A chill snakes down my spine when I think of my last close encounter with someone I knew. Let me rephrase that. Not just someone. Jamison Bexley is more than a someone. More than an old acquaintance. And definitely more than the best-friend label I gave him for so many years.
Jamison Bexley was the love of my life… and I lost him in the blink of an eye.
I never expected him to walk into that party two months ago, but I saw him arrive through the second-story window of the room we were using as our dressing room.
Seeing him in that business getup—black suit jacket, white button-down shirt, freshly shaved face, and perfectly groomed hair—the shock that buzzed through me seemed to last an eternity. I couldn’t believe I was about to face him again, my only solace being the fact that he would never know it was me.
So I had slipped on my long wig then my mask, and I danced for him—got close to him, felt him. I practically inhaled his masculine scent as I moved around him, the high buzzing through me like he was the only drug I needed to make me forget all the pain I’d caused. There may have been years of silence between us, but in that moment—with him in that chair and his eyes soaking in every inch of me—I imagined things had gone differently back then. I got lost in the music, in the dance, in him. Until he whispered my name, confirming that he saw me for what I’d become.
With Jami’s shocked face from that night haunting me, I tighten my hold on the envelope containing a shred of what little hope I have left. “Thanks, but I’ll stick to the masked events.”
With a small smile and a wave, I leave Malik’s office as fast as I entered it.
Chapter Two
JAMISON
It’s a surreal feeling to be driving around the San Juan Islands. Seven years ago, I swore I would never come back. Yet here I am, chasing a ghost from my past. My client’s lake house party first brought me back two months ago, but it was the shock of seeing Violet that changed everything I had vehemently sworn against. Now I can’t seem to stay away.
My car’s speakers alert me of a call coming in, yanking me back to the present. I check the display to find my brother’s name. One tap of the touch screen, and I’m answering the call while simultaneously following a silver Toyota into the parking lot of a commercial business suite.
“What’s up, brother?”
“Hey,” Anderson answers back. “Just checking to see if you’re planning to head my way this weekend.”
He’s referring to Camp Bexley, our family campground on Orcas Island that he’s been running alone for years. My other brothers and I bowed out of our responsibilities years ago, for reasons of our own, but Anderson has made it his mission to remind all of us of what we left behind—a mission that might have gone flat with me if it weren’t for a chain of shocking events that transpired, beginning with my newfound obsession.
Violet Hart.
“Yup. I’ll be there in a bit.” I frown while I circle the parking lot to look for an inconspicuous spot. “Everything okay?”
“As good as it can be. We’ve got a busy weekend on the resort side. Thanks to Hope, we’re fully booked, but I have a shit ton of interviews to get through. I’m calling in all my favors.”
I bite back my amusement at the mention of his girlfriend who he’s madly in love with. “Hey now, you can’t blame Hope. You hired her to promote the shit out of Camp Bexley, and that’s exactly what she did.”
Anderson groans. “I get to hear it from you too, huh? Okay, I’ll admit it. She’s too good, and I wasn’t prepared.”
“I know, brother. Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.” I back into a spot in the corner of the lot under some low-hanging branches. “You need me to run the saloon again or something else?”
A heavy sigh breaks through the line. “The bar, please. I know you said you’d help with keeping up with our profit margins, but until I hire a manager at the saloon, I’m screwed. I haven’t even come up with a name for the place yet.”
“I can help with all of that,” I assure him. “It’s no problem. I’ll take care of interviews, training, and bartending when I’m there, and when there’s downtime, I’ll keep a close eye on your numbers. Hell, I’ll even come up with a name for the saloon if you want me to.” My eyes drift back to the top floor of the business suite where a light just turned on. “I’ll keep coming back as long as you need me.”
A light chuckle enters the line. “You know my response to that.”
I smile, knowing fully well that Anderson would be happiest if I moved back full time. “Baby steps, brother.”
“Yeah, I know. But who would have thought Mr. Financial Analyst would be the saving grace in my life right about now?”
My brother flatters me. “It’s the least I can do.” I frown at yet another reminder of why I’ve been coming back into town. “How’s Cay?”
Cayson Bexley, our younger brother, was recently in a terrible accident while on duty transferring rescue supplies with the Air Force. He’s been incapacitated in bed with a full-time nurse by his side, the extent of his injuries still to be determined, but he managed to break every limb. Thank heavens the doctors believe he’ll make a full recovery.
“About the same.” Anderson sounds as grim as I feel.
After seeing Cayson at a hospital near his base in North Carolina, it’s hard not to picture the numerous tubes stuffed in and around his unconscious body.
“He still isn’t speaking, and when he’s awake, he seems very confused. His doctor has mentioned the possibility of memory loss a few times now.”
“Like amnesia?”
“Or some form of it. He was unconscious for days, so while there’s no physical damage to his brain, the lack of oxygen he suffered while trapped in his plane before being rescued could have still messed with him in some way. But there’s no telling how much until he’s ready to speak.”
“Jesus. I thought we were out of the worst of it when he opened his eyes.”
“At least he’s alive. Now, we just need to be patient. His entire life is about to change, and knowing Cayson, he’s not going to like it one bit. Flying has been his dream for as long as I can remember. To have lost that—”
“He won’t.” The words fly out of my mouth so quickly that I feel a rush of air leave my lungs with them. “He’s going to recover, and he’s going to fly again. You’re right. We just need to be patient. Whatever happens, we’ll be there for him.” I clear my throat and shake my head, the seriousness of the topic drawing a dark cloud over my head. “Speaking of, I’ve already worked out my schedule with Jared. He’ll cover me at the office Thursday through Sunday when I spend weekends at the camp then head back to Seattle to work in the office.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
A pang hits my chest. Guilt. The fact that Anderson keeps thanking me for a responsibility I was expected to take on for the past seven years definitely has me questioning if I should have always been doing more. But then my eyes focus on a figure walking past the second-story window, and I remember bitterly the exact reason I had no choice but to leave town all those years ago.