21. Amara
Amara
Tap! Tap! Tap!
I jolt awake, bolting upright as my heart pounds like a bird is trying to break free of my chest.
The pain behind my eyes is like a bomb is exploding with such a blinding, merciless intensity that I grab my head with both hands. My fingers dig into my scalp, and I curl into a tight ball as hot tears stream down my face, dampening the pillow beneath me.
My breathing is shallow as I pant through the pain, counting each inhale and shaky exhale, but the agony only intensifies with each passing second.
“Make it stop,” I sob, rocking back and forth in a desperate rhythm. My voice breaks, barely recognizable through the raw anguish. “Please make it stop. I can’t—I can’t take it anymore.”
The throbbing behind my temples feels like someone is hammering my skull.
Big strong arms wrap around me. “Shh, I’m here.”
I press my face against his chest, inhaling his scent—cologne, expensive fabric. It’s familiar.
The pain in my head is unbearable, but somehow, his presence makes it marginally better.
“Why?” I choke out between sobs. “Why would someone want me dead?”
The words dangle in the air between us. I hate how weak I sound, how pathetic. Is this normally me?
Am I this person?
How would I know when I can’t remember who I am?
I pull back slightly, wiping at my tears with shaking hands. “I’m sorry.”
Then I look at him. A stranger, or is he?
“Who are you?”
He sighs. “Caleb. You have to remember me.”
I stare at Caleb, trying to find something familiar about him. His gray eyes, almost silver in this light, search mine with what looks like hope and that makes my skin prickle.
There’s something there, maybe it’s the glasses or his scent, I don’t know what it is and right now it’s like looking for a four-leaf clover in a field. You know it’s there, but how do you find it?
“Why are you here?” I ask, pulling the blanket higher.
I’m fighting the pain but fear of who he is has taken some of that away.
He leans back in the chair beside my bed. “Milly called Poppy and asked her to visit while she ran an errand. She didn’t want you waking up alone.”
“Poppy?” The name floats in my mind, as I try to connect the name to a face or a memory.
“Your best friend.” His voice softens when he says it.
“Best friend,” I repeat. “Where is she?”
“She has a dance class, so I told Milly I’d sit with you if she picks Poppy up after the class.”
I try to process this information, fitting pieces together like a puzzle with half the parts missing.
“So, you’re my friend’s father? That’s how I know you?”
Something flickers across his face. He looks at me strangely, like he’s carrying a secret he desperately wants to share but can’t bring himself to say the words.
I lift my hands and try to cover my face, suddenly realizing why he is staring at me.
“Don’t hide from me.” He takes my hands and holds them in his. As I glance from his warm hold to his face, something I can’t grasp slips between us.
I swallow.
“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he says. His voice almost sounds like he is begging me to believe him.
I laugh, but it comes out brittle. “I’m scared of everyone right now.”
My fingers twist in his hands. Everyone who walks through that door could be the person who tried to kill me. Even him. Especially him, with his careful words and watchful eyes.
“You have every right to be scared, but I promise I’m going to help you,” Caleb says. “Someone tried to kill you, Bunny. That’s not something anyone handles easily.”
Bunny!
Piccola!
But there. He said it. Admitted that someone is out to get me.
I look up at him, studying his face. The concern in his eyes seems genuine, but there’s something else there too. I’ll keep that to myself for now.
“Bunny? Is that what you’ve always called me?”
He smiles. He’s really handsome for an older guy, and when he smiles it lights up his face. “For a while now.”
“Why?” It slips out before I can stop it. I swallow.
He blows out a deep breath as he stares at the ceiling. “If Dom knows I’m here he’ll probably kill me.”
I laugh. “No, he’s a nice man.”
This time Caleb chuckles. “Is he?”
“I think so.”
I hope so.
I study Caleb’s face, searching for something that might trigger a memory. His silver-gray eyes hold mine with such force that my stomach flutters in an unexpected way. But also like it must have done before.
“I want to take you away from here,” he says suddenly, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Get you somewhere safe where I can protect you.”
The words hang between us, heavy with a meaning I can’t quite grasp.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused. “Why would you do that for me?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sighs deeply and looks up at the ceiling, as if the answer is written there.
“Caleb?” I press.
“It’s complicated,” he finally says. “I’ve spent my life protecting Poppy. Since her mother died, it’s been just the two of us. She’s everything to me.”
“So why worry about me too?”
His eyes meet mine again. “Because you matter to Poppy. And to me.”
Something in his tone makes my heart skip. “How do I matter to you?”
“Amara...” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You and I...we weren’t just...” He stops, seemingly struggling with his words. “You weren’t just Poppy’s friend who came over occasionally.”
“Were we...?” The implication hits me like a wave.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” he says quickly. “But yes, we were close. Very close.”
My head throbs violently, pain shooting through my temples as if my brain is rejecting this new information.
I wince, pressing my palms against my forehead.
“Are you okay?” Caleb asks, concern etched across his features.
“My head,” I manage through gritted teeth. “It feels like it’s splitting open.”
He’s on his feet immediately. “I’ll get you something for the pain and some water. Just hang on.”
“Wait,” I reach out and grab his wrist. “Will you tell me everything when I’m better?”
His expression softens. “I promise. Everything. But first, you need to heal.”
As he leaves the room, the pain pounds like a mallet banging against my skull.
I close my eyes, trying to make sense of what he’s told me. Caleb and I were close. Very close. What does that even mean?
I don’t have the time to think about it because the room door flings open and a blonde whirlwind of a girl rushes in, her green eyes wide with concern. She’s petite and graceful, moving with the fluidity of someone who is definitely a dancer.
Caleb follows her.
“Amara!” she cries. Her face crumples when she sees me, tears immediately welling in her eyes. She rushes to the bed, throwing her arms around me in a desperate hug that makes my ribs ache, but I can’t bring myself to care about the pain.
“I was so scared,” she sobs against my shoulder. “When Dad called and said you were hurt...”
“Poppy, careful,” Caleb warns, his voice gentle but there is definitely a warning there. “Remember what I told you? She doesn’t remember anything right now.”
Poppy. The name clicks into place with the face before me. My best friend, according to Caleb. I search her face desperately, looking for something familiar, any trigger that might unlock my memories of her. There’s nothing but blank space where our friendship should be.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling guilty for the pain in her eyes. “I wish I could remember you.”
Her body trembles against mine, and I awkwardly pat her back, not knowing what else to do. This girl is supposed to be my best friend, but I feel nothing. No memories surface, no inside jokes or shared secrets come flooding back. Just... emptiness where recognition should be.
I meet Caleb’s eyes over her shoulder. He looks pained, watching his daughter fall apart while I sit here like a stranger wearing a familiar face. Which is exactly what I am.
Poppy’s lower lip trembles as she slowly sits on the edge of my bed. “It’s okay,” she says, though her voice cracks. “The doctors said it might take time.”
Caleb moves back toward the door. “I’ll get those painkillers for you now. I’ll be right back.”
As he leaves, Poppy reaches out tentatively and touches my face, her fingers gentle against my cheek. But I flinch back instinctively, the sudden movement making my head throb harder.
The girl freezes, hurt flashing across her delicate features. Tears spill from her eyes.
“Sorry. It’s okay,” I whisper to her, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. Nothing about this is okay. “Tell me about us.”
“We’ve been friends since you moved to the Gold Coast,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
The door opens again and a beautiful young woman with features similar to mine steps in. My sister, I realize with a jolt. Milly.
“Poppy insisted on coming,” Milly says with a small smile. “Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Of course I insisted,” Poppy sniffles, wiping at her tears. “She’s my best friend.”
Caleb returns and hands me pills and a glass of water. He looks at Poppy with a frown.
“Poppy, you need to dial it back,” he says firmly. “Crying all over her isn’t helping. She needs calm right now, not emotional overload.”
Poppy sits back, looking thoroughly chastened. “Sorry, Dad. Sorry, Amara.”
I swallow the pills, grateful for the promise of relief they offer.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, though I’m not sure if it is. But I feel that I’ll be saying those words a lot.
“You don’t remember me at all, do you?” Poppy pulls back, wiping at her tears.
I shake my head, hating the hurt that flashes across her face. “I’m sorry.”
“Dad, can you...” She turns to Caleb, unable to finish her sentence.
He nods, understanding whatever she can’t say. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s give Amara some space.” He puts his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises me.
“I’ll show you out,” Milly says, giving me a smile as I watch them leave, feeling hollow.
The door closes behind them with a soft click, and I’m alone with my thoughts again.
Everything feels wrong and disjointed, like I’m watching someone else’s life unfold around me.
And it’s not okay.
Since Caleb left with Poppy, I’ve stared at the door, wondering and waiting for more snippets of my life to be presented to me.
But it’s my sister, Milly, who comes back into my room.
“Do you think it was an accident?” I ask her as she sits with me on my bed.
Sunlight streams through the window, casting a deceptively cheerful glow across the room. Milly’s face, however, remains shadowed with concern.
“I don’t know,” she says carefully. “Do you remember having any enemies?”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I don’t even remember having friends.”
She winces. “Right. Sorry.” She takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “You need to try to remember who you were talking to that night. What you were doing.”
I close my eyes, trying to force my mind back to that night, but there’s nothing there. Just a black void where memories should be.
“Or maybe it was a tragic accident,” I say, not wanting to believe someone did this on purpose. The alternative is too terrifying to contemplate. But did someone want me dead?
“A tragic accident would be preferable,” Milly agrees, but her tone suggests she doesn’t believe it.
I study her face, searching for familiarity. Unlike with Poppy, there’s something about Milly that feels right. Safe.
“I trust you,” I tell her, surprising myself with how much I mean it.
Milly holds me close and kisses my temple. I don’t tell her how much it hurts because it’s also soothing. “Thank you. I love you, Amara. You can trust me and Lia. I give you my word, but don’t trust anyone else until I find out more.”
“Are you trying to find out more?” I ask her.
“Lia and I are going to find out who did this to you, Amara.”