“Get her the fuck out of here, now,” I bark. They march that chick from Colorado out of there.
“Damn it, Son. You better fix that shit. You were moving in the right direction.”
“I put protection in there for a reason,” my mom says.
“Dash,” my dad snarls.
“What? Come on—he’s your boy. We’ll be new parents again as well as grandparents months apart,” she huffs.
“At least they’ll grow up close,” I state.
“Not if you don’t fix this.”
I throw open the door to find her packing her bag while she does her best to hide her tear-stained face from me. Damnit, I fucked up. After all this waiting and healing, I forgot to stop being an ass. She’s not a little girl anymore.
“Are you crying, Viv?”
“No, I’m not,” she lies to me, quietly sniffling.
“Bullshit.”
She whips her head in my direction, glaring with a mix of anger and pain. “Look, what the hell do you care? Mr. West, I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone.” A wave of memories hit me at once. A brutal one practically slaps me in the face, shocking me like a cold splash of water.
“Wait. Say that again.”
“Why do you care?”
“Not that part, the other one,” I growl, inches away from her pretty lips. “Say it again.”
“Leave me alone,” she whispers, the vehemence gone, but the memories return. One by one, the entire trip to Vail washes over me. The two days of one bad event after another flood my brain, and then that bitch from the front desk who has just come into my damn garage using my mother’s name because she’s that fucking obtuse.
“You’re mine, Trouble, but there’s some important shit that I need to take care of before anyone is aware that I have my memory of that weekend back.” I bend down and do what I’ve been craving. “After all this time, no more waiting, and no more forgetting. Don’t tell me to forget you again, because that shit isn’t going to happen.” I fist her hair, tipping her head back, and kissing her lips violently. She moans against my mouth, whimpering as she clings to me.
Her words slip past my lips. “Simon.”
“Music to my ears, my gorgeous Vivian.”
A knock on the door interrupts us. “Son, we’re sorry about the interruption, but Miles wants to meet us at the Clubhouse. He’s been digging into your hit and run.”
“That’s good, because a memory is coming to me and an image of the bastard who ran me over is coming to mind. He’s connected to the hotel and that broad that was here. Petrol should be taking her to her vehicle.”
“They can’t be that far.”
“I’ll call him.” I pull out my phone and dial his number. The second he answers, I speak in a hushed, commanding tone. “Only yes or no answers.”
“Okay.”
“Are you still with that woman?” I say calmly.
“Yes.”
“Good. Make an excuse to bring her back to the Clubhouse.”
“Oh…Yes, okay,” he says with a chuckle.
“Good. I need to call Law.”
“Actually, he’s by the vehicle, writing a ticket.”
