The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(87)

“I’m not mad.” He scowled.

She shifted in her seat. “Look in the mirror.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror before sighing. “I’m upset and concerned, and I’m pissed that there’s no place private where we can talk.”

“It’s private here in the car,” she pointed out as he pulled up to her house. “I don’t see Claire’s car on the street, so she must be out.”

“Good.” He got out of the car and then followed her into the house.

She tossed her purse on an obliging chair and raked her hand through her hair. “Listen, I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have left Emmy at the table, but I thought it was safe. She’s nine, not four. I knew I’d see her from where I was standing. I didn’t feel sick or think I would faint.”

“But that’s the problem, Steffi. You never know where or when these episodes will take place, and yet you won’t even consider a second opinion.” He inhaled and scrubbed his face, smoothing away his frustration. He tipped his head. “Could that be because you know something more about them than you’re willing to share with me?”

Her body recoiled. “Where is that coming from?”

Something new flickered in his eyes—suspicion?—but then he refocused. “From concern. From a need to know what’s happening to you so I can help. Don’t run away from it. Talk to me. Get answers. Stick it out. Fight through it.”

She crossed her arms. “Are we still talking about the present, or is this you drudging up the past again?”

“Does a clean slate mean I can’t point out stuff that could be a problem in the future? I want to see you well, for your sake and for your business’s sake. This affects our relationship, too. And after today, I can’t ignore the danger these episodes pose to Emmy. What if you’re driving her somewhere and it happens? You owe it to yourself, and to me, to be honest—at least with yourself. Don’t settle for living this way without trying everything possible to fix it, regardless of what others or your family might think about how that happens.”

“I’m not hiding anything, if that’s what you’re implying.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it, gazing at her through narrowed eyes. “You honestly have no recollection of the moments or thoughts just before you fainted? No guesses as to why this keeps happening to you?”

She shook her head.

“If it isn’t a tumor or epilepsy, is it possible that the trauma you suffered in the spring is worse than you want to admit?”

“Quit trying to make me a victim.” She turned on him while massaging the hard knot forming in her stomach.

“That’s not my goal. I’m exploring . . . ideas.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You clearly have a theory. Might as well share it.”

His expression tightened into a concerned frown, his eyes misting until he blinked. He clasped his elbows and paced a few steps. “I’m not a professional. You should consult with someone who is.”

“You’re so desperate for an answer that will ‘fix’ me. What if you’re wrong and I’m right? What if it’s mild brain damage from too many concussions? Are you willing to take that—me—on if that’s the case?” She bit her pinkie nail. “I wouldn’t blame you if you bailed. Your hands are already full.”

“I don’t bail!”

The granite ball in her stomach moved to her throat. She took a step back, maybe two, fighting the tears that formed behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, then walked toward her, reaching out. “I’m sorry. I’m just feeling powerless. If there’s a chance this can get better or be healed, let me help you. If the roles were reversed, I’d take your concerns seriously.”

Ryan stared into space for a moment, tugging at his earlobe. “I’m here for you, and I’ll stand by you, no matter what, but I need to know that you trust me. I need to know you’ll confide in me and commit to facing the truth, no matter how scary that seems. Is that unfair to ask?”

Her gaze dropped as she shook her head. “You’re always fair, Ryan.”

He gathered her into a hug. “I want things to work out for us this time. Please put some faith in me, Steffi.”

For the first time all day, her muscles relaxed.

Ryan stopped short of voicing his suspicions. Without proof, he wouldn’t risk upsetting her more, or worse, planting a seed that could aggravate her condition.

He didn’t want to read too much into the fact that none of their plans had gone well this weekend, or take it as some sign that their time had come and gone a decade ago.

“Emmy hates me now,” Steffi muttered against his chest.

He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her. “She doesn’t hate you. She just needs to let go of her fantasy, which will be tough if Val pulls more stunts like she did this weekend.”

Steffi eased away. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about me. It’s about you and your daughter. I still can’t believe Val doesn’t want physical custody.”

“Val doesn’t know what she wants.” He swallowed hard at the recollection of his wife’s heart-to-heart at Campiti’s.

She flopped onto the sofa, looking absolutely spent. “She wants you back.”