Kyle stands at the entrance, his face stoic and rigid. His hair is slightly wet at its ends, which I assume it's because he took a shower at the gym. As always, he's effortlessly good-looking. Even though he's dressed in just a simple black shirt and jeans, they're enough to flaunt his muscles—the results of his training.

When he spots me, he stares at me for several seconds, taking in my shocked expression and the obvious fear in my eyes.

Why is he here?

Didn't he refuse to come?

We stare at each other and I notice how clenched his jaw is, his eyes swirling with conflicting emotions. The next moment, he rushes towards me and I take a step backwards reflexively, bracing myself for whatever harsh words he's about to hurl at me.

But it soon turns out that I'm wrong.

His arms come around me suddenly and protectively, enveloping me in his towering frame. The fresh scent from his after shower invades my nose with a strong sense of familiarity and momentarily causing me to forget the place we are at. With one hand on my back and the other cradling my head, my pulse races madly.

I think I'm about to get another meltdown for a completely different reason.

"Love," he rasps, using the gentlest tone I've ever heard him use on me. "Are you alright?"

I glance up at him, blink once, then do a double take.

Wait, what did he just call me?

I'm stunned by his change in behavior. I'm trying to collect my thoughts, but his scent is intoxicating and wreaking havoc in my mind.

"Kyle, what are you–"

He cuts me off by pressing me closer to his body, my cheek against the hard planes of his chest. The warmth from his skin seeps through my clothes and into my bones, driving the cold out of my system.

From behind, the cashier lady calls out to us, shooting me a sympathetic look.

"Get her home and make sure she rests, young lad. She looks pretty sick to me. It must be the time of the month or something."

Kyle offers her a nod of appreciation. "I will, thanks."

Without taking his hands off me, he leads me out of the store. Once we're outside, my body stiffens and I lower my head. I know that my stalker is watching our every move closely, but Kyle holds me closer to him and shields me from his view. He glares murderously at the man over my head.

"What're you looking at?"

The man freezes. Realizing that I'm no longer alone, he turns and scampers away for good, disappearing down the street. Once he's gone, Kyle drops his act. He jumps away from me, scowling at his hands as if my touch has burned him.

I break the silence. "Kyle, why are you here—"

"Don't," he cuts me off curtly. He refuses to look at me and glares at the floor instead. Clearly, he's angry with himself for coming here. "Don't say a word, Riley."

I bite my bottom lip, my eyes burning at his revulsion of me. I don't know what I'm expecting. Every time I'm convinced that there's an underlying kindness to his ruthless self, he ruins it all with his brutal words and leaves me doused in cold water.

"Do you really hate me that much?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

I swallow hard, keeping my voice flat and devoid of emotions. His mood swings are driving me up the wall. Nothing that I say or do will assuage his wrath.

"Thanks for helping me, Kyle. I'm really sorry for troubling you."

I turn and walk away. Before I take my third step, I feel his hand grabbing mine and he wrenches me back. Hard, angry lines etch around his eyes and jaw. He wants to snap at me again, but upon seeing my expression — glistening eyes, quivering lips and all — he stops himself.

"Shit," he mutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly before he lets out a sigh. His eyes and voice lose a bit of their harshness. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"I can go home on my own, Kyle. The man's already gone."

I pull my hand away, but he only grips harder. "No, not in your current condition. Look." he lifts my hand between us. "You're shaking, Riley."

He's right. I'm so distracted by his presence, his scent and his temper that I don't even realize my state until he points it out. My limbs feel numb, my knees weak and I do not know if it's because of the cold, the fear of someone following me, or because of him.

Maybe it's everything.

Taking my arm, he guides me to his car before I can change my mind. The smell inside is thick with his scent—rich and intoxicating. It's getting difficult for me not to be distracted by it, especially when it hits me with a sense of familiarity and has such a calming effect on me so easily.

And I most definitely do not miss the small flutter in my stomach.

After making sure I'm settled in my seat, Kyle enters the driver's side. A somewhat tense silence sits between us as he starts the engine, but he doesn't drive. Instead, he turns to look at me, his eyes boring into the side of my head. I glance in his direction, noticing how his dark hair falls over his forehead, and I resist the temptation to brush them away from his eyes.

He stares at me for a moment too long, his eyes running over my face, until I'm forced to ask him.

"W-what?"

The heat of his gaze burns me and I can't help but notice the dark shadows haunting those piercing green eyes of his. Slowly, his hand extends towards me and I instantly freeze in my seat, holding my breath. My heart pounds in my chest and I hope he doesn't hear it.

But all he does is to reach for my seatbelt and secure it in the seat buckle.

"Relax," he whispers, close enough that his breath tickles my ear. "I will not kidnap you."

With that, he finally starts the engine, and the car pulls out. I haven't told him my address, and he doesn't ask, but he seems to know exactly where he's going.

The next time he speaks, he startles me with his next question. "You never answered me before," he says. "Why are you really back here in Lakeshore?"

I squirm a little in my seat, knowing that he might have probably heard the story that I've been telling our schoolmates but knowing him, he doesn't buy it. I'm wondering if I should reveal my amnesia to him, but will he ever understand?

I can see it clearly now. The both of us are stubborn. Neither one of us will be honest with each other, and that is going to destroy us ultimately from the inside.

But if I take the first step of telling him the truth? Will it save us? Or will it add fuel to the fire?

My silence vexes him. "You're still refusing to tell me," he mutters angrily. "Just like the last time."

Understanding the underlying meaning in his words, I swallow the little lump in my throat that I haven't realized it's there. He's referring to the time before the accident, before I left this town with my parents.

In the end, I tell him the only few words that I can offer. "I'm sorry for hurting you in the past."

Kyle stiffens in his seat, clearly not expecting me to apologize. His jaw clenches and the knuckles on his hands that are gripping the steering wheel turn white.

"Then why?" he whispers, his voice quivering. "Why did you leave saying nothing?"

The pain in his words is clear. It tears at my heart and hits me deep. I feel a rush of emotions up my throat, choking me. Whatever that has happened in the past, I've most definitely hurt him more than I realize.

And something else dawns on me. If there's a person I can trust, it's Kyle. By showing up here and chasing away my stalker, he's expressing his worry for me. For his ex-girlfriend. It's plain obvious that he's still hurting from our relationship and he deserves the right to know the truth about me, even if I'm terribly afraid of his response.

Taking a deep breath, I tell him in a deflated voice.

"I don't know."

Ever since I woke up from my coma, my life has been utterly confused. All along, I'm doing whatever Aunt Abbie wants and trying my best to live a normal life like everybody else. But it's hard. Deep inside of me, I still feel like I'm dead on the inside. A walking dead.

I've no sense of identity. And I don't know who I should be.

Kyle frowns at my vague answer. He's unable to concentrate on his driving and stops the car along the side of the road. He swivels to face me, his blazing eyes meeting mine and holding me firmly in place.

"Explain yourself," he demands.

I stare down at my hands on my lap. "I don't know where to start from."

"Anywhere," he urges, trying his best to contain his frustration. "Ever since you came back, there's something really off about you. You look exactly like the girl I used to know, but somehow you aren't. You are supposed to be in the same year as me, but you're not. The stuff that you've been telling people about your parents working overseas? That's complete bullshit. Your mom had you right before she finished high school and raised you up single-handedly because your dad was a coward."

I suck in a breath sharply when I realize that I'm learning something new about my family. Aunt Abbie hasn't mentioned my father and, hence, I always thought that both my parents had died in the car crash. But apparently, that isn't the case anymore.

I mull over the new knowledge, trying to remember, but nothing jolts my memory.

In the end, my only response comprises two words.

"I see."

"What?" Kyle's eyes widen, bewildered by my odd reaction. "Why the hell are you looking like that? Aren't you aware of it? Don't you remember telling me about that when we first dated?"

I shake my head with a bitter smile. "I don't remember."

Kyle looks even more pissed. "You don't remember telling me about your parents, and you don't remember the reason you broke up with me. You really wish to play this game till the end, do you, Riley?"

I don't answer. Mustering my courage, I take his hand slowly, feeling him jerk, but after seeing my grim expression, he lets me do whatever I want. I intertwine our fingers, squeeze my eyes shut, and try to recall any memories that we share. His warmth is familiar, his touch is familiar, his voice is familiar. It feels like I'm getting close, but the waves are sweeping me away from the shore.

Nothing comes to my mind.

My eyes flutter open, and I release his hand. "It's exactly what I've said earlier—I don't remember."

Kyle can't seem to speak another word, the colors draining fast from his face. Even though he's still confused, he finally gets what I've been trying to tell him all along.

At long last, I reveal to him. "If I say that a year ago, I was in a car accident, ended up in a coma, and my mother died, would you believe me?"

I've thrown too much information at him, but it's too late to take them back now. Kyle's face grows pale, looking worse than ever. Raw, turbulent emotions swirl in his eyes as his mind tries to wrap himself around my revelation.

I continue on. "It's not that I don't want to tell you why we broke up. I can't. The doctors said I knocked my head pretty hard and lost my memories. I don't remember us. Our past. For god's sake," I laugh humourlessly, "I can't even remember my mother's face and name."

It's the first time that I'm sharing my honest thoughts. A water dam inside of me has busted, releasing all the pent-up emotions I've been suppressing for the past weeks. I've never told this to anyone, not even to my aunt. "I feel lost, like I have died along with my mother in the accident. Everybody else around me knows what they're doing, but all I do every day is to wander about like an empty shell."

Lifting my head, I meet his shell-shocked expression with a miserable smile.

"There is no Riley Perez anymore, Kyle."