Bellamy gripped the steering wheel so tight he thought he might break his knuckles, but his eyes never left the darkening road. Street lamps were rare on the back roads. "What do you mean she went to Atlanta with Clarke? Are you crazy? You know she'll see Lincoln! He'll probably get her into bed. Is that what you want?"

Mom stared at him for a long moment. How could she be so calm? And how could Clarke, knowing how Bellamy felt about her cousin, do this and not say anything? God, this pissed him off. "Mom?"

She put a hand on her hip and fixed him with a look, like Really? "I'm just giving you a second to get control of yourself."

He rubbed rigid tendons on the back of his neck and clenched his jaw. Control? Hell, it seemed he had none of that where his family was concerned. "I can't believe this. Clarke, Octavia, and you all know I don't want them together, yet went out of your way to keep it a secret. Why did you agree to this? You did agree, right?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

Aurora crossed her legs and pulled her cardigan tighter. "Yes."

"Why?"

She raised her eyebrow at him, as if to ask Really? "Because she would have gone anyway."

"You don't know that. She's never disobeyed you."

"She's never been in love before."

He groaned. "And she isn't now. Just thinks she is."

"Oh, Bell. You have a lot to learn about children. Especially teenage girls." Mom took a deep breath, then faced him. Lights from the streetlamps flickered through the window casting shadows across her face like a silent movie reel. "As a parent, you have to pick your battles. This one was not worth fighting because it wasn't winnable."

"Yes, it was. Clarke would have never let her go without your approval. I know that."

"You're right. But Octavia's eighteen. She has her own car. And she wanted to see him before he left. Take my word. I was her age once. Nothing was going to prevent that," she paused long enough to catch her breath before plowing on. "After two rounds of rehab, how many times did I tell you to cut Roma loose? How she was never going to get better. How she was just breaking your heart over and over. Did you listen?"

He hung his head. She had him there. And he'd wished a thousand times he'd taken her advice, but hadn't, and everything she'd predicted came true. "No. And I regret it."

"Well, there you have it. Real or imagined, Octavia loves him, and only time will decide which it is. Not you. Not me. I had to ask myself if it was worth alienating her, and it wasn't. If she were sixteen, then yes, but not with her about to be on her own. I can't have her leave with resentment. Kids make bad decisions when they're trying to get even with their parents. Your Lola tried her damndest to keep me away from your father, and that only made me want him more, and go around her back. We didn't talk for over a year. I don't regret my time with him because he gave me you, but if I hadn't gotten pregnant with you, I might still be on the drugs he got me hooked too. Lincoln is a hell of a lot better than Terrance ever was, and Octavia's eighteen. We just have to trust that we raised her right."

"But, Mom, he's…"

She held up her hand. "I know. Older. You think too old. And right now, maybe he is. But he's a fine young man. He's done nothing to encourage her. Just the opposite. If he was some loser, then I'd lock her in her room, but that isn't the case. So get over it. Don't make her choose between you and him because you may not like the outcome."

Bellamy swung into the parking lot at the steakhouse, then beat his head against the steering wheel. "How can my life be great and shitty at the same time?"

Mom laughed. "Oh, sweetie. That's a question you'll be asking until the day you die."

What a dump! That was all Finn thought the first time he'd seen the property. But after seeing Clarke in those stupid ass YouTube videos, he figured it was time to make a move. She seemed to be putting down roots here, and he couldn't allow that. Besides, he'd gotten the place for a song. Hilarious! Might get her to write one about it. Already had the title. Dump-dee-dump-dee-dump!

And what was going on with her hair and clothes? Had she lost her mind? Pink streaks and low cut sweaters. He had to admit she'd looked kind of sexy in a slutty way, but he knew from experience Miss Prude Perfect was anything but a slut. She gave skanks a bad name. Fine by him. It just meant even though she was living with some guy, he didn't worry about anything going on between them.

Maybe the dude was gay, which would be the perfect setup because he'd never seen a woman less interested in having sex. That was unheard of for a stud like Finn. Women loved fucking him. Bree couldn't get enough. The thought of her locking her ankles around him as he pumped into her got him hard. Hell, it took fantasizing about her to get a rise with Clarke because she was about as limp as a cold fish. He wasn't even attracted to her.

Everything was falling into place. The newspaper article he'd read and the interview she'd done at the TV station in the neighboring town had pretty much told him all he needed to know. Finding out her new address had been even easier. People in small towns were such idiots. All he had to do was hang out at any business and eavesdrop on the rednecks with lives so dull they had nothing better to do than discuss the quirky stranger who wrote funny songs.

Once he drove by her new residence, it was just a matter of contacting a real estate company in Polis about the adjoining acreage. He'd spent the last few days spying on her. The high powered binoculars he'd brought were so good, he could almost reach out and touch her—or the dog. The mutt had been a surprise. She'd never shown an interest in having a pet. A good thing. Finn hated the thought of getting animal hair on his clothes. Creatures were dirty. However, in high school, along with his friend, Dax, Finn had enjoyed trapping stray cats then setting them loose on Dax's ranch to hone his hunting skills.

He took the new night goggles from their box and ringed the lens with the cleaning cloth. Probably wouldn't even need them, but he wanted to make sure he'd covered all his bases. For the last couple of days, Clarke had been MIA. He should have been following her. A mistake on his part. The only logical place she'd disappear to was Atlanta. Maybe she'd gone back home for something. Missing that opportunity to confront her was a real shame. But, then again, doing it here without Kane or her pseudo-brothers around was a better plan.

No worries. Where ever she was, she'd be back for her next performance.

When Clarke got home, she pulled into the garage next to Bellamy's truck, but he didn't come to meet her. A bad sign. When she'd dropped Octavia off, Mrs. Blake had warned Clarke how upset Bellamy had gotten about the trip. No surprise. There had never been any question about his anger once he discovered the lie. Clarke had only hoped to be the one to tell him.

She stepped inside the house, dropped her bag to the floor, and squared her shoulders. "Bellamy?"
From the backyard, Rebel barked. She moved to the door and opened it. Bellamy sat on the chaise, staring into the dark.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking."

Rebel ran to her, and she knelt to greet him. "Hey boy, did you miss me?"

"He did," Bellamy said.

He didn't look at her. Another bad sign. This might be worse than she imagined. No need to put it off. She stood. Rebel settled at her feet. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about Octavia."

He didn't even look at her. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I knew this would happen, and I didn't want to leave town with you mad at me."

She waited for him to say something, but he didn't. Just kept sitting there like he'd been nailed to the chair. "So—I guess there's no reason for me to unpack."

That got his attention. He snapped his head toward her. "Why would you think that?"

"You've known about the situation for twenty-four hours, and you're still upset. You've not answered my texts. Or my calls. That makes it pretty clear you don't want to talk to me, and you need more time."

"Just the opposite. I want to talk, but before the fact instead of after."

She moved closer, sat on the edge of the lounger, and locked eyes with him. "Are you saying if I had, you would have approved?"

"No. But I wouldn't have let you leave until we worked through it."

She placed her hand over his, but he still didn't move. "I am sorry for not telling you. Not for letting her go. If the situation had been reversed, and it had been me wanting to see you, nothing short of death would have kept me away. Accept it or not, they love each other."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Yes. He told her so."

"To get in her pants?" He snorted.

She frowned, "No. Because it's the truth. Be mad at me if you want, but don't be angry with her. She's already suffering enough."

Clarke came to her feet and started to walk away, but he caught her wrist. "Don't go." His voice was barely a whisper, but she heard it.

"Why?"

This time, he sounded surprised. As if his answer should be obvious. "Because I've missed you."

"But you're still mad."

"No. I'm hurt. Took me a few hours to figure that out, but I finally did."

She sat again and placed her hand on his chest. "That's even worse. I never want to hurt you."

This time, he covered her hand with his own. "Then promise no matter what the problem, you'll discuss it. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything."

"I promise. Beginning now." She ran her hand to the button of his jeans. "First subject. I want to try something."

Finn pulled the binoculars from his eyes and wiped away sweat. Didn't matter the wind chill hovered below freezing. The scene unfolding in the dude's backyard heated Finn's blood. Holy shit. She was all over the guy. Out in the open for God and anyone else with night vision goggles to witness!

The man barely lifted a finger. She did all the work. Tore open his shirt and pulled his pants down far enough to release his cock. And once she did, she shimmied out of her panties, straddled him, and rode him like a pogo stick. And when she climaxed, it sounded real. Not like the weak moans she'd made when he'd fucked her. No, she'd screamed, the sound echoing through the woods like a war cry. To make matters worse, she wasn't done. Only gave the jerk a few minutes to recover and then went at him again.

Clearly her brain injury had done some damage. Like changed her into a nympho! That had to be it. No way that country fucker turned her on more than Finn. Hell, maybe he hadn't been so good at foreplay, but that guy had barely felt her up, and she still went wild. Unbelievable.

He ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes. All the months they'd been together, she'd played him for a fool. Faked every orgasm. Not that he cared if she had one or not but pretending—Bitch. Hell, he could make a woman come without even trying. Maybe he'd give her the opportunity to fake it one more time before he took care of her. No. He didn't want to waste time with her when he could get back to Bree. She appreciated his bedroom skills.

God was on his side. Clarke could have died in the accident, but her survival proved it. The Almighty spared her just so Finn's plan could succeed.

When Finn was done, he'd write a book. Become famous. They'd praise him for creating such a brilliant, original character. He already had a pen name picked out. Finn T. Dennis. He couldn't help but laugh. That would be his biggest scam of all. Using his real name along with "sinned" spelled backward for a confession right on the cover, yet no one smart enough to figure it out! Sometimes he amazed himself even more than usual!

Clarke dropped the phone in her jacket pocket, then clipped the leash to Rebel's collar. "Your daddy texted. He's running late. We don't have to wait for him."

The dog wagged his tail so hard his whole body shook.

Clarke opened the back gate and let Rebel lead the way. She'd grown to love this time of day when the horizon swallowed the sun in small bites, and gaps in the trees allowed spears of golden light to streak the earth's floor. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and filled her lungs with chilled air. Only a few more days until Christmas and she'd still not decided what to get Bellamy.

No question what she'd like to receive from him. The ring in the back of the desk drawer. Every day she thought about it. Why wouldn't he propose? She'd regained most of her memory, so what was the holdup?

A Christmas engagement would be just the right amount of time to plan a summer wedding. Guys never thought of things like that. Maybe she should get Octavia to drop a hint. Or not, since he was still upset about the trip to Atlanta. At least with his sister. It was almost like he blamed her for falling in love. But he of all people should understand nobody has control over what the heart feels. It had taken him a long time to stop loving Roma.

Most women might be jealous of a former girlfriend, but not Clarke. To her, it proved how deeply he loved. He was the kind of man she'd waited her whole life to find. And now that she had, nothing would come between them. She wouldn't allow it.

Lost in thought, by the time she noticed Rebel cock his head and come to a full stance, it was too late. Luckily, he went into action. As the silver car traveled at high speed, and swerved, Rebel dug in his heels, rushed forward, and threw his body against Clarke with such force. She tumbled and landed hard in the shallow ditch by the road.

She blinked, then blinked again, squinting against the fading light of day. What had just happened? It was almost like the driver had aimed for her. Couldn't be. That made no sense. She pushed against her elbow sending a sharp pain up to her shoulder, across her back, and down her hip. She groaned. Rebel licked her cheek. "It's okay, boy. Just give me a minute."

The dog turned in a circle, his leash trailing across her chest. She grabbed onto it, and as if he read her mind, dug his heels into the earth and pulled until she sat upright.

"Such a smart boy. Like a little tow dog." She rubbed her shoulder, then stretched it out and winced. "Oh, that's going to hurt for a while." She slid her fingers along her ribs. "Don't think anything is broken, so let's see if I can stand." Placing palms on the ground, she came to a kneeling position, rocked back onto her feet, then pushed herself up. "Ouch!"

Rebel nuzzled her leg.

She patted his head. "It's okay. I'm just a wuss. Come on, let's see if we can make it home without anybody else trying to run over us. What an asshole."

Clarke limped along and replayed the incident in her head. She'd not looked at the driver. Once she saw the car headed toward her, silver metal claimed her attention. Had it not been for Rebel, she wouldn't have escaped serious injury—or worse.

As the house came into view, Rebel broke free and sprinted to the front door, barking like a mad dog. Within seconds, Bellamy bolted onto the porch. Rebel ran back to Clarke as if to get Bellamy to follow, which he did. Closing the distance between them, he quickly assessed her before focusing on her face.

"Holy shit! What happened?" He ran fingers over her temple. "You're bleeding."

She winced, despite the tenderness of how he held her. "Oh, I must have hit my head when I fell."

"You fell? How? Where?"

"Just down the road. A car came out of nowhere. I'm such a klutz."

"Are you saying you almost got hit by a car? Jesus, Clarke!"

She shook it off. She had spent enough time being a doctor's daughter to know she'd sit in the emergency room for eight hours only for her insurance to be charged a grand for a couple bandages. "I'm okay. Nothing a hot bath won't cure."

Bellamy tailed her down the hall to the bathroom and stopped in the doorway. "Are you sure? Maybe we should have Nyko take a look."

She turned on the faucets, held her fingers under the water to test the temperature, then stepped away to strip off her sweater.

"Shit," Bellamy sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth as he raked his hand over her back. Her back was already starting to bruise. Clarke flinched, grabbing at the sink for support. His gaze met hers in the mirror. "Your fall was more serious than you let on. You need to be examined."

Clarke grit her teeth. "No, I'll be okay."

"Not good enough. You could have internal injuries." His tone had taken on a harder note, as if there were to be no debate.

"It's just a bruise," she countered. "If I have any weird symptoms, I promise I'll make an appointment." She pulled her pants and panties down in one fluid motion.

He leaned low to examine her bottom. "Your hip doesn't look much better. You landed with some force. I think it should be x-rayed."

Raven had been right, she realized. He was such a Mom.

"No! All I need is to soak in hot water."

He huffed, displeased, but let go of the subject. For now, anyway. "You get a look at the driver?"

"No." She turned off the spigot and eased into the tub.

Fifteen minutes later, after swallowing a couple of ibuprofen, she put on her pajamas, threaded her arms through her robe and traipsed into the kitchen. Bellamy stood at the stove stirring something in a pot.

He glanced up. "I made you some hot chocolate."

She smiled and plopped a kiss on his shoulder. "You're the best, but I'm still not going to the hospital."

"Maybe for now but you may change your tune tomorrow. From the looks of the bruising, you're going to be sore in the morning."

"If that's the case, then I'll go."

"Promise?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes."

Bellamy looked as if he wanted to say more, but someone knocked on the door. When he opened it, a dark-haired man stood backlit by evening light. The stranger looked over Bellamy's shoulder, then pushed into the room. "Clarke!" He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. "Sweetheart, I'm so glad to see you."

She shoved away with a hiss of pain and glared at him as Bellamy crossed the room in two steps, placing himself between Clarke and the invader.

"Get the fuck out of my house," he growled the same time she answered, "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

The man ignored him, focused entirely on Clarke, as if her boyfriend weren't even there. "Darling, it's me. Finn. Your fiancé." His smile was feral, reminding her of the Cheshire cat in Alice.

"Excuse me? What are you talking about?" She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she hurried to Bellamy and hooked her arm in his and stared up at him. "What's he talking about?"

His jaw clenched, and his arms tightened around her. "He's lying."

Finn whirled around. "Don't expect a straight answer from him. He's the liar. Been lying to you for weeks right along with everyone else. Your mom. Marcus. Lincoln and Wells. Even Luna. They've let you believe this guy is your boyfriend."

"He is my boyfriend," she croaked. "Why are you saying these things?"

Bellamy pulled way from Clarke and grabbed Finn by the collar. "You need to leave."

"I will, but not until I prove to Clarke I'm who I say I am." His eyes cut to Clarke. "Remember the trip we took to Fredericksburg? The little cottage where we stayed with the crazy journal? The rooster that crowed all hours of the day and night? Remember the Cheap Trick concert? You won backstage passes from one of the local radio shows. We have history, Clarke. Can you remember one thing about this guy prior to the accident?"

Bellamy dragged Finn toward the door and pushed him out onto the porch. "Get the fuck off my property."

He shrugged away and grinned saccharine in Bellamy's direction. "Sure. I'll go. Give you time to explain things to her. And, when you do, I'll be back to claim what's mine."

Bellamy slammed the door, then turned back to Clarke. She staggered to the sofa, sat, and put her hands over her face.

"Clarke…"

She flinched away from him. "No! Don't talk. Not a word. I need to think."

His voice cracked. "Please…"

"No!" Her breath came faster, then she sobbed. Flashes of being in a throng of people and lights came unbidden. She recalled the concert, how everyone would sing along off-key with the band. Finn, she didn't. But he had to have been there if he knew about it. Nothing made sense to her. She was dating Bellamy before her accident, not this guy. Wasn't she? She didn't remember Finn, but she also didn't remember Bellamy, either. "I remember that concert. I remember winning those passes. How would he know that unless…"?

"Let me explain."

She came to her feet and glared at him. He was lying to her this entire time. She really didn't know him at all before the accident. Everyone was lying to her. The townspeople, his family, her family. All of it was a lie at her expense. "Everything he said is true, isn't it?"

He sighed, his eyes alight with unshed tears. "Most of it, but…"

"I can't believe this. You and I—I can't even say it." She placed her hand on her throat and drew a ragged breath. It was all coming back to her. Her VW rolling down the street like a yellow bowling ball, the deer that stepped out in the road... Bellamy, pulling her from the wreckage. "I remember. You pulled me from the car." She cinched the belt of her robe tighter and rushed down the hallway with Bellamy trailing behind her. Waves of hurt and anger welled up inside her, thundering against the shore with the outrage of a crossed bedmate. Suddenly the house was too small, and she needed out before it all threatened to spill over the surface.

"Clarke, please," he begged. "If you'll just let me explain."

When she reached the bedroom, she jerked her duffle from the closet then took clothes from the rack and stuffed them into it. Explain? What was to explain? She'd been living a life that wasn't hers, with a man she didn't know. To make matter worse, her family and his were in on the deception.

As she emptied drawers and added the contents to her bag, Bellamy talked, but she didn't hear a word for the roaring in her head. She pulled a sweater and pair of sweatpants from the duffle and pulled them on. No need for modesty at this point. She'd been practically assaulting Bellamy every chance she got. She swallowed the lump in her throat, then faced him.

"Just tell me. Did Marcus or my mom pay you?"

"What?" He shook his head. "No. No. It wasn't like that."

"Then why? What was I? A bet? A challenge? Why would you let me, a complete stranger move in with you and go along with such a plan? Huh? What was in it for you?" Her voice broke as she hastily wiped the tears streaming unbidden down her face.

"I asked myself that same question at least a hundred times before I figured it out."

"And?"

"Because I was already in love with you."

She threw her hands in the air. "Stop it! You do not get to be Mr. Perfectly Wonderful while I'm so pissed."

He reached out, as if he wanted to wrap his arms around her, before dropping them back to his side. "It's the truth."

"Truth?" She bellowed. "I'm not sure that word is in your vocabulary."

He sighed, resigned, and sat at the edge of the bed. "The only lie I've told is letting you believe we were a couple before the accident. Everything that happened after has been the truth. We didn't know each other then, but we do now, and what we have is real. You know it is."

As upset as she was, why did she still want to fall into his arms? She zipped the duffle. "I don't know anything. Not even who I am. This," she pointed to her hair, then down her body. "The pink streaks, the clothes, the aggressive behavior—oh, God—the way I've thrown myself at you. That isn't me. None of this is me. At least, not the person I was." She pressed her fingertips to her temples. "What's wrong with me? I mean—I know I've been a failure at just about everything, but to make up a life…"

He was off the bed before she could blink, and took her hands in his. "I don't know about your life before, but you are not a failure," he remarked harshly. "If you could see yourself like I see you. You're good, Clarke, and driven. If you want something, you go and get it." Silence reigned supreme as the fight left him, and she could see just how truly wrecked he was when his voice broke. "I know we've been happy. You've been happy. That has to count for something."

"But none of it has been real. Don't you get it? It's like a fairy tale and the clock has finally struck midnight." She pulled her hands free and grabbed her bag. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay here." She was too angry at him, and seeing him hurt would only crush her resolve. He was sorry, she believed that, she really did. But she needed time to think, and she couldn't anywhere around him. Her entire life had just been flipped upside down, again.

He followed her down the hall to the front door. "So, you're going back to that guy?"

"No," she huffed. She didn't like the look of him, like some self-obsessed Lord Farquaad. The girl she had been had clearly been in love with him, if he was telling the truth about being her fiancée. Either way… "I don't remember him."

"Then where will you go?"

"The bar. I signed a contract, so I can't just up and leave. I may be different from the person I was, but at least the new me has the same work ethic."

"Clarke, please. I'm sorry, but if you'll just give me a chance to explain..."

"NO!" She turned to face him one last time. "There is no excuse for what you've done. I need time to figure things out. Maybe Finn can help me do that."

He reared back like she'd slapped him. Good. Some cruel, petty part of her wanted to hurt him a fraction of how he'd hurt her. "I admit I lied, and I'm sorry. But that guy can't be trusted. Ask yourself why after all this time he's just now showing up? If you were engaged, then where's the ring? And the biggest question is why did you leave Atlanta? You left him. There was a reason for that."

She pulled the door open. "He doesn't matter. Even if I remembered him, I can't imagine loving him the way I loved you."

sorrynotsorry. just a couple more chapters and an epilogue left. tell me how much you love/hate this chapter. i live to torture.

finally a new episode tonight! I hate that they keep skipping weeks, like why not have just started it later rather than annoy the piss out of everyone with two episodes a month.