Ava: I only get your voicemail when I call. I heard you’re home now. They still haven’t found Dad or Colton.
Then there’s her last message, sent a week ago.
Ava: I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I wish you would talk to me about it. Nic and I are addressing wedding invitations tonight, and I can’t stop thinking that I’m supposed to be doing this with my best friend. Tell me how to fix this.
Guilt lodges painfully in my throat. I don’t remember Ava, but I no longer believe she was some dark, criminal influence on my life.
I back out of that thread and move to the one labeled Levi Jackson. The message is from two weeks ago, the day after I was released from the hospital. It’s short but it makes my chest ache.
Levi: Why don’t you ever let me say goodbye?
Levi
I might never see her again.
That fear was responsible for a shitty night’s sleep, and it won’t leave my brain this morning either.
Neither Ava nor I woke up in any rush to leave. Yesterday, on the drive down, I told myself I just wanted to know Ellie was okay. I thought if I could just hear her voice and see her face, I’d be able to let her go. I was wrong. She is okay, and she still doesn’t want to be near me. There’s a big, selfish part of me that doesn’t believe that’s possible. A big part of me that doesn’t understand how she could pretend nothing between us matters. But at the end of the day, I have to respect her wishes.
“Let me get that,” I say to Ava, pulling her overnight bag off her shoulder.
“I’m perfectly capable of putting my own bag in the trunk, Levi.”
“And Jake is perfectly capable of knocking out my teeth,” I say with a pointed look at her stomach. “Let me do the grunt work. It’s my job as your future brother-in-law.”
“I’ll remember this when I need help building the set for Wicked,” she says, grinning.
“You’re leaving?”
I still at the familiar voice—too scared it might not be her—but Ava turns. Her hand goes to her mouth, and tears spring into her eyes.
I force myself to draw in a breath and turn as well. There she is—Ellie Courdrey. As beautiful as the night we met and as much of a puzzle now as she was then.
“I drove around until I saw your Mustang. I probably should have called.” Her gaze shifts between Ava, me, and the car.
“That would require you to use the phone.” I know how hard my voice sounds, but I don’t care. She’s been pulverizing my heart from the moment she put on his ring, and I’m tired of pretending her decisions aren’t killing me.
“I know.” She clears her throat. “I turned it on today for the first time. Thanks for the messages,” she says to Ava. “I appreciate you thinking about me.” She shifts her gaze to me. “You too.”
I hold her gaze. Not touching her is a physical ache. I want to step closer, but I don’t trust myself to keep my hands to myself. Ellie doesn’t look away, and energy zaps between us like a live wire.
“Can I hug you?” Ava asks Ellie.
I don’t know if I’m upset Ava broke the moment or relieved. I could get so lost in Ellie’s eyes, I’d be trapped in the memories.
“Um, yeah. Sure,” Ellie says.
Ava rushes forward, wrapping her into a tight squeeze. Ellie’s return hug is tentative. “I’m so sorry I’ve been selfish,” Ava says. “Of course you’re scared after what happened to you. And I just . . .” Shaking her head, she pulls away. “You do what you need to do. We’ll be there when you’re ready.”
Ellie nods. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.” Awkward. Stilted. Like she’s responding to a complete stranger. Could so much change in six weeks?
Ava winces. She feels it too. “Maybe I should leave you two alone. I need to go clean up breakfast anyway.” She disappears back into the house where there’s nothing to clean up but possibly some carryout wrappers and some crumbs on the counter. I know she’s giving us the time we need to clear the air. There aren’t enough hours left in the day.
“I’m glad I caught you before you left.” Ellie bites her lip and lowers her voice. “Your text message said I never let you say goodbye, and I thought . . .” She cuts her eyes away, her cheeks blooming pink.
I’m hit with a flash of memory so sweet that it makes my chest tighten. Her cheeks flushed in the moonlight, her eyes on mine as I looked down at her, naked underneath me. “No regrets.”
I should never have asked for a promise she wasn’t ready to make.
“After I turned on my phone and saw the texts from you and Ava,” Ellie says, “I felt bad for just disappearing from your life. You’re right. That wasn’t fair.” She drops her gaze to her feet. “I’m here so you can say goodbye. So I can say goodbye to you.” When she steps forward, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. Soft blue eyes and parted pink lips. “I owe you that.”
There’s so much I want from her—another night under the stars, another chance to explain how I feel. I want promises for the future and explanations of the past. I want so much, but her goodbye is nowhere on that list.
“I can’t tell you how badly I want to kiss you.” I should back up, put some distance between me and temptation. “But I don’t even know if you’d want me to. Or if you’d let me.”
“Kiss me?” she says, and I can’t tell if it’s a question or permission.
I slowly lower my head, leaning my forehead against hers, and she stills. “I wish you would come home.”
“I can’t.” She puts her palms against my chest. I hold my breath, waiting for her to push me away. She doesn’t.
Burying my nose in her hair, I breathe her in, desperate to get as close to her as possible after a long night of trying to convince myself to let go. “Your family took you away. I thought I’d lost you, and they wouldn’t let me see you.” Slowly, I sweep my mouth down the side of her neck, then follow the trail across her jaw and toward the kiss I shouldn’t take but can’t resist.
Her lips are as soft as I remember, and I match that softness with my mouth—a tentative touch that doesn’t ask for permission as much as beg for it. If kisses were words, this one would be please. Please let me touch you. Please let me hold you.
Please come home.
I don’t let the kiss go deeper, afraid I might lose my composure. I’m crossing lines and breaking unspoken promises as it is. Instead, I pull away and cup her face in my hands to study her. She keeps her eyes closed, as if she’s waiting for me to put my mouth on hers again.
Yesterday, she swore she wanted nothing to do with anyone from Jackson Harbor, and today she came here looking for Ava and me. Today, she let me kiss her and for all the world looks like she wants me to do it again. I won’t. Because I can taste goodbye on her lips.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She opens her eyes. “Then why did you?”
I back away from her. My kryptonite. My undoing. My every exception. “That’s a loaded question, but also a ridiculous one, since you already know the answer.”
She shakes her head. “But that’s just it. I . . . don’t remember.”
My stomach knots. Is she trying to hurt me? “Don’t remember what exactly?”
“The last three years.” She bites her bottom lip and shrugs. “I have retrograde amnesia. For me, it’s like my life in Jackson Harbor didn’t even happen.”
I blink at her, half expecting this to be a bad joke, but she’s serious, and suddenly the way she looked at me in the bar yesterday makes sense. The way she didn’t understand my connection to Ava. The way she just let me kiss her . . .
I bow my head and surprise myself by laughing. “Christ. That’s actually a relief.”