Bittersweet Memories (Off-Limits #4)(40)

A shiver runs down my spine all of a sudden, and I know. I just know Alanna walked in. My lips tip up into a smile as I turn toward the entrance, my heart in full fucking disarray when I see her. Long dark hair, the same hazel eyes I’ve always loved. Five years, and there she is.

Alanna pauses halfway toward the barista counter, her eyes finding mine, and everything fades away. Fuck. It’s been so long since I looked into those beautiful eyes of hers, and every feeling I thought had dimmed comes rushing back in full force. She still looks the same, except a little older, a little more mature, a little more beautiful.

She smiles tightly, not a single hint of recognition in her gaze as she walks past me. It isn’t until she disappears into the staff room that I realize the only reason I caught her attention is because I stood up in the middle of a crowded room, staring at her. She didn’t seem to recognize me at all. What the fuck?

My heart twists painfully as I sit back down, my thoughts reeling. How could this be? She looked at me as though I’m a complete stranger. Something isn’t right. That wasn’t just her ignoring an ex. She didn’t recognize me.

I bite down on my lip harshly as I dial Amy’s number. “Please double check Alanna’s medical files,” I tell her the moment she picks up. “Something isn’t right. She doesn’t seem to recognize me at all, Amy. Her reports mentioned a bad concussion but I never read anything about amnesia. Check if Alanna was ever referred to anyone else, other than her main doctor. If so, have him brought to our interrogation room. Something is wrong with her.”

I end the call when Alanna walks up to the counter, switching places with her colleague. I’m nervous as hell as I approach her, unsure what I’m even hoping for. It’s been five years, so it’s not as though I expected to pick back up where we left off, but I’m feeling oddly unsettled.

“Hi,” she says as I walk up to the counter, a friendly smile on her face. My lips drop to her mouth, a memory of her kissing my neck coming to mind. Does she truly not remember me? How could that be possible?

“Hey,” I mutter awkwardly. “Can I have a long black, please?”

She looks into my eyes, and for a split second, I see something flicker in her eyes, but then she shakes it off and tears her gaze away. “Of course,” she says, ringing me up.

My hopes are thoroughly dashed when she hands me the receipt and moves away to make my drink, not even remotely hesitating or lingering. I’m just another customer to her. I’ve been looking for her for years, not a day going by without me thinking of her, and here she is… staring at me as though I’m no one to her.

Alanna’s colleague leans into her, a smile on her face. “Hey,” she says. “Is your boyfriend picking you up again later? Your shift ends pretty late today.”

Alanna nods, and my stomach lurches. The pain that sears through me has me placing a steadying hand on the counter. Boyfriend? What fucking boyfriend? What the fuck is going on?

Alanna’s colleague takes my drink from her and walks over to the end of the counter I’m standing at, a flirtatious smile on her face. “I haven’t seen you before,” she murmurs. “Are you a new professor?”

I shake my head and take the cup from her with trembling hands. All I can think about as I walk back to my little table are the words I just overheard. Not only does the love of my fucking life not remember me… she’s also dating someone else. Out of all the scenarios I imagined when I finally found her again, this never even occurred to me.





Chapter Twenty-Five





Silas



“What is the meaning of this?” the doctor asks, his eyes wide with panic that he’s trying his hardest to contain. “Don’t think I won’t report you. This is kidnapping. It’s, it’s illegal!”

I sigh and push Alanna’s file toward him. “Five years ago you treated Alanna Jones. She was referred to you because she was in a car accident. She seems to have suffered from long-term amnesia as a result. Alanna still hasn’t regained her memory, it appears. What are her chances of recovery?”

The tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction, and he glances at the folder. “Who are you?”

“Someone who cares a great deal about her wellbeing.”

He looks back up at me, his gaze accessing. “I cannot discuss my patients with you, whoever you may be.”

I nod. “I understand, Dr. Jameson.” I clasp my hands and lean forward. “Let’s, for a moment, just assume that this is a hypothetical case. Let’s say it’s about your daughter, Cindy. She’s fourteen, isn’t she? Goes to Astor High School? Such a sweet little girl, isn’t she? Let’s just assume it’s Cindy who got into that car accident and lost her memories. What would the chances be of her recovering her memory?”

Dr. Jameson starts to tremble, a bead of sweat dropping down his forehead. “Y-you leave my daughter out of this,” he says, his voice shaky.

I nod. “This is all just hypothetical, of course. I just want answers. So long as you give me that, you’ll walk out of here within a few minutes. This doesn’t have to take long.”

Dr. Jameson looks down, clearly distraught and uncertain about his next move, but I’ve got all the time in the world. He’ll talk. My only question is whether he’ll do it willingly.