The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(73)

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” She rubbed her temple. “Sorry. Zone-out.”

“I saw.” Wherever she went during those lapses, she came out of them agitated. “Can you remember anything?”

“No.” She shook her head briskly while playing with the generous cuffs of her sleeves. Everything about her body language signaled a desire to end the inquiry, like she was keeping something from him.

Maybe he didn’t have the right to all her secrets yet, but given their past, he wanted them. He wanted to know she would confide in him. Beyond that, her insentient behavior could hurt her and others, like Emmy. “Do you remember what we were talking about?”

“Your job.” She rubbed her head again. Maybe she had a headache and now wasn’t the time to press her.

“I wish you’d go to the doctor.”

“I went early this week. My scans show mild concussion damage, but no other physical symptoms.”

“I did a little reading about brain trauma causing epilepsy. There are things called absence seizures, although those are usually prevalent in children and go away with maturity. Did he mention epilepsy?”

“He sort of dismissed it because there wasn’t real evidence.” She patted her head and flashed a forced grin. “The good news is I’m tumor-free!”

A healthy level of paranoia earned from years with the PD office meant he could be misreading her overly bright attitude as some kind of cover. Yet something in her manner seemed off. “Maybe you should do a follow-up to rule out other things.”

“Overextended business owner here.” She raised her index finger, along with the level of sarcasm. “No free time or spare change for second opinions or shrinks.”

Psychologists? Had the doctor suggested that? A mental disorder? A reaction to trauma? Something else?

“Minutes ago you were bragging about how much you’ve changed, but if you don’t get answers, that’s your passive-aggressive way of avoiding things.”

Every trace of humor vanished from her expression. “Watch yourself there, Ryan, or you might sound self-righteous and condescending.”

“Sorry.” Was she right? Did he impose his judgment on everyone around him? Or did he just want people to take good care of themselves and others? “Tell me this, did these episodes happen before the mugging incident?”

She shrugged. “No.”

“So it is related to what happened in Hartford.”

“Yes. I told you that concussion was serious.”

“I’d love to look at the police file. Maybe I’d notice something they missed, or someone in my office might pick up on a clue.”

“Don’t bother. Besides, I tossed that file along with lots of other pointless stuff when I moved. I got attacked and robbed. It sucked. Life goes on. Don’t make me a victim.” Her voice had sharpened with each word, and her spine grew increasingly erect. “I’m not powerless or broken. It’s only been a few months. This brain fog could clear up on its own.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ryan held his hands up. “No one would ever call you powerless, by the way.”

“Good.” She grinned and blew out a short breath. “Now, if you’re finished interrogating me, let’s clean this up and go someplace a little warmer.”

Before he could respond, she leaned forward, took his face in her capable hands, and kissed him. Not an all-out passionate kiss, but the nip at his lip drove all thoughts from his head except one—desire. “Whatever you want.”





Chapter Sixteen

Steffi’s heart beat as if she were sprinting the stadium stairs when she and Ryan climbed her porch steps. “Claire’s at her aunt’s birthday dinner tonight, so she’s not home. But I doubt she’ll be out past ten.”

“Are you trying to send me home early?” Ryan asked playfully.

“No. I just . . . I don’t know. I’m being weird.” The last thing she wanted was to cut their night short. She’d prefer to drag him inside and lock the door so he could never escape, frankly. Not that she could say that, or admit that her insides were shaking like an earthquake. That would make him laugh. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, telling herself to relax. Did that work for anyone? It never worked for her. “Let me find a bottle of wine. Maybe you can find something decent on TV or pick a music channel.”

Ryan removed his jacket and laid it over a chair, then picked up the remote from the coffee table. “I’ll do my best.”

Steffi went to the kitchen and, once alone, slapped her cheeks a few times. Discomfort from the recent zone-out clung to her longer than others, but she couldn’t say why. That kiss keyed her up, too. Made her almost uneasy, which didn’t make much sense. She really liked Ryan. She’d loved him for years, and then loved her memory of him. She couldn’t afford to let anything blow this second chance.

“Get yourself under control,” she muttered to herself.

“What?” Ryan called from the other room before she heard lounge music emanate from the speakers. Mm . . . kinda sexy.

“Nothing!” Her heart would not cooperate and settle into a normal rhythm. She glanced heavenward and took two wineglasses from a cabinet. “Just talking to myself about the wine.”