Or so he’d thought.
It killed him to know she’d had an accident, one so traumatic and dangerous that she was hurt on such a fundamental level. He was glad to see she’d had no other lasting injuries from it. Still, it must have been terrifying for her. He wished he’d been there to soothe, to comfort, and to hold her when the fear had clouded her mind. He’d seen shadows of it, as she’d recounted her loss of memory so calmly at the table.
The table he’d made for her.
Call her back.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What would be the point? Call her back for what? She didn’t know him. She remembered nothing of how she’d fallen in love with him, remembered nothing of how she’d ripped his heart from his fucking body. It’d taken him months to get over her. Hell, he still wasn’t over her and he’d sworn he’d never mix with anyone who thought they were above him in wealth and class again. He’d be a damned fool to pursue the same woman who had given him that unbearable taste of pain, the woman who’d thrown him away like he was worthless trash.
Did she throw me away? The question roiled through him, taunting. She had gone to our meeting point. She could have changed her mind.
She struggled with the keys as she tried to open the van door, muttering, “Damn it,” when she dropped the keys. She stooped down to get them, but stayed there for too long, her shoulders shaking.
Fuck.
She was crying. It gutted him to see it. He hurried down the porch and crouched beside her. “Ava, what is it?” Stupid question. She had no memory. He couldn’t imagine how devastating that must be.
She lurched to her feet, and he stood with her as she spun to face him. Her eyes were wide pools of hurt and confusion.
“Your kitchen is my dream kitchen,” she rasped hoarsely.
His gut tightened. Before he could move she fisted his shirt, and he felt the sting of the key as it pressed into his stomach.
“If we only had a fl—fling, why is my dream kitchen in your home? Why, even now, do I hear your voice in my head telling me that you adore me? Why do I see myself laughing and crying as you give me a ring made from a piece of straw? Why do I feel as if I am making a mistake by walking away from you now, when I don’t even fully remember you?”
The stinging drizzle of rain mixed with the trail of tears running down her face and neck. All he wanted to do was hold and comfort her, but that would be a mistake. Their time together had come and gone. She had ended it. Not a day had passed over the several months since they had parted when he hadn’t wished for her to be in his arms. Not one fucking day had existed in which he did not dream of her. And now here she was, so close he could touch her.
“Your dream kitchen is in my home because I was a fool over you, Ava. I knew what you loved and I worked my ass off to make them for you. I wanted to make you happy, and I wanted to make you never regret being with me.”
Her eyes widened. “A fool over me? As in you loved me?”
“Yes.”
Her breath trembled on a gasp.
“But it wasn’t mutual,” he said.
“Wasn’t it?” Her voice was hoarse with pain. “I remember loving you. The feelings that power through me are so intense, they scare me. Why wouldn’t I be a fool over you as well??”
“Because you saw me as trash. Your parents saw me as trash. My father was the abusive drunk who whopped on his kids and the townsfolks knew. I was the boy who had more days absent from school than I was ever present. I was the bad boy who had got into dozens of fights and spent more than one night in Sheriff Huntley’s cell cooling my heels. I had the brother in prison. Because I was nothing but trash to you and your family.”
She flinched. “You are not trash and, from what I can remember, not once did I think of you like that. Not once.”
His gut twisted. Part hope and part fear. “What do you want from me, Ava? If I admit that we were more? What then? Where do we go from there?”
Panic swirled in the depths of her blue gaze. “I . . . I—”
“Exactly, Ava. Even now you see me knowing deep down that I am not good enough for you.”
“It’s not because you aren’t good enough!” She shuddered. “I’m just broken, Devlin. I only came because I needed to know. Nothing else.”
She sounded so lost.
He gripped her hips and drew her to him. She came willingly. He lowered his head. “You are not broken. You’re the strongest person I know. I cannot fathom your pain, but you are not weak, and it will not defeat you.”
“Do you think so?” Her eyes begged for reassurance.
“I know so. I will be there and help you for however long you wish. All you have to do is say the words. You may not remember but we were more than just lovers, Ava. We were friends,” he admitted.