A Stranger She Can Trust. Regan Black

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СКАЧАТЬ be fine.” A lie if ever he told one, since he had zero idea how any of this would work out for her.

      At last she pushed back from him, blotting her face with the cuff of her denim jacket. “This isn’t home, Carson.”

      “Okay.” Maybe she’d moved and hadn’t updated her information yet. Although it wasn’t a definitive reason to take her to a hospital, he’d have to let Grant know about her panic attack at the sight of her house. “Can you tell me what home looks like?”

      “No,” she murmured. She scooted back to the passenger seat and snapped her seat belt. “I’m trying. Can I please abuse your hospitality a little longer? And borrow more clothes from your sisters?”

      “Sure thing.” He was thinking he should probably call his sisters in to give her someone else to lean on. It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake and let her down.

      She pulled the matchbook from her pocket, then the business card. “I didn’t have a purse. Today every woman I’ve seen has been carrying some kind of purse or tote. What happened to mine?”

      He wished he had an answer. Carson pulled away from the converted house and decided to take the long route to his place. Whether it was the scenery, lack of a formal destination or some other reason, being on the move seemed to soothe her. “After an accident or an emergency, a lot of female patients ask that question,” he said after they’d left her neighborhood. “About the purse, I mean. It’s a kind of lifeline. Grant and Werner will already have people on alert for action on your credit cards or identification. You may feel alone and disconnected, but there are people in your corner.”

      “People who have no way of knowing if I’m worth their effort,” she said.

      He reached over and covered her hand with his. “You’re worth it.”

      She just shook her head, her dark hair swaying over her shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”

      “It is absolutely normal to be scared, Melissa. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” He was definitely a coward, wishing he could wipe out his final memories of Sarah. He’d tried everything to forget, to no avail. He understood how the department chaplain and others wanted to help, but that horrible night wouldn’t fade.

      “That house was really my address?” she asked, drawing him away from what had become a familiar slide into despair.

      He cleared his throat and focused on her. His personal problems would be there after her situation was resolved. “According to the records that popped up with your fingerprints.” She sounded stronger with the distance from her apartment. “Maybe the record needs to be updated.”

      “Home isn’t one place,” she whispered a few minutes later.

      “Pardon?”

      “I don’t know, but it feels right. Home isn’t one place,” she repeated. “Home is...” Her voice trailed off, and she groaned. “It was right there, a glimpse of my memory, and I lost it.”

      “For now. I think that’s a good sign you’ll make a full recovery.” He glanced over and saw the frown tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Relax. Paramedic’s orders.”

      He saw the ploy worked when she smiled at him. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

      “No problem.” And it wasn’t. He hadn’t been all that comfortable with the idea at first, concerned that she might need medical attention more than his observation. While he didn’t think she was completely out of the woods yet, he wasn’t worried that they were doing more harm by honoring her wish to avoid hospitals.

      Her panic wouldn’t help her amnesia recovery or anything else. “Let’s go see if my sister came through with the arnica oil, and we’ll just take it easy for the rest of the day.”

      “You can do that?”

      He nodded. “Can and will.” With luck, having Melissa at the house would be enough of a distraction to ward off the loneliness and flashes of Sarah’s voice and face that he dealt with day in and day out.

      * * *

      Melissa found an absurd comfort and sense of peace in her head and her heart when she saw the small, dark bottle of arnica oil on Carson’s kitchen counter. The note from his sister left him shaking his head, and she wondered again if she was an only child. Or maybe she was an orphan. The detective hadn’t mentioned that she had any family in the city, only a job and a friend. A dead friend.

      Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took the oil to the downstairs bathroom and smoothed the oil onto the battered skin. When she finished, she stretched out on the couch to watch television in Carson’s den, again relaxing per paramedic’s orders.

      She learned that resting a brain wasn’t as easy as it should have been, especially for her, with no memories, responsibilities or guilt to get in the way.

      Though she didn’t feel tired, she discovered the afternoon had slipped away and the sun had set when she woke to warm, savory scents drifting on the air. She stretched and sat up, trying to feel like Melissa Baxter. Giving up on that exercise after several wasted minutes, she walked into the kitchen and found Carson hunched over his phone at the island.

      Though he turned and smiled, she caught the shadows of sadness in his hazel eyes. “Something smells fantastic,” she said.

      “It’s Becky’s famous lasagna. She’s the chef in the family.”

      “Did she come by to check on you?” She bit back the query of how much he’d shared about her. Maybe his family was simply trying to make sure his forgetful patient, who was also a possible murderer, hadn’t decided to take a second life in as many days.

      “Yes. They’ve all been hovering more after...after Sarah died.”

      “Oh.” That must have been a nice feeling, to have someone care and hover and check in. “Do you think the detective is keeping me away from my family?”

      “Huh?” Carson tilted his head. “That’s a good question. I don’t see how that would help his case or you, either, but I can double-check with Grant if it bothers you.”

      She studied the label on the bottle of arnica oil. Had someone cared enough to teach her about this trick, or was it something she’d taught herself? “I’m not bothered, exactly. I guess I’m just trying to figure out how much trouble I’m in.”

      “Stop trying to figure out anything and let your mind rest. If Werner had some valid evidence that you killed someone, you’d be in custody, amnesia or not.”

      “Right.”

      At Carson’s direction, she tossed fresh salad greens together with a blue cheese dressing that appealed to her taste buds after tasting the options he had on hand. She set the serving bowl on the table while he served each of them a hearty square of the cheesy lasagna.

      Carson made small talk about the Escape Club and how and why Grant Sullivan had opened the place. It made her sad to hear he’d been wounded in the line of duty, but she smiled at the man’s triumph over the situation. “You should hear him on drums,” Carson said. “He could’ve made a career out of that.”

      “Why СКАЧАТЬ