Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(8)

Whole. Can I ever be whole when I don’t know who I am?

This isn’t Griffin’s touch. This isn’t my father’s touch. But … it’s just as familiar. It makes me feel safe and loved. Can I have this and let it simply be Nate?

“Do you remember?” he whispers, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

“No … yes … just …”

Just the man who killed her. Me … did he kill me?

Nate starts to pull away, but my fingers curl into his shirt and my arms tighten around his body.

Warm lips press to the top of my head. Strong hands embrace me, scooting me closer until I’m on his lap—straddling him, hugging him, and clinging to a past I still don’t understand.

He wants answers I can’t give. He needs recognition, but it’s lost in the depths of my mind that may never see the light of this life.

“I see Daisy, but you weren’t there. I’ve never seen her in my head before. She wasn’t me … she was just … her. Scared.”

Scared. Scared like me. Desperate to feel safe and protected.

“Why was she scared?”

Because she knew she was going to die.

I blink and more tears break free. This isn’t closure for Nate, this is torture. She hit her head, passed out, and drowned. Maybe she never woke up—never suffered. He must tell himself that every day to make each breath he takes without her feel tolerable.

He blames himself for her death. What’s in my head will destroy him. I won’t break him again. Morgan needs her father, and Nate deserves a life filled with happiness. Not regret.

I pull back, resting my hands flat on his chest. He catches my tears with his thumbs.

This isn’t right. I can’t bring myself to tell him, so I back my way out.

“She looked scared.” I shake my head. “I-I think I must have thought she was scared of someone, but it could have been the darkness, being alone, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be there by herself.”

Confusion mars his face. “How do you know Doug Mann’s name?”

“I …” I shake my head. “I … looked it up. Who um … owned the house.” I slide off his lap and stand, wiping my eyes and running my hands through my hair. “I have to go. I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up first thing in the morning.”

“Swayze …”

I bolt down the hall, grab my bag, and jog toward the door.

“Swayze?”

“Goodnight.” I shut the door behind me and sprint to my car, fumbling with my key to get it started.

From the front door, Nate studies me, dragging a frustrated hand through his wavy hair.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, shoving my car into reverse.





CHAPTER THREE





I can’t stop shaking. This nightmare won’t end, even with my eyes wide open. I need to be Swayze. I need to forget the images in my mind. I need … my grocery store guy.

“Hey, Swayz. How was your day?” Griffin looks up from the motorcycle. I think it belongs to our new neighbor, but I don’t know for sure, and I don’t care.

My hands ball into fists to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t help. It feels like my entire existence wants to unravel. With every breath, my lungs wage war against the pounding of my heart.

“Swayz?” Griffin’s gaze tracks me as I brush past him.

I hit the down button on the garage door.

Griffin wipes his hands on a grease-stained towel as he climbs to his feet. “Baby, what’s going on?”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Forget. Let go. Be Swayze.

This life. This is my life. This has to be my life. I can’t live without this life.

I flip off the lights, leaving only a dim splash of illumination from the streetlight filtering in from the high window off to my right.

“Swayz … what’s going—”

I crash into him, kissing him like I need his breath to fill my lungs. My hands fist his shirt.

He tries to pull away. “What’s going on?”

I lift onto my toes to kiss him again.

He grabs my shoulders to stop me. “Swayze, what’s wrong?”

I suck in a shaky breath, but it doesn’t stop the tears. “I need you … if you love me … you’ll give me this without question.”

His brow knits tightly. “I’m a mess.” He is. He’s covered in sweat and grease.

My words fight past the pain, coming out as a strangled whisper. “So am I …”

“Swayz …” He shakes his head slowly.

Even if he can’t understand, he can feel. And right now I know he feels my pain.

My hand slides along his stubble-covered jaw and over a black smudge until my fingers curl around his bandana, pulling it off to reveal his newly-shaven head. “Make me forget that anything exists beyond these four walls.”

I let his gaze wash over me, like a savior baptizing me, cleansing my sins and restoring my faith. His love is my religion.

Griffin releases my shoulders and clutches the hem of my shirt, peeling it over my head. I do the same to him. I remove my bra, and he palms my head, taking my mouth with hunger. This man kisses me like the ocean claims the shore, knocking me back until I surrender, pulling me into blinding depths, swallowing me whole. And just like that … the world disappears.