel lot near the center of town, a construction zone if the fencing and rubble is any indicator. I crane my head, spotting a large building, or the bones of what will someday be a building. The first few floors seem roughed in, but the ones above that are all steel beams and sky.

Adam parks the car, and we both get out, staring up at it. “I come here once a week. Things are slow now that it’s winter, but it’s still coming along.”

I nod, moving next to him, sliding my hand into his palm. He squeezes my fingers and kisses the top of my head.

“So can we get in?” I ask.

He cocks a brow at me, that bad boy smirk curling his lips. “Legally?”

I return his smirk and look back at the building. “C’mon. I’ll race you.”

I have no hope of outrunning Adam, but lucky for me, he has no interest in winning. He follows me through the bare floors, around support beams, and up a flight of cement steps. The second level is just like the first, floors and beams, but there’s open air above us. I tip back my head, gazing at the crisscross of the beams in the waning sunlight.

There’s something about this place or maybe just about Adam that makes me buzz with energy. I feel like anything is possible. I pace around while Adam checks something on the other side of the floor. I can almost hear his mind working, gears and chains clicking as he runs his thumb along a concrete ledge.

I watch him from a distance, touching poles and scuffing my sneakers on the floor. And then, on a whim, I decide I want to go higher.

It’s easier than I thought it would be. I find footholds and corners, and before I know it, I’m another floor up. And then another.

The wind whips through my hair, making my eyes water as I stare out over the roll of unfamiliar neighborhoods and houses. The beam in front of me is ice-cold, but I hold it anyway, terrified and exhilarated.

I laugh, despite myself, and then I hear Adam approaching behind me. I squeeze the steel in front of me even tighter as his arms wrap around my waist from behind.

“You weren’t supposed to climb up the beam work,” he says into my hair.

I shrug. “I’ve always been a monkey. Mom says I crawled out of my crib on my first birthday.”

“I can see that about you,” he says.

God, he smells good. And he’s so warm. I’m pretty sure this is what heaven would be like. If I could choose everything about heaven.

“So what is this place?” I ask.

“The county’s new government offices,” he says. “Or that’s what it will be next spring when they finish it up. Simple design, but they’ve got an incredible arch planned for the entry. You can see the structure of it there.” He points down to a section way too close to the ground for me to want to focus on.

“Have you seen planning pictures or something?”

“I saw blueprints,” he says. “They’re better.”

“Architect porn,” I muse, and he murmurs affirmatively before resting his chin on my shoulder.

My smile just keeps getting wider. I’m sure I look like a lunatic—wind-chapped and grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You’re going to build stuff like this one day, aren’t you?”

“I want to build stuff twice as beautiful as this,” he says.

I turn around in his arms, careful to keep my feet on the beam before I steady my hands on his waist.

He lifts his brows at me. “You are a fearless little thing.”

“I used to be.”

“Used to be? Not very many people would climb up here. Not sure I would have if I wasn’t coming after you.”

“I’m not afraid of things like this,” I say, and then I sigh and tilt my head. “But whoever did this to me…I’m scared of them.”

He leans in, kissing me once, long and soft and deep enough that I almost forget where I am. When he pulls pack, I wish I could just freeze everything about this moment so I could keep it with me.

“No one’s going to hurt you, Chloe,” he says softly.

“You going to protect me?” I ask, leaning in to kiss the underside of his jaw.

He groans a little. “As long as I make it off this building alive, I am.”

We climb down and settle into his car. There’s nothing open, so we make do with gas station fare: a pack of Twinkies and two tall, steaming cups of coffee. Mine goes down like heaven without a single nauseous afterthought.

“I thought I’d never drink coffee again,” I say, cradling the paper cup to me like an old friend.

“I’m a bad influence.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you brought that up,” I say. “You’re supposed to be this bad boy, so what gives?”

“What gives?”

“Yeah, you’re like…like Clark Kent.”

“Clark Kent?” He looks less than pleased at the comparison.

“Well, you did come to my rescue in the library.”

“Right, that.” He shrugs. “I figured it’d be a good way to get around to kissing you.”

“Making me freeze to death while you studied for another hour after rescuing me? Interesting strategy.”

He smirks again, and I think I understand why girls go for the bad boy. Or at least, the guys who appear to be bad boys.

“I think it’s all an act,” I say, licking Twinkie filling off my finger. “This bad boy thing. You do it to pick up girls.”

“Is it working?” he asks, leaning closer.

“Jury’s still out,” I say, but when he kisses the side of my neck, I’m pretty sure the verdict is in.

***

It’s eight o’clock at night when the waitress drops off our pancake platters. I pour what must be a half gallon of syrup over the top, and Adam laughs.

For ten minutes, I pick at my food while I talk. Adam listens to me outline all of the weird things I’ve pieced together, from my missing Julien file right down to the mystery Daniel/Dr. Kirkpatrick phone call. I even mention the hypnosis research, though I still can’t imagine how that would factor in.

I take a break to dig into my now lukewarm stack, and Adam leans back thoughtfully, his plate mostly clean.

“So how does it tie together? Did Dr. Kirkpatrick somehow hypnotize you into forgetting all about the last six months? Why?”

“I have no idea.”

Adam’s brow furrows. “I don’t know, Chlo. She did relaxation stuff but nothing like what you’re talking about. And I can’t figure a motive. Something like this would destroy her career.”

“Maybe she’s being blackmailed? Maybe she wants more money? Who knows what drives people to crime?”

“Typically, what drives people is pretty transparent. I mean, I’ve met the lady. She doesn’t really have an evil vibe.”

He’s got a point, but I’ve got more than a point. I have freaking evidence. Sort of.

“Adam, she was talking to someone about Julien. Someone named Daniel. As in possibly Daniel Tanner, one of the sponsors of our little study group.”

“Or as in Daniel Smith down at the post office or Daniel Starinsky who runs the gas station by the school. Do you know how many Daniels are in Ridgeview? For all we know, Julien has another doctor named Daniel and she was talking to him.”

I push a piece of pancake slowly through a river of syrup. “You think I’m grasping at straws.”

Adam reaches across the table, fingers covering my hand. “You want to know what happened to you, and I get that.”

“But?”

“But you’re too ready to point the finger. Maybe at people who didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She sounded nervous, Adam. Why would she be nervous about me talking about Julien if she hadn’t done anything wrong?”

“Maybe she was upset. Julien was in our group, Chlo. Maybe she got attached to her, and she’s worried about how upset she thinks you are about it.”

His points feel like they’re picking mine apart. And not doing a bad job of it either. “Fine,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll let it go.”

Adam smiles, but there’s something a little wary in his eyes when he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you will. I’m pretty sure you don’t let much of anything go.”

“Careful. Being this smart can’t be good for your bad boy rep,” I say.

He steals one of the sausage links beside my pancakes, and the conversation shifts. He points out the beams in the ceilings, and I talk about an article I read on the mood impacts of decor like this, with vintage photographs and household items displayed as artwork. It’s the first time I’ve felt normal since I woke up in the classroom.

The drive home is long and quiet. He keeps the radio low, and I use the seat belt in the middle so I can curl up under his arm. I find a jagged scar, just above his wrist, tracing it with my fingers while I watch the road unfold before us.

For a while I think of what I should call this. Is he my boyfriend? It feels like such a small, childish word for the way I feel. And some part of me knows I should be afraid of this, this feeling of absolute rightness I have being pressed up against him.

But then he kisses the top of my head, and I smile. After that I don’t think much at all.

I’m half-asleep when I speak again, a sudden thought stirring me from my drowsiness. “I haven’t remembered anything.”

“What’s that?” he asks, his voice rumbling through his chest next to my cheek.

“All the times we kissed today, I didn’t remember anything. I usually remember things when you touch me.”

“Only me?”

“Only you,” I say. “But today I didn’t. I didn’t remember anything.”

“Maybe the wrong part of your mind was engaged tonight,” he says, tickling my side until I laugh out loud and smack his arm.

But he’s got a point. With his lips against mine, my mind definitely doesn’t function at its highest level.

He walks me to my door but hesitates when I lean in for another kiss.

“Did you turn into a pumpkin?” I tease.

“Cute,” he says. “I just haven’t met your parents yet. Seems a little rude to make out with you on the doorstep.”

He’s smiling, but that same tight look is back on his features. He looks around the road and then back at me before pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Sweet dreams, Chloe.”

I nod through a yawn then snag his hand as he’s turning away. “You’re still going to help me get to the bottom of this, right?”

“How can I resist an offer like that?”

I kiss him again, lingering a little before I draw back. “You can’t. I won’t let you. I’ll see you soon?”

“Not soon enough.”

I’m not sure my feet even hit the ground as I walk inside. I’m floating on a bubble of hormonal giddiness. I swear, I should have chirping birds trailing behind me.

I glide into the kitchen, smile so wide my cheeks hurt. It dies on my lips when I flip on the overhead light, illuminating my mother leaned against the sink.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”