The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(51)

It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. “Do you remember that?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s like déjà vu. You said that and it was too familiar, like we’ve played this out before, but not here.”

I wasn’t entirely sure when I said that to him. It was over five years earlier. Those were words I could have used on multiple occasions.

“I don’t know. What else did I say?”

Fisher continued to shake his head. “I … I don’t know. But if it’s a memory …”

I nodded. “Then you might be getting your memory back or at least your brain is trying to make some connections again.”

“Maybe.” He nodded slowly, confusion still veiling his face.

Was it time to tell him about us? He had fallen in love with me, without those memories, without me telling him about us.

He reclined onto his pillow. “So weird … I see you with your hands on your hips. You’re angry. Do you remember being angry with me?”

I chuckled. “Sorry. I was mad at you on lots of occasions. You’re not narrowing it down much.”

“Maybe it’s the beer.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Maybe.” I shut off the lantern light and curled up next to him, covering us with the top of his sleeping bag and a fleece blanket.

“You’re staying?” he mumbled. So much exhaustion in his voice.

“I’m staying.” I hugged his body and kissed his neck.





Chapter Twenty-Two





The night in the tent was the beginning of what felt like the end, even if I wasn’t sure what the end really meant for me. For us.

I immersed myself in work and read absolutely everything Holly gave me to read.

Halloween.

Early November snow.

And no Fisher.

Was I avoiding him? Yes.

Did he know why? Yes.

However, it was nearly impossible to avoid him until January, as I found out three weeks after my birthday. On my way home from a birth around noon on a Saturday, I stopped for gas. As I waited for it to get filled up, Fisher’s work truck pulled in the opposite side of the pump.

My heart crashed against my chest. He’s here! And my conscience said to chill out. Stay calm. No big deal.

A crazy big grin stretched across his face as he climbed out of his truck in jeans, work boots, and a dirty hoodie. “Hey.”

My heart won. I matched his grin, maybe even upped it a notch. “Hey.”

“On your way to work or heading home?” he asked, leaning against the beam next to the pump.

“Home. See the bags under my eyes?”

“Did you help bring a tiny human into the world last night?”

“Seven this morning. Little boy. Grant. Eight pounds exactly. How about you? Working today?”

“Just finished installing shelves in a pantry.”

I returned the nozzle to the pump and took my receipt. “Well, I’m going home to crash for a few hours.”

“Reese …” He studied me for a few seconds. “We’re not strangers. And I’ve been biding my time for three weeks. Sorting these memories as they come back. But I miss you. And I’m not going to let you get in your car and just leave with a friendly smile and tiny wave.”

“What memories?” Rory and Rose hadn’t said anything.

“Come here.”

I shook my head. “What memories?”

“Come. Here.” He wet his lips.

I tried not to look at his lips, but they were right there, full and recently touched by his tongue. I took a few steps closer.

He pushed off the beam and slid his hand through my hair. “I love you today.”

“Fisher …”

He kissed me. And I couldn’t stop him because I didn’t want to stop him. His proximity fed my soul. His lips awakened my heart with possibilities.

Then it ended.

It was just a kiss. We had control.

Until he kissed me again.

Harder. Longer.

His hands slid to my butt, and he moaned, gripping me hard. “Fuck …” He pulled his mouth away from mine and buried his face in my neck. “Follow me to my house. Please just …” His desperation fueled my need.

I was so tired, and it weakened my resolve because there was nothing I wanted more than to go home with Fisher. Let him make me feel good. And fall asleep in his arms.

As another car pulled in behind my car, I broke away from Fisher’s hold and cleared my throat. “What memories? You said your memories came back.”

He sighed, adjusting himself. “I remembered Angie. Well, one memory of her. Of us.”

“What memory?”

“A party at her parents’ house. Her twenty-first birthday.”

“What triggered that?”

He glanced over my shoulder, off into the distance. “I’m not sure.”

“Where were you when you remembered it?”

His lips twisted as he continued to stare off into … the past? “She came over last week for dinner. And we were talking about her cousin’s wedding. And she said her cousin just found out she’s pregnant.”

I nodded slowly. “Was her cousin at Angie’s birthday party?”