“I would!” Nate bounded down the stairs wearing a beanie and a snowboarding jacket. Scarlet realized the cabin was a bit chilly. Glancing around, she noticed the tarp was still covering the window, giving the cabin a frigid temperature that Scarlet had failed to recognize during her conversation with Tristan.
Nate walked into the living room and stood in between Tristan and Scarlet. “Yes, I would definitely call it a rule. In fact, why don’t we list off few rules while we’re all here?” Nate smiled at Tristan first, then Scarlet. “Rule number one: No touching.”
A current of unease and desire ran through Scarlet and Tristan at the same time and their eyes locked. Scarlet looked away.
Nate continued, “I can’t see why this would be a problem since the two of you have no reason whatsoever to touch each other,” Nate said, glaring at Tristan, “but just in case there’s an emergency situation that requires CPR or something, find someone else.” Nate shrugged and smiled again. “Rule number two: Maybe keep a healthy distance away from one another. Like ten feet. I’d hate for one of you to accidentally trip and fall on top of the other one. For an extended period of time.” He smiled again. “Everyone understand?”
Tristan stared at Nate. “You’ve had a lot of rules lately.”
With a very fake smile, Nate said, “Maybe if we’d had more rules in Scarlet’s last life she wouldn’t be able to feel your emotions in this one.”
Ooh. Zinger.
Scarlet looked at the floor as she felt herself blush. Why was she blushing? What had happened in her last life?
“Anyway,” Nate’s voice cut into the very thick tension in the room, “I’m glad you’re here, Scarlet.” Reaching into his back pocket, he handed her something silver. “I wanted to give you back your ring thingy.”
Scarlet held up the shiny ring and examined it. “We still don’t know what it is?”
”It was your mother’s brooch,” Tristan said, eyeing the ring.
Nate blinked.
Scarlet blinked. “My mother’s?”
Tristan nodded.
“How do you know?” Scarlet took another step toward him, starving for information.
Tristan shifted back. “I remember seeing her wear it when I first met her.”
He looked uncomfortable, but Scarlet could feel the warmth that was easing through his body. Her mother was a good memory for him.
Tristan met my mom. He knows about me. My family. Tristan knows so much, but he acts so distant….
“Her name was Ana,” Tristan said.
Scarlet looked down at the ancient piece of jewelry, stunned and awed by the fact that she was holding piece of her past. Her heart kicked as she turned the brooch over.
There was no pin on the back—probably broken off over the years. Her mother, a woman named Ana, had worn this brooch. And Scarlet still had it.
She took a moment to treasure the gift.
Nate leaned over Scarlet’s hand and looked at the ring. “Okay, so…we solved the ring mystery. Yay.” He smiled at Scarlet. “One mystery solved. Only a hundred more to go.”
Gently tucking the ring into the front pocket of her jeans, Scarlet cleared her throat. “Thanks, Nate. For giving it back to me.”
“Sure,” he said.
A few awkward moments passed.
Scarlet cleared her throat again. “I’ll see you guys later.” She didn’t look at Tristan as she made her way to out the front door. Closing the door behind her, Scarlet felt numb.
She had so many questions about her past. Her mother…her relationship with Tristan…her relationship with Gabriel.
Scarlet made her way down the porch steps, staring at her shoes. Shoes that had Tristan’s tattoo drawn all over them.
Agh.
She was so discouraged. She wanted to know who she was, what she liked, where she came from.
She wanted a freakin’ identity.
Maybe if she had her identity back, she would remember other things. Like her mother. And where the fountain was.
Just as Scarlet reached her car, she heard the soft thud of the cabin’s back door and immediately felt Tristan. He was probably going to shoot arrows. Or hunt for bears. Or whatever else moody, green-eyed archers did in their free time.
Scarlet paused as a thought formed in her head. Slowly, she turned around and headed for the back of the cabin.
She wanted memories and Tristan had them.
Scarlet’s steps were soft as she made her way around the side of the cabin and stood watching Tristan shoot arrows. She kept silent, almost holding her breath so as not to interrupt his concentration, but he knew she was there. She could feel the change in him the moment she’d stepped around the corner.
Guilt, love and sorrow had swarmed into him, saturating his soul.
Long minutes passed, broken only by the swift arrows cutting through the frigid forest air.
“What do you want?” Tristan finally said, keeping his eyes focused on a target in the distance.
Still being a jerk?
Awesome.
Scarlet tried to act casual as she walked closer to where he stood. Casual was the last thing she felt around Tristan.
“I want to remember.”
Tristan lined up another arrow. With his arm pulled back, his shirt tightened along his collarbone and stretched around his strong shoulder. “I’m not helping you use a Head Ghost.”
Scarlet watched his arrow fly. “I’m not asking for help with a Head Ghost. I’m asking for answers. About me.”
He glanced at her, his emerald eyes sharp and beautiful as they skimmed her face and neck. Scarlet’s insides tightened with excitement and his eyes went dark in awareness.
Stupid, stupid connection.
Scarlet blushed again and hated herself for it. Since when was she a blusher?
Tristan turned away from her. “What makes you think I have any answers for you?”
“You knew about my mother’s brooch.” Scarlet moved forward, feeling his body hum at her nearness. “You must know more about me than that.”
He pulled another arrow, positioned it, and let it sail.
“I want to know who I am.” Scarlet’s voice came out nonchalant, but it was useless. No doubt Tristan could feel her apprehension and hope.
Because she could feel his anxiety and desire.
She was pretending like she didn’t feel what he felt, and he was pretending not to care.
What a mess they were.
Without responding, Tristan drew another arrow.
Scarlet took another step forward, careful to keep the designated “ten feet” of space between them. “We can start with easy questions, like…where was I born?”
“Spain.” He didn’t look at her. “Your mother was from Spain. Your father was from England.”
Huh.
“Did I grow up in Spain?”
Tristan shot the arrow in his hand and nailed the bull’s-eye. “For a short while, before your parents moved to England.”
Well, that explained how she knew Spanish.
Scarlet cleared her throat, excited to be getting some answers. “What was I like in my first life?”
He kept his eyes on his target but a smile played on his lips. “Challenging.”
Was that a jab?
Scarlet puckered her lips. “What was I like in my last life?”