We walked in silence halfway back to the residential area. Quelling the heat blazing in my cheeks wasn’t easy. There was no good reason for how I acted, and worse, it reignited the fire I’d tamped down over the fleeting dreams about something wonderful and scandalous. They weren’t dreams, I knew that, but I couldn't admit it—and certainly not to Callan, especially after the way he took such delicate care in a simple caress. It was terrible and made the want I had had for Milo seem like a fleeting whim. I folded my arms, tucking my trembling fingers from sight. Every bit of me hummed with renewed desire. I cleared my throat to settle myself and get my mind off the thoughts of shadows rippling along walls, the glow of a fire, and the way the reflection of its blaze danced over his bare skin and glimmered against his hair, casting it brighter than ever. What I wouldn’t give to feel his fingers along my neck again, and tracing lower to grace my body with his gentle touch.

I breathed in, changing my thoughts as fast as I could to the mundane. I looked over at the hefty shopping bag. “I hope that wasn’t too expensive.”

“It wasn’t.” He shrugged.

“Good,” I squeaked.

There was a long silence that followed. It was as painful as the knot in my stomach, born of embarrassment for myself. I needed to breathe before we got back and push down my wandering daydreams. If Charon saw me red-faced again, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. The last thing I wanted was to hear his commentary on the ruttish thoughts swimming through my head. I didn’t need his help to feel entirely uncomfortable, I did a fine job of it on my own; and really, that’s all it was: a little discomfort. I was having a perfectly normal physical reaction to a very attractive man—the man I had spent well over a year seeing in visions and dreams and while I was… My mouth went dry. Charon was right. Again. I was thinking about Callan when I was with Milo and lost myself in a dream that smelled like him, that felt like him. Callan was all around me and I didn’t even realize it. I’d heard my name on his lips and saw the faintest glimpse of him, enough that there was no question about it: I knew him. What was between us was intimate and filled with languid kisses pressed to heated flesh in a dark room. It was indulgence and tender embrace masked in a glittery haze of pleasure and delight so rich my eyes rolled back, and I forgot where I was and who I was with.

Guilt spilled through me. I would have done damn near anything to find out how real those memories were, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t throw myself at Callan. He was kind and gentle, and I wasn’t the person he remembered. It wouldn’t be fair. It would mean more to him than it did to me, and I wasn’t about to put him through that sort of hell for the sake of selfish pleasure. Callan was too thoughtful and considerate and wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’d concerned himself with bringing me breakfast every morning and making sure I had been cared for in his absence. He even said he didn’t care if I left, as long as I was sure about my decision to go; which, in truth, made me stay. I was safe. I didn’t need to go anywhere. Staring at the ground, I felt even more guilty for wanting him the way I did, knowing I meant something to him.

“Asherah,” he said, breaking through my thoughts.

I looked up and found he was staring ahead as if avoiding meeting my gaze. His pace slowed and then stopped. Those amber eyes found mine. No smile graced his lips. He glanced down the street and then at me, still mulling over what more he wanted to say. I breathed out, waiting impatiently for him. His hesitation lingered on too long, and I turned to continue heading back to the house.

“Ask me again who I am,” he said with a soft command.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I turned back around and stared at him for a long moment. The way he stood there was like a god waiting for a mortal lover to come to him in full adoration. I couldn’t remember a single time Milo looked at me the way Callan did. It was as if I was the most important thing in his world. My heart ached, strangled by guilt and sorrow for what I didn’t remember. I knew what he wanted to say, why he wanted me to ask him again, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear how he felt about the person he thought I was.

“I don’t answer to you, Callan,” I stated, as flat as possible, keeping my gaze on my feet.

“Ask me again.” The words came slow and soft, melting a part of me I didn’t think could feel something as immense as what I found in his eyes.

“Alright, who are you?” I asked, barely over a whisper.

“I’m yours, Asherah.” He stepped closer and carefully lifted my chin with his fingertips. It was strange; it was as if he could see straight through me. His gentle, yearning gaze lowered and fell away, though I knew his attention remained on only me. “And there will never be a time where that isn’t true.”

“I’m not the person you remember.”

“Yes, you are.” He leaned his forehead to mine, the smile on his lips fading into a pained sadness and something unnamable. The tip of his nose drew a long, soft line along the edge of mine, and I was sure I was going to fall apart right there. “You don’t see it, but I do.”

I trembled as he traced his fingers along my cheek and then down my jaw. He was careful as he touched me, as if I might disappear like a mirage. The soft hint of cinnamon from his skin intoxicated my senses, stealing me out of the nightmare I’d known for too long and bringing me to wake in a dream. I wanted to stay in the dream. I wanted to stay with Callan, and I wanted to kiss him. Then, without warning, something inside me clenched tight like a vise. I couldn’t do this. It was wrong. This was yet another man who knew more of my past than I did; and there I was, senselessly chasing a rush of lust.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. And I was.

I stepped away with more regret than I had ever felt in my life. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t remember him, and that I didn’t know enough to trust myself. I turned away and walked toward the house, wrapping my arms around my middle. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t bring myself to in front of him. There was a time when Callan meant everything to me, the way I did to him, but those days were wholly out of reach. When I reached the house, I opened the front door and ran up the steps, ignoring Charon shouting at me about the footprints again. Straight to my room, I slammed the door shut and locked it. I put my forehead against the cool wood. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my shoulders curling forward in weakness. I didn’t know who I was, what happened to me to make me forget, or why it happened in the first place. I wanted to trust Callan with all of myself, but I didn’t want to end up hurt and alone again. I crumpled to my knees, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. Milo didn’t even try to chase after me when Charon came for me in the night.

My tears soaked my cheeks, my weeping growing into hiccups and ugly sobbing. My chest burned and heaved, every breath sharp and painful in my devastation. I wasn’t alone, but I felt like I was, and the longer Charon and Callan stayed by my side when they didn’t have to, the more I realized Milo wasn’t coming for me. In the days I’d laid in bed, aching and recovering, they’d been better to me than Milo had been in all the years we’d lived together. Callan never once looked down his nose at me. People adored him and he treated me like his equal, not someone he needed to protect. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t worthy of Callan’s attention or affection, but I wanted it all the same. My body shook with agony as I collapsed on the floor. Callan meant more to me than I could understand, more than I deserved. The way I felt wasn’t some simple physical reaction to beauty incarnate. I hadn’t held on to him for such shallow reasons. When I closed my eyes, faint traces of him danced in the void where memories once lived. I found him somewhere inside me time and again, as if I was clinging to thin strings after all the world fell away. I couldn’t let him go, no matter what happened; and for the first time, I was scared because without really remembering him or who I was, he could hurt me. He could abandon me when I needed him the most.