Read Forget Me Not for Free Online Page B

middle of the country. I’m a long way from home.
    When I look up, Jax stands in front of me, holding a scratchy-looking towel and a set of white sheets out in front of him like an offering. I frown. How did I not notice him move?
    “There’s a bathroom next door. Freshen up. I’ll be back when the dinner bell rings.” He turns and strolls out of my room, leaving me alone.
    After a long soak, I look at my reflection in the dresser mirror, run my fingers through my tangled wet hair, and sigh. I’m glad the ends curl when it’s damp. At least it looks tidy. I’m so much like Mom, but my hair, that’s all Dad. Same light brown, same slight wave.
    My heart feels thick and heavy at the thought of Dad. He’ll be worried when I don’t turn up tonight. Beau better get word to him, but I don’t even know the man, so how can I be sure he’ll be true to his word? I can’t put Dad through a night of worry. It’ll shatter the only sanity he has left. Just like when Mom first disappeared. The sleepless nights, the stifled sobs, the endless blank daze. I just can’t do that to him.
    A sharp, loud ringing like a percussion triangle pierces the silence, making me flinch. It must be the dinner bell.
    A rap comes from my door, and Jax’s voice follows, “Dinner.”
    I pull the door open. Will stands with Jax in the hallway. His hair hangs in damp clumps almost to his eyes. “Feel better?” he asks.
    “Much.”
    Jax strolls down the hall, and I fall into step beside Will. When we reach the dining room, a dozen or more people are seated around a long table. Another table meets it at the far end forming a T. Of all the people here, I haven’t even met half of them. The only ones I know are clumped together at the head of the huge table. Bertie’s hands flail animatedly through the air while she talks to Beau. Al sits quietly beside her. He looks up and gives me a slow smile. I return it, more comfortable knowing they’re still here.
    The guy from the workshop sits alone at the far end of the long table, fiddling with a pair of glasses. I look around at the other people. There are a few women and men, some young children, amongst them the boy who played with Ace. So many strangers.
    A girl waltzes through the door holding a gravy pitcher. Her long hair is slick, straight, brown-black, and pulled into a messy ponytail. Martha, the cook, follows behind her and squeezes herself into a seat beside Beau, who nods a hello to us. “Are your rooms okay?” he asks. “Did Jax get you what you need?”
    “Fine, thank you,” I tell him.
    “Good. See me in the morning and we’ll discuss your options.” Beau turns back to his conversation with Bertie, who never stopped talking, oblivious to briefly losing his attention.
    Will and I follow Jax to the far end of the table. He gestures for us to sit near the workshop guy, who shoves the glasses on, making his eyes look buglike. He smiles at us while we sit. “I’m Marcus.”
    “Anamae and Will.”
    “Are you two a couple?” He gestures with his mashed potato laden fork.
    “A couple?” I drop my head and smile. “Um, no.”
    “Oh,” Marcus says.
    Jax seems almost oblivious to our conversation.
    Funny, I’ve never really thought of Will as boyfriend material, except maybe briefly in the eighth grade when he kissed me. He’d caught me sitting on my bed with my lips smacked against a handheld mirror, practicing kissing. It’s what they do in movies, so I thought I’d try it. He laughed and teased me so much, I threw the mirror right at him, and he caught it. Lucky, or I’d have ended up with seven years of bad luck. Then he sat opposite me, still laughing, and darted in to kiss me. It was fast, wet, and really awkward. I bit his lip accidentally when our teeth clashed. He said if I ever wanted to practice again he’d be up for the challenge, but his eyes held his trademark tormenting shine. Utterly humiliated, I never kissed him, or a mirror, again. He still brings it up