by Lexi Ryan
My account opens, and I scroll through my feed. I recognize some names and faces from high school and college. Every time I see a face I don’t recognize, I stare at the avatar and wait for blips of memories like the ones I got earlier. Nothing.
I go to my friends list and scroll through the five-hundred-some faces, looking for the man I saw at the bar and the woman who was with him this morning.
I don’t have to scroll too far before those broad shoulders fill my screen. And his smile—I sit back in my seat. He’s gorgeous when he’s all brooding and angry, but his smile puts him over the top. His name is Levi Jackson, and his account says he’s a motocross racer. That’s what Mom told me Colton did . . . before. Is that how Levi and Colton are connected? Friends through work?
There’s a picture of Levi from July. He’s holding a baby, and the caption says, “All the Jackson men are madly in love with Jackson Maddox.” Levi’s sitting on a dark leather sofa, grinning down at the infant, and my heart swells.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a beat over my own loss. It’s easier when I forget I had a pregnancy I can’t remember, but the reminders are everywhere. Little stabs of heartache that always strike when I’m unprepared. And I’m never prepared.
There are a few pictures of Levi racing a dirt bike. A few look like official promotional pictures for motocross races.
I recognize Colton in the photos. There are a lot of pictures of Levi and Colton together. In some, they’re sweaty with helmets in hand after a race. In others, they’re cleaned up and smiling for the camera.
I’m more surprised when I see pictures of the three of us together.
In one from July, we’re on the beach. The boys are both wearing board shorts—their bare chests tanned and muscular—and I’m standing between them in a bikini with an arm draped over each guy’s shoulders. Me, my fiancé, and the sexy stranger I made love to at least once. Made love. Could it have been making love if I was marrying Colton? But there are no other words to describe what I remembered at the bar—Levi looking into my eyes as he slid into me. “No regrets.”
I put my hand over my mouth. I’m not just learning about these strangers. I’m learning about myself. What kind of person did I become? Engaged to an addict? Sleeping with his best friend? The memory was only a blip, but it was enough that I know it’s true. But like the names, it sits in my mind without context. Was that before or after Colton and I were engaged? Before or after I got pregnant?
Was the baby even Colton’s?
I go to my own profile and scroll through the posts, but it’s cluttered with “Get well soon!” notes, and half of them are from names and faces I don’t recognize. I click on my pictures, and everything inside me stills when I see a picture of Colton on his knees, kissing my still-flat belly.
I put my hand on the arm of the chair, close my eyes, and breathe through the unbearable ache in my chest.
I log out of my account and close the laptop. That’s enough for tonight.
Sunday, October 21st
I’m awake before the sun’s up. I tossed and turned for a few hours, but I’m not sure how much of my time in bed qualifies as sleep. This morning, I’m as restless as ever and ready to dig a little more.
Since Mom will be up soon, I don’t return to her computer. I assume my own laptop is still at my house back in Jackson Harbor with most of my other belongings, so I plug in my phone and press the power button.
I hold my breath as I watch it come to life. The notifications for text messages, emails, and voicemails pop up on the screen one after another.
I open the text message application, and the most recent messages are at the top. The newest one was sent last week from Ava.
The next most recent thread is from Levi, and I scroll up and frown when I realize there aren’t any messages from before the night I was assaulted. Did the police clear my phone, or did my family do that? Would I have done that?
The oldest message from Ava is from the twenty-ninth of September, the day after I woke up at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, and there’s a new one every few days or so.
Ava: We drove to Chicago to visit but your mom asked us to leave. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.
Ava: Anything I can bring you? If you don’t want visitors, I could just leave it with the nurses. Anything at all.
Ava: I miss you.
Ava: I only get your voicemail when I call. I heard you’re home now. They still haven’t found Dad or Colton.
Then there’s her last message, sent a week ago.
Ava: I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I wish you would talk to me about it. Nic and I are addressing wedding invitations tonight, and I can’t stop thinking that I’m supposed to be doing this with my best friend. Tell me how to fix this.
Guilt lodges painfully in my throat. I don’t remember Ava, but I no longer believe she was some dark, criminal influence on my life.
I back out of that thread and move to the one labeled Levi Jackson. The message is from two weeks ago, the day after I was released from the hospital. It’s short but it makes my chest ache.
Levi: Why don’t you ever let me say goodbye?
Levi
I might never see her again.
That fear was responsible for a shitty night’s sleep, and it won’t leave my brain this morning either.
Neither Ava nor I woke up in any rush to leave. Yesterday, on the drive down, I told myself I just wanted to know Ellie was okay. I thought if I could just hear her voice and see her face, I’d be able to let her go. I was wrong. She is okay, and she still doesn’t want to be near me. There’s a big, selfish part of me that doesn’t believe that’s possible. A big part of me that doesn’t understand how she could pretend nothing between us matters. But at the end of the day, I have to respect her wishes.
“Let me get that,” I say to Ava, pulling her overnight bag off her shoulder.
“I’m perfectly capable of putting my own bag in the trunk, Levi.”
“And Jake is perfectly capable of knocking out my teeth,” I say with a pointed look at her stomach. “Let me do the grunt work. It’s my job as your future brother-in-law.”
“I’ll remember this when I need help building the set for Wicked,” she says, grinning.
“You’re leaving?”
I still at the familiar voice—too scared it might not be her—but Ava turns. Her hand goes to her mouth, and tears spring into her eyes.
I force myself to draw in a breath and turn as well. There she is—Ellie Courdrey. As beautiful as the night we met and as much of a puzzle now as she was then.
“I drove around until I saw your Mustang. I probably should have called.” Her gaze shifts between Ava, me, and the car.
“That would require you to use the phone.” I know how hard my voice sounds, but I don’t care. She’s been pulverizing my heart from the moment she put on his ring, and I’m tired of pretending her decisions aren’t killing me.
“I know.” She clears her throat. “I turned it on today for the first time. Thanks for the messages,” she says to Ava. “I appreciate you thinking about me.” She shifts her gaze to me. “You too.”
I hold her gaze. Not touching her is a physical ache. I want to step closer, but I don’t trust myself to keep my hands to myself. Ellie doesn’t look away, and energy zaps between us like a live wire.
“Can I hug you?” Ava asks Ellie.
I don’t know if I’m upset Ava broke the moment or relieved. I could get so lost in Ellie’s eyes, I’d be trapped in the memories.
“Um, yeah. Sure,” Ellie says.
Ava rushes forward, wrapping her into a tight squeeze. Ellie’s return hug is tentative. “I’m so sorry I’ve been selfish,” Ava says. “Of course you’re scared after what happened to you. And I just . . .” Shaking her head, she pulls away. “You do what you need to do. We’ll be there when you’re ready.”
Ellie nods. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.” Awkward. Stilted. Like she’s respondin
g to a complete stranger. Could so much change in six weeks?
Ava winces. She feels it too. “Maybe I should leave you two alone. I need to go clean up breakfast anyway.” She disappears back into the house where there’s nothing to clean up but possibly some carryout wrappers and some crumbs on the counter. I know she’s giving us the time we need to clear the air. There aren’t enough hours left in the day.
“I’m glad I caught you before you left.” Ellie bites her lip and lowers her voice. “Your text message said I never let you say goodbye, and I thought . . .” She cuts her eyes away, her cheeks blooming pink.
I’m hit with a flash of memory so sweet that it makes my chest tighten. Her cheeks flushed in the moonlight, her eyes on mine as I looked down at her, naked underneath me. “No regrets.”
I should never have asked for a promise she wasn’t ready to make.
“After I turned on my phone and saw the texts from you and Ava,” Ellie says, “I felt bad for just disappearing from your life. You’re right. That wasn’t fair.” She drops her gaze to her feet. “I’m here so you can say goodbye. So I can say goodbye to you.” When she steps forward, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. Soft blue eyes and parted pink lips. “I owe you that.”
There’s so much I want from her—another night under the stars, another chance to explain how I feel. I want promises for the future and explanations of the past. I want so much, but her goodbye is nowhere on that list.
“I can’t tell you how badly I want to kiss you.” I should back up, put some distance between me and temptation. “But I don’t even know if you’d want me to. Or if you’d let me.”
“Kiss me?” she says, and I can’t tell if it’s a question or permission.
I slowly lower my head, leaning my forehead against hers, and she stills. “I wish you would come home.”
“I can’t.” She puts her palms against my chest. I hold my breath, waiting for her to push me away. She doesn’t.
Burying my nose in her hair, I breathe her in, desperate to get as close to her as possible after a long night of trying to convince myself to let go. “Your family took you away. I thought I’d lost you, and they wouldn’t let me see you.” Slowly, I sweep my mouth down the side of her neck, then follow the trail across her jaw and toward the kiss I shouldn’t take but can’t resist.
Her lips are as soft as I remember, and I match that softness with my mouth—a tentative touch that doesn’t ask for permission as much as beg for it. If kisses were words, this one would be please. Please let me touch you. Please let me hold you.
Please come home.
I don’t let the kiss go deeper, afraid I might lose my composure. I’m crossing lines and breaking unspoken promises as it is. Instead, I pull away and cup her face in my hands to study her. She keeps her eyes closed, as if she’s waiting for me to put my mouth on hers again.
Yesterday, she swore she wanted nothing to do with anyone from Jackson Harbor, and today she came here looking for Ava and me. Today, she let me kiss her and for all the world looks like she wants me to do it again. I won’t. Because I can taste goodbye on her lips.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She opens her eyes. “Then why did you?”
I back away from her. My kryptonite. My undoing. My every exception. “That’s a loaded question, but also a ridiculous one, since you already know the answer.”
She shakes her head. “But that’s just it. I . . . don’t remember.”
My stomach knots. Is she trying to hurt me? “Don’t remember what exactly?”
“The last three years.” She bites her bottom lip and shrugs. “I have retrograde amnesia. For me, it’s like my life in Jackson Harbor didn’t even happen.”
I blink at her, half expecting this to be a bad joke, but she’s serious, and suddenly the way she looked at me in the bar yesterday makes sense. The way she didn’t understand my connection to Ava. The way she just let me kiss her . . .
I bow my head and surprise myself by laughing. “Christ. That’s actually a relief.”
“What? Why?”
“I didn’t understand how you could just cut us out like that. It was so easy. Like we were nothing to you.” I take her left hand in mine, and my throat goes thick as I study her bare ring finger. “I never expected you to pick me. I never assumed you would. But I also never thought I’d lose you completely. Then I almost did.” My chest is tight when I add, “Twice. Once when you were in the hospital, and again when you shut us out.”
“I didn’t remember Jackson Harbor at all until I talked to you yesterday. Now, I only remember a little. And even that . . . just pieces I don’t really understand.”
“And you don’t think that would have been nice to tell me?”
“My mom told me I was mixed up with bad people. She believes the worst about my life there, so I believed the worst too. I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“No. Not you specifically. Of the life I can’t remember.” She drops her gaze to the ground. “We were . . . having an affair? Was I cheating on my fiancé?”
“Hell no.” Shit. I just kissed her, and she doesn’t remember enough to understand why I’d do that. So why the hell did she let me? “You two were broken up when you and I . . . You don’t remember me?”
“Only enough to know you were important.” She glances toward the house where Ava disappeared before meeting my eyes again. She presses her hand to her chest. “It’s not a memory so much as something I feel. Does that make sense?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. It does.” The draw I’ve felt toward Ellie has been there since the night we met. It’s elemental. But before this moment, I never had a reason to suspect it might be the same for her, but I can’t even enjoy the revelation that it was because it doesn’t change that she doesn’t want anything to do with us. With me.
“What was I to you?” she asks.
“We were friends.” I draw in a ragged breath. “And then, for a few days, we were something more. It was over pretty quickly.”
“But yesterday you said you never stopped loving me.”
“Also true,” I whisper. “Come home. I’ll answer any questions you have. I’ll help you remember. If you’re scared, I’ll protect you.”
She shakes her head. “I only came to say goodbye.”
The words are a blade coming right at my heart, but I dodge them. “You’re out of luck.”
“Why?”
“I can’t say goodbye to you. I won’t do it.”
“Levi . . .”
I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly. Everything’s so fucked up. I’m not sure it would be fair to ask anything of her even if she did remember. She’s been through too much. But amnesia? That complicates things even more. “I’ll give you anything else you want. But you can’t have my goodbye.”
Ellie
Tuesday, October 23rd
“Aunt Ellie, put your phone down and color with me,” Phoebe says. She’s spread out on the middle of my bedroom floor with a giant box of crayons and half a dozen coloring books. She plopped down here when she got home from school an hour ago and hasn’t shown any interest in leaving—not that I mind. The kid is awesome, from her skinned knees to the pink tips of her blond hair. She begged her mom to dye the ends last weekend. I may have done my part to convince my reluctant sister.
I toss my phone to the side and join her on the floor. Levi and Ava haven’t contacted me since they left town on Sunday morning, and while that’s what I asked of them, I keep checking my phone anyway. I didn’t realize how lonely I was in Dyer until I saw evidence of the friends I had in Jackson Harbor. I didn’t realize my life there was worth missing until I felt it when I looked at Levi.
“Color this one,” Phoebe says, sliding a Disney princess coloring book in front of me. “But make sure you only use pink and purple for their dresses. Last time, you used green on a dress, and I hate green. It’s a boy color.”
I roll my eyes bu
t obediently grab a pink crayon. “There’s no such thing as boy colors and girl colors. Just colors girls statistically like better, and colors boys statistically like better.”
She scowls at me. “Yeah, but that’s harder to say, and it pretty much means the same thing.”
I laugh. “Can’t argue with you there, kid.”
I start coloring. Phoebe is the cutest six-year-old I’ve ever met in my life, and she’s hands-down the best part of living at my mom’s house. She’s happy all the time, adores her family, and is so smart it blows my mind. I’m positive I wasn’t reading when I started kindergarten, but I’ve listened to this kid tackle literary classics like Junie B. Jones: Toothless Wonder. She makes me proud.
“Ellie, Detective Huxley is here. He’s from Jackson Harbor Police Department,” Mom calls up the stairs. “He wants to talk to you for a bit.”
Has something happened? Have they found Colton?
“Is he your boyfriend?” Phoebe asks.
“Nope. Just a nice man who’s looking out for me.” I grin at her, hoping she doesn’t see through my smile to my nerves. Taking my time to gather my courage, I return my crayon to the box, kiss my niece, and head for the stairs.
When I reach the landing by the front door, Mom is leading the Jackson Harbor detective into the house. Another detective took a report before I left the hospital in Chicago—not that I was much help—so I’m not sure why this guy is here now. Maybe they’ve found Colton and need to take my statement so they can prosecute him.
“Hello, Ellie.” The detective extends a hand, and I shake it. “Good to see you.” He has dark hair, intense eyes, and the kind of stiff posture I associate with law enforcement officers and military men.
“Nice to meet you.”