By the time Reid started packing, I was allowed downstairs without somebody following me.
The doctor still wanted me using the railing and sitting down whenever the dizziness came back. Rhys had taken those instructions seriously enough that he kept checking where I was, but at least he'd stopped trying to escort me everywhere.
Reid was leaving.
I turned toward the hall before stopping myself.
What would I say? Don't go?
I couldn't.
I had chosen Rhys. I loved Rhys. Nothing about that had changed.
But loving Rhys had never made what I felt for Reid disappear completely.
Reid, supposedly, remembered none of it. He didn't remember telling me he loved me. He didn't remember what happened between us while we were captive, or the mess that came after, or the way I'd admitted that I felt something for him too.
He had been spared all of that.
I looked at his bag again.
