Anew

68

After knocking on the cabin door for two minutes without an answer, Scarlet turned the doorknob and found it unlocked.

Yeah, real safe guys.

She let herself in and called out for Gabriel.

Nothing.

She ran upstairs and looked for him, but found his room empty.

She went back downstairs, frustrated she wasn’t able to get a hold of anyone and didn’t think she could wait a moment longer to tell someone.

Unless….

She looked at the stairs leading into the basement. Could she wait until Gabriel got home for answers?

Nope.

Slowly, carefully, Scarlet descended the stairs. Tristan wasn’t her first choice, but he certainly knew more than she did.

Scarlet made her way down into the basement feeling like an intruder in a lion’s den. Tristan had made it clear he wasn’t thrilled with her presence in the house, let alone in his private quarters. But this was important.

She needed help and since Gabriel was nowhere to be found, Tristan would have to do.

She tried to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind that chided her reasoning. If she were being honest with herself, there was a part of her—a very small, very foolish part—that was happy for an excuse to see Tristan.

To need him. To be around him.

She was the worst girlfriend ever.

Shaking off her guilt and falling back on her earlier I-need-help-from-someone excuse, Scarlet proceeded down the basement hallway to Tristan’s room. The only other time she’d been in this part of the cabin was when Gabriel had given her the grand tour.

The basement looked so different without Gabriel. It looked…forbidden.

She crept quietly, feeling unwelcome in Tristan’s living space. His obvious dislike for her didn’t help with her resolve to seek him out. There was a good chance he’d yell or scoff or, worse, ignore her.

The possibility of him turning her away angered her. But more significant than his dislike for her was the sadness it triggered. Something inside her lost a bit of life every time Tristan shunned her.

Which was pretty much anytime time she was around.

Maybe it was for her own protection, like Nate had said, but it still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlet reached Tristan’s bedroom door, which stood ajar, and carefully took a single step inside. The large bed situated in the center of the room was ornate and beckoning in its design.

The deep mahogany frame was carved with masculine angles offset with intricate details burned into the four posters that stood at attention at each corner. Everything about the frame screamed man, while everything about the navy bedding whispered woman. Plush pillows sat atop a raised mattress, silk sheets and a velvet blanket.

Scarlet swallowed.

For all his brooding and brokenness, Tristan sure knew how to put a bed together. The basement ceilings were much higher than she remembered, making Tristan’s bedroom feel vaulted and open.

A wardrobe cabinet sat in the far corner of the bedroom and Scarlet did a double-take.

It was the wardrobe from her flashback.

She had hidden the dangerous arrow in Tristan’s wardrobe.

But why?

She was about to call out Tristan’s name when movement caught her eye.

Directly across from the bed was an archway leading into the master bath. In the area just beyond the archway, and visible from the doorway, was a long, marble bathroom countertop. Above the sink hung an oversized bathroom mirror framed with the same mahogany as the beautiful bed.

It was inside this mirror Scarlet’s eye was drawn to movement.

Tristan stood in front of the mirror, his perfect body shirtless, as he finished washing his face.

His body was gorgeous. Strong and male and pure muscle.

Scarlet’s mouth dropped open as her eyes zeroed in on something curious. It wasn’t his perfectly sculpted half-naked body that caught her attention.

It was the dark tattoo—wrapped around the left side of his ribcage and reaching down below his waist—that captured Scarlet’s gaze.

Her eyes followed its design in disbelief, staring unashamedly at his bare torso.

Scarlet sucked in a sharp breath.

The tattoo on Tristan’s body was Scarlet’s mysterious symbol. Exactly.

It was the doodle she drew on her shoes and her skin and on her notebook. The design that floated in and out of her thoughts and dreams. The symbol that managed to survive her memory wash.

The symbol Scarlet knew she was connected to.

And Tristan had it permanently inked onto his muscular body.

And it was a bit faded, suggesting the tattoo had been stitched into his skin for quite some time.

His eyes caught hers in the mirror and, for a split second, she thought everything was going to be okay. Tristan’s face softened at the initial sight of Scarlet standing in his doorway, but the moment quickly passed and was replaced with a tangible coldness.

He finished drying his face. “What are you doing?” he said to Scarlet’s reflection, not bothering to turn and look at her directly.

She blinked a few times, trying to compose both her surprise at his tattoo and shock at his tone. Although she tried to respond with an edge to her voice, her words came out small and soft. “Why do you have that tattoo?”

Tristan turned around to face her and looked down at the design on his ribcage. His eyes stayed lowered, although they left his tattoo and fell against a random spot on the floor. He inhaled through his nostrils, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

He was upset.

She could feel his fear and anger.

When his eyes made their way back to Scarlet’s face, there was a deadliness to them that hurt more than frightened her. “You first. Why are you spying on me?”

Scarlet raised an eyebrow, letting her curiosity about the tattoo override her hurt feelings. With as much attitude as she could muster she said, “Spying? You wish. I was looking for Gabriel.” Scarlet took a few confident steps toward Tristan, cocking her head to the side as she examined the tattoo. It was an exact replica of her drawing, down to the last detail. “You saw me draw that exact design on my hip. Why did I do that?”

His gaze didn’t falter, nor did his dark tone. “I don’t know.”

Scarlet watched him for a moment, unsure of what to think. If the mark she had been scribbling for the last two years was a tattoo from her boyfriend’s brother’s body…a tattoo that trailed down his ribcage and into his pants, then….

She looked down and away from Tristan.

No wonder Gabriel had been upset when he’d seen the drawing on her hip.

She had no words. Why would she come into this new life with almost no memory whatsoever but remember—in vivid detail, no less—Tristan’s tattoo?

All answers pointed to something Scarlet wasn’t ready to accept. She gradually pulled her head back up and looked at him, more closely this time.

His jaw was still locked and resistant. His body still tense and cold. But his eyes…the bright green depths of his eyes…were in pain.

There was no hatred in them, no apathy. Just sadness.

Her features must have reflected her thoughts because Tristan silently shook his head, lowering his brow in warning. Almost as if to say, do not speak of this.

Scarlet’s chest rose and fell as she looked at him in silence.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Her eyes began to burn. They were probably glowing neon blue.

Wonderful.

She swallowed. “What do I not remember?”

Tristan’s green eyes flashed and Scarlet’s heart began to pump with a fervor like never before. Recklessly banging against her ribcage like it didn’t belong to her. Like it needed to break free.

Like it would tear her soul in half if only to escape….

“Scar,” he said, his voice cracking as he looked at her burning eyes. “You—“

“What did you call me?” His beautiful voice came over her ears and struck something deep and warm inside her. Something she remembered…loving.

“You need to get out of here.” He spoke firmly, but his eyes looked panicked.

“You called me…‘Scar’…” She took another step closer to him, her heart pulling her near, hammering madly inside her chest. Looking up at his handsome face, she tilted her head. Her voice was soft, curious, and aware. “You called me ‘Scar’…. That’s my name…‘Scar’….”

He opened his mouth like he was going to speak—

“Scarlet!” Gabriel’s voice carried down the basement stairs and into Tristan’s room, breaking the silence.

They looked away from one another and shifted in opposite directions.

Tristan turned and retreated to the master bath. Scarlet started walking, slowly and in a state of shock, back toward his door.

He called me Scar…. I remembered his tattoo…. What does this mean? Why can’t I remember?

Frustration filled her veins.

She hated her broken mind.

She hated the secrets Tristan was keeping from her.

And she hated that her eyes were still on fire.

Tristan came up behind her with a fresh shirt on and, without making eye contact, they exited the bedroom and made their way back up the stairs to where Gabriel and Nate were looking for Scarlet.

Scarlet’s heart thrummed away, refusing to calm down.

Partly due to her shock at seeing Tristan’s tattoo.

But also because she had something important to tell the guys.

Something critical.