Six Months Later Part 19

"Then what?" He's loud now, not quite shouting but close enough that I flinch when he moves closer to me. "What the h.e.l.l is this, Chlo? One minute you and I are-"

"What? What are we, Adam? Because I already told you I can't remember anything, and you refuse to fill me in."

"There's nothing to be filled in," he says, convincing no one.

"I don't believe you." I'm so cold, my teeth are starting to rattle, my breath steaming around me like a cloud. "I can still feel it, Adam. Whatever I forgot? It's still in there. Every time you look at me, every time you walk past me in the stupid hall I feel..."

"You feel what?"

I can see the impatience in his eyes. And something else too.

"This," I say, reaching forward to take his hands. "Us, Adam."

His fingers, blissfully warm, curl around mine, and his face tenses with worry. "You're freezing, Chlo. You shouldn't be out here in this cold. I'll take you home."

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare put me in this car and turn on the radio and pretend nothing's going on here."

"Why are you so sure something is going on?" he asks, and he sounds tense and miserable and just a little bit desperate.

I don't have an answer I can put into words. So I curl my hands in his and breathe in his scent, soapy and clean with that soft tang of cinnamon. I let my eyes close.

"I remember things when I touch you," I say. "I remember studying with you. Raking leaves with you."

"Yeah, Chlo, it happened. But it obviously didn't mean anything."

I open my eyes and swallow my fear. "No, Adam. I think it might have meant everything."

He jerks his hands free of mine, and I flinch. He plows his hands into his hair, breathing hard and stepping back from me. I feel colder than cold, as if something crucial has been torn from my grasp.

He shakes his head, letting out a bitter laugh. "You don't get it. We can't do this," he says. "We can't go here, Chloe. Not now. Not ever."

He's looking left and right, and then he's going for his car. G.o.d, he's going to go. He's just going to leave me standing here after I said that.

He doesn't leave, but he goes still and tense. I hear him let out a shuddery breath, his feet s.h.i.+fting on the pavement.

"d.a.m.n it," he says, shaking his head once.

He turns back to me, and I don't even have time to blink or breathe or anything before his hands are on my face, in my hair-and then, he's kissing me.

His lips are soft and hard together, sending electric shocks through every inch of me. I'm heavy and trembling under his kiss, my half-frozen hands fisting in the front of his s.h.i.+rt, soaking in his warmth.

My mouth slides open with a sigh, and the kiss goes on and on until I no longer think about the cold or the danger or any of the million questions I want to ask. I can't think about a single thing outside of the feel of his arms and the taste of his mouth against mine.

We separate in a steaming rush of breath, our foreheads pressed together and my hands threaded into his hair.

"Tell me we haven't done that yet," I breathe.

He pulls back, mouth swollen and eyes flas.h.i.+ng in a way that makes me want to kiss him again.

I bite my lip. "Please tell me I didn't forget that too."

"No," he says, grinning. He strokes warm lines down my face with his thumbs. And then his mouth dips into a frown. "You really don't remember, do you?"

I shake my head. He pulls me into his arms, still breathing fast into my hair. "We can't talk here, and we need to get you warmed up. Can I take you somewhere?"

I close my eyes and burrow into his chest with a smile. "Lead the way."

Chapter Seventeen.

We drive to his house first, and he drops his backpack inside. I call my parents while he's gone, claiming a study session with some of my SAT friends. He slides back into the car around the time I hang the phone up, and then he's watching me. Holy c.r.a.p, I'm not sure I'll ever look at this guy without thinking of kissing him.

"Are they cool with it?" he asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"Good. Turn off your phone."

I open my mouth to argue, and he frowns at his hands on the steering wheel. "What do you think the chances are that Blake won't call or text you in the next couple of hours?"

"Hours?" I ask, feeling my brows arch.

He looks sideways at me with a smile that makes me blush. "You in a rush?"

"No," I say, powering down my phone with trembling fingers. "So where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"I love surprises," I say, grinning.

He grins right back, reaching over to take my hand. "Yeah, I thought you might."

We drive twenty miles south of Ridgeview, and I don't feel desperate to fill the silence. Instead, I revel in the peace of it, watching the stark beauty of the winter landscape roll past my window.

Before I know it, we're in the heart of Corbin, a town about the same size as ours without the benefits that come with being on the lake. I have no idea why he's brought me here, especially after five, when the few shops and businesses are closed.

Adam pulls into a gravel lot near the center of town, a construction zone if the fencing and rubble is any indicator. I crane my head, spotting a large building, or the bones of what will someday be a building. The first few floors seem roughed in, but the ones above that are all steel beams and sky.

Adam parks the car, and we both get out, staring up at it. "I come here once a week. Things are slow now that it's winter, but it's still coming along."

I nod, moving next to him, sliding my hand into his palm. He squeezes my fingers and kisses the top of my head.

"So can we get in?" I ask.

He c.o.c.ks a brow at me, that bad boy smirk curling his lips. "Legally?"

I return his smirk and look back at the building. "C'mon. I'll race you."

I have no hope of outrunning Adam, but lucky for me, he has no interest in winning. He follows me through the bare floors, around support beams, and up a flight of cement steps. The second level is just like the first, floors and beams, but there's open air above us. I tip back my head, gazing at the crisscross of the beams in the waning sunlight.

There's something about this place or maybe just about Adam that makes me buzz with energy. I feel like anything is possible. I pace around while Adam checks something on the other side of the floor. I can almost hear his mind working, gears and chains clicking as he runs his thumb along a concrete ledge.

I watch him from a distance, touching poles and scuffing my sneakers on the floor. And then, on a whim, I decide I want to go higher.

It's easier than I thought it would be. I find footholds and corners, and before I know it, I'm another floor up. And then another.

The wind whips through my hair, making my eyes water as I stare out over the roll of unfamiliar neighborhoods and houses. The beam in front of me is ice-cold, but I hold it anyway, terrified and exhilarated.

I laugh, despite myself, and then I hear Adam approaching behind me. I squeeze the steel in front of me even tighter as his arms wrap around my waist from behind.

"You weren't supposed to climb up the beam work," he says into my hair.

I shrug. "I've always been a monkey. Mom says I crawled out of my crib on my first birthday."

"I can see that about you," he says.

G.o.d, he smells good. And he's so warm. I'm pretty sure this is what heaven would be like. If I could choose everything about heaven.

"So what is this place?" I ask.

"The county's new government offices," he says. "Or that's what it will be next spring when they finish it up. Simple design, but they've got an incredible arch planned for the entry. You can see the structure of it there." He points down to a section way too close to the ground for me to want to focus on.

"Have you seen planning pictures or something?"

"I saw blueprints," he says. "They're better."

"Architect p.o.r.n," I muse, and he murmurs affirmatively before resting his chin on my shoulder.

My smile just keeps getting wider. I'm sure I look like a lunatic-wind-chapped and grinning like the Ches.h.i.+re cat. "You're going to build stuff like this one day, aren't you?"

"I want to build stuff twice as beautiful as this," he says.

I turn around in his arms, careful to keep my feet on the beam before I steady my hands on his waist.

He lifts his brows at me. "You are a fearless little thing."

"I used to be."

"Used to be? Not very many people would climb up here. Not sure I would have if I wasn't coming after you."

"I'm not afraid of things like this," I say, and then I sigh and tilt my head. "But whoever did this to me...I'm scared of them."

He leans in, kissing me once, long and soft and deep enough that I almost forget where I am. When he pulls pack, I wish I could just freeze everything about this moment so I could keep it with me.

"No one's going to hurt you, Chloe," he says softly.

"You going to protect me?" I ask, leaning in to kiss the underside of his jaw.

He groans a little. "As long as I make it off this building alive, I am."

We climb down and settle into his car. There's nothing open, so we make do with gas station fare: a pack of Twinkies and two tall, steaming cups of coffee. Mine goes down like heaven without a single nauseous afterthought.

"I thought I'd never drink coffee again," I say, cradling the paper cup to me like an old friend.

"I'm a bad influence."

"Yeah, I'm glad you brought that up," I say. "You're supposed to be this bad boy, so what gives?"

"What gives?"

"Yeah, you're like...like Clark Kent."

"Clark Kent?" He looks less than pleased at the comparison.

"Well, you did come to my rescue in the library."

"Right, that." He shrugs. "I figured it'd be a good way to get around to kissing you."

"Making me freeze to death while you studied for another hour after rescuing me? Interesting strategy."

He smirks again, and I think I understand why girls go for the bad boy. Or at least, the guys who appear to be bad boys.

"I think it's all an act," I say, licking Twinkie filling off my finger. "This bad boy thing. You do it to pick up girls."

"Is it working?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Jury's still out," I say, but when he kisses the side of my neck, I'm pretty sure the verdict is in.

It's eight o'clock at night when the waitress drops off our pancake platters. I pour what must be a half gallon of syrup over the top, and Adam laughs.

For ten minutes, I pick at my food while I talk. Adam listens to me outline all of the weird things I've pieced together, from my missing Julien file right down to the mystery Daniel/Dr. Kirkpatrick phone call. I even mention the hypnosis research, though I still can't imagine how that would factor in.

I take a break to dig into my now lukewarm stack, and Adam leans back thoughtfully, his plate mostly clean.

"So how does it tie together? Did Dr. Kirkpatrick somehow hypnotize you into forgetting all about the last six months? Why?"

"I have no idea."

Adam's brow furrows. "I don't know, Chlo. She did relaxation stuff but nothing like what you're talking about. And I can't figure a motive. Something like this would destroy her career."