Page 93 of Reaper’s Wrath

Minutes stretch into hours as the sun falls to darkness, taking my heart with it.

He’s hurting, and it’s my fault. I know whatever amnesia I must have is out of my control. I know that he knows that. It’s painful, all the same, and I can’t escape the thought that if I could simply find a way to remember, everything would be okay.

My mind takes me back to those days before Elio disappeared—before the crash that took Ario from me—and I try again for the hundredth time today to summon even a tiny scrap of my relationship with Elio from my memories. He’s there, but only ever in the periphery. A friend of a friend.

I can’t remember, and it’s a little terrifying. If I don’t remember my relationship with him, what else could I be forgetting?

I curse my belligerent mind before perking up at the sound of the bedroom door opening. My heart skitters around in hopeful circles until Elio’s massive six-foot-four frame comes into view. His turbulent gaze flits to mine only briefly on his way through the bedroom before he disappears into the bathroom.

In those handful of seconds, he shows me a lifetime of heartbreak.

I’m suddenly faced with the reality that the pain I’ve caused may be a point of no return. If he is still consumed with devastation, he may never get over it.

My shoulders bow with the excruciating hollow opening inside my chest. Tears trickle down my burning cheeks. His pain is mine, and I would do anything to make it stop, but I have no idea how.

I give him space while he showers. I need that time to collect myself, as well.

Once he’s done, he crosses the room to the closet, his naked body a symphony of honed muscles moving in unison beneath a litany of scars. He is a monument to strength and perseverance. While I admire him for that, I also hate that he was forced to endure those trials. And despite it all, he’s kept his compassion and tenderness. It’s not always easy to see, but I feel it motivating everything he does.

“I’m so sorry, Elio. I never meant to hurt you,” I call softly while he’s in the closet.

“I know you didn’t.”

Each heavy word is a leaden chain around my neck.

“I’ve read them all, multiple times,” I offer with some warmth, hoping to console him. “While I can’t remember the events surrounding the notes, I can feel the love behind them.”

Elio rounds the corner in a T-shirt and joggers, a hand running through his wet hair. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

“We need to talk about it at some point.”

“I know that, Isa,” he shoots back harshly. “Just not right goddamn now.”

His unexpected attack jostles loose a sob, my breath hitching in an attempt to swallow back the emotion, but it’s no use. My tears, already so close to the surface, make an encore appearance.

When Elio sees the effect of his words, the air around him sparks with fury. “Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have come in here,” he hisses to himself. “I’ve gotta go. I can’t do this right now, Isa. I’m sorry.”

He disappears as suddenly as he arrived, leaving me ensconced in a suffocating silence. I turn out the light and crawl beneath the covers.

Elio doesn’t return.

I wake the following morning alone. It takes me some time to rouse the energy to get going, but I eventually shower and head out to see if Elio is ready to talk, only to learn from Evie that he and Michael left early for a mission in the city.

“They’re going after a Russian named Ruban. I don’t know much about him except they’ve been trying to track him down for a while.” She frowns, her own worry evident in her creased brow.

Of all the times for him to go on some big mission, this has got to be the absolute worst. He was so upset last night—more ruffled than I’ve seen him. I haven’t been around him long, but it’s obvious he doesn’t get upset to the point of losing control of his temper very often.

“Did you see him before he left?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “They were out before dawn. Why?”

“I’m really worried. He was super upset last night.” I take a nervous bite of my nail before continuing. “He hasn’t stayed in the bedroom for the last five nights.”

“What happened?” She leads me over to the sofa to sit, her green eyes drawn in concern.

“You know how I thought he had invented a past between us?”

“Yeah?”