Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series) (5 page)

Grace fought the panic rising in her chest. “No!”

“Yes.” Ray’s face was cold, implacable. “That’s where you were going. You were leaving me to hook up with lover-boy.”

“No. That’s impossible.”

“You stood right here and told me, in this very kitchen.”

“No.” She was repeating herself, but
no
was the only word her mind could form.

“
Yes
. I caught a home invasion just before end-of-shift, so I’d put in a couple of hours of OT and got home late. You were waiting for me here, about where you’re standing right now. But you weren’t keeping supper warm, were you Gracie?”

She pressed both hands to her temples, trying to push back the confusion. It couldn’t have happened. She couldn’t have left Ray. She’d never leave him.
Never
.

“That can’t be right. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Ah, but you did. You said you’d met someone else, someone who meant more to you than I ever could. You said you were sorry, but there was no point in my trying to stop you.” His voice grew stronger, louder with every accusation. “You said now that you knew what love was supposed to be like, you couldn’t settle for less.”

Grace covered her ears. “Stop! You’re making this up.”

He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Funny, that’s what I accused you of doing, making it up. But you convinced me.”

She dropped her arms to her sides. “But there’s no one. I mean, I don’t remember‌—”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Dr. Greenfield said you’d probably have random blanks. There’d be stuff you might not remember.”

“Random blanks? But I don’t remember anything ... any
one
.” God, she was losing her mind. Maybe she’d already lost it. “How can you call it
random
if a whole thread is missing?”

Ray angled his face away, but she could see he was struggling with his own emotions. “Maybe it’s a new development. Greenfield said new memories can be especially vulnerable.”

Grace swallowed. “How new?”

“Three days.”

She laughed, but it came out more like a sob. “You think I’d run away with someone I’d had a relationship with for
three days
?”

“How should I know?” A muscle leapt in his jaw. “Until recently, I’d wouldn’t have believed it under any circumstances.”

“But three days ... I wouldn’t‌—”

“There’s another possibility.”

“What’s that?” Hysteria welled in her chest, driving her voice higher. “Insanity?”

“Psychological trauma.”

“Psychological trauma?” she echoed. “Is this another thing Dr. Greenfield neglected to tell me about?”

He looked away again. “No, Greenfield didn’t mention it. But I’ve seen it on the job. Sometimes people block memories selectively.”

“You think I
chose
to forget that I’d taken a lover and dumped you?”

“It’s not exactly a voluntary thing.”

“But why?” she demanded. “What would make me do that?”

His head snapped back around. “How the hell would I know?”

His gaze blazed into her and she tried not to flinch. But dear heaven, he looked as though he hated her. Grace wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry. This is so new.”

“I haven’t had too long to get used to it, either.”

“When‌—” She choked, tried again. “When did I tell you?”

“The night of your accident.”

Her mind wanted to shut down, stop processing, but she couldn’t let it. After a week of blundering around in the dark, she needed the truth.

“I just told you? I mean, I just flat-out told you, then left?”

“Yep.”

“I can’t see myself doing that.” She shrugged helplessly. “Doing
any
of it.”

“I needed some convincing myself, but you persuaded me.”

She searched his face. He was telling the truth. She read it in the hard glitter of his eyes, the ruthless set of his mouth. This was the root of the underlying coldness she’d sensed in him even as he’d nursed her so solicitously. This was why he’d rebuffed her clumsy seduction.

Oh, Grace, what have you done? And why can’t you remember?
A dozen different emotions tried to jam their way through a narrow bottleneck in her chest.

Stunned disbelief.
I can’t possibly have done it.

Hideous self-doubt.
Could I have done it, but the trauma of the betrayal made me forget?

Mind-numbing fear.
Oh, Gracie, what if you did do it?

Stomach-churning shame.
Sweet mother of God, what if I really did it?

The tumult of emotions melded into a single one‌—‌hot, despairing, improbable anger.

“So, what’s the story?” Her voice was brittle. “If I hadn’t jumped you in there tonight,” she indicated the direction of the bedroom with a jerk of her shoulder, “if I’d waited like a good little girl for you to touch me like I always do, how long would it have taken you to tell me this?”

His eyes narrowed. “The doctor said to give you a chance to remember it on your own.”

“And what if that didn’t happen?
Huh?
What then?” she demanded. “What if I never recover those memories? What did Dr. Greenfield say about that?”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

“Why not? Why the
hell
not?”

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to pummel his chest, scratch him. Insanity. She had no right to this anger. She was the betrayer, he the betrayed. But knowing that didn’t seem to stem the frightening rage.

“There’s nothing there. Do you understand me, Ray?” she said. “
Nothing
. It feels like I’m never going to recover anything from that fog. How can you say that’s not a concern?”

His eyes went flat. “I’m thinking you’ll get a solid reminder any day now.”

At his words, her anger peeled away, exposing its true face‌—‌fear. Her mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”

“Sweet thing like you? Sooner or later, he’s gonna come for you, don’t you think?”

Grace felt the blood drain from her face.

“I’ll take the couch,” said Ray, stepping around her.

Ray came awake to the sound of casters rolling across hardwood flooring. He glanced at the clock on the VCR and stifled a groan. Three in the morning. Ignoring his stiff back, he swung his feet to the floor and levered himself off the couch.

She didn’t hear him coming. For a moment, he leaned against the doorframe and watched her pore over the telephone book in the pool of light cast by the desk lamp. Beside her, the Pullman suitcase whose noisy wheels had woken him crouched next to two smaller bags.

His
bags, he noted, recalling hers were still in the SUV where he’d shoved them after Quigg rescued them from the Mustang’s wreckage.

“Going somewhere, Grace?”

She whirled, one hand going to her throat. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Obviously not.” He flicked on the overhead light. “So, where are you off to this time?”

The abject misery in her face made him wish he could pull back that flippant question. But in a matter of seconds, the look was gone, her expression carefully smoothed.

She shrugged. “I thought I’d go back home for a few weeks.”

“Oh, Lord, not that.”

She colored fiercely. “It’s all right. I can handle Mama.”

“You don’t have to go back there, Grace. You don’t have to go anywhere.”

She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I can’t stay.”

“Why not? This is your home, too.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I just can’t.”

Suddenly, he couldn’t bear for her to leave. Not again. Not yet.

“If you leave now, Grace, you might lose your only chance of regaining those memories.”

She looked up at him then, her beautiful eyes red-rimmed and brimming with more tears. “I don’t want to remember.”

Her unhappiness pierced him. “Don’t worry about it tonight. Just go back to bed. Things’ll look better in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep. I feel like I might never sleep again.”

He almost smiled at that. “You will. Life has a way of going on. We’ll figure something out. But right now, let’s get you back to bed. I’ll take these cases up.”

She studied him for a moment. “You really want me to stay?”

What he wanted was for the last week not to have happened.

No, he wanted more than that. He wanted to go back in time to when Grace felt the first stirring of dissatisfaction, only this time he’d pay attention to what she needed, what she wanted.

But that was a child’s wish. An impossibility. There was no going back. He’d settle for understanding what had happened.

Settle for it? Hell, he
needed
to know what had gone wrong. He didn’t see how he could go on from here without that knowledge. And for that to happen, Grace had to remember.

“Yes, I want you to stay.”

Her eyes lit, and Ray cursed himself. Hope was a luxury neither of them could afford. So he looked away and did what he had to. “What I mean is, it’d be better for both of us if you regain your memory, and this is the best place for you to do it.”

“I see.”

“I doubt it. Now go on up. I’ll bring you a hot toddy.”

“I’m scared, Ray.”

The fear in her voice brought his head up. And, oh, damn, he shouldn’t have looked into her eyes. He sighed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

“I think it’s bad, the thing I can’t remember. I think it could hurt us. It could hurt you.”

“No.” Ray couldn’t have kept the bleakness out of his voice if he tried. “It can’t get any worse. It can only get better from here. Trust me. I need you to do this for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, then turned and climbed the stairs.

Grace listened to Ray’s breathing, deep and even in the darkness, and knew he was asleep. He’d held himself stiffly for hours, until finally,
finally
, he succumbed some twenty minutes ago.

It was pity alone that kept her husband here on the bed with her, albeit on top of the covers. She knew it, but she didn’t care. It was such a comfort to have him lie so close, to breathe the same air he breathed.

Dear God, she didn’t want to remember. There was something there, something ugly just beyond her reach, and it was bad.

But Ray needed her to remember, so remember she would.

Even if it killed her.

Shivering, she drew the duvet closer, shut her eyes and let exhaustion claim her.

S
OME PEOPLE CLEANED COMPULSIVELY
when anxiety rode them. Some threw themselves into their jobs. Others unplugged from life and plugged into the television. Grace cooked.

By the time Ray came downstairs the next morning, she’d amassed a small mountain of pancakes, cooked a half-pound of bacon, and set a dozen blueberry muffins on a rack to cool.

He cocked an eyebrow at the spread. “Expecting company?”

Grace blushed. “I thought I’d go back to work. I guess I felt in need of some fortifying.”

He poured himself a coffee. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Positive.” She met his skeptical gaze. “I’m not going to remember anything as long as I’m closeted here, racking my brain. It’ll come easier if I go back to my normal routine.”