Tom watched the moldy ceiling, wondering why he couldn't sleep. Though his wounds had mostly healed, some of his burns stung if he moved too sudden, and functioning normally for one day was exhausting. But even if there was no more Geaneyi clinking away in the kitchen, he still couldn't drift off. Instead, he strained his hearing in hopes of picking something up from the room next door.

Angie had managed to get him the room next to hers and had left him to settle in. Since there was basically nothing for him to do, he'd dropped on the bed and tried to sleep. But he couldn't get her out of his head. The hazy look in her eyes, the way she'd cupped his face and pulled him towards as if she wanted to kiss him. And now that he stopped to think about it, he'd wanted it so much, but he'd just been too afraid.

Because Angie could tell him anything, do anything he wanted with him, and he'd be powerless against it. This weakness, this attraction he felt towards her, it only made everything worse. Yes, she was attractive, beautiful, enticing, but the knot in his chest was still there every time he saw her. Like something was wrong and he couldn't look beyond her angel smile and see it.

He needed fresh air. So he rolled out of bed and stepped out on the balcony/hallway. It was barely any chillier out than inside his stuffy room, but he'd take any improvement at that point. He leaned against the railing and looked down into the parking lot, trying to forget the look on Angie's face, his missed chance to kiss her. Why would I even want to kiss her? She was a stranger.

The door behind him opened. He glanced over his shoulder to see Angie stepping out of her room. Fortunately, she was actually dressed this time. The lone bulb illuminating the hall threw shadows on half of her face.

She walked to him and took the spot to his left, her eyes lost on the dark sky. "What's up?"

"Can't sleep," he answered.

"You should. It would help you heal faster."

Maybe, but right then he didn't care. His body was numb while his mind raced. So he just shrugged.

Angie huffed and threw him a sideways glance. "You were never the type to listen to reason. Always the daredevil. Always the showoff."

He didn't feel like a daredevil or a showoff, but her words triggered something inside him. He frowned and his fingers tightened around the railing. He could see Angie's face, only she was different. Clean, happy, laughing. You were never the type.

"What type?" he'd asked.

To say I love you.

The image dissolved, leaving him facing the real Angie who now stared at him with wide, worried eyes. His jaw was clamped shut so tightly, his teeth hurt, but he couldn't get her words out of his head. I love you. She hadn't said it to him. He hadn't said it to her. It fit with her claim that they were friends, sharing random stuff about each other. But there was someone he never said I love you to.

"Did I have a girlfriend?" he asked, his voice tense, almost strangled.

Angie just stared, her mouth opened just the slightest bit, the fullness of her lips more visible than ever. Then she shook her head and looked away. "Yes," she whispered.

Then why did she shake her head? And why did the news make his stomach twist so badly and his heart clench? "Was it serious?" Please say no.

Angie hesitated. "Yes, it was," she finally said.

"Did you know her?"

She nodded, her eyes lost in the distance. "We were... close."

Shit. So one of Angie's close friends was his girlfriend and he felt stupidly attracted to her instead. He was a walking piece of shit. Because he was convinced he'd felt the same way when he had his memory. This wasn't something he was thinking, it was a feeling, a powerful attraction.

She looked at him, her green eyes shining in the little light. "That's why I said it was a good idea to move away from Geaneyi. She seemed to like you."

He nodded, though inside he was screaming. This news turned everything upside down, made him hate himself, the person he'd been. The person he still was. Geaneyi was the least of his problems. He felt torn between asking more about his girlfriend and remaining in blissful ignorance. Did he really want to know the name of the girl he was mentally cheating on with her close friend? You're not mentally cheating on anyone.

Another image flashed through his mind. Holding Angie up against a mirror, his hands on her thighs, her body curled around his, him trailing kisses along her jaw.

"No!" He clutched his head and the image faded.

"Tom, are you okay?" She grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face her.

He couldn't look at her, couldn't open his eyes and look at this girl with whom he'd apparently cheated on his girlfriend. Or was that all in his head? Not a memory but wishful thinking, because his stupid body always responded to her touch?

"Hey, look at me."

He did and saw the worry in her eyes. She truly cared about him, but it didn't seem to be in a predatory way. Maybe they just had a past and they'd gotten over it, were just friends now. That explained everything. His attraction towards her, the feeling of unease, the awkwardness. What it didn't explain was why he was still hung up on her while the idea of a girlfriend didn't stir anything inside him.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Did you remember something? Something about your girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "My girlfriend seems to be the only thing I can't remember anything about."

She pulled away, seeming disappointed and he wondered why. She hugged herself and returned to looking out into the parking lot, her lower lip trembling slightly. And even if he couldn't remember much about her, he knew she was about to cry. He never could stand seeing her cry.

Like they had a will of their own, his arms wrapped around her and pulled her against him. The feeling of her back against his chest felt familiar, safe, right. Her body shook with repressed sobs and he tightened his grip on her, lay his chin on top of her head. Whatever he'd said, he wanted to make it go away, wanted to see her smiling, laughing.

He could practically see her, looking up at him, laughing, touching his cheek. In his arms, sweaty and panting for some reason, but looking ecstatic. What the hell had they been through? And all those thoughts or memories or whatever they were, didn't make letting her go any easier.

She turned in his arms, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I think I made a mistake," she whispered.

He thought they were making one now, but he couldn't look away from her, couldn't move, not even when she reached out and took his sunglasses off. She smiled weakly, looking straight into his eyes, and she looked even more beautiful without the colored lenses.

"There's my Tom," she murmured.

He had no idea why, but he really wanted to be her Tom, to be able to hold her like this without feeling like the biggest asshole walking the earth. Why did he have to ask? But would not knowing make it better? Make it alright? You can't even remember her. He couldn't remember Angie either until he saw her.

She kept staring at him as if expecting something, but he had nothing. His brain was out of order, his body basking in her heat, in the familiarity of her soft skin. He wanted to kiss her so badly, he had to put every ounce of self-control into not doing it. It killed him, but he had to let her go.

"Tell me more about myself? Am I... was I a good guy?"

She broke eye contact and fortunately returned to leaning against the banister. "Yes, of course you were."

Then why am I feeling this? "So... not the lying, cheating, stealing type?"

She laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You? Nah. You and Jimmy worked your way out of everything, but never succumbed to doing what was easy over what was right."

Her words soothed him and he relaxed, hanging on to her every word, trying to be the person she claimed he was. "Tell me more about my family."

As Angie launched into a speech about his twin and his other brothers, Tom listened raptly, soaking the information in, tying it to the bits and pieces he could remember, admiring the way her skin glowed in the faint light. It sounded like him. Everything she said made sense, except for this one little bit about his girlfriend which Angie expertly avoided talking about. And he was grateful. He didn't want to know about this girl who deserved much better than him.

🌟🌟🌟

I find great satisfaction in torturing my characters. Poor Tom was so close to admiring his feelings when Angie stupidly slung the girlfriend bat at him. Stupid stupid girl!

There's another part to this chapter so I hope you're enjoying all the Tangie drama because you're getting more before we return to the happy bunch in Malta.

Vote comment share ⭐