Chapter 37
The ritual had worked. These were the memories buried beneath my skin.
“Leandro…”
A shy, hesitant smile spread across his handsome face at the sound of his name. “You know me. That’s good.”
“Why wouldn’t I know you?”
“You haven’t always. The fever…”
This was the illness he’d told me about. That’s why I felt like shit. I wondered for a second why this was so much more intense than when I’d relived Leandro’s memories, but the logical explanation for that came right away. His had been filtered—through his music, through him, through time. These were mine, carried within me like a second life, waiting to be unpacked and relived for far too long. Whatever I underwent, I would experience in all its Technicolor, surround sound glory. I had no idea if that was good or bad.
I tensed to attempt sitting up again, only to have Leandro hastily put aside the water and push me back down.