Page 79 of Parrish

Chapter Twenty-seven

Reina Parrish

Parrish.

Toying with the hospital bracelet on my wrist, I stare at the name and try with all my might to place it as my own.

“Reina Parrish,” I whisper hoarsely, hoping that if I hear it out loud, it will trigger a memory of the man and child who, moments ago, stared at me as if I was their whole world. A world they were displaced from.

Saying the name does nothing to help matters much. It doesn’t place the sweet little boy who waved to me or the grief-stricken man who claims to be my husband.

Covered in faded ink and cloaked in leather, he charged into the room and turned my world upside down. Everything I thought I knew disappeared. I went from only being able to envision Daniel to staring at this mysterious man in horror.

The thought that he could be my husband terrified me and not because of his rugged appearance or the anger that radiated off his entire body. It was the way I felt when I looked into his eyes that scared me most. They were so dark and soulless—tormented, really. One glance and they captivated me. They held me hostage and while I may not remember him, I’m sure I’ve looked into those eyes a million times, that I’ve been a prisoner to the love radiating from those dark irises.

I felt it.

Even now, without him standing in front of me, I feel him rooted in the deepest part of my soul.

He’s more than just familiar.

He’s everything.

Everything I loved.

Everything I lost.

But that’s where it ends.

My eyes drift back to the bracelet and subconsciously I rub my thumb over my name. The shock starts to wear as I try to make sense of everything that’s been thrown at me since I opened my eyes. Daniel’s last name wasn’t Parrish and the man—my husband, he looks nothing like my late fiancé. Where Daniel was soft and approachable, Jack is hard and uninviting. On top of that, I don’t recall Daniel ever mentioning having any living relatives, much less a brother.

A frown ticks the corner of my lips and I drop my hands back to my sides as I stare up at the ceiling. At first, I thought I was waking up from the fire. Then, as everyone started probing me and telling me Jack and that little boy were my family, bits, and pieces of my life after the fire started to come back to me and I realized I had long survived that tragic night.

I remembered enduring pain far worse than the mild aches I was feeling now. Then, there were so many bandages covering my body, hiding the burnt flesh and gaping wounds. I remember being terrified to look at myself in the mirror.

I remember the scars.

I remember the grief.

The guilt of being a survivor.

It was all so consuming, and I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to fade to nothing.

I wanted to die.

Yet, somehow, I prevailed. I moved past those dark days and I lived. Now, as I lay here feeling lost, I know for sure I’m not the same woman I was back then. I evolved. The guilt I feel now isn’t for Daniel. It’s for the man with the dark eyes.

It’s for my husband.

It’s for my son.

The scars I’m sure still mark my skin are nothing compared to the ones forming on my heart.

“Reina?”

Startled by the sound of my name, I lift my head and tear my eyes away from the ceiling. A girl with long brown hair stares back at me with a forlorn expression on her pretty face, making me realize, she’s another lost face I can’t place.

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