Chapter Four

Priest

" P riest, you need to sit down," Memphis says, grabbing me by the shoulders as I pace back and forth across the green room after the concert, too amped up to settle. "You haven't stopped moving since you got off the stage."

"Don't want to sit," I growl, shaking him off.

"Too goddamn bad." He grabs my arm again, yanking me to a stop. "Sit your ass down. If you feel like pacing again in five minutes, I'll fucking pace with you. But sit for a minute and talk to me, brother."

"Don't want to talk."

"Yeah, well, shit in one hand, want in the other." He practically kicks my legs out from beneath me, forcing me down onto the couch with a satisfied grunt.

I glower up at him, ready to launch myself at him. I'm so goddamn angry, I'm ready to snap.

"If you want to fight, we can do that too," he says quietly. "But not until you tell me what the fuck happened. After that, I'll find you something to beat the hell out of if that's what you need."

"She hates me." The words shake on my lips. Christ, they hurt to think, let alone to say. "She thinks I left her. That I've just been hiding out all this time. That I never loved her." I groan, pressing my hands to my temples. "I think she'd prefer if I were dead."

"She's in shock," Memphis says, his voice soft. "The man she loves just came back from the dead after six years. That had to be a punch in the gut."

"All this time, she thought I was dead," I rasp, my heart still fucking bleeding over that fact. Christ, I can't even imagine what she's been through. She said her life was hell. That I destroyed her and her life when I left. Hearing that fucking hurt. But maybe she's right.

She's spent years believing I died. I thought losing your memories was the hardest thing you could endure. Maybe I got that shit wrong, though. Maybe it's living with memories that's hardest. Because the agony in her voice—the grief etched across her face… goddamn , it hurts just to know she feels that. To know she's felt it every day for six years.

I want to rip my fucking heart out to stop the way it hurts. But I can't. Because if she's lived with that pain for six fucking years, then I can live with the knowledge of what she's gone through. I owe her that much.

"Now she knows the truth," Memphis says calmly. "Once she has time to process, she'll be back."

I hesitate, not so sure that's true.

He notices. "You told her the truth, right?"

"I tried." I scrub my hands down my face. "I fucked it all up, man."

"So…she doesn't know what really happened?"

"Pieces." I'm not even entirely sure what pieces. "I was trying to explain, but it wasn't fucking working. Everything was coming out wrong. And then she detonated a bomb, telling me that we aren't married anymore. That shit hurt like a motherfucker, not gonna lie. I just remembered her, and I'm already losing her. By the time my fucking legs started functioning again, she was already gone."

And I made a promise to Winter. She's the reason I'm here. I couldn't just walk away from everything her, Ronan, and the band did to get me back here, to help me. I had to get on that goddamn stage and put on a show. I don't remember any of it. The whole thing is a blur.

I'm desperate to go after Mina, to fix this. But where the fuck do I even start? How do I convince her of the truth when I don't even know it? She needs answers…and I've never had those. All I have are questions.

"Shit," Memphis whistles. "You need to go after her, man. Explain what really happened."

"You think I don't know that?" I scowl at him.

"So…why aren't you?"

I pause, thinking it through. Why am I here right now instead of tearing this city apart looking for her?

"Once I was released from the hospital, I started digging for answers," I say after a moment. "I didn't know a goddamn thing, and I couldn't live with that shit."

"I get that," he says, his expression tight. I figure if anyone understands the shit I've done, Memphis does. Don't know much about his past, but I know he's got skeletons in his closet. I don't ask, though. They aren't my fucking business.

"I don't know how many skulls I cracked trying to find out who I was or what the fuck happened to me. Eventually, I found someone willing to admit they were paid to have me hauled to that trap house." I tip my head back, staring up at a water stain on the ceiling. "Never could shake loose who it was or why me." And believe me, I fucking tried. I left a goddamn trail of bloodied bodies behind, trying to get my answers. Either no one knew or they weren't willing to talk. "But as soon as I saw her and memories started flooding back in, her father is the first person I thought about."

He's one more memory that was taken from me, one more thing I should have known and didn't. I lost my life, every connection to the people and places that matter. And for the very first time in six years, I'm beginning to think that was the entire goddamn purpose.

Lionel Cordova hated me because Mina chose me. But with me dead in Mexico, she was no longer tied to me. He was free to sweep back in and take over her life again.

Christ. Is that what happened? Is that why her life has been so fucking miserable for the last six years? Because I wasn't here to protect her from whatever bullshit he designed to punish her with?

"You think he did it."

I jerk my chin in a nod. "How the fuck am I supposed to tell her that her father is the reason her life fell apart? That I disappeared in Mexico because he made me disappear? She already thinks I'm full of shit. If I tell her what I know and what I think, it sounds like I'm blaming the one man who was there for her when I wasn't. I'm asking her to choose between us all over again."

"Well, you need to tell her something," Cash, Riley Jamison's husband, says, stepping into the green room. His broad shoulders fill the doorway as he ducks to avoid cracking his head on the frame. "Because there are things you don't know."

I narrow my eyes on him. "What kind of things?"

"I can't tell you that, Priest," he says softly, holding my gaze. "My wife would kick my ass if I did, and it's not my place. I shouldn't even be saying anything. But if our roles were reserved, I'd want someone to say the shit I'm saying to you right now."

"Is she okay?" I ask, worry clawing through me as I haul myself to my feet. "Is something wrong with her?"

"No," Cash says with a shake of his head. "Nothing like that. Just…fucking talk to her, man."

Fuck. He's right. I won't be able to settle until I see her again. He can stand here all goddamn night and tell me that she's fine, but I won't believe it until I see it myself. I need to talk to her. Work this shit out. Doesn't matter how long it takes to convince her; I have to convince her. My goddamn heart won't be whole until I do.

"I didn't mean right now," Cash sighs as I stride toward the door.

"Don't care," I mutter. "Concert is over. I'm out." I pause when he steps aside, leaving me room to go around him. "Where is she? Can you at least tell me that much?"

"Her dad's."

Fuck. Of course she's at that prick's house.

Half an hour later, I kill the lights, parking outside Lionel Cordova's mansion. It's eerie how goddamn familiar it is. My mind has been a great big blank for so long. But everything is snapping into place in a way that's jarring. Like the pieces of a puzzle that got jumbled up and simply need a little readjusting.

I don't know what the fuck to do with that. I don't know how to feel about it. Four hours ago, I knew nothing about my past. I had the image of a woman and a hole in my heart, and that was it. Now, I think about something, and the pieces suddenly…appear. Like they were never missing at all.

This is one of them. I know every inch of this house. I walked these halls for eight months, memorized every creaking floorboard, every hiding spot. I fucked Mina in every goddamn alcove we came across, unable to keep my hands off her.

The house is as gaudy and ostentatious now as it was then, a bully's show of wealth. Don't know why I ever thought Lionel Cordova could make my dreams come true. I guess when you spend the night sleeping on a park bench, any millionaire who comes along, offering you a way out, seems like a sure bet. I wanted to believe what he was telling me, that there was something better out there for me. That he could save me, make something out of me.

Instead, his daughter did it. She turned me into a man, showed me what I wanted in life, who I wanted to be. And fuck, the only thing I ever wanted was to be a motherfucker she could be proud of, something worthy of her. I never was. I knew it then. So did her father. But I was determined to become that man for her.

How did it get so fucked up?

"Lionel," I mutter. All roads lead back here, to him. I took his daughter. He took my life. How the fuck am I supposed to tell her that? How the fuck am I supposed to convince her of the truth? I still can't give her what she deserves. Financially, I'm better off than I was back then. But a place like this? Influence? Power? I can't give her that.

I slam my head back against the headrest, muttering a curse as I stare out at the house. The lights are on in a bedroom upstairs—her room. After a moment, I see a shadow shift in front of the window and sit up straight.

It's her.

Fuck .

My breath stalls in my throat as I watch her pace back and forth across her bedroom. Even from here, I feel her restlessness, her anxiety. My goddamn feet tap against the floorboard, desperate to go to her. To hold her like I always did when she was restless or anxious about something.

But…I fucking can't. Not yet.

Cash said there are things I don't know. Important things.

What? I don't know, but I need to find out. Because if I'm waging war against her goddamn father, I need every weapon I can get. I'm not just taking her back. I'm taking the motherfucker down.

I'm still sitting right fucking there when the sun comes up. I tried to leave after Mina's light went out around three in the morning, but I couldn't pull myself away. No part of me wanted to go.

So I just fucking…sat. All goddamn night.

I'm still sitting when her light clicks on. Just staring at the house, replaying every single memory I have of her. She thinks I left her, and in a way, she's right. I decided to go that day. Something told me not to do it, but I went anyway. And I didn't willingly spend the last six years away from her. But I forgot her. How the fuck do I blame her for hating me when part of me hates me for it too? You aren't supposed to be able to forget a love like this. And yet…I did.

All this time, I've wondered what unforgivable sin I committed, what I did to deserve to have everything ripped away. That right there is it. I forgot her. I let her memory get lost in the fog, destroyed by some goddamn medical phenomenon no one even fully understands. Her father, his henchmen, and my own damn mind stole her from me. And I couldn't pull her memories out of the void. I wasn't strong enough.

All I had were glimmers, and it wasn't enough. I should have fought harder, killed and maimed if that's what it took. Instead, I hopped back up on that goddamn stage like a lost little boy, and hoped she'd find me. She needed me, cried for me, and I didn't even remember her.

If she ever forgives me, I'm not so sure I'll be able to forgive myself.

"Mommy, hurry up!"

I jolt upright, gripping the steering wheel as a little girl bursts out of the house, a backpack bouncing on her back. Bright red hair curls around her cherubic face…a face so fucking much like Mina's, it's unreal.

"I'm gonna be late!"

"Don't rush me, Brinley Grace!" Mina shouts back, appearing in the doorway, dressed in a white blouse and A-line skirt. She looks exhausted, like she didn't sleep at all. But standing next to her daughter…fuck. There's no mistaking that the little girl is hers.

Which means…

The day I left, I thought she might be…I hoped she was…

"No," I whisper, an agonized, pained sound.

Oh, God, no.

That little girl is mine.

This is what Cash meant by things I didn't know. I have a goddamn daughter. My wife has been raising my little girl alone. She was pregnant alone. Sick alone. She went through labor alone. Cried alone. She's done it all. Alone. And she did it thinking I was dead. She raised that little girl on her own because I couldn't fucking remember her.

How the fuck am I ever going to fix this?

Where do I even start making this better?

I didn't just destroy her life when I left that day. I destroyed both of their lives. I left both of them. I didn't fucking mean to do it. Christ, I would have crawled through hell to get back to them. But I didn't fucking know.

I watch, tears running down my cheeks, as my wife bundles my baby girl into her car, both oblivious that I'm there, watching.

I want to go to them, throw myself on my fucking knees and beg for forgiveness. But I don't even know what our daughter knows about me. If I go out there now, introduce myself as her daddy, I may very well traumatize her for life. And I'm guessing she has plenty of trauma already. Mina has already had so goddamn much taken from her. So has our daughter. I owe them more than my own selfish desire to be close to them right now.

If I force myself into their life, I may break it wide open all over again. I have to get this right. Because if I don't…I may lose them both for good. And I can't do that.

Christ, I can't fucking lose them.