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As I carried the water to her, she sent me a small scowl. “Sorry, but that didnotconvince me to suddenly want to go.”
With a shrug, I held out the cup for her to take. “Well, I tried,” I started, only to realize she had scratches on her arms and legs as if she’d maybe run through barbed wire.
“Oh shit. You’re bleeding.” Setting the cup on the table, I crouched in front of her to get a closer look. None of the scratches were very deep. They probably wouldn’t even require a Band-Aid. But she’d definitely just been throughsomething.
Glancing up, I asked, “Did someone hurt you?”
I kind of wanted to beat them senseless if they had. She seemed way too sweet to ever be fucked with.
She paused from frowning in confusion at her superficial wounds to blink up at me in the same bewilderment. “I don’tthinkso,” she said, only to lift her leg and give it a bizarre stare. “This is just getting stranger and stranger.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?” I asked.
She jerked her leg away from me. “Hospitals scare the crap out of me. I feel fine.”
I huffed out a breath and pushed my way back to my feet. “Well, if you can’t remember your name, I suppose it’s counterproductive to ask if there’s anyone I can call for you.” We were obviously alone in the house, meaning no one washereto help her. “Do you have any family or friends nearby?”
“I…”
When that question only confused her more, I lifted hopeful eyebrows. “Or maybe your phone’s on you?”
“Ooh! My phone.” She started patting herself down in search of it, only to frown in confusion. “Huh. I don’t think I have my phone on me. Or my purse. I wonder where they could be.”
“Yeah…” I said, glancing around the kitchen, but there weren’t a whole lot of identifying features here to pinpoint who she might be, either. “What about Kinsey?” I asked, turning back to her. “Didn’t you just mention a Kinsey a second ago?”
Snapping her fingers, she pointed at me. “Yes! Kinsey. I feel like I was just with her too. Huh. I wonder where she went.Kinsey?” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth and glancing around the kitchen. When no one answered, she winced at me and whispered, “I don’t think she’s here.”
“Yeah, me neither,” I muttered. “Alright, then.” I clapped my hands together and came up with a new plan. “If you can’t think of anyone we can call, and you still refuse to go to a hospital…”
She grimaced over the suggestion.
“Then maybe you just need to sleep this off. I bet you’ll remember everything again in the morning.”
“I hope you’re right.” She didn’t sound very convinced, though.
“So do I,” I agreed, only to look her over again and squint curiously at her scratches. They seemed to be getting worse. “We should probably get those cleaned up. Do you have a first aid kit in the bathroom?”
“Whoa! No,” she told me, surging to her feet and lifting her hands to stop me. “You don’t have to patch me back together. I’m already crazy enough in love with you as it is. Let’s not make my obsession even worse.”
Huffing out an amused laugh, I took a step back, “Yeah… I have no idea how to even respond to that.”
“No response necessary,” she assured perkily. “You just stay here, and I’ll go clean myself up.” But as soon as she started to turn away, she paused and glanced back at me. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right? You’re not going to leave me alone like that boy did, are you?”
I furrowed my brow. “What boy?”
She blinked as if confused. “Huh?”
I huffed out a nervous laugh. “You know what… If you can’t even remember your name right now”—Or what she’d said half a second earlier—“then no, I’m definitely not going to leave you alone,” I promised.
She sighed dreamily, giving me a head-tipping smile of approval before flinging out an accusing hand. “There you go again,” she scolded. “Making me like you even more.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Darlin’,” I told her. “I have no idea what you’re under the influence of right now, but thank God it’s making youhappyinstead of sick.”
“I know, right?” She nodded in agreement. “I feel really good. Everything’s all light and airy as if I could just…float away.” Flinging out an arm with a dramatic flourish, she whirled away from me, singing, “Like a feather.”
Then she danced out of the kitchen, swinging her arms as if she was tossing confetti at an adoring audience.
“Alright, then.” Blowing out a long breath as soon as she was gone, I shook my head and backed into the cupboards to rest against them, saying, “Note to self: don’t do drugs.”
