Finding West (10 page)

11

KAT

Holy shit.

I
pressed my back against the door, trying to control my breathing. My body felt like it was on fire—my throat dry and my legs weak from that one kiss.

Kiss: t
hat word didn’t seem enough for what we’d just done. Mouth-fucking more like. I could still taste him, could still feel his warm tongue invading my mouth, could still feel his hands sliding all over my body. My face heated up at the thought of his hard length digging into my hip. He’d felt so ready.

The question was: was I?

I changed out of my dress and shoes and into my usual sweats and hung the dress up in my closet, a little surprised that the seams were holding together. It was safer to be in my regular baggy clothes, far easier to evade the advances of an incredibly sexy man. If he found me attractive in this grey cotton cocoon of ambiguity, then there was definitely something wrong with his head.

He stood
up from the couch when I came out of my room. Apparently I’d been gone long enough that he had time to clean up the table and wash the dishes. “We need to talk about that kiss,” he said, standing up.

“No, we don’t,” I said.

The skin between his eyebrows wrinkled. “We can’t just ignore what happened.” He motioned to the space between us. “Something’s going on here.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding wildly at the thought of confronting my growing feelings for him. There
had
been something in that kiss, but what would it cost me to admit it aloud?

“Know what?
You can pretend to yourself that you don’t feel it, but you’re not fooling me. You’re not fooling the sheriff either.”

“What would you know about me and Drew?”

“Absolutely nothing apart from the fact that even he could tell you wanted me here,” he said. “And he wasn’t very happy about it.”

I toyed with the sleeves of my sweatshirt.
“This isn’t about him.”

“You’re right. This is
ninety percent about you.” His eyes bore into mine, trying his best to unnerve me. “And ten percent me.”

“I’d be fucking stupid if I developed feelings for someone who doesn’t remember who they are,” I finally said. “What if you’re married? What if you have kids?”

He held out his left hand. “I’m not wearing a ring, or the telltale white line that means I used to wear one.”

I smacked his hand away. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It proves I’m not married,” he said, slipping his hands in his pants pocket. “But that’s not the real issue here, is it? Your real worry is that I’ll get my memory back and I won’t want you anymore. You think that the person I used to be won’t think you’re worthy.”

My chest hurt with
his words because even though they weren’t said with malice, they were still tinged with the same spite as the taunts back in high school. “Fuck off,” I said, feeling the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes. I turned away. “I’m going to bed.”

He
stepped around me and blocked the way to my bedroom with his large body, his arms folded across his chest. He looked so daunting and a little more than irritated. “Fine, but think about this—” He grabbed the sides of my head and kissed me hard. There was desperation in this kiss; the way his lips mashed against mine, the insistent thrust of his tongue as he devoured me.

My body gave in
and I found myself sighing into his mouth once again despite myself. Being so easily manipulated made me feel weak but I couldn’t fight it, not when my entire body wanted him so badly it trembled with his touch.

He bit my lower lip and sucked on it a moment before pulling away. He pressed a soft kiss to my cheek and then breathed against my ear, “With or without my
memory, I will never
not
want you, Kat.”

Then he left me standing by myself,
aching all over from his absence.

When I was seven—a year after my mother abandoned us—my dad decided to start a tradition. We were sitting around, a little depressed that our Thanksgiving meal had turned out shitty, when my dad stood up and said, “Know what, Katie? There are plenty of other people out there who don’t even have a home to cook in. We shouldn’t be sitting around whining about how hard our life is because chances are, there’s someone out there who has it ten times worse.”

That was the
first year we volunteered at the homeless shelter and even after he went to jail, I continued the tradition, partly out of a need to lend a helping hand, but if I was being completely honest, it was mostly because I didn’t want to sit around during the holidays by myself. Being lonely was a bitch and I had no need for it.

The day after that kiss
I dressed in a nice sweater and jeans, intent on keeping up the tradition. I knocked on the stranger’s door—when did I stop calling it my father’s room?—but he didn’t answer. I turned the knob and peered inside… and scowled. The stranger was asleep on his stomach, his arms folded under the pillow, with my dog lying beside him, her head resting on the exposed skin on his back.

“Josie, you traitor,” I hissed.

She raised her head and gave me a look that seemed to imply I was jealous.

I
stepped closer, cringing when the floor creaked. “What if I am? I’m still your human.”

She lay her head back down just in time for the stranger to open his eyes and offer up a sleepy smile
to me. “Morning,” he croaked. He wrapped an arm around Josie and tucked her into his side, and damn it if that shit didn’t make me just that little bit more jealous.

Snap out of it, Kat
. You’re being ridiculous.

He pulled aside the covers and patted the bed. “You want to come snuggle too?”

I rolled my eyes despite every atom in my body pulling me towards him. But I was afraid of how nice it could be under there, how easily I could fall for him and this image of a life he was offering.

The thing was, he had nothing to back up that offer. If, come tomorrow morning, he woke up and remembered his life before, this life he
wants with me now would be abandoned. Eventually I’d become nothing but the forgotten details of his past.

And I’d be damned if I subjected myself to that.

I reached over and threw the blanket the rest of the way off him—a little disappointed to see he was wearing pajama pants under there—and enjoyed the ripple of goosebumps that broke out over his tanned skin. “Get up, we are going out,” I said, grabbing Josie’s collar and easing her off the mattress.

He raised a dark eyebrow. “
On a date?”

“
No,” I said, admittedly a little tickled by the idea. “We’re going to run an errand.”

“Can it wait a few minutes?” he asked, pulling the blanket over himself again.

I huffed impatiently. “Why?”

He flashed me a sheepish
grin. “There’s uh, a situation that needs a minute to resolve itself.”

I snorted when I realized what he was talking about. “You mean morning wood?”
I asked. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“In that case…”
He got up and out of the bed and stood in front of me, his chest bare, his hair rumpled. At the front of his cotton pants a thick erection was outlined, tenting the fabric.

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself; I was so nervous and thrilled and had no idea how to express it.

“Well, that reaction will certainly take care of it,” he said, stepping around me to reach for his jeans on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh,”
I said. “Would it make you feel better if I said you had a nice package?”

“No,” he said. “You hurt its feelings. Now kiss it better.”
He looked over his shoulder on the way out of the room and chuckled at my shocked expression. “I’m kidding, Kat.”

Kidding or not, now the image was stuck in my head. Damn him.

A while later we arrived
at the town of Cormack, which was only slightly bigger in size than Ayashe but had a much higher population count.

“Was that the prison where your dad is?
The one we passed a mile back?” my passenger asked as I pulled into the nursing home parking lot.

“Yep, that’s the place.” I got out of the car,
not in the mood to talk about my dad.

“So this town has a prison
and
a nursing home?” he asked as he followed me to the door. “How…”

“Sad?”
I offered, walking inside the lobby like I’d done a few times before. “It’s the town where people are sent against their will.”

He scrunched his eyes then, thinking about something.

“What is it?”

“I think… I think my grandma is in a nursing home or some sort of assisted living center.”

My eyes widened, my heart beat double time. “You remember something?” I asked, silently pleading that he was just mistaken, that he was just remembering something on television last night.

His ey
es met mine and I knew that wasn’t the case. “Yes,” he breathed.

“But
does that mea—”

We were interrupted by
the orderly who came out of big double doors. “Merry Christmas, Kat,” he said. “Come on in.”

“What ar
e we doing here?” the stranger asked in a low voice as we followed the orderly inside the badge-operated doors. “Do you have a relative here?”

“No, we’
re volunteering,” I said, enjoying the look of surprise that crossed over his face. “What?” I asked after a few moments of being stared at.

“I just didn’t take you for a volunteering kind of girl.”

“I volunteered to keep you from becoming an icicle, didn’t I?”

He nudged me with his elbow. “
You know what I mean,” he said. “You’re just… let’s just say people who volunteer at nursing homes are usually the friendly type.”

“I’m friendly,” I said, pinning a
visitor badge to my sweater. “And warm and fuzzy.”

“As warm and fuzzy as a cactus.”

I laughed. Yes, that about summed me up.

12

STRANGER

After handing our coats to the orderly, Kat and I entered a large room full of elderly people, most of whom were in wheelchairs or wingback chairs. Some people sat around a widescreen television watching
A Christmas Story
, while others sat staring into space or out the window. Even with all of the twinkle lights, wreaths and other Christmas decorations around the room, I couldn’t help but feel the inherent loneliness of the place. I supposed it was why Kat volunteered here, because she too had an innate loneliness about her.

“So what would you like to do?” she asked.

I looked around and had absolutely no clue where to begin. “What do you usually do?”

“I usually read to a few of them, or play a board game. Or sometimes I just sit and talk with them.”

I looked around the room, still unsure of where to start. “So I just walk up to someone and strike up a conversation?”

“Basically.” Her blue eyes flew
to my face, a slight tug at the corners of her mouth. “But I’m guessing the females will be more receptive to your brand of charm.”

I held her gaze for a long time, feeling something electric passing between us. “Kat, I’d still like to talk about what happened last night.”

“Well I don’t,” she said, turning away, leaving me standing by myself among these strangers.

I let out a huff through my nose and approached an older lady in a wheelchair. She lit up when she saw me crouch by her side.

“Hi,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”

“
Oh!” she said, grabbing me by the cheeks without hesitation. For a moment, I wondered if she recognized me, but then she said, “You are so handsome!”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Call me Lorna.” She looked across the room and called out, “Janice, come here and see this handsome young thing.”

“I’ll be right there!” came a voice from the other side of the room, and fairly soon, I was engrossed in a conversation.

I talked to several people during the visit, but Lorna monopolized most of my time
, asking to wheel her around. I kept glancing over at Kat, who was playing backgammon with an elderly gentleman, looking very comfortable and sure of herself.

As if sensing my gaze, she looked away from her game and looked at me across the room. I felt it again, that attraction
that arched between us. I remembered last night, how hard it had been to leave her alone after having kissed her.

“Are you and
that young lady dating?” Lorna asked me, breaking through my thoughts.

I blinked at the older woman. “Kat? No. She’s a
little bit hard to tame.”

Lorna
cackled. “Well she’s is looking at you as if she’d want to knock your boots, if you know what I mean.”

I laughed. “
Yes, I know what you mean. Unfortunately, she’s not impressed with me.”

“But look at you.”

I glanced across the room again, but Kat was diligently keeping her attention on the game board. “She’s not that easily impressed, I’m afraid.”

“In my day, when you wanted to impress a girl, you did something big. What’s that called?”
she asked, snapping her thin fingers together.

“A grand gesture?”

“That’s it,” Lorna said. “Can you play the guitar?”

“I don’t know.”

She motioned to the guitar leaning against the mantle of the large white fireplace. “There’s one right there if you’d like to try. Even if Kat is not impressed, I know the ladies of the place would be.”

A little intrigued, I retrieved the guitar and came back. I sat on the edge of the chair and looped the strap over my shoulder, instantly filled with a sense of familiarity. I set the body down against my leg, positioned my left hand on the neck, and strummed.

A gentleman with a bald head came ambling over in his walker. “You going to play us a song, son?”

“Give him a second, Mort,” Lorna said.

While I kept strumming, muscle memory kicked in and my fingers flew across the strings as if leading the way. All too soon, the chords coming out of the guitar began to form a song. I hummed along, and soon words and phrases popped into my head and I found myself singing, surprising even myself when I realized I actually sounded decent.

“I don’t think I recognize that song,” Mort said.

“I think I wrote it,” I said, continuing to play. I let out an exhilarated gust of breath and sang again, feeling a sense of rightness when the chorus kicked in and my vocal chords rose up an octave. Yes, this was my song.

I looked up, completely in my own bubble of self-discovery, and saw Kat standing at the edge of the crowd that had gathered, her arm
s folded across her chest and an anxious expression on her face.

Even though her reaction bothered me, I kept playing, feeling like pieces of me were returning with each strum of the guitar. When I finished
, I locked eyes with Kat and felt my entire face erupt in a smile.

“Encore!” someone yelled out.

I gave Kat a wink and played another song.

The drive back to Ayashe was more or less silent. Kat sulked as she drove, which gave me ample time to sit back and ruminate on what I’d remembered. But even though I’d remembered how to play the guitar, it was only a tiny piece of the puzzle. I still didn’t know who I was, still didn’t know what the hell I was doing in Alaska.

“Kat…”
I said as we pulled into the icy driveway.

“Look,
” she said, keeping her eyes trained on the steering wheel. “I know I have a shitty way of showing it, but I’m happy for you that you’re finally remembering some things.”

“Then
why are you so angry?”

“I’m not angry!” she practically shouted. She closed her
eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Not with you, anyway.”

“What could you possibly be angry with yourself about?”

She shook her head and got out of the car. I was right behind her, grabbing the back of her coat, but she kept going. “Leave me alone.”

“Will you stop?”

“No,” she said, trying to swat at my hand.

“Stop right now, Kat!”
The authority in my voice froze her on the spot. I took the opportunity to step around to the front, resting my hands on her arms. “Talk to me.”

She
looked at me boldly and said in a low voice, “It’s happening too fast.”

I ran my fingers along her flushed cheek. “What is?”

“Everything.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I’ve only known you a few days. And I don’t even know—”

“You know everything about me. As much as I know about me right now
anyway.”

“I don’t let people in,” she said, her lips thinning into a stubborn line.
“That’s how I get through life.”

I lifted my hands up to rest at her neck, and ran the pads of my thumbs along her chin.
“You let me in,” I said, filled with certainty. “There’s no way I could be standing here right now, holding you like this, without having been let in.”

The absence of a rep
ly said it all. She didn’t deny it or tell me to fuck off.

I cupped her f
ace in my hands and lowered my face to hers, kissing her upper lip gently then moving to the lower. “I’m in,” I whispered against her mouth.

She shook me off
. “I can’t afford to lose someone else I care about right now.”

I watched her walk away, back into her house, fighting the urge to
howl at the sky in frustration. I didn’t follow her inside. Instead I traversed the gravel driveway towards the road, deciding that a walk to clear my head was exactly what I needed.