“She’s staying with me and Dylan,” Jace cuts in. “Our apartment has an extra bedroom.”

“A bedroom she has absolutely no recollection of ever being in.” Dad turns to Dr. Jones. “You said earlier that being in her typical surroundings might help with her amnesia, correct?”

Dr. Jones nods. “Yes, although it doesn’t necessarily guarantee she’ll get her memory back.”

“But being in her own home gives her the best chance of that happening, right?”

Another nod. “It certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

Dad looks at Jace. “Then it’s settled. Bianca’s coming home.”

Jace grinds his teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t turn into dust. “You sure that’s going to be okay with Nadia?”

He spits her name out like it’s rancid food.

“Nadia?” I repeat, looking between them. “Who’s Nadia?”

“Dad’s fiancée,” Cole mutters, his nose turning up in disgust.

Oh.

“I didn’t…I had no idea.”

I’m honestly not sure what to say or how I should feel about this.

I mean, I want my dad to be happy and it’s been ten years since Mom died, so it’s not like I would have expected him to put his love life on hold or anything.

But part of me—a huge part—can’t help but feel a pang of overwhelming sadness.

She should be here.

Correction—they should be here.

“We got engaged a couple of months ago,” Dad explains. “And Nadia isn’t living at the house yet. Although I would like her to move in soon so she can help me take care—”

“Over my dead fucking body, old man,” Jace growls. “No way in hell am I letting your mistress play pretend mom to my baby sister. Besides, you know as well as I do that shit would never fly if Bianca was in her right state of mind.”

I can’t help but flinch at his words.

Guilt colors Jace’s expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…even though you can’t remember things, Cole and I do. Trust me, letting Nadia play stepmom isn’t something you’d want.” He blows out a heavy breath. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

I know he is.

“He’s right,” Cole adds, backing him up. “You don’t trust a lot of people, Bianca.” He looks at Dad. “Hell, the only thing any of us know about Nadia is that she’s the whore you used to sneak out of the house after your little booty call was over.”

Well, damn. That was…harsh.

“Colton,” Sawyer hisses. “Stop being an asshole.”

“Nadia was never my booty call, and she’s certainly not a whore,” Dad seethes. “And the only reason you three don’t know anything about my fiancée is because you all refuse to be around her.”

As much as it pains me to agree, he has a point. It doesn’t really sound like we’ve made any move to get to know this woman Dad’s marrying at all.

Although truth be told, if my choices are living with Jace and Dylan versus Dad and this Nadia woman, I have to go with my gut.

I look at my father. “I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting Nadia one day.” My stare snags on Jace. “But as long as the offer still stands, I’d prefer to live with you and Dylan.”

Living with Jace is way more comfortable than living with a woman I can’t recall ever meeting and my dad who I don’t know much about either.

Jace smiles. “Good. Because Dylan and I really want you—”

“Hold on,” Dad interjects, as if he’s pondering something. “How about we compromise?”

I’m game. “Compromise sounds good.”

Jace doesn’t share my enthusiasm. “What kind of compromise?”

Dad strokes his chin. “There are seven bedrooms at home, which means there is more than enough room for everyone.” He looks around at all of us. “Why don’t you and Cole move back in?” He clears his throat. “Of course you’re welcome to invite Sawyer and Dylan as well.”

Jace’s nostrils flare. “Are you out of your damn min—”

“It’s not a bad idea,” I cut in.

Not only do I love the notion of spending more time with my family and Sawyer, being at home might help fix my memory like Dr. Jones said.

Unfortunately, Jace is quick to shut it down. “It’s a terrible idea, Bianca. I know you don’t remember, but there’s a reason I moved out shortly after I graduated high school.”

My face falls. “Oh.”

My disappointment must be tangible because he sighs. “But I want to give you the best chance for recovery, so I’ll do it.” He glares at Dad. “Under two conditions.”

Dad’s sigh is expansive. “What’s that?”

“One—I’m doing this for Bianca, not you, so don’t think this fixes shit between us. And two—Nadia isn’t moving into Mom’s house while we’re there.”

I can tell Dad wants to argue, but he’s a smart man and for once puts his children first. “She won’t move in until after the wedding. You have my word.”

Cole looks at Sawyer. “You down for a temporary address change, Bible Thumper?”

She tugs her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know.”

“Please,” I beg, even though I probably have no right to. “I can’t remember our friendship, but something tells me I’d really like having you around.” I flutter my fingers. “I’ll even let you paint my nails.”

I feel a closeness to the girl I can’t really explain. Plus, she has a really good aura.

At that, she laughs, folding like a cheap lawn chair. “Okay, fine. If you really want me there…I’ll do it.”

Dropping my crutches, I throw my arms around her. “You’re the best.”

She freezes briefly before hugging me back. “Oh. Um…this is…nice.”

Cole laughs. “Told you she turned soft.”

And just like that, the nagging feeling in my gut is back with a vengeance.

Who the hell is Bianca Covington?

Chapter 10

My eyes are wide as I take everything in. “This is my bedroom?”

It’s a lot different from what I remember.

Back when I was eight, stuffed animals and dolls filled the large space.

Now it’s…books, hair tools, nail polish, makeup, shoes, and what looks like a gigantic walk-in closet.

Darting my gaze around, I can’t help but notice the pink three-mirrored vanity in the far corner.

Everything in my room is a various shade of purple. Except that.

“It was Mom’s,” Cole says as if answering my unspoken question.

That makes sense. Pink was her favorite color.

It used to be mine, too.

As if remembering the happy times, Jace’s face lights up. “She loved that thing. I remember the excitement on her face when Dad gifted it to her one year for Christmas. It was an ant—”

“Antique from France,” I finish for him as the memory floats through my head. “I used to love watching her apply her lipstick in the morning.”