The Bad Boys of Eden (62 page)

“What?” He frowned. “I never did anything with Jen—well, besides a really awful chemistry project where I almost lit her hair on fire. Who said we’d hooked up?”

Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t remember.”

And that was the problem. “Gretch.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter who told me. All that matters is that I
know
I wanted you back then. And I want you now.”

He stared down at her, at the openness on her face, the interest in her eyes. Goddamn, he wanted it to be the truth. The selfish part of him wanted to believe that there had been something there all along on her end as well. But if the island was granting her wish, maybe it was granting his, too. Maybe it took away memories for her sake and created false ones for his.

He cupped her face in his hands and tilted it toward him. Her hopeful look nearly killed him, but he swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “I’m in love with you Gretchen Price. I think I have been for a long time. Even when I shouldn’t have been. Even when it was wrong. And if you want me, I’m here for you to have. But not like this. Not with an edited past. It needs to be a whole Gretchen coming to me. One who wants to be with me despite the history and the tragedies and the ugly stuff. One who chooses me even when it hurts.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Burke…”

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips then backed away before he lost his ability to do so. He took her hand and lifted the necklace from his pocket to drop it in her palm. “Someone thought you should have this for whenever you’re ready to remember.”

She stared at the St. Benedict medal, confusion on her face.

Then, as hard as it was, he left her there. He headed into the cabana and set up a place to sleep on the couch. He would let her have her vacation. He would keep her safe from sleepwalking. But he wouldn’t allow himself to touch her again.

It hurt too much.

Chapter 9

~ Gretchen ~

I sat on the end of the bed, watching Burke’s back rise and fall with sleeping breaths, and let the despair invade me. I’d lost him anyway. I’d laid my heart out there and it hadn’t mattered. My old memories might be blocked, but it seemed there was always room for new tragedies to fill that dark void. Life was abundant that way.

Even with the blank spots, I could feel that old stuff pushing at the gates, trying to flood my mind, trying to make me remember. The fear of being overwhelmed with all of it on top of what I was already feeling had my skin clammy and my heart pounding. I touched the St. Benedict medal hanging around my neck.
My
medal. The nicks and scratches on it were mine. I had no idea how Burke got a hold of it. I’d left it at my house in New Orleans. I remembered that much. But regardless, I’d felt some shred of comfort once I’d looped it around my throat again, like my gran’s presence was here with me.

My eyes coasted over the small blue numbers on the alarm clock. It was just past two in the morning. Burke had said that I needed to visit the crossroads before dawn. Having him give credence to such woo-woo instructions proved that this island had turned everything upside down.
Go to a crossroads during the witching hours and listen.
It was the kind of thing some voodoo poser in New Orleans would tell a tourist and something Burke would’ve dismissed out of hand.

Hell, I didn’t even believe in those old school superstitions. Herbs and the natural medicines we sold in my gran’s shop, sure. But all the spells, rituals, and such always seemed silly. No ritual would make someone love you or help you win the lottery…or get memories back that your brain had blocked.

So why was I so goddamned scared to walk out to the road and just see? At least if I tried, Burke would know I’d made an effort. Maybe then he could accept that we couldn’t force my memories back. We’d have to wait for them to come back in time—if they ever came back at all.

He’d admitted he loved me tonight. In that moment, everything inside me had soared. I’d wanted to say it back, to show him I felt the same way. But I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear it. This version of me was a stranger to him. He didn’t trust me or my feelings.

I was a clone. A shell with missing parts.

I slipped on my sandals and headed to the door.

I couldn’t remember everything about the woman I was supposed to be, but I didn’t remember her being a coward.

* * *

The castle loomed large in the distance, as I carefully made my way along the sandy trail toward the small road I’d searched for on the island map. There were no lights along this path, and the foliage seemed to tangle more tightly around me as I got farther from the cabana. But fingers of moonlight peeked through here and there, giving me enough illumination to avoid tripping and falling—well, as long as I kept my cool and took my time. Not the easiest things to do at the moment.

I’d felt brave at the beginning, convincing myself that this was a peaceful walk with the sounds of the ocean and the breeze though the palms. But then the night birds started to call to each other, and unknown things rustled in the bushes around me, making me jump each time a leaf twitched. Now all I could think about were poisonous snakes, wild boar, and God knows what else that could be plotting my demise. If I got into any kind of trouble, I doubted anyone would hear me scream over the sound of the water.

There was a comforting thought. I hugged my arms around myself and rubbed at the chill bumps. Maybe I should just turn around and try this tomorrow night. I could ask Burke to come with me. But when I peeked over my shoulder, I couldn’t see the cabana anymore. So I was at least as far away from it as I was to the road. The path would be just as treacherous going back as it would forward.

I sighed and kept moving, using the castle as my compass point. The wind whipped along, chilling the air, and tugging my hair from the knot I’d hastily secured at the nape of my neck. Dread like I’d never felt before spread through me with icy fingers. The urge to run back to the cabin beat hard in my gut.

Breathe, Gretchen.

I forced air into my lungs, counting my breaths, and tried to stave off the panic attack. I was barely winning the fight when the path finally widened and the snarl of vegetation cleared. A narrow paved road stretched across my view. A choked sound of relief rose from my throat, and I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Thank God for small miracles. I stepped onto the blacktop, wiping the sweat off my forehead, and glanced in both directions. This had to be the place. A few yards to the right was an intersection and a weather-beaten sign with blue letters that crookedly pointed one way to the beach and the other to the castle. A crude wooden bench was perched in the sand beside the marker.

“My throne awaits,” I mumbled.

The solid road beneath my feet felt strange after sinking in sand all day, but it made the journey much quicker. I reached the bench and brushed the sand and leaves from it before sitting down to wait for…well, nothing most likely.

I pulled my feet onto the bench and hugged my knees, sitting my chin on top of them. What had Burke said I needed to do when I got here?

Listen.

Well, that was oh so helpful. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. There was a lot to hear, but nothing different from what I’d heard on the trek over. Birds, bugs, wind, water. After awhile, the steady sound of it all seeped into my bones, making my limbs heavy and my mind quiet, my body yearning for the sleep I’d deprived it of for so long.

But there was no way I could let myself fall asleep out here. I might sleepwalk right into the damn ocean. I lifted my head and rubbed my face in an attempt to revive myself. When that didn’t work, I did what every sane person does—talked to myself.

“All right. You can do this. Focus.” Just because no magic had happened didn’t mean I couldn’t get what I came here for on my own. I massaged my fingertips along my brow bone and tried to probe those blank spots in my mind, tried to relax everything else and reach for them. “You loved someone, Gretchen.
Remember
him.”

But no matter how hard I tried, nothing came. I couldn’t tell if it was my own fear blocking me or if something really had injured my brain. I banged a fist against the bench, frustration welling in me. “Just show me what I need to see!”

Breathe.

The word whispered past my ear even as my ridiculous outburst was swallowed up by the dense landscape. I glanced around with frantic eyes, searching the dark, but saw nothing. It’d just been the sound of the breeze through the leaves. I rubbed my hands over my legs, trying to chase away the goose bumps and the edgy feeling that had overtaken me.

I was stupid for coming out here in the first place. What did I expect to happen?

I’d had a head injury. My memory had been affected. Sitting in the middle of a crossroads in the dead of night wouldn’t change that. I needed to go back to the cabin and get some sleep. The only thing that would fix this was healing time.

I stood and took two steps toward the path, absently grasping for my Benedict medal. But a sound behind me had me halting my stride. I spun on the ball of my foot and braced myself for some rabid hog charging my way, but there was no animal coming at me.

No. There was a man, stepping out of the trees and staring straight at me.

A jolt of terror went through me, freezing my muscles. But when our gazes connected, and he gave a tentative smile, everything inside me burst wide—doors swinging open, memories flooding, and then rip-your-guts-out grief tearing right through the center of me.

No.

It couldn’t be.

It wasn’t him.

I was asleep on the bench. I was dreaming.

But then he said my name. I dropped to my knees on the blacktop and wept.

Harris
.

Chapter 10

~ Gretchen ~

I should’ve been scrambling to my feet and bolting. Dead guy shows up—you run. That was the protocol. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything but stay there on my knees, palms pressed to the blacktop, and heave sobs like some inconsolable child.

This was a dream. I was sleepwalking or in a trance state. This was why I’d been told to be here and listen. The ritual had brought me the dream.

But regardless of what this was, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was as handsome as I remembered, maybe even more so, with his windswept blond hair and pale green eyes. The bizarre fact that he was dressed like any other tourist on an island—crisp khaki shorts and a light blue polo shirt—barely registered. All I could fixate on was how alive he looked, how real.

“Gretchen,” he said again, moving closer with slow, measured steps, his hands out in front of him as if to soothe a crazy person. “Baby, it’s okay. I swear. It’s okay.”

I hiccupped on a sob and shook my head vehemently. “Not. Okay. You can’t be here. I saw you. I…I buried you.”

Anguish filled his eyes. “Don’t think about that. Please. I’m here now.” He touched his chest as if to prove it—whether to himself or to me, I wasn’t sure. “You’ve been asking to talk to me, right? You know you have.”

I shook my head again, unable to process any of this.

“That night at your house, we were so close. I know you felt me. Baby, I was trying. With everything I have, I’ve been trying to reach out to you. I’ve been with you.”

My hands fisted at my side as memories cascaded over me, pictures and emotions flashing through my head like a slideshow at warp speed. “No.”

“The night my brother taunted me by kissing you…” Hurt flashed though his eyes.

Bile rose in my throat.

He knelt down in front of me, the lines in his face becoming soft with concern and sadness. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay now.” He reached out and stroked my arm. His hand was as warm and solid as the ground beneath me. “In this place, those barriers between us aren’t there. You just had to want me here. You only had to ask.”

When the breeze blew, I could smell his familiar cologne. The hollow ache that had plagued me for the last year seemed to yawn wider. “Harris.”

“Yes, baby, it’s me. I’m here.”

Everything hurt. Every part of me. I could shatter. He wrapped his arms around me, and I let him. But every emotion was trying to bleed out of me at once.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he said against my hair, his own voice choked with grief. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I was cold all over despite his surprising warmth. My face pressed into the crook of his neck, the formerly familiar terrain strange to me now.

“You left me,” I whispered, the words scraping across my aching throat. “You
left
.”

“I’m so, so sorry.” His arms tightened around me as he rocked me. “It wasn’t supposed to be that way. I didn’t want to leave you. You have to believe me. It was a mistake.”

I stilled at that and extracted myself from his embrace, sitting back on my calves. “What?”

He swiped tears off my cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze solemn, beseeching. “It was a mistake.”

The words pounded through my brain with the force of a mallet. “A mistake?”

He exhaled loudly, and I was momentarily distracted by the fact that Harris was here—breathing.

He took my hand and caressed the spot where my wedding ring used to be. “I was drunk that night—pissed off and not thinking straight.” He raised his gaze from my naked finger. “I took too many pills. I only wanted to sleep.”

“Pissed?” I tried to think back to that day. I’d gone over it my head a million times, searching for clues, some sign that would’ve explained things. I remembered him smelling like whiskey, but that hadn’t been completely out of the ordinary. Often after business meetings, the guys would go out and drink. I’d been annoyed he was home late, but we hadn’t fought or anything.

He sighed. “I’d lost a lot of money that day. Most of my money, actually. Made a shady deal with someone I shouldn’t have and screwed myself—and you.” A muscle in his jaw flexed as he continued to rub that bare spot on my left ring finger. “All the money for the house I’d been planning to build for us. The money for the wedding. I thought you’d leave me. You would’ve had a right to.”

Everything inside me went cold. This had been about
money
? “Harris, I would’ve never left you for—”

“When I came home early to break the news to you, I heard you talking on the phone. With my brother. I’d already had too much to drink, and you were laughing. ” He grimaced. “You sounded so happy and…like you were flirting with him. I got angry. You’d just gotten back from visiting family in New Orleans. And all these thoughts raced through my head. That you had something on the side with him, that you’d always wanted him and had settled for me. I went back out before you even knew it and got tanked at the bar across the street. By the time I got home, I just wanted to pass out. I don’t remember taking the pills.”

“You thought I was
cheating
on you with Burke?” For some reason, this was more shocking than the fact that I was talking to my dead fiancé.

He sat on his heels and raked a hand through his hair—a very Harris gesture. “I know now that there wasn’t anything going on. But the bond you had with him made me question things. You liked him first. He was your first kiss.”

“I dated
you
. I was going to marry you.”

“After I lied and told you Burke had hooked up with every hot girl in the school. After I insisted we go to college up north. When we were together, I never doubted that you loved me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if you loved him, too. And in a way you’d never have for me. That if I hadn’t made up those stories about him, if I hadn’t moved us to New York, you would’ve chosen him.”

His confession was like getting hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. He’d lied about what Burke did in high school. Had purposely moved me away from home. All to make sure I chose
him
?

Harris grabbed my hands. “I realize now that it was stupid insecurity. I was a paranoid idiot. I’ve seen what you’ve gone through since I left, and baby, I’m so sorry I ever questioned you. So very sorry. To see you this broken and sad has ripped me apart. I hate myself for doing this to you. I can’t bear it.”

I climbed to my feet on shaky limbs, all the information making me dizzy and light-headed. Harris followed suit, hurrying to a stand and taking my elbow—like he was the strong one, like he wasn’t some specter in a dream.

He led me to the bench and I sat. My fingers and toes had gone ice cold. Everything else was numb. Harris sat next to me, heat radiating from him. I stared down at my hands. They looked too pale in the moonlight. Silvery. “Were you with me on the beach tonight?”

Harris laid his hand over mine. “I couldn’t get to you here. Not until you asked. This place is different. It lets me…” He pressed my chilled hand between his palms. “…be with you. Touch you.”

“This is only a dream,” I said softly.

He shook his head and shifted his body so that we could be face-to-face. “No, baby, it’s not. I can be here.
We
can be here. Together. For as long as we want.”

My stomach flipped over. “What do you mean?”

“This place is beautiful and special. You don’t have to leave.
I
don’t have to leave.”

I blinked. “Not leave?”

“You can paint, live in one of the cabanas on the island. We can be together, Gretchen.”

Only bits and pieces of what he said registered. But I got the most important part. I could have Harris back. If this wasn’t some dream to wake up from, I could have him back. The thought made everything inside me tug and pull and twist in directions I couldn’t identify. I reached out and touched his face. The freshly shaven jaw. The dimple. All so solid and familiar. And the look in his eyes was one of utter devotion and unwavering hope.

Harris was here. And we could be together.

The possibility should have sent me soaring. But my emotions were so all over the place that I simply sat there, dumbfounded.

And that’s when he leaned over, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

He tasted like Altoids. He’d always tasted like that—minty and clean. A man who’d never be caught with bad breath. That familiarity jolted me out of my stupor, allowing panic to rush in. The kiss was warm and eager, an aching edge to it, and my body responded almost automatically. I’d done this a thousand times with Harris. But this time, there was guilt weaving through me, a sense of betrayal. And I couldn’t decipher where that guilt was coming from.

“Gretchen,” he murmured against my lips. “Baby, I’ve missed you so much. I love you. Always. We can have always.”

Before I could respond, his mouth was on me again, and I let myself have that moment with him. This was the point I’d wake up. This was my closure. Our real good-bye.

But when he pulled me onto his lap to straddle him, his very real erection rubbing against me, the scene didn’t fade. I didn’t wake up. Instead, everything became more vivid. My body awakening. My senses coming alive.

His hands cupped my bottom, his expression fevered. “Make love to me, baby, and I won’t have to ever leave you again. That’s all we have to do. And we can be together.”

He slid his hot palm beneath the waistband of my shorts and moved his thumb exactly where he knew I liked it best before tucking his fingers inside me. Harris had learned me after so many years together and played every hot spot of mine like a master musician. I came almost immediately, my breath moving in short bursts and my head tilting back.

That was when I realized this wasn’t a dream at all.

Because I always woke up after an orgasm in a hot dream.

And the man about to fuck me was very, very real.

All we have to do is make love, and we can be together.

The words whispered through my head as Harris reached for the button of his pants. There was a finality in this. What we were about to do would seal some pact. I didn’t know what or how, but I’d been around my gran’s shop long enough to know that pacts or deals weren’t anything to take lightly. And Harris was in a hurry, sweat marking his brow, his fingers fumbling. He’d never been a fast and furious lover. Something was wrong.

Nerves chased over me, indecision burning hot in my belly. In a dream, one last time with Harris had seemed like an appropriate way to close that chapter with a man I had loved. But all of sudden, I had the distinct feeling this was less about closing and more about opening.

I put my hands over his. “Harris, wait.”

He lifted his head and kissed me again. “We don’t have time to spare. I can’t wait another day to be with you. Please, love.”

“Let’s just slow down for a minute. Kiss me.” I needed something to halt this roller coaster. I needed time to process what this was, what it could mean, how I felt about it.

He kissed me. Deep and hungry and in a way that reminded me of our early days in college. But his hands were still opening his fly. The breeze picked up, lifting the hairs on my neck, and I pulled back.

The dark sky was morphing, the songs of the birds becoming more fervent.

“No.” Harris yanked at my shorts.

But as his fingers moved over the button, nothing happened. His skin was losing color and substance.

“No!” Torment filled his face, and he tried to hug me to him. His arms moved right through me.

“Harris,” I said in a choked voice, not knowing what to do to help him.

Pink tinged the sky and he began to cry. His hand cupped my face, but I could no longer feel it. “Tomorrow night. Come back and we won’t have to ever be apart again. Please, baby.”

I opened my mouth to say something—though I wasn’t sure what—but he was gone before anything came to me. I was left on the bench, kneeling on the wood with nothing else beneath me but empty space where he once had been.

I’d lost him again.

And this time, it was definitely my fault.