“How?”
“We met in the hospital after your accident.”
“You mean after my surgery.”
“No. I mean after your accident. While you were in a coma.”
“What? How?”
I steepled my hands on my knees and blew out a breath. “Because I’d snuck into your room to see you. To make sure you were okay. I shouldn’t have been in there at all, but I just…couldn’t help myself. Your family walked in before I could leave, and then…”
“Then what?” Reid asked, his voice shaking.
“Then you woke up.”
“Okay,” he said, staring down at the coffee table, and I could practically see his mind working to put together what I was telling him, but there was no way he’d be able to manage it. Not withoutallthe pieces.
God, can I do this? Tell him the truth and risk losing even the promise of having him in my life at all?
But I didn’t have a choice. If I had any love or respect for Reid, then he deserved to have the answers. I only prayed he wouldn’t hate me or look at me in disgust once all was said and done.
“So you met her then, but that was months ago. I don’t get why you’d promise her you’d befriend me. Do you normally take on sad charity cases?”
“You’re not a sad charity case,” I said, my tone coming out a lot firmer than I’d intended. “And there are things you need tounderstand about the months you don’t remember. About the time between your accident and the surgery.”
“How would you know anything about those months?”
“Because I was there.”
He startled. “What?”
“I was there.” I let the information sink in a bit and said, “You spent…a lot of time with me.”
Reid was shaking his head as he looked at me in disbelief. “I did?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” he said, looking down at his clasped hands, and I could see the wheels turning as he processed what I was telling him. “Okay, so…I’ve been here before?”
“You have.”
“Which is why I knew about the step. About the hallway.”
“It is.”
“Oh God,” he said, and cracked a smile as his eyes welled with tears. “Then I’m not going crazy.”
That he’d even doubted himself for a minute racked me with guilt. “No. You’re not.”
He laughed and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt. “And the tacos? You made them for me? With your own seasoning?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Did I think they were as good as you bragged about last night?”
Shit.“You didn’t get a chance to try them.”
“Why not? Did you burn ’em?”