A Stranger She Can Trust. Regan Black

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СКАЧАТЬ true. “Sarah died on a call just over eight months ago.” 255 days. The math was automatic. “She was shot by thugs determined to rob the rig. I couldn’t st-stabilize her.”

      “That must have been awful, Carson. I’m so sorry.”

      “It was the worst night of my life.” He rolled his shoulders against the flood of sympathy. At least the sunglasses hid the pity surely lurking in her pretty brown eyes. “I haven’t gone back to full-time since, though I sub in for paramedics once in a while.”

      “You don’t want to get close to another partner.”

      He nodded. “I appreciate you not adding your voice to the chorus of people telling me to get back in the saddle.”

      She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. No clue why, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a partnership as deep as you clearly had with Sarah. I can see what she meant to you.”

      “Still.” He balled up the paper from his burger and held it in his fist while he searched for his composure.

      “Were you more than friends and coworkers?” She waved her hands. “You don’t have to answer that.”

      “No,” he answered, anyway.

      “Make me another promise.” She wrinkled her nose as she leaned closer. “Please?”

      “We’ll see.” He wasn’t sure making promises to her was the wise thing to do.

      “When my memory returns, ask me the most personal, embarrassing questions you can think of. I mean it,” she added when he laughed. “I deserve every single one of them.”

      “What’s your favorite color?” he asked instead.

      “Purple,” she replied instantly. “Wait. How did you know to try that?”

      “It’s one of the questions I asked you last night, just to see if the answer stayed the same.”

      “Did it? I was so exhausted, I barely remember you coming in.”

      He grinned at her. “Yes.”

      “I’ll take that as a good sign and the first piece of me coming back.” She bounced a little in her seat.

      “We’ll find out soon enough, I think.”

      “You’re a good man, Carson. However I wound up at the Escape Club last night, I’m glad you were there to help me out.”

      “Any of the staff would have done the same,” he said, ducking the praise. “Grant trains all of us to be aware and help discreetly.” With every hour she seemed more at ease, despite her lack of personal history. Her ability to roll with her circumstances baffled him and, to his shame, stirred up a little resentment. He felt constantly battered by his memories of the night Sarah died.

      His knee was an achy distraction by the time they finished their circuit and returned to the main gate, but he was glad they’d come. She was moving better and seemed refreshed overall. He offered to buy her a shirt from the gift shop, to add to the few possessions she could call her own, but she turned it down, claiming she owed him enough.

      “Do you want to go by your place for clothing or anything else you might need?” he asked as they returned to his truck.

      “We probably should. Do you know my address? Good grief, that sounds so weird to ask.”

      “I’ll get it from Grant.” Carson sent the text and had a reply before they left the parking lot. She lived only a few blocks away from the museum, and when he told her, she eagerly gazed out the windows.

      “Something pulls me to that building,” she said, twisting around in her seat when they passed the museum again.

      “It’s designed to pull attention,” he agreed.

      “More than that. I’m going to take it as a good sign that maybe this version of me isn’t too far off from the real me.”

      “I’ve never believed anyone could stray too far from their basic nature.” He felt the curiosity in her gaze and focused on the driving.

      “You don’t believe people can change?”

      “Habits? Sure. People can and should grow through life,” he said. “I just think some people are inherently nice or awkward or have a built-in mean streak. They can mask those traits, learn to use them, but they can’t alter what’s ingrained.”

      She made a little humming sound and started drumming her fingertips on her thigh. “What traits define you?”

      Cowardice, he thought, immediately aggravated by the first word that popped into his head. “I’d define myself as helpful and compassionate.” And, gee, didn’t that sound exciting?

      “Based on our short acquaintance, I’d agree.” She whistled. “This is so weird, knowing concepts and stuff without knowing who I am or where I come from.”

      Carson was inordinately relieved to shift the subject into the safer territory of her. “You’ll get there, Melissa.” He’d decided to use her name. It wasn’t as if they could put that genie back in the bottle, anyway. While pushing her could be counterproductive, the sooner she recovered, the sooner he could resume his routine. He’d been smart to stick with being a paramedic, a job in which he could treat and transport and hand off the patient for long-term care. Spending these hours with Melissa—a patient—through her recovery was messing with his head and tempering his resolve to avoid connections. Talking with her exposed that raw, gaping hole where his best friend had been and left him vulnerable to every emotional assault.

      He parked at the curb and studied the corner lot and the three-story home that had been converted into separate apartments. “Do you want to go inside and get some things? According to the address, your apartment is on the third floor.”

      “I don’t even know how to get inside,” she pointed out, shying away from the window.

      “We can ask a neighbor or look for where you hid your spare key. Most people do that.”

      “A key, right,” she whispered, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “Why don’t I have my key? I don’t remember if I trust my neighbors. I must. I live here, right?” Her teeth caught her lip, and she hissed at the pain. “This is a bad idea.” Her gaze raked the street, her house and back again. “I can’t do this.” Her breath came in shallow sips. “Nothing here feels right. This isn’t home. It’s wrong.” She closed her eyes tight, curling in on herself, and wrapped her hands around her head. “Not home. My head hurts, Carson.”

      Her sudden reversal scared the crap out of him. He understood memory lapses from trauma, understood some people never recovered all the pieces relating to a violent event or accident. Several of the first responders he counted as friends had blank spaces and never remembered all the details of severe injuries that had occurred. Still, he’d never seen any of them experience the stark fear stamped all over Melissa right now.

      He released her seat belt and dragged her to his side of the truck cab. Her body shook like a leaf in a hard wind. Out of better ideas, he wrapped his arms around her, silently willing her to calm down as he searched for the СКАЧАТЬ