Page 11 of Broken Strings

Her bottom lip pokes out.

"You'll just have to meet him yourself," I murmur, tapping her on the nose. "Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."

"Do I have to start school, Mommy?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, you have to start school," I say, chuckling. "But if you're good, we'll go do something afterward. Deal?"

"Deal." Her eyes flutter before they settle on me again. "You look sad."

"I'm not sad," I lie, my throat tight. "Just tired."

"Me too."

"Then go to sleep, silly girl."

"Okay."

"I love you forever."

"Love you forever," she whispers back, already drifting back to sleep.

I watch her for a long moment, tears blurring my vision. How the hell am I going to tell her that her dad is alive? That he's always been alive and just decided to disappear in Mexico?

I don't even know where to begin. I can't wrap my mind around it myself. The whole way home, I tried to process it, but I can't. Aside from the scars, he looks the same. He's older, a little harder, but he's the same damn man who used to hold me so close I felt like nothing would ever come between us.

What happened? How did we go from that to…whatever this is? Why did he just leave? If he wanted out, why not just tell me? It doesn't make sense.

I brush my hand through Brinley's hair again, sigh, and then tiptoe out of her bedroom, my mind a swirl of confusion. Part of me wants to believe that he really did wake up in a hospital with no memories. I desperately want to cling to hope that every prayer I've ever spoken was answered tonight. But I'm terrified that I'm wrong.

I'm terrified that he walked away. And I'm equally as terrified that I'm wrong and I just blew up my second chance—that I blew up Brinley's chance.

But more than any of that…I'm terrified of what happens if I let him back in and lose him again. I survived it once. I can't do it again.

Chapter Four

Priest

"Priest, you need to sit down," Memphis says, grabbing me by the shoulders as I pace back and forth across the green room after the concert, too amped up to settle. "You haven't stopped moving since you got off the stage."

"Don't want to sit," I growl, shaking him off.

"Too goddamn bad." He grabs my arm again, yanking me to a stop. "Sit your ass down. If you feel like pacing again in fiveminutes, I'll fucking pace with you. But sit for a minute and talk to me, brother."

"Don't want to talk."

"Yeah, well, shit in one hand, want in the other." He practically kicks my legs out from beneath me, forcing me down onto the couch with a satisfied grunt.

I glower up at him, ready to launch myself at him. I'm so goddamn angry, I'm ready to snap.

"If you want to fight, we can do that too," he says quietly. "But not until you tell me what the fuck happened. After that, I'll find you something to beat the hell out of if that's what you need."

"She hates me." The words shake on my lips. Christ, they hurt to think, let alone to say. "She thinks I left her. That I've just been hiding out all this time. That I never loved her." I groan, pressing my hands to my temples. "I think she'd prefer if I were dead."

"She's in shock," Memphis says, his voice soft. "The man she loves just came back from the dead after six years. That had to be a punch in the gut."

"All this time, she thought I was dead," I rasp, my heart still fucking bleeding over that fact. Christ, I can't even imagine what she's been through. She said her life was hell. That I destroyed her and her life when I left. Hearing that fucking hurt. But maybe she's right.

She's spent years believing I died. I thought losing your memories was the hardest thing you could endure. Maybe I got that shit wrong, though. Maybe it's living with memories that's hardest. Because the agony in her voice—the grief etched across her face…goddamn, it hurts just to know she feels that. To know she's felt it every day for six years.