You Will Remember Me

by Hannah Mary McKinnon

  I pulled out my phone, plugged in Jack Smith Maryland and hit Search. The first six results were the articles about him going missing off the coast, the next two detailing how the search had been abandoned. Not only did the links include the video of me pleading for help on the beach, but also photos of him. How could Maya not have seen them? How had she not made the connection? Hadn’t she been curious after I’d called? Ash was right, she must have been overwhelmed by his return, I decided, because otherwise it would imply she didn’t want me to find him and that made no sense at all. She clearly cared for him. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. There had to be another reason, although whatever it was, nothing yet explained why Ash had never mentioned Maya once in eighteen months. Hadn’t he been in touch with her at all while he’d lived in Brookmount? That seemed so odd—then again, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken to my brother, and Quentin seemed to prefer pretending I didn’t exist.

  A tingle crept down my spine as I wondered again why he’d been living his life as Jack Smith—such a common name—off the radar, quite possibly without a bank account and definitely without a credit card or a car, and with a fake ID. He had cash stowed away in his apartment, and the place had been ransacked. Heron and Stevens thought he was involved in gambling trouble, and while they suspected he’d been playing for a while, I wondered if it was a more recent thing and had something to do with the engagement ring brochure I’d found. All that aside, could it be he hadn’t wanted to be found by Maya? Had he been hiding from her all this time? I grimaced at the ridiculousness of it, but the thought kept bugging me, and as I was about to go around in circles again, someone knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” I called out, wondering if I’d disturbed the people in the next room with my incessant pacing, until I heard a familiar voice.

  “It’s Ash.”

  I almost tripped over the corner of the bed in my haste to get to the door, which I tried to yank open only to find I’d put on the chain. “Crap,” I muttered, my heart speeding up as I fumbled with the lock, my fingers refusing to do as they were told. When I finally got the damn door open, Ash stood in front of me, his face pale.

  “Can I come in?” he said, the remaining color sliding from his face. “Please?”

  I took a step closer and put my arms around him, pulling him toward me and inside the room at the same time. With the length of his body pressed against mine, and his arms wrapped around me tight, I took in the scent and heat of his skin. It was almost too much—an emotional tsunami I’d fought hard to keep back, all of it spilling forth now, no matter how hard I tried to stop it.

  “I have to ask you something,” he murmured as he put his hands on my shoulders, gently creating a little distance between us, which I immediately wanted to close again.

  “Anything. Whatever you need.” I watched him hesitate, run a hand through his hair as he turned away, shaking his head. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  “No, it’s not...it’s...” He turned to face me, his eyes pleading. “Have I... Did I... Christ. Okay, I’m just going to say it.” He took a breath and held it, eyes closed. With an emphatic whoosh he exhaled, looked at me and said, “Have I ever hurt you?”

  “Hurt me? I mean, we’ve argued a few times...”

  “I mean really hurt you. Verbally, or...physically?” He winced. “Did I ever lay a hand on you? Have I ever hit you?”

  “God, no. Absolutely not. Why would you think that?”

  “Because...because I’ve been so angry all the time, and I don’t know what to do with it, how to handle it. Maya says it’s probably because of the amnesia, the stress of the situation.”

  “That seems like a fair observation,” I offered gently, but when I looked at him I realized he didn’t quite believe it. He seemed terrified. Frightened of himself and what he was capable of. Scared he might hurt someone, and...

  “Hold on,” I said. “Does this have something to do with Kate and Celine?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Why didn’t I tell you about them when we met? Why not mention it, unless... What if...what if I hurt them somehow? What if that’s why I abandoned everyone here?”

  “I don’t believe that for one second.” The certainty in my voice surprised me until I realized it was exactly how I felt. Deep down, I knew he’d never do such a thing. “Were you in contact with Maya when you lived in Maryland?” I asked, and when he shook his head, I led him to the chair by the desk, where I made him sit down before I took a spot on the edge of the bed, our knees almost touching. “What if you left Newdale because you were overcome with grief? Maybe you needed to get away to stay sane.”

  “That doesn’t explain cutting ties with Maya or my fake name.”

  I hesitated, trying to decide if I should tell him the theory I’d dismissed about his stepsister’s jealousy, but what was there to tell? I risked alienating him from her, and from me—and I wanted neither. “I don’t know what to make of that, Ash. I wish I could help, but for what it’s worth, I can’t imagine you ever hurting anyone.”

  A beat passed, and another. I thought he might get up and leave again, but he gently reached for my hand, and said, “Tell me what I was like when we met.”

  Despite everything, I couldn’t help but smile. “Very clumsy.”

  His shoulders dropped away from his ears as he pulled a bemused face. “Clumsy, huh? In that case, maybe it’s a good thing I have zero recollection of making a total arse of myself.”

  “You didn’t,” I said, grinning some more as I thought about the moment I’d first set eyes on him. “In fact, you were extremely gentlemanly.”

  It had been a Thursday evening, the week after Thanksgiving. Monica, one of my colleagues from Beach Body, had insisted on dragging me out for a drink when I’d let slip I hadn’t set foot in a bar since the summer, and it had been twice as long since I’d been on a date.

  “That’s it, sweets,” she’d scoffed in her thick, Texan drawl. “I’m takin’ y’all out tonight.”

  I’d laughed when we’d arrived at what she described as her favorite place on earth. The Charlie Horse was an old, dusty shack, a relic plucked straight from a Spaghetti Western. As we sat down, I half expected a young Clint Eastwood to stride across the beer-stained, wooden floors and demand a shot of whiskey from the waistcoat-clad barman. Instead, Monica, who’d been named salesperson of the month every month for the past year, flashed me a smile as she pushed a pint of beer toward me.

  “Drink up, now. There’s plenty more where that came from.” We clinked glasses and she leaned in. “Cute guy at the bar’s been checking you out.”

  I’d noticed him, too. Tall, dark hair, a smile that made me want to get up, walk over and ask him for his number. If I had the guts. As I sneaked a glance at the stranger, he looked at me and grinned. Not long after, I made my excuses and went to the bathroom, and when I got back, Monica was surrounded by three guys, arguing the merits of standard transmission vs. paddle shift, and which was better for street racing, all of them googly-eyed at her expertise.

  “She’s quite the gearhead, isn’t she?” It was the guy who’d been standing at the bar, his eyes twinkling as his lips curved into another smile that drew me in, his English accent charming and sexy as hell.

  “Would you believe it if I told you she was born in a car?” I said with a laugh.

  “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “It’s true, I swear.”

  He smiled again, a lock of hair falling over his left eye, making me want to reach out and brush it away, but he held out a hand. “I’m Jack,” he said.

  “Lily,” I answered, and before I could say anything else, someone bumped Jack from behind and half a pint of cold beer sloshed straight down my shirt.

  “Oh, fuck it,” he said, which made me burst out laughing because with his accent, he made the word sound so formal and posh, it was downrigh
t delightful. “I’m so sorry,” he continued as he reached for a few napkins and pressed them into my hand. “Here, take these.”

  I dabbed at my sopping shirt as he offered his apologies again and I waved him off with an it’s fine gesture. “I never liked this shirt much anyway.”

  His turn to laugh, and, amid another thousand apologies, he offered to buy me a drink. I decided on a Diet Coke, and when he returned, we squeezed into the space at Monica’s table, where she was still deep in conversation about her near-death experience with nitrous oxide. As Jack and I chatted, I barely noticed the first hour go by, didn’t pay attention to the second one, either. That was how easily the conversation flowed between us, as if we’d known each other for years, and there was no way I’d end the evening without getting his number. And I had, but it was his house number because I’d gone home with him, and we’d been together since.

  Ash looked at me now, his eyebrows knitting together. “Beach...body...” he whispered.

  “That’s the name of the garage,” I said. “You remember.”

  “‘We’ll give you a better body at Beach Body.’” He hummed the tune of the ancient advertisement Mike had made for radio years ago, and never updated, and I let out a laugh as I covered my eyes with one hand.

  “That’s not my handiwork. We used to make fun of that damn thing all the time. This is amazing, Ash. I can’t believe that came back.”

  “Neither can I,” he said. “I wish there was more, things about us.”

  I hesitated for a moment. “We could go back to Maryland, see if it helps.”

  He shook his head, his expression changing to one of concern. “No, I can’t. I promised Maya I wouldn’t leave again. Besides, a large part of my memories is here. I have to try to find those first. Figure out who I am, not to mention why I left. I owe it to Maya, and to myself, and you.”

  “Then let me help,” I said. “Because I’m not giving up on you.”

  “I lied, gave you a false name, and you still want to help me. Why?”

  “Because I want you to find the person you truly are.” I looked at him, the doubts I’d had lessening. “You must’ve had a good reason for what you did. Let me help you figure out what it was. I know you. You’re not a bad person. You’re incapable of hurting anyone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “A thousand percent.” I took in the contours of his face, the edge of his chin, the amber in his eyes. My belly fluttered. “I’m still angry about what happened but...I fell in love with you the second I first saw you, and I can’t let you go through this alone.”

  “Lily...” he whispered. “I don’t know what I can offer in return.”

  “I know, and I understand, but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

  The air between us shifted and crackled. It would’ve been so easy to give in to my longing, so simple to put my arms around him, kiss, touch and seduce him under the pretext of trying to get him to remember me, us. My body ached for his, and I wanted him, no question, but it wouldn’t be right. It would make me unscrupulous, something I promised myself I’d never be again after I got out of prison. I moved my leg so it no longer touched his.

  “I should go,” Ash said. “Let you get some sleep.”

  “I’m not tired,” I said, shaking my head, thinking I’d never been more awake. While my conscience wouldn’t let me seduce him, there was nothing wrong with me spending as much time with him as I could. “I have some wine in the fridge. Unless you’re driving?”

  “I walked.”

  “That far at this time of night? Are you nuts?”

  Ash let out a laugh. “There’s a shortcut and I’ve got long legs, and to be honest, this is the first night in a while I’ve felt alive. Honest to God, sometimes it’s been as if I was drowning.” When he caught my expression, he closed his eyes. “Christ, that was as subtle as a brick, wasn’t it?”

  I burst out laughing and Ash joined in, the tension evaporating. As I collapsed on the bed in a ridiculous, giggling heap, for that short moment, it was us again—Jack and Lily—and I wanted it to last forever. I fished the bottle from the fridge and retrieved a couple of paper cups, and as I filled them both, Ash sat down next to me on the bed, which seemed both strange and intimate at the same time.

  “A toast,” I said. “To new beginnings.”

  “To new beginnings,” Ash replied, taking a sip.

  The wine flowed as easily as the conversation, and not long after, we both stretched out. Ash put his hands under his head, listening intently as I described our lives in Brookmount, how he’d worked as a carpenter, and my job at the garage. I talked and talked, told him everything about my history, my relationship with my parents and brother, but I still couldn’t bring myself to share the sordid details about Dominic Martel, or my conviction. Not yet, I thought. Don’t give him a reason to leave.

  “But we weren’t living together in Brookmount?” he said when I took a breath.

  “Uh, no...”

  “Why the hesitation?”

  “Well, I went through your things because your landlord is selling the place, which reminds me—” I sat up and reached for my keys “—I put it all in storage. This is the key. You should have it now. I’ll give you their details and contact them to make sure they have your name in case you want to...” I waved a hand, not daring to finish the thought of him getting his stuff without me because our lives were no longer entwined.

  Ash slipped the key in his pocket. “Thank you for doing that. And thank you for not giving up on me, for coming all the way to Newdale. It means...a lot.”

  I glanced at him and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “So...back to our living arrangements...”

  “Ah...well, at the risk of being completely wrong—”

  “Which I wouldn’t remember anyway.”

  “Har, har. I see you haven’t lost your funny bone. Anyway, I found a gift you’d addressed to me.”

  “Please tell me I got you something good.”

  I laughed. “It was a key to your place. I think you were going to ask me to move in.”

  Ash’s smile faded, the jovial banter popping like soap bubbles around our heads. “I wish I could remember that. Seriously, why the hell did I go swimming that evening? Who does that, anyway? Head into the ocean when a storm’s coming? What an idiot.”

  “You swam almost every night, it wasn’t unusual, but there’s something else I have to tell you.” I hesitated, didn’t want him to think badly of me for going through his stuff even though I’d had little choice. There were so many things between us now, so much I wanted to say but to which I wasn’t sure how he’d react.

  “What is it?” He rolled onto his side, rested his chin in his palm.

  “I found money, in a cookie tin in your kitchen. Over two thousand dollars.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Two grand? My emergency funds, maybe?”

  I wanted to ask him if he knew a guy called Jason Whitmarsh, or if he’d ever gambled for money, but I couldn’t, not tonight. I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I used some of it to come here. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, I promise.”

  “I’d like you to keep the money,” he said. “All of it.”

  “What? No way—”

  “Yes, way. It’s the least I can do for messing up your life.”

  “You don’t have to pay me, it’s—” I waved a hand “—weird.”

  He grunted and closed his eyes, taking a while before opening them again. “Keep the cash, okay? I don’t want it back.” He rubbed his eyes, pushed himself off the bed and stood up, swaying gently. “I’m wrecked. What was I saying about feeling alive? I should head back.”

  “You’re not walking home now, are you? You can barely stand.”

  He stared down at me, blinked hard three times. “I’ll get a cab or something.”

&nbs
p; “Stay here.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them or had time to reconsider. I reached for his hand and pulled him back onto the bed, and as he stretched out again, I rested my head on his shoulder. I wanted to press my lips against his, feel his hands around my waist as I let mine slip underneath his shirt. His muscles would tense beneath my touch, as they always did when I ran my fingers over his flat stomach, and when I put my hand on his belt, he’d let out a low sigh. Working hard to stop myself from doing something he might regret, I raised my head, observing his soft lips, the intensity of his eyes. Part of me—all of me—wanted to make love to him, once, twice, three times in the hope the act would unlock the memories of us.

  The voice of reason in the back of my mind chided me, insisting again if, or when, something happened between us, it had to be for the right reasons, but still, I couldn’t bear for him to leave. “Stay,” I whispered, putting my head down as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “Let’s stay here for the night.”

  “It’s a deal,” he murmured, and within minutes, both of us were fast asleep.

  24

  MAYA

  All was silent in Ash’s room when I got up early the next morning. I forfeited having breakfast because I was still too angry with him to eat, and made a thermos of coffee as quietly as possible before heading to the garage to work.

  Lily wasn’t due to arrive for another two hours. I’d initially felt confident I’d done a good job of getting her to question who Ash really was and hoped she might leave town immediately because of it. Just in case, I’d come up with another plan, and before handing Ash the beer yesterday, I’d poured the rest of my bottle of Benadryl into it. With that amount of medicine, he’d sleep late, and when Lily arrived, I’d tell her he’d changed his mind and didn’t want to see her again after all. I’d tell him the same thing about her. But then he’d slipped out, and after some light detective work, I figured out he’d poured his drink into my potted plant. Almost wishing I’d dosed him with my clonazepam instead, I knew I’d now have to improvise and find another way to get Lily to leave.