The Past
William and Edgar were gone for over an hour. I talked to Eric again and we compared notes. It seemed we had finally fit all the pieces of the puzzle together—or most of them, at least.
When they came back, William wasn’t interested in talking. He gave me that smoldering look that made me want to drop my panties, and backed me up into the bedroom.
I let all the worries about the past—about Alaska, paintings, and brick buildings—fall away while he made love to me. His strong body and masculine scent were intoxicating. He was feverish and intense, driving into me with ferocity and passion. I loved the way he felt, his body connected to mine. His stubble scratching my skin. The way he lost control, growling in my ear as he came.
Afterward, we lay together for a while, tangled in the sheets, catching our breath. I got up and used the bathroom, then slipped back into bed with him.
“I guess that means I’m not married to someone else,” he said.
I laughed and snuggled against him. “No, you’re not married.”
“I told you I wasn’t,” he said.
“Do you want to hear what I found out?”
He took a deep breath, his muscular chest expanding against me. “Yes. I think I’m ready now.”
“Your name was Will Green, and you worked as a hunting and fishing guide in Alaska,” I said. “You realize that’s kind of funny, right? When you first found me, you were using skills you didn’t realize you had.”
“I was hunting you,” he said.
“Yep, you were.” I slid my hand along his chest. This part was going to be harder to tell him. “When you were a child, your father abused your mom. You tried to stop him, but he hurt you too. When you got big and strong enough, you put a stop to it. It sounds like you beat the crap out of him. He left town, and your mom divorced him. She’s where your last name comes from. Her maiden name was Cole.”
“She died, didn’t she?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, almost a whisper. “Do you remember any of this?”
“No,” he said. “I could tell by your voice.”
I took a deep breath. “She was killed in a small plane crash. Jack said you loved her, and you were pretty reclusive after losing her.”
“Why did I leave Alaska?”
“He wasn’t sure,” I said. “You told him it was something you felt like you needed to do. And then you came down here.”
“Do you know why I was in the water?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “According to what Eric could find, you were probably en route from Alaska on a fishing boat that was being moved to Washington. Maybe you knew one of the crew members, or just arranged to go with them. We’re not sure. The boat was in an accident and none of the other crew survived. When the Coast Guard picked you up, they didn’t have any way of knowing who you were. If you had a wallet or ID on you, it got washed away in the water. And since you weren’t part of the crew, there wasn’t any record of you being on board. So your identity was a mystery.”
“And the Coast Guard sent me to the hospital,” he said. “Where I spent several months unconscious in room three twenty-two.”
“Yeah.”
“So that’s all?” he asked. “I was an Alaskan mountain man, and on a whim, I decided to come down here?”
“There’s one more thing.” I sat up, holding the sheet over my chest, and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. “I had a feeling about something, so I asked if Jack would mind checking for me. He sent me this.”
I handed William the phone, open to the picture I’d asked Jack to send. A painting of a brick building, ivy crawling up the façade.
“This is the building,” he said. “Where did this come from?”
“You painted it,” I said. “Jack said it was still sitting on your easel, like you’d been working on it just before you left.”
He put the phone down and stared at me. “I painted this before.”
I nodded.
“So it’s not because of the accident,” he said. “It’s not from hitting my head.”
“No. I think this might be why you left Alaska.”
He picked up the phone and looked at it again. “I’ve never wished I could remember until now. I wish I knew what I was thinking when I painted this the first time.”
“Me too,” I said. “Maybe you saw it in a dream, or maybe it was a vision like you have now. But, you know, if this started before you were in the hospital, it might not have anything to do with me.”
“No, it does,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
I settled back down against his chest. “Then we’ll keep looking until we figure it out.”