Chapter Two, Part One of Forgotten by Marti York
“Coffee?” I say almost as soon as we’re alone.
“Sure.”
“Let’s go into the kitchen. There’s a table we can sit at for our meeting.”
Peter sits at the table while I fill two mugs with coffee. Wordlessly, I place one of the mugs in front of him and grab the half and half from the refrigerator.
“Do you need sweetener?” I ask.
“No. Just the half and half.”
I set the carton down in the middle of the round table before taking the seat in the chair across from him. Peter’s gaze is on me even as he reaches for the half and half and adds some to his mug. Instead of blushing this time, I’m mortified.
Reflexively, my knuckles press against the left side of my face. “It’s the scars, isn’t it?”
Peter sets the half and half down like the carton is a fragile egg. “It’s not the scars. It’s your eyes.”
“What about them?”
“They’re beautiful.”
My hand drops from my face. I lift my chin in defiance of him making fun of me. What other explanation could there be? How could anyone think anything about me is beautiful? “You think my eyes are beautiful?”
“You have to have heard that before?”
I shrug. “I don’t know if I’ve heard that before. I have amnesia. Remember?”
His lips twitch. “I remember. But since you don’t know, here’s your first memory of someone complimenting your eyes. They are beautiful. The color is just... I don’t think I’ve ever seen that shade of green in anyone’s eyes before. They almost seem yellow.”
“I think most people consider them to be hazel.”
Peter’s gaze is stuck to my face like a magnet. “Well, they’re beautiful no matter how you want to describe the color.”
I lean back in the chair and cross my arms. “Are you telling me you don’t see the scars on my face?”
This time, he’s the one who shrugs. “I see them. But I’m trained to be very observant.”
“They’re horrible.”
“They’re barely noticeable.”
“Then why are they all I see when I look in the mirror?”
Peter reaches out and runs his thumb over the scars on my nose and lips. I stiffen and want to pull away, but I don’t want him to know I’m uncomfortable. I don’t want to give him that power.
“Because the society we live in doesn’t accept flaws, especially physical ones.” He removes his hand as deftly as he placed it on me. “Even with amnesia, you know that.” Then he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate of me.” He straightens in the chair and takes a sip of his coffee. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“What won’t happen again?”
“Me touching you like that. I work for you,” he tells me. “I’m supposed to be helping you feel safe. I imagine me touching you like that might make you feel… not safe.”
“It’s like you can read my mind. That makes me uncomfortable.”
When he cringes, I say, “Shall we start over?”
For the first time since I’ve met him, Peter smiles. “Yes, please.”
“Okay.” I uncross my arms to place my elbows on the table, lessening the space between us. “Tell me how you’re going to make me feel safe?”
“I’m going to set up a better security system here. And I’m going to teach you some self-defense moves and how to shoot a gun.”
“None of that sounds appealing to me. Maybe I should just move somewhere safer.”
“Like where?”
“Mars?” I ask. “There’s no one there.”
“Not yet at least. And you can’t hide from the world. It’s not healthy. We just need to work on your confidence. If people see you have confidence, they won’t mess with you. And if they’re still stupid enough to mess with you, you’ll know how to kick their asses.”
“So, your job is to teach me how to kick ass?”
“That’s exactly what my job is. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be a total badass.”
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