Page 57 of Unforgettable
Even then, she didn’t trust herself to slow down. Her steps remained quick, uneven, her breath tight in her chest as she fumbled for her keys with her left hand. It took longer than it should have, her frustration rising sharply with every second she couldn’t get a steady grip.
“Come on…” she muttered under her breath, finally managing to unlock the door.
She slid into the driver’s seat and shut it quickly behind her, the sound louder than necessary in the quiet of the car. For a moment, she simply sat there, her hands resting in her lap, her pulse refusing to settle.
Of course.
The thought came fast. Automatic. Familiar.
Of course there was someone.
Of course there was a life she hadn’t seen, hadn’t been part of, hadn’t even considered asking about. Why would there be? Why would she assume she had any place in it beyond what had already been given?
She let out a short breath that held no humor at all.
You knew better.
That was the worst part.
She had known better.
She had told him as much. Told herself. Set the boundary clearly enough that there should have been no confusion. He was her doctor. Then he wasn’t. And somewhere between those two points, she had let herself believe there might be something more.
Something real.
Something safe.
Her fingers curled slightly against her palm, the ache in her hand flaring just enough to pull her attention back to something physical, something she could control.
Dinner.
The walk.
The way he had looked at her.
The way he had said her name.
Her eyes closed briefly. It had felt real. That was the problem. It had all felt real.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her voice unsteady now. “Don’t do this again.”
She leaned back against the seat, staring through the windshield without seeing anything beyond the memory replaying itself over and over.
The woman’s arms around him.
The ease of it.
The familiarity.
And the way he hadn’t stepped back.
Hadn’t explained.
Hadn’t—
No.
She cut the thought off before it
