Love Me Again (Stonewall Investigations Blue Creek 1)

I looked back through the rotating glass doors, noticing that Cary had suddenly made herself extra busy with the ketchup bottle.

We started walking down the street, the streetlamps flicking on simultaneously and bathing the quiet sidewalk in soft white light. “So when did you come out?”

“My friends told me I came out when I was twenty-four. A year before the accident. I’m twenty-seven now.”

“I know. Birthday’s July fourteenth, and you’re a typical Cancer. Overly emotional, optimistic, and loyal with an intense love for staying at home in nothing but a cute pair of underwear and a nice blanket.”

“Damn,” Charlie said, looking at me. “We really did know each other.”

“Inside and out.”

Emphasis on the inside, I thought to myself. A stab of regret hit me right in the chest. I had come to Blue Creek because I was trying to outrun my grief from losing Dean, only to fall into the lap of a man who filled me with grief after losing his memories of us. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to Blue Creek at all?

Or maybe I should have come sooner? Could I have prevented whatever happened to Charlie?

“Come down this way.” Charlie nudged me with his shoulder, a moment that briefly broke the invisible wall between us and almost crushed me under a tidal wave of memories. He steered us down a curving street lined with tiny pastel-colored cottages, their lights on in their living rooms and bedrooms. “You left Blue Creek when you were how old?”

“Twenty-one,” I said.

“Ah good,” Charlie said, practically hopping with every step. Excitement clearly played across that handsome face, both dimples appearing underneath the streetlights. “Then this is going to blow your mind.”

“Huh?” I asked as we turned a corner, wondering what was making Charlie so excited.

And then my jaw dropped.

6

Charlie Marsh

I looked at Austin’s expression and couldn’t help but match his smile. I didn’t even care too much about the lights and colors that had Austin mesmerized. I’d already been here more times than I could count, but Austin, his face was new to me. I wanted to stare at it every chance I could. Even at the diner I had a difficult time keeping my eyes from settling on his lips, or his perfect nose, or his strong brows, or that sexy earring hanging close to a neck that I wanted to kiss.

“This is incredible,” Austin said, moving onto a cobblestone path that led into Pebbles Park, which was currently host to a beautiful art installation titled Silk Dreams. It had been a joint effort between the neighboring college and a famous artist from Spain, who happened to have roots in Blue Creek. She had visited the park often and knew all about the history between the silk industry and the small town.

So Silk Dreams was born. It turned the huge park into perfectly planned spaces of flowing fabric and sparkling lights, shifting in color and appearing to dance in the gentle breeze. The silk was hung on invisible strings from pine tree to pine tree, and there were sculptures of marble spaced throughout. Each one of the stone men and women wore luxe garments of silk that appeared spotlighted from an unseen light source. Curving around the park was the flowing river that gave the town its name: Blue Creek. The water babbled up into the evergreen forest that covered the base of the mountain range where lights were also twinkling; firefly season added an extra touch of magic to the already magical scene.

“It’s my favorite spot in the entire town,” I said, watching as Austin reached out and touched a wall of light pink silk. Somehow, the artists managed to get lights shining from inside the fabric, enhanced by strategically placed gems.

“Even during the day, this place is great. I come here to take my lunch break sometimes.” I pointed down a wide path of silk over a small green hill. “There’s a great place to sit down that way.”

“Let’s go,” Austin said and started walking. I couldn’t help myself, slowing my pace down by a tiny bit and dropping my eyes (not by a tiny bit). I quickly found myself drooling over Austin’s firm ass, which looked insanely good in his jeans.

It bothered me that I had zero clue what happened between us. Judging by context clues, Austin’s insanely good-looking ass may have been a kiss away. Something had happened between us during the seven years I couldn’t recall, and that shit burned at my insides like acid poured down my throat. I hated it.

I wondered what he was thinking? What memories he still kept of me? Ones I probably wouldn’t ever know.

“We used to come here a lot,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “It wasn’t anything like this obviously.”

I caught up to his pace, walking side by side through a silky soft blue alleyway, the silk rippling down into the rich green grass. “What other things did we used to do?”