So Rare (Boys of South Chapel #3)

22. Kabir

Chapter 22

Kabir

NOW

Bloody hell.

This is torture. Pure personal torture.

I don’t begrudge Levi for his big, bad attitude in the slightest. I wish I could rage and verbalize the dejection that plagues me as a result of Hunter’s memory loss.

She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t remember us . She hasn’t said as much, but we can all feel it.

It’s in the way she hesitates. In the way she flinches at the slightest touch. I’m not a stranger—she knows my name, and hints of familiarity dance behind her irises. But our intimacy is gone. She doesn’t remember the connection, our dynamic.

What if she never remembers?

The reality of the situation is an unexpected sort of trauma I wouldn’t wish on my greatest enemy.

Scratch that.

I would gleefully transfer this type of pain onto Magnolia St. Clair-Ferguson.

I wouldn’t, however, wish this on any other nemesis, rival, or casual acquaintance. It hurts. It bloody aches. Nothing about this feels right.

Regardless, I won’t give up. I’ll give her space, and I’ll give as much support as I can muster for the one man she does seem to be intimately acquainted with in her mind.

Garrett joined me in the upstairs hallway a few minutes ago. Though he said his intent was to check on Levi, I assume he feels the need to check on her as well.

“Let’s discuss how tonight will go.” I brace my hands on the open doorframe across the hall from the room Hunter is currently occupying.

Garrett leans casually against the opposite wall. To his credit, he doesn’t gloat or taunt me with the advantageous position he’s found himself in. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and nods. “Sure. What are you thinking?”

“I’ll stay up here on this side of the house and keep an eye on Levi. You”—I meet his gaze, willing him to feel the sincerity of what I’m requesting—“take care of her. Comfort her. Shower her. Wash her hair thoroughly. Leave the conditioner in for at least two minutes before rinsing.”

“Is that necessary?” he probes. “She’s exhausted. We’re all exhausted…”

As if I’m unaware.

She deserves to feel clean. Cared for. Nurtured and looked after. I can’t do it, dammit, and now I’m getting pushback from the one person who can?

Still braced against the doorframe, I press harder, holding myself back from launching at him and getting right up in his face. “It is necessary. We don’t know what she’s been through. What she’s endured. Just because she remembers you, Garrett, does not mean she is well.”

He raises both brows in challenge, the look causing my blood pressure to spike far beyond what’s healthy.

“For fuck’s sake.” I slam my palms against the molding around the door. “Do as I say, Garrett, or I swear to gods—”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “I’ve got this. I can handle it.”

With a harsh breath in, I will my anger to dissipate. It won’t do any good if I lose my shit right now. Levi’s already cornered that market.

I push off the doorframe, resigned to leave him to wait for Hunter. “I’ll be close by. Just text. Or holler, if you must. I can be available at any time if you need backup.”

“Thanks, man.” He straightens and crosses the hall, arms outstretched. I don’t read his intent immediately, but after an awkward few seconds, I realize he’s offering me a hug.

Reluctantly, I wrap my arms around him, surprised by the aggressive thump he delivers to the center of my back.

Goddamn American boys and their machoism.

On the next breath, he pulls me closer and squeezes.

“Spence.” My name is a whisper, a quiet invitation to a truth I’m not entitled to yet am desperate to hear. Staring right into my eyes, he says, “It’s going to be okay. She is going to be okay. She didn’t experience any sort of blunt impact or physical trauma to the head. She’s cloudy, but she’s there. The memory loss won’t last forever.”

“You don’t know that,” I argue like a petulant child.

Despite my obstinance, what I want more than anything is for him to repeat that sentiment. To reassure me. To promise me, even if it’s not his promise to give, that the woman I love isn’t destined to fade away just as we were reconnecting.

Garrett takes a step back but keeps hold of my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I do. I know how deeply she cares for you. How much she respects you. Loves you. Our girl’s a fighter. She won’t let any of it fade away.”

I swallow down the overwhelming lump of emotion suddenly clogging my throat.

Our girl’s a fighter.

That she is.

She won’t let any of it fade away.

Gods, I hope he’s right.

I let his reassurance hang between us for another breath. Then I nod, straighten, and break the spell of hope he’s cast over me.

Getting back to business, I point one finger at the closed door. “Make sure she cleans her teeth for a full two minutes. And remove her earrings if she doesn’t do it herself before bed.”

With a mock salute, he replies, “Yes, sir,” then hits me with that cocksure smile.

“Good night, Garrett.” With all the willpower I possess, I force myself to walk away.