Just as I was about to knock, the door swung open and Dr. Kline stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw me on the other side. I stepped back to make room for her exit instead of brushing past.
“Doctor,” I said, letting the door close behind her.
“Mr. Donovan.” She inclined her chin.
“Eddie.” I corrected. “How’s she doing?”
“You know I can’t discuss my patients with you.”
I sighed. “Look, I don’t need anything private. But a general update isn’t something that’s out of the realm of reason. Especially in this situation. I think you know that.”
Dr. Kline hesitated then sighed. “She has a long way to go. The things that happened to her… some of them are very difficult to heal from.”
“Impossible?” I asked.
Again, she hesitated. “I can’t really say.”
“Because you don’t know or because you’re obligated not to?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was low. “I haven’t dealt with this degree of PTSD.”
I didn’t know why, but the diagnosis caught my off guard. “PTSD?”
She shifted. “It’s not just for military veterans. Any kind of traumatic situation can result in a victim suffering from post-traumatic stress.”
“She said some things to Am yesterday. She had a memory and was very upset, but didn’t want to call you.”
“Amnesia is much stronger mentally than Sadie,” Dr. Kline remarked.
That made me feel better, more hopeful.
“Because of the amnesia?”
“Likely.”
Fear stabbed me in the gut. “So if she keeps remembering?”
“I can’t really speculate.” Dr. Kline put me off.
I levelled her with a flat stare, cooling my eyes to a shade of ice. “Level with me,” I demanded.
The doctor swallowed thickly. I saw the intimidation in her eyes. I didn’t even feel bad for it. I wanted her to be intimidated. I wanted answers. “It could have a negative impact.”
“How negative?” I barked.
She drew up. I thought she might argue, but I narrowed my eyes. “Trying to guess what the mind will do in these situations, Mr. Donovan, is like playing the lottery. I don’t know.”
I cussed, running a hand through my hair roughly.
She watched me. Whatever she saw made her soften. “Eddie.” She relented. “I know you’re very worried about Amnesia.”
“Of course I am. I love her.”
“I see that,” she observed. “While I still think you two are very dependent on each other, I do see the love between you. The love itself is healthy.”
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. She was trying to head shrink me.
“I’ll level with you about Amnesia because I don’t feel it’s a breach of confidentiality. You’re practically family.”
I made a rude sound. “She is my family.”
Dr. Kline nodded. “Amnesia has had six months of stability. Six months of care, love, and therapy from those around her. The memory loss aided a great deal in helping her heal, helping her learn about people in a way she probably wasn’t able to before. She’s in a much better place than Sadie. While I can’t say for sure, I believe Amnesia will be able to live a normal life.”
“And Sadie?” I pressed.
“It’s too soon to say.”
I was silent, digesting the words, and she used it as an escape. “Excuse me. I have other patients.”
I let her go, knowing I got more information out of her than she wanted to give. It wasn’t much, but it was hopeful. At least for Am.
Inside the room, Sadie was sitting in the center of the bed, dressed in a hospital gown and the black Loch Gen hoodie I gave her the day I found her on the island. A strong sense of déjà vu came over me as I recalled what it was like when I first started coming to see Am after she woke. The two really were very similar in looks.
Clearly, the psycho had a type.
And, uh, maybe I did, too.
“Eddie!” Her face brightened, and I smiled.
“How ya doing today, Sadie?”
“Better now that you’re here.”
I pulled a chair up beside her bed and dropped into in. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. I’m ready to get out of here.”
“Not liking the hospital food?” I joked.
“Oh, no, it’s fine.” She promised, not realizing I was teasing. “It’s just not home.”
My stomach clenched. Her home wasn’t hers anymore. After her parents died, the house sat empty until it was auctioned off by the bank. “Are you talking about your parents’ house?” I asked carefully.
“No,” she said.
Holy shit, she doesn’t mean that hole in the ground, does she?
“I’m ready to spend more time with you.” She finished.
She thought her home was with me. Oh, that stung. Like saltwater in a deep cut. She looked small and wounded in the center of the bed, buried beneath my hoodie and gazing at me with wide brown eyes. I was her home.
I wouldn’t tell her otherwise, even though I knew she couldn’t move in with me. It would break Amnesia.
“What do you want to do first?” I asked, shifting the subject. “See Loch Gen? Go to the bakery? Go shopping?”
Her eyes clouded over, and I worried I said something wrong. “Is everyone in town talking about me?”
I couldn’t lie. I leaned close, as though I were telling a secret, and made sure my dimples were on display. “You know the people in Lake Loch. They love a good rumor.”
She smiled. “They always did.”
“Ms. Scarlet is still obsessed with apples.”
She giggled. It was a pure sound that made me feel everything was going to be okay.
“Do you need anything?” I asked. “What can I bring you?”
“I don’t need anything but you,” she said. After an awkward silence, she went on. “I thought about you all the time. I wondered if you thought of me. He always told me I was his… but I remember Eddie. I remember I was yours first.”
I thought I’d waited to hear those words for twelve years. Hearing that, seeing her… it’s what I’d wanted more than anything. I’d thought it would fix everything.
I was so wrong.
So utterly mistaken.
I felt almost gross hearing her say them. Not because I loved Amnesia. Not because I didn’t love Sadie (I did in my own way). Because I was naïve.
That didn’t fix anything. It almost made everything worse.
I didn’t know what to say or how to react. It seemed everything I could say was wrong. She waited and watched me, openly wanting an answer I didn’t have. Carefully, I chose what to say. “You were—no, are my best friend. Of course I thought about you. Every day.”
She nodded. “I was yours,” she whispered again.
“You aren’t anyone’s Sadie. You belong to yourself. You have control over your own life.”
Her brow furrowed as if she didn’t quite understand. As if she didn’t know how to be in charge of herself.
“But I…” Her eyes lifted, confusion swimming at the surface, and I saw tears about to fall.
I went to her, hugging her close. She put her arms around me and held tight. I stroked my hand down her long, soft hair until I felt her body relax.
We sat like that for a while. The entire time, I marveled about how I’d imagined this moment a million times, and each of those million, I never once imagined it to feel the way it did now.
Sadie wasn’t my future. Maybe she never was. Maybe she was just a catalyst, an unfortunate victim of life bringing me to where I really belonged. With whom I really belonged.
It wasn’t fair. Life rarely was.
After a while, Sadie pulled back but took my hand and held on. “You thought she was me, didn’t you?”
“Everyone thought so,” I said, knowing she meant Amnesia. “At least at first.”
“That’s why
you love her,” she murmured. “Because it was supposed to be me.”
Everything inside me revolted, sickened. It was a stronger reaction than even I expected because, yes, it was true. I was first drawn to Am because of Sadie. Because I thought she was her.
But now, knowing both of them, the differences were astounding.
There was no mistaking one for the other.
I only loved one.
And it wasn’t the girl whose hand I was holding.
“I do love you, Sadie,” I said gently. “As a friend. A best friend. Just like all those years ago.”
“We were more,” she insisted.
“We could have been,” I echoed. It still hurt to think about that, even knowing where my future lay.
I eased off the bed, worried where this conversation was going. She was already mixed up enough. I wanted to be here for her, but I wanted to be clear about our friendship.
There was a knock on the door, and the interruption was welcome.
I glanced around at Sadie with a huge grin. “Another visitor? You’re one popular lady.”
Her eyes grew wide and fearful. “Do you think it’s him?”
Schooling my reaction so I didn’t look angry, I said, “No way. Maybe it’s Maggie. I’ll see.”
“Maggie is supposed to bring me clothes,” she said.
“You girls and your clothes,” I teased, even though I felt tense inside.
Before opening the door, I looked out the small, square window and sighed in relief. “It’s a friend,” I told her, then pulled open the door.
Robbie stood on the other side, looking anxious and a little uneasy. “Hey, man. What are you doing here?” I asked, stepping into the opening.
“It’s her?” he whispered.
“Yeah. No question this time.”
“Can I see her?”
In reply, I stepped back and pushed open the door. He walked inside, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a black pullover. His creamy-coffee-colored skin was paler than usual, and beneath the rich color was a sheet of white. His dark eyes instantly went to Sadie and rounded.
“Hey, Sadie,” he said, clearly nervous. “I heard you were back and wanted to come see you.”
Sadie said nothing, just sat there and stared at him.
Robbie and I glanced at each other, then back at her. I cleared my throat. “Sadie, do you remember Robbie? We went to school with him.”
“I remember,” she said suddenly. “You’re the one who got me kidnapped.”
Robbie jolted as if she’d slapped him. Hell, even I was shocked as hell.
“Sadie, it wasn’t Robbie’s fault.” I tried to reason.
“You’re the one who dared Eddie, weren’t you?” she asked, her stare on him.
He swallowed. “Yeah and I came to apologize. I wanted you to know it was stupid and something I’ll always regret.”
She stared at him. Just stared. The tension in the room grew and grew until it was nearly suffocating.
Her eyes suddenly shifted to me. “You forgave him?”
Damn. Nothing like being in the hot seat.
I nodded. “Yes, Robbie’s a good guy. He and I both went through a really hard time when you were kidnapped. He helped search for you. We both felt so fucking bad.”
Next to me, Robbie nodded sagely.
“This wasn’t your fault, Eddie,” Sadie told me. Then she glanced at Robbie. “Thank you for helping look for me. And for coming here to visit.”
Robbie’s shoulders relaxed. “I really am sorry,” he poured out. “When I saw Amnesia, all the old guilt and shame came back. When she told me she didn’t blame me, I felt a weight lift I didn’t even know I carried. So when I heard you were found, I knew I had to come. I knew I had to tell you just how much I regret making that dare.”
“You apologized to Amnesia?” Sadie asked.
He nodded. “We thought you might be her.” Robbie grimaced and glanced at me. Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, “Was I not supposed to say that?”
I slapped him on the shoulder. “Nah, she knows.”
“Well, if she can forgive you, then so can I.” Sadie reasoned. It didn’t make much sense to me, but if it did to her, that was all that mattered.
“It’s okay, Robbie. I forgive you.”
I was the largest ass in the state because I wondered if she even meant it.
Robbie moved toward her, and she shrank back. I went forward instantly, sliding between the pair. “She’s a little shy still,” I said, trying to make him feel better about it.
“Of course,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll, uh, just go.”
I nodded. Talk about awkward.
He leaned around me to look at Sadie. “Thanks for seeing me. I’m really glad you’re back.”
“Thank you,” she answered.
“Be right back,” I told her as I walked Robbie to the door.
Out in the hall, he turned to me. “Dude. She hates me.”
“No. She’s just been through a lot.”
Robbie shook his head. “I know hate when I see it. You looked at me the same way once.”
“Yeah, and that changed. Give her time. She will, too.”
“I don’t know, man,” he murmured. “There was something about the way she looked at me. Something in her eyes yours never held. I don’t think she’s going to change her mind, and really, I can’t blame her.”
“Robbie.” I tried to think of something encouraging to say. I was coming up blank because I, too, saw the look on her face.
“I shouldn’t have come.” He went on. “It’s just… Amnesia made me feel better, less guilty. Maybe that should have been a clue she wasn’t Sadie. I should have known…”
“Don’t do this to yourself, Rob. This entire situation is fucked the hell up.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he murmured. He started to say something, then stopped.
“What is it?” I cajoled.
He shook his head, rubbing his palm over the buzzed top. “It’s just that, man, Sadie and Amnesia, they’re completely different.”
Yeah.
Obviously, they were two different people. Obviously, they wouldn’t be the same. It was still a shock. For all of us. It was hard to separate the two women at first because, in our minds, they were one in the same for so long.
But oh…
It wasn’t as hard now. The similarities between Amnesia and Sadie were dwindling down to nothing but appearance.
Now I was seeing just how very unalike the two women were.
An entire week passed. I only stayed with Eddie twice, though I really wanted to stay more. My relationship with Maggie was also important, and I wanted to make sure she knew. Plus, it gave me time to think and really digest the memory I’d had. Not completely, of course, but enough I could put it into perspective some and not feel sick over it.
It would probably always be a struggle to remember that the past was just that—the past—and it couldn’t intrude upon the future unless I allowed it. I think coming to terms with the realization I could be haunted forever by things that happened to me—and there would be times it did intrude upon me—was the hardest to grasp.
And then there was the fear. The fear I would remember more. That the more those feelings of being violated and abused came back, the more I might be crippled. I was scared of that, scared my past had the ability to rob me of my future.
Don’t allow it.
It was sort of a mantra now, when I felt the stirring of panic deep inside my stomach. When it seemed hard to keep a grasp on reality and I felt myself slipping into some sort of foggy anxiety, I would breathe deep and tell myself I was in control.
Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. It was a process. I was coming to learn that’s what life was. A process. A series of highs and lows.
The light knock on the doors across the room made me smile. Like a giddy child, I threw the covers off and pranced across the room, my bare feet and legs blasted with the cool morning
air.
Hopping from foot to foot, I opened the door so Eddie could slip inside.
He grinned at me, all dimples and white teeth, as he shut the door. “You look like a little rabbit.”
“It’s freezing this morning!”
He caught me around the waist with one arm and lifted. My legs went around his waist, and I cuddled into his neck. “How come you’re warm? You were just outside.”
“I’m always warm for you, baby,” he murmured.
Lifting my head, he stuck the tall cup beneath my nose. “Extra whip, just for my girl.”
The warmth seeped into my palm when I wrapped it around the cup, and he carried me back over to the bed. The blankets were still warm from my body, and my toes curled into the soft head and I sighed.
Eddie slid in beside me and pulled the covers up over our lower halves.
I sipped at the cocoa, enjoying the way the liquid heat slipped all the way down my throat and into my stomach.
Not staying with Eddie every night was something I didn’t like. But I did like when he snuck into my room early in the morning with a hot chocolate.
“How’s my girl?” he asked, stroking the side of my head.
I leaned over and kissed him.
“You taste like chocolate,” he murmured. I kissed him again, this time licking into his mouth, stroking our tongues together.
“I have something else for you,” he said when I pulled back.
“You do?”
Leaning sideways a little, he reached under him into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a white envelope that was folded in half.
“May I present to you,” he said with flourish, “your first paycheck.”
Excitement and pride sparked inside me. Pushing up, I folded my legs under me and balanced my drink in my lap. Carefully, I pulled the check out as though it were something precious and rare.
It kinda was. I’d never earned a paycheck before. Or had a job. Or money of my own.
The paper was long and rectangular, a light-blue shade. It looked professional and serious, and right there on the side was the amount with my name on it.
“This is all mine!” I exclaimed, bringing my hands down and nearly dumping hot chocolate all over us both.
“Whoa.” He chuckled. “How about I hold on to this?” He picked up the cup and set it aside. When he turned back, I was still marveling at the check, waiting for him to tell me it was just a dream. “It’s all yours.”
Amnesty: Amnesia Duet Book 2 Page 17