A Bride Worth Fighting For by Sara Daniel Page B

blog.
    “John left you at the altar, in the middle of the ceremony rather than marry you and let you use him for his money and land-development connections,” Tucker spat out. “He nearly killed you, trying to drive away while your dress was stuck in his car door.”
    Bullets of blinding pain shot through her skull, and she brushed her fingers over the scar on the center of her forehead.
    “Read all about it here, if you don’t believe me.” He gestured at the computer screen. “Instead of turning on me, maybe you should ask yourself how you could use people like my brother and if you have a good reason not to want to remember the person you used to be.”
    He stormed away. Other guests scrambled out of his path as he headed for the front door. He shoved it open with such force it ricocheted off the outside wall of the building.
    How could the truth be so different from what she’d believed the entire time she’d been in his company? Every memory she’d created at the Wiccan Haus had been based on lies. Last night had meant nothing, other than a way for him to screw her over for the way she’d apparently screwed over his family.
    She swallowed and forced her attention on the computer monitor. Unlike Tucker’s assessment, the article portrayed her as a tragic, innocent victim of John’s defection and him by default as a first-class asshole. Technically, she hadn’t cheated on anyone when she slept with Tucker. She hadn’t been engaged because her fiancé had run out on her, killing her plans for her dream resort.
    Shooting pains blasted through her skull, blinding her, the pain as unbearable as before she’d come to the island. If death was the only way to stop the pain, she’d take it. Dropping her head between her knees, she fell to the floor and curled into a ball, unable to speak, save for moans of agony.
    Hurried footsteps and urgent voices surrounded her, but the commotion meant nothing. A cool cloth pressed against her forehead as someone rolled her onto her back. Then something metallic and bitter dripped into her mouth, and the world turned blessedly black.
     
    ***
     
    Gwen awoke in the bed in her room. She opened her eyes to Sarka and Cyrus staring down at her and Cemil fidgeting between them. Sage sat on the edge of the bed, holding some sort of cool, damp cloth to her forehead. Blinding pain. That was all she remembered. She flinched at the memory. Then she recalled more, something truly terrifying.
    “Why are you all here? Was I having a nightmare? Please tell me I had a nightmare. Something about remembering everything and Tucker hating me.” She shuddered. “He isn’t my fiancé. He was just pretending.”
    The Rowans didn’t glance away from her or at each other, but their stoic faces frightened her more.
    “Please say it was a nightmare.” Her voice rose with a panic she couldn’t control. “Tell me it’s not true. Please.”
    Cemil grasped her hand, looking like he might burst into tears along with her. “The facts are true. But don’t judge your past intentions or Tucker’s intentions simply from the facts. Give your mind some time to let all the information sink in. Then you can start to analyze these new memories.”
    Like she could trust any of her thoughts or memories again. To test herself, she tried to remember first laying eyes on her resort. Immediately, the sense of coming home, the feel of her feet on the gravel driveway, and the concern that she might fall through the rotted front steps all came back to her. First meeting John? Yes, she remembered his polite greeting and formal handshake.
    The blank spaces and fuzziness that had overlaid her memories were gone, save for the time from when she’d hit her head until she awoke in the hospital.
    “Drink this.” Sage held out another of her infamous yellow-green shakes. “When you finish it, your bath will be ready. Soak as long as you need. Then come out on the lawn for meditation.”
    She nodded. Like when she’d