Aligned: Volume 2 (7 page)

“Alex!” I feel myself being pulled by the arms, the warm water leaving me. But I don’t register what’s happening.
 

“Alex!” the man says again smacking me gently on the cheeks.
 

“Open your eyes! Look at me!” he screams, but I’m not sure why he’s screaming.
 

I reluctantly open my eyes to stare at the bright light overhead peering into my eyes. When I see Landon, I feel relieved. He grabs a towel wrapping me in it and carries me to the bed.
 

“I’m sorry … I went too fast … I pushed you too far again.” Landon keeps talking, but I barely hear him. It takes me several minutes to remember the tub, Landon’s hands touching me, and then the nightmare. This time, Ethan wasn’t the one who haunted me. The man was different with two dark black eyes, a man who has begun sneaking into more and more dreams lately.
 

“Stop. It’s not your fault. I wanted this. I still want this. I just need to find a way to put the demons behind me first.”
 

Landon pulls me into his arms holding me on the bed. Neither of us says anything. There is nothing to say. Neither of us has any answers. All I know is I want this man whose arms hold me as I drift off to sleep. I want him for a lot longer than one night.
 

Could be your stubborn cries

I awake to the faint smell of coffee and bacon in the distance. I roll over and stare at the large numbers on the clock on the nightstand. It reads 5:25 am. That’s sleeping in by my standards. I head to the bathroom to relieve myself before realizing what’s wrong. I return quickly to the bedroom and stare at the large empty bed of the hotel. No Alex.
 

I search the room for my clothes spotting my boxer briefs wadded in a pile on the floor next to my jeans. I pull them on, thankful they are at least semi-dry and most of the sand has fallen to the floor instead of sticking to the cloth. I storm into the adjacent living room expecting to have to run back to the condo to find her, but the food tray stops me in my tracks. Why is there a large table filled with covered dishes in the living room? I’ll worry about that later. I head to the door; reaching for the handle, I throw it open with frustration. No one walks out on Landon Davis.
 

“Good morning,” Alex says from behind me with a heavenly voice.
 

I turn to face her. She’s wearing a hotel robe wrapped around her body, but enough skin is showing to make my erection twitch at the sight of her.
 

“What are you doing awake?” I ask grumpily.
 

“Well, you’re pleasant this morning.” She grabs a cup of coffee and hands it to me before slumping onto the couch with her own cup in hand. I make my way over to the couch and take a seat across from her. I sip my coffee staring at how awake she seems this early in the morning.
 

“I thought you had left.”
 

“No, I thought about it. It would have been easier to have just run out when I woke up at 1:30 in the morning in a strange place. It would have been easier to have just gone back to my condo and never spoken to you again, but that’s not what I want.” Her eyes meet mine trying to tell me more. I try to understand what her eyes are saying. Instead, I just get lost in her beautiful emerald eyes. I could look at them forever and still find a new shade of green reflecting from them.
 

“Did you have trouble sleeping because of your panic attack last night?” I ask still guilty for pushing her too far, for not recognizing the warning signs. She is smart not to give up control to me. I don’t deserve it.
 

“No. I don’t sleep much at night. I usually sleep a few hours in the afternoon, but the night is too hard for me. The nightmares overwhelm me then, so I don’t usually even try to sleep at night.” She takes a piece of the bagel as she is speaking and dips it into maple syrup. My lips curl into a grin, but I don’t stop her from taking a bite of bagel with syrup. She chews slowly deciding if it’s good or not. By the time she swallows, I still don’t think she has decided. I laugh causing her to look up at me.
 

“Here,” I say picking up a pancake and handing it to her. “Dip this into the syrup. It will taste better.” She takes the pancake from me and dips it into the syrup, chewing the more familiar food in her mouth as it goes down easily.
 

“Thanks. I knew there was something wrong with that.” She takes another bite of pancake with syrup. I lean back in the couch smirking at her. I’m amazed she is willing to try anything this world has to offer, even when she doesn’t have someone guiding her.
 

“It’s weird how your brain remembers some things like how to work a camera but not that you shouldn’t dip a bagel into syrup.”
 

She bites her lip and her eyes leave mine as she tries to decide what she’s going to say. What she wants to say. “About that. There is so much I don’t know about my past. I can relearn what foods I like, what songs I like, what movies are my favorite. With time, I can better understand who I am and what I want out of life. I already know that photography is a huge part of my past and will continue to be a huge part of my future because I love it. What I can’t relearn, though, is my past.” She stops talking, taking a deep breath as if what comes next is tearing her apart. I hold my breath as she holds hers, bracing myself for the words that come next.
 

“I’m going back to New York.”
 

I stare at her frozen in my spot. I thought we would have more time together. We need more time together to get her over her panic attacks. I know I can help her, and I selfishly hope she can help heal me in return.
 

“What do you mean exactly? You are going back to visit for a few days, weeks, what?”

“No. I’m moving back to New York. I came here after the accident for two reasons. One was the best surgeons in the country are here. At the time, they were trying to save my leg, but there was no hope. The second reason was the only family I have left, Laura, my mother-in-law, lives here. I wanted to be close to her in hopes I would find out more about my past and remember. Both of those reasons no longer exist. I’ve physically healed, so there is no need to be near the doctors here anymore. I can just as easily continue my physical therapy in New York. And Laura hasn’t been as helpful as I would like. My best chance at remembering my past and putting the nightmares and panic attacks behind me is to revisit my past. And my entire past, everything I know about it, is in New York.”
 

“What about your job? What about your friends here?” I ask.
 

“I can fly back to do a magazine shoot, but I can just as easily get jobs in New York. And as for friends …” She stops staring at me, biting that lip. “I just have to go.”
 

I suck in a deep breath trying to calm myself. This news shouldn’t be this upsetting to me. She’s barely my friend. She’s barely anything to me. She was a distraction that helped me write again. It hurts, though. Even though it shouldn’t, it hurts. I know Alex needs to go, but I’m afraid the more she learns about her past, the further she will drift away from me until she’s completely gone.
 

Her phone buzzes and she looks at the screen before back up at me. I swear I see a tear behind her eyes, and I’m afraid this is good-bye. “I need to go,” she says.
 

I nod. She stands and hurries into the bedroom. When she comes back out a few minutes later, I’m still in the same spot and she’s fully dressed. I stand on autopilot and walk past her to find my t-shirt on the floor in the bathroom. I pull it on before coming back to the living room where she stands waiting.
 

“Come on. I’ll walk you back,” I say. She nods and follows me out of the hotel. We walk in silence the five blocks back to our condos. I want so badly to take her hand in mine, to touch her in some way, but I don’t. I’m ice, and I won’t melt for her. I haven’t fallen for her. I’ll say good-bye and forget she ever existed. When she no longer lives here, I won’t have to think about her again. We make it to the condo and into the empty elevator, each of us pressing the button for our individual floors. When the doors open on the eighth, she steps out without a word, glancing back just once as she rounds the corner of the hallway out of view. I should have just let her go — a clean break — but I can’t. I can’t not hold out hope that we will miss out on something that could be more between us.
 

“Wait,” I say blocking the door of the elevator doors with my body. “I want to see you again before you go. Promise me we will have one more date before you leave.”
 

I see the twinkle flicker in her eyes. The flicker of hope. “We don’t do dates, remember?”
 

“Sure, we do.” That makes her smile. “Promise me.”
 

“I promise,” she says still smiling as she walks away from me to her condo. I climb back into the elevator and let the doors close, feeling better than if she had given me a hot and heavy kiss before leaving. I have one more chance.
 

I try to kick him again, but I can’t. He has all of his weight pressed down on me so I’m still pinned with my stomach to the ground.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I usually hate mirrors, but not this one. This one makes me look like a movie star ready to walk the red carpet instead of the outcast I feel. The black dress fits me like a glove hugging every curve and making my one good leg stand out. My tattoos shine brightly on my skin. Elisabetta and Laura wanted me to cover them as they had done for my wedding, but I refused. I’m beginning to love that part of me. I love how they tell the story of my past even when I can’t remember. I refuse to hide anything anymore. My hair falls perfectly in sexy loose curls. My face looks flawless. Makeup covers every scar and every flaw, making me look like a model. If it weren't for my prosthetic leg hiding beneath my skirt, I would feel every bit like the model they tried to make me appear.
 

“Have you memorized your speech yet? It will be on the teleprompter, but it helps if you are comfortable with it. To know when you’re going to smile and when you’re going to cry,” Laura says.

I look down at the piece of paper sitting on the table in front of me. I have it memorized. It’s a simple speech, really. I’m supposed to say how much I miss and love Ethan. How his life ended too soon due to a drunk driver. Thank everyone for the donations to fight drunk driving. To stop this from happening to someone in their family. Play the mourning wife, show that the Wolfe family is still strong and will keep fighting despite this loss, and that we are starting this foundation in Ethan’s honor. Just don’t show weakness; Wolfes never show weakness. It all sounds good and like a worthy cause until you realize Laura’s real agenda. It’s not to raise money for a foundation in Ethan’s honor. It’s to raise money for the Wolfe family. The more awareness she brings to the foundation, the more awareness she brings the Wolfe Corporation. She’s a businesswoman at heart who has run her father’s law company for years, turning it into a billion dollar company. Her son’s death just gives her company more exposure. Running the foundation in addition to the company will just give her more power and money than she has ever had before. It disgusts me.
 

“Five minutes until the limo arrives,” Elisabetta announces looking at her watch. She comes over to me and hands me the heels I agreed to wear. I had to have my prosthetic leg adjusted to be able to wear the heels. I’ve practiced walking in the heels before, but it still makes me nervous. We will be walking the red carpet, and I will have to walk onstage to give this speech without falling. Everyone’s eyes will be on Laura and me for the entire night. The widow and mourning mother making their first appearance since Ethan’s death.
 

I slip on the heels and practice walking, each step feeling as if I’m walking on stilts. With each step, I feel more and more off balance, but maybe it’s just the whole night. I wish I could just tell the truth in my own words about what happened, and how hard it is for us to move on from this. I haven’t said anything about moving back to New York to Laura yet. She expects me to stay here, stay close to her, and help run the foundation. I do not intend to run a foundation that is really just a moneymaking venture for the Wolfe family. I want no part of that.
 

“Time to go,” Laura says. I look at the impeccably dressed woman, also in black, as her dress sparkles in the light. Her hair and makeup are flawless. And suddenly, I have turned back into an ugly stepsister instead of the gorgeous princess I felt like only seconds before. I climb into the limo and wait as Laura climbs in after me. She doesn’t say a word to me the whole ride, which just makes it easier for the darkness to overwhelm me, as I fear I won’t get out of here alive.
 

***

I make it a whole hour without tripping or disgracing the family. A whole hour of showing off my beauty and demonstrating why I belong to the Wolfe family. A whole hour of walking elegantly on a cloud and pretending not to feel like the outcast I really am. Yet it all ended when I saw them
together
. Walking hand in hand, smiling at the photographers like a real couple should. Whispering into each other’s ears and stealing sweet kisses. When I see them, I lose it. They stand at the entrance to the ballroom answering questions from a reporter. My body starts moving toward them in what I assume is a run. At least the closest thing I have done to a run since the accident. I was standing next to Laura speaking to the governor, and next thing I know, I’m face-first on the ground; my dress has come up exposing my ass and prosthetic leg while the reporters’ attention is now on me snapping pictures.
 

My face is bright red with embarrassment and anger, but I hide my embarrassment and can’t make myself move from the floor. I know I’ll get an earful from Laura later. I deserve it for making a scene. Now, instead of the media publishing stories about Ethan, his broken widow will be all they talk about. I feel arms around me pulling me up into a standing position, but I don’t want to look at the man who pulled me to my feet. I already know who it is, and I don’t want him to see the anger on my face. The anger that is unfounded. I can’t be angry with someone who was never mine. He can take whomever he wants to an event like this. He can sleep with whomever he wants. He’s not mine. He’ll never be mine.