Page 66 of Never the Same

My stomach dropped at the look in his eyes. Dark and unreadable, like he was seeing more than he wanted to. “And you’re wearing a towel—why?”

I tipped my chin toward his sauna, feigning bravado while my grip on the terry cloth tightened. “I’m feeling anxious, which I don’t like at all, and I’m bored. I think I need to sweat whatever is happening to me out of my system.”

Ranger ran around me and into the room, nails clicking on the floor, barking like he already knew the ground beneath me was giving way. Yeah, me too, buddy.

Meanwhile, Reed stayed maddeningly calm, wiping oil from his palms.

“The reason I’m spiraling, even though I know that’s out of character for me, is because we’re going on hour thirty-four of those precious forty-eight.” My voice pitched higher, fraying at the end. “Still nothing since you set that countdown. Cero. Zéro. Sifir. Nada from that Italian guy who’s supposed to be intimidating. Zilch from Carter. No info from Sebastian and his secret society.” Forget anxiety, I was officially free-falling into rock bottom every second I stood here. “Ughhhh. This isn’t me. I know that. I don’t pace or freak out. I know I don’t.” I crossed the space to him, Ranger glued to my side. “Make it stop. Please,” I begged, feeling a tremor shoot through me.

Reed stayed silent, like anything he said could be used against him in a court of law.

I held my hand up so he could see just how far gone I was. The evidence of my anxiety was right there, my entire body visibly quivering.

He dropped the rag and abandoned his three-foot rule. He slid his warm palm under mine, his fingers steady and unyielding as he cradled my shaking ones.

His hand was rough, and the smell of the gun oil lingered, yet his touch was grounding. Warmth pressed into my skin until the tremor slowed just as it had the last time we held each other like this. My pulse didn’t slow, though. It hammered harder, out of sync with the calm he radiated. We stood there, palms locked together, breaths mingling in the narrow space between us.

“Don’t focus on trying to act how you think you’re supposed to.” His voice dropped low, almost intimate. His eyes lingered on our joined hands before climbing up the line of my arm until locking on to my face. “It took years for you to become the woman you are. Your past shaped you and how you respond to the world.” He smoothed his thumb along my hand once—absent-minded or maybe not—before he finished. “If you can’t remember your battle scars and all that you’ve endured . . .” He let the words trail off, but the heat in his eyes burned like he’d said them anyway.

I blinked hard, fighting for composure. “I—I feel like me sometimes. Other times? Like an empty shell of nothingness, and it hurts. It’s the worst feeling,” I sputtered, hating getting emotional on him, but I couldn’t stop it.

“You’re in there somewhere, I promise.” He took me by surprise again, drawing his other hand to my chest, partially over skin and the towel. “They may have taken your memories, but they didn’t take your soul. That’s the real you. Everything else is just flesh. Your spirit is unchanged, untainted.”

Those were the last words I’d expect from a man who claimed to be bad with people. It was like he’d just written scripture right onto my body. I could even visualize the words scrolling over every inch of my skin, calming me down.

“You’ll come back to me.”

I waited for him to correct the Freudian slip of me, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at me as if he could see through my flesh to that soul he’d been alluding to.

I squeezed down the lump in my throat and tried to will away the tears. “Okay,” I mouthed, unable to get my voice to carry the word. “I, um, still would like to sweat it out, though.”

“You really think it’ll help?” he asked as he slowly retracted both hands.

My breath snagged at the loss of his touch. “I think so.”

He sighed, shoulders falling with that deep breath. “Ten minutes, max.”

“Will you stay in here to keep an eye on me?” I half smiled. “I mean, to ensure I don’t faint or something from the heat?”

At his hesitant nod, I took that as my cue to hurry to the sauna before he could change his mind. Inside, I shut my eyes and prayed, not just for my anxiety to go away but also for a miracle. For even just one memory to return.

But after ten minutes passed by, I nearly cried when he opened the door and nothing ever came. I did feel a little better, but I was pretty sure that was thanks to him, not the sauna.

“Fourteen more hours left,” I muttered, remaining frying on the wooden bench. How hot did he like it in here? This heat was brutal and beyond what a human could tolerate.

“That number’s not fixed in stone. We can push it to tomorrow afternoon. Only surrender to your family if we have to and when you’re ready. That help?”

Having one more full day? Actually, yeah, it did. “Yes.” I lifted my head. “Thank you.”

“I’ll run it by Ryder and the team when they get back from the rink. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.” He braced the door open with his shoulder and offered me his hand.

Breaking your rule again, huh? I stood, and of course, my towel started to slip. I caught it fast before I wound up flashing him. That didn’t stop his eyes from flicking down my body, his mouth tensing as if holding back what he wanted to say.

He was probably even more grateful for my fast reflexes than I was. And now, the heat in the sauna had nothing on the heat of his stare when his intense eyes found mine. He remained staring at me for a few quiet moments before letting go of my free hand. He stepped aside, keeping the door open with his body so I could exit.

He shut the door and went for his phone, and I circled him, curious whether someone had texted with an update. “News?”

He shook his head. “My mom.” He slid the phone back into his pocket, his dark gaze drifting from my collarbone to my neck.