Page 49 of Make Me Forget
“You taste like peaches,” Icountered.
He ducked his head again and nibbled on my bottom lip. It was better than my first kiss. Now, healthy, medicated, I could see the gift he offered in a new light. Not a doubt entered my mind. I could say the word and keep this manforever.
He trailed his lips to my neck, and I started to melt in him. His arms gripped me tight and solid. A few seconds of bone bending arousal, he lifted his head, his eyes seriousnow.
“What is it?” I asked, cupping his cheeksagain.
“I looked for you. All over the country. I didn’t wander 5000 miles because I found it enjoyable, I did it to find you. I can’t believe I have you in my arms rightnow.”
He released me and stalked to his suitcase, whipped back the top, and dug around until he found a velvet blackbox.
I fairly tripped over a bench to get away. He stalked toward me and knelt at my feet. “Murphy,” I pleaded. “I don’tknow…”
He locked his eyes on mine and split the box open. Inside the box lay a slim cold band, plain, worn even on one side. Now I felt foolish. “What isthis?”
I took it out and stared down at it. “It’s the wedding ring your grandmother wore when she married your grandfather, and the ring your mother wore when she married your father. I found the answer to your question. When you asked me to tell you how you killed your mother, I didn’t know much besides how your motherdied.”
I sat on the bed, barely keeping myself from sliding off the edge as I listened. “Your mother died of a drug overdose, which I know you found out. What you don’t know is that you put her in the rehab facility. You admitted her and took over medical power of attorney. Once she got inside, it wasn’t 24 hours before she got her hands-on a stash, overdosed, anddied.”
How could that be it? I wracked my brain for a detail I missed. “But my journal. I wrote a lot about feeling guilty for killing my mother. From this side of the situation, I don’t see it that way. Of course, I feel awful she died like that, but I don’t feel responsible.” I faced him and nocked my knees against his. “Does that make me a badperson?”
He flipped the end of my chin with his thumb. “No. But I think when you were serving, you suffered from depression and PTSD at least. From what I read on the subject since…everything happened…you were feeling to blame because of your illnesses. Now you’re in a more healthy frame of mind, you can see the situation moreclearly.
I nodded and pulled the ring from the box to star down at the tarnished gold. I slid it onto my right hand ring finger. A perfect fit. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I can’t repay you forthis.”
He got down on his knees again and shuffled until I opened mine to allow him between. “All I ask in repayment is you consider giving me another chance. I’m not the same man I was in high school. I’m not the same man I was a year ago. But one thing hasn’t changed. I still want you more than anything in theworld.”
I could see the sincerity in his eyes and sighed. “I didn’t come here to get youback.”
“Are you seeingsomeone?”
“No, nothing like that. I just don’t want you to think I found you and immediately expected to betogether.”
His brow furrowed, and I recognized that look of frustration. “Why wouldn’t you? I told you a long time ago there would be no other woman for me. I haven’t changed my mind about that. If you have, tell me, and I’ll leave you alone. But, I’ll never want anyoneelse.”
He swallowed hard loud and pulled my face in to his. “I still love you,” hewhispered.
I remembered I’d never actually told him how I felt, not vocally at least, only via the letter I wrote. Now was my chance if I could be brave enough to take it. My heart skipped a few beats, totally worth a heart attack to touch himagain.
I sunk down onto the carpet in front of him, to look up into his eyes now. “I still love youtoo.”
“Does that mean you’ll go with me?” he asked, his eyes filled with adorablehope.
“I’m sorry. I can’t go. I have a job here, people who count on me. And I’m working on a degree as a mental healthadvocate.”
His face changed, and I had to lean back to figure out what that look meant. He kissed me again, hard, deep, almost cutting between our teeth. When he let me go, I had to inhale hard to catch mybreath.
“I’m so proud ofyou.”
A part of me didn’t know I’d been waiting to hear him say that again. A hot tear slipped down my cheek, and I dashed it away hoping he didn’t see. Since he’d not taken his eyes of me, likely a smallchance.
“Then can I stay here, withyou?”
I looked around his hotel room. “This is kind of funny, you living in a hotel and me having an apartment.” I brushed the carpet with my fingertips. “Although I bet there aren’t bugs in this carpet. Marisol would burn the placedown.”
“You can stay here with me on the condition we take it slow,” Ioffered.
A wicked gleam lit in his gaze, and my resolve flickered. “Seriously, Mr….slow.”
