Forgotten Promises (The Promises Series Book 2) (9 page)

“ARE YOU OKAY?” I ask him. He’s sitting on the floor with his back against the wall outside of the hospital. The hand that’s not all bandaged up is cradling his head. I’m waiting on my mom to come and collect me, my things are packed up in my room and she’s due back in the next twenty minutes. I told her I wasn’t flying back home until Ethan was released, so she’s gone to extend her hotel booking.

“Truthfully?”

“Yeah, truthfully.” I smile.

“No.”

The dejected tone of his voice pierces like a needle straight through my heart. I almost wince. I want to take away the pain that I can see he’s in, but I have no idea how. I slide down against the wall positioning myself next to him and then place my arm over his shoulders, pulling him into my side as best I can without hurting his injuries. He’s so much bigger than I am, I’m stretched across him and the angle is pulling at my stitches but I don’t care. I need to hug him about as much as he looks like he needs to be hugged.

“What happened?” I’m pretty sure it will have something to do with his dad. Moira had said she was going to speak to him about Frank; I should have gone to his room earlier to check on him, not avoid him like I have been. I was so consumed with thinking I might let something slip out about Moira, it didn’t occur to me that he might need me. The realization leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m beyond disappointed in myself. His head tilts so that he can look at me; his sad blue eyes are searching mine. He’s looking so intently at me, almost like he’s studying me and his gaze is penetrating. I feel a gleam of hope spark in the pit of my stomach while for a brief moment I’m sure he remembers who I am, remembers us. But then he blinks and looks away and I feel the glimmer of faith I’d pinned on that one tiny look burst like a bubble and dissolve to nothing.

“My dad blames me.”

I bolt upright and drop my arm from his shoulders, pushing him away so I can see his face clearly. I can feel my eyebrows bunch together and my glasses slip a little on the bridge of my nose.

“What? Of course he doesn’t. Why would you even think that?” I ask pushing my glasses into place as his lip quirks slightly and he lets out a bemused laugh.

“Trust me, Blair, he blames me. I went to his room earlier. Mom told me about his condition. I’d barely gotten two feet inside the door before he was shouting for me to get out.”

My mouth must have fallen open because he flashes me a quick smile and places his finger under my chin and pushes my jaw back up. In any other circumstance this would embarrass me, but I’m too stunned and confused to feel anything other than amazement at the moment.

“I need you to tell me something, okay?”

I can feel the blood drain from my face as he looks at me waiting for me to answer. Goosebumps erupt under my shirt and my stomach drops as I swallow the knot in my throat.

“Okay, what?”

“The accident.” He shifts his position and is sitting directly in front of me now. His legs flank my own as I pull mine up to my chest and hug them tightly. “Was it my fault—did I cause it?”

My skin prickles and a cold shiver shoots like a bolt of lightning down my spine. “What do you mean? Of course it’s not your fault,” I rush to answer, almost unbelieving that he could even entertain such a thought. He exhales loudly as a look of relief washes over his features.

“Ethan, you did not cause that accident! There were a number of things that happened that contributed to the outcome, but it wasn’t your fault; you need to believe that, okay? You’re not to blame.”

He looks at me as though he’s about to ask what I mean, but I move onto my knees and envelope him in a tight embrace. I push my face into the crook of his neck; the smell of him invades me. He’s like my own personal tranquilizer, soothing me as I mumble into his shoulder that it’s not his fault. I know he hears me when his arms snake around my waist and pull me in tighter.

“You’d tell me if it was though, right? You wouldn’t lie to me?”

I assume that he can feel my anxiety as it begins to build, because he holds onto my shoulders and moves me away from him, fixing me with a stare.

“I can trust you to tell me the truth…right?”

I gather my wits and clench my fists as I try and sit a little taller. “You can trust me,” I answer.
Why does this feel like a lie?
I hate Moira right now.

“Good,” he whispers drawing me back into him and then standing us both up.

“So, girlfriend.” He smiles and nudges my arm. I can’t help but smile back.

“So, boyfriend,” I reply, arching my brow as I wait for him to carry on.

“Shit, that sounds weird! Want to go and get a crappy hospital coffee with me before your mom collects you? It can be our official second first date?”

“Second first date?” I snort.

“Oh god, tell me I at least took you out on a date before tricking you into being my girlfriend? Or…wait, I didn’t sleep with you and then you just decided that we’re together did I?”

I feel my mouth drop open again at the audacity of the question. I’m contemplating how inappropriate it would be to junk punch him right here and now when the low timbre of his laugh rumbles from his chest and spills out into the stillness. I love that sound.

“Joke, Blair.”

“You’re a dick, Jamison,” I retort in mock exasperation.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re offended,” he smirks, looking down at me.

My heart squeezes excitedly in my chest as I bask in the compliment.

“You’re forgiven,” I grin back at him.

“That’s good,” he flashes his dimples and takes a step back. “Because I’ve just realized that I have no cash on me so you’re gonna have to pay for this date,” he winks, grabs a hold of my hand and starts walking back into the hospital, pulling me along with him. His strides are longer than mine and I’m almost skipping behind him, like a little child trying to keep up with a parent. Our arms are outstretched and he smiles and slows for me to catch up. It’s then that it hits me just how much I’ve missed him.

“You know my coffee order?” he asks in a perplexed tone as I place the vanilla latte down in front of him. He’s sitting in the back of the hospital coffee shop by the window. Darkness is slowly descending outside, casting shadows throughout the deep red room. You could almost forget we’re sitting inside a hospital if not for the two other patients across the room wearing pajamas and sipping their drinks. No doubt they’re enjoying the smell of ground beans over alcohol wipes. I know I am.

“Of course I know your coffee order,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders and taking a seat opposite him.

“Huh…don’t think I’ve ever had anyone know that.” He nods and picks up the mug, taking a tiny sip.

“I know more about you than you realize,” I smirk.

“Why do I get the feeling that I should be embarrassed?”

I let my head fall back and let out a completely undignified snort laugh. He’s watching me, amused, as I cover my mouth to mask the noise. “You’ve done some pretty embarrassing shit,” I muse.

“Really? Do you not know who I am? You must have forgotten that I’m in a band. I’m the epitome of cool.” He smirks, taking a large gulp of his drink.

I splutter behind my hand and shake my head. “Oh my gosh…ego much! You have done so many embarrassing things I can’t even name them all. In fact, I will name one.” I shuffle and sit taller in my seat. “You Googled how to avoid premature ejaculation when we first started dating,” I deadpan.

Coffee spurts from his mouth at breakneck speed, spraying over the table and dousing my face and shirt. The look on his face mirrors my own shock before it morphs to mortification. I burst into laughter and he quickly follows, his eyes glazed he’s laughing so hard, and fires napkins at me from the dispenser while trying to clean his chin.

“Smooth!”

“I didn’t say I was smooth, I said I was cool,” he chokes out.

“That’s just been added to the list, by the way.”

“Ha! I don’t believe you,” he says, crossing his arms loosely over his chest and leaning back on his chair. “There’s no way I would have Googled that. I don’t have problems in the bedroom department, Princess.”

I freeze mid-wipe and drop the napkin from my face. “You called me Princess.” I smile, and he looks confused.

“You always called me Princess. I can count on one hand the amount of times you ever called me Blair.”

“Oh, um...” he pauses momentarily and scratches his chin. “It just feels natural to call you that. I’m not sure if it’s a memory. I don’t know, I guess I can’t explain it…” he trails off.

“Don’t worry, I just missed hearing it is all, it’s nothing. Anyway, you totally did Google it. When I saw your search history you tried to blame it on Jackson.”

He nods in contemplation. “Okay, now that sounds like something I’d do. You know this hardly seems fair.” He motions between us. “Teasing the poor amnesia patient. I’m sure I know a ton of embarrassing stuff about you; just wait till my memory comes back…you’ll regret poking fun at me then.”

I finish wiping down my shirt and ball the napkins up, tossing the soggy beige pile onto the table between us.

“Ooh, Mr. I’m So Cool I’m in a Band…is that a threat?” I ask narrowing my gaze at him.

“No, Princess…it’s a promise.”

THINGS TO CHALK up as completely fucking mortifying:

#1 Asking the hot as hell chick that’s supposedly your girlfriend out for coffee, only to realize you haven’t got your wallet.

#2 Doing this after calling said hot chick to offload your problems like a total pussy.

Then, to add frosting to the damn cake of shame that you’ve just baked…

#3 Spitting the coffee that she had to buy you in her face.

When the hell did I turn into a complete moron? I’m contemplating calling Jackson and asking him if he knows where my game’s gone, cause I sure as shit don’t. I want to believe that it’s the whole head injury thing that has me in knots, but I think that it’s maybe just her. We seem to have an easy, comfortable banter. She’s quick-witted and I like it; apparently so does my dick. Every time I’m around this girl she commands attention from my whole body. It’s like I’ve reverted to being a thirteen year-old that’s just realized girls have boobs. Speaking of which, Blair’s wearing a seriously tight yellow t-shirt that has ‘
2 ∞ + >
’ stretched across her chest. It’s taking some truly astounding willpower to not stare.