Page 44 of One Forbidden Moment

The morning light softened her hair, and the blanket she'd wrapped around herself kept slipping off one shoulder.He reached out without thinking and pulled it back up.She gave him a small smile before turning back to the screen.

"Can you..."He hesitated, unsure how to ask."Can you look me up?On that thing?"

She blinked, surprised."Sure."

He nodded once."If I'm wanted here, I need to know how bad it is.What kind of time am I looking at if I'm caught?"

Jillian swallowed, then typed his name into the search bar."I don't even know your last name."

"Clemens."He spelled the name he hadn't thought of in a long time and leaned over her shoulder, trying to make sense of the words as they appeared, but the screen was too bright, too crowded, too full of things he didn't understand.

Her voice was steady at first as she read aloud."Moe Clemens, wanted in connection with the murder of Timothy Reed in—"

Then she stopped.

Her breath hitched.

She scrolled back up, eyes widening."Moe...this date..."

He frowned."What about it?"

She counted silently on her fingers, her lips moving.Then she looked up at him, pale."This says the crime you're wanted for happened twenty-nine years ago."

The room tilted.Moe stepped back."That can't be right."

"Didn't you say you ended up going to Everstill instead of prison?"

"Yeah."

She stared at him, searching his face."How old are you?"

"Thirty-four."

Her voice dropped to a whisper."Moe, the article says you were thirty-four when the crime happened...how is that possible?"

She turned back to the laptop, typing faster now, her fingers trembling.She clicked another link, then another, her breath growing uneven.Finally, she turned the screen toward him.

"That's what it says.Here's your birth date.You were thirty-four when you committed the crime.That was twenty-nine years ago, so you must've lived in Everstill all that time."Her voice rose."Time stops here but not in Everstill."

He straightened, trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying.

"That makes you sixty-three," she said.

Moe's heart slammed against his ribs.He stumbled back another step, running both hands through his hair.The world shifted.

Sixty-three.Jesus Christ.

He'd never kept track of the days in Everstill.The sky never changed except for when storms arrived.The season never changed.He hadn't worried about the differences.He hadn't even thought of them.

But there was something about returning that brought a flood of emotions to him.He was conscious of time slipping away.

He looked down at his hands, turned them over, and clenched them into fists.How the fuck could he be sixty-three years old?

"How—?"His voice broke.He tried again."How could I not know?"

"Everstill did it.You were a different man there.You didn't worry or talk like you do now."Jillian stood slowly, the blanket falling from her shoulders.She crossed the room to him."Moe," she whispered, "it's okay."

"It's not."His voice was raw.