Thirty-eight
As soon as I manage to get my shit together, I throw on some proper clothes and haul ass to the hospital.
The book held tightly in my fist, I duck past the nurses station, slipping down the hallways and rounding the corners with ease. There’s no sign of the Chief or anyone else that might stop me from getting to Oakley’s room. On the last stretch, I pass a doctor who shoots me a funny look - probably wondering why there’s a madman running through the halls, clutching a book like it’s his prized possession - but he keeps on walking, not saying a word. I breathe a sigh of relief when Oakley’s door comes into sight.
Except when I enter the room, every emotion quickly turns to blind panic.
It’s empty.
I look all around, even checking in dumb places like the closet and beneath the bed. But, he’s not here. It’s like he’s disappeared, just vanished into thin air. The bed hasn’t been made, the sheets all rumpled and screwed up in the center. Did he get discharged? There’s no way. They couldn’t let him go so soon after such a major injury.
Then, another possibility enters my mind, one that makes my skin break out in a cold sweat. Did his uncle get to him first?
I fly out of the room, breath leaving me in ragged pants as I whip my head from left to right, scanning my surroundings for that familiar mop of dark hair.
A nurse walks by and I grab her arm, startling her. “Excuse me. Please. This patient, the one that was in this room, do you know where he is? His name’s Oakley Farrow.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I haven’t seen him.”
She keeps moving, frowning at me the whole way past. I mutter a curse and scrub a hand down my face, blood rushing in my ears. C’mon, Oakley. Where the hell are you?
Not wasting time, I start running, checking every room and supply closet I pass. After a few minutes of frantic searching, I come across a partially open door, the sign on it reading Roof Access.
Awareness hums through me, goosebumps rising on my skin. Somehow - in some completely unexplainable way - I just know. That’s where he is.
I don’t even hesitate. I shove open the door so hard it bangs against the wall, before racing up the stairs, sprinting like my life depends on it. Well, if Oakley’s safety is on the line, then I guess it does. He is my life. I almost trip half a dozen times, my body dripping with sweat by the time I make it to the top. My heart pounds out an irregular rhythm, lungs screaming as I struggle to breathe, yet I don’t stop. I push through the door, flying out onto the roof and—
Oakley’s here. Alone, standing by the edge, looking out at the town beyond.
I give myself a brief moment to let the relief settle into my bones, before approaching him slowly. He’s not in his hospital gown anymore, instead wearing clothes I recognize. A long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of jeans that I know for a fact have a tear below the right knee. His bandage is still there though, the sight of it not failing to make my stomach churn.
He doesn’t turn my way once, doesn’t give me any indication that he’s seen me, but as soon as I stop next to him, he asks, “How’d you know I was here?”
“Intuition, I guess.”
He chuckles and for a split second, I forget all about his memory loss. The fact that he doesn’t have any idea who I am. It’s like things are back to normal again, exactly the way they’re supposed to be. But then he finally looks at me, his brows scrunching as he takes me in, and reality hits all over again. Is it possible for your heart to break even when it’s already ripped to shreds?
“You didn’t tell anyone I was up here, did you? They don’t like me leaving my room without someone being with me.”
“No, but… maybe you should go back down to your room. If they don’t think it’s safe, then you should probably listen to them.”
He sighs, his gaze focusing on the view beyond the roof again. “I needed some space. Being stuck inside those four walls can get a little suffocating, you know?”
“Yeah. I get that.”
He scoffs. “You’re the only one who does. Nobody here understands what this is like. Waking up with over a year of your life missing. Finding out my parents are dead. I can’t—” He stops, his voice cracking. “It’s just a lot.”
My chest aches, the need to comfort him settling deep in my bones. Without thinking, I move toward him. His scent envelopes me, making my head spin, and I slot my fingers through his, squeezing tightly. God, just the feel of his skin on mine again… it’s mind-bending. So overwhelmingly right that I feel like I could break down and cry. Oakley gasps at the contact, his eyes shooting down to the place where we’re joined. And just like that, the spell is broken. I jerk away from him, remembering where we are and the situation we’re in. The fact that I can’t touch him anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, eyes burning. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” He pauses, brows scrunched as he watches me quizzically. “So, you’re him, huh? You’re the one who they think… did this to me.”
My head drops, a lump rising in my throat. “I didn’t. Whatever they’ve told you, it’s not true. I would never hurt you.”
He’s silent for so long that I’m convinced he’s gone, just left me standing on this roof by myself. And I wouldn’t blame him, either. To him, I’m the person that hurt him and made him lose the last year of his life. If I was him, I’d do a lot worse than just leave me stranded here. My heart pounds when I hear the scrape of his sneakers on the ground as he edges closer. Not to the door, though. To me.
“It’s funny,” he starts, voice low. “I have no idea who you are or how we know each other. Only things people have told me. That you’re a bully who used to hurt me for fun, for sport. But, somehow…” My pulse rings in my ears, my entire body coiled tight, hanging on to what he’s about to say next. “I believe you.”
A choked sound leaves me, my eyes finding his again. “You do?”
He nods slowly. “Yes. I don’t know why, but I do. I don’t feel fear when I’m around you. It’s the opposite. I feel… safe. Truly safe. Like I know, deep down in my soul, that you’ll protect me, and I can’t ignore that.” He laughs. “Maybe I’m just being dumb or naive or—”
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “You’re not.”
He shrugs. “Well, whatever it is, I believe you. I know you didn’t hurt me.”
The sheer relief at hearing him say those words is almost enough to bring me to my knees. My breath rushes out of me, the tears I’ve been fighting to hold back spilling over. He believes me. He knows I didn’t hurt him. He feels safe around me. That’s huge, right? That means something. I swipe away the wetness from my cheeks, retrieving the book tucked beneath my arm. Oakley frowns as I hand it over, but takes it willingly, his thumb running over the leather cover.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“It’s, uh…” I stop, clear my throat. “It’s yours. It’s like a journal, but with drawings. Images from your mind. Memories.”
He flips it open, examining the first page for a long moment. “Memories of you?”
“Yes. I was hoping it would…”
My words trail off, the rest of my sentence left unsaid. But, it’s pretty clear to both of us what I’m hoping to get out of this. That looking through this book will spark some sort of memory, make him remember who I am and what we’ve been through together. He shoots me a small, unsure smile, before focusing his attention back on the book.
Heart in my throat, I watch as he looks through the entire thing. Page after page, drawing after drawing. Some of them he studies for a long time, tracing the lines and edges with his fingers. Others, he skips right past, the tips of his cheeks turning a vibrant shade of pink. I know exactly which ones those are. Oakley documented everything about our relationship; the bad times, the good times and also the really fucking good times. In clear, vivid detail. Every bead of sweat and strained muscle. I can’t imagine how it must feel for him to see it for the first time.
I keep my eyes trained on his face, examining every expression that crosses it. Reading into every scrunch of his brows and hitch of his breath. I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly, some kind of sign that will tell me my plan has worked, that his memories have come flooding back. But, he’s too hard to read. As the minutes tick by, my anxiety grows, the pressure on my chest damn near suffocating.
Finally, he speaks.
“Wow. We, uh…” He pauses, lets out a hoarse chuckle. “So, we were really together, huh? I know you said you love me, but…”
My stomach drops. “You still don’t remember?”
A pained look crosses his face and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I did, but there’s just… nothing.”
Every time. Every damn time I allow myself to feel even a sliver of hope, it fades away to nothing. Just crashes and burns, leaving behind a pile of ash. A physical representation of the remnants of my heart. I collapse to my haunches, head in my hands as I struggle to take in air. I’m devastated. But most of all, I’m drained. Exhausted. Tired of failing time and time again. Tired of not being able to make things right, no matter how hard I try. Nothing works.
He’s never gonna remember me.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “I really am sorry. I—”
I stand, shaking my head. “It’s fine. Not your fault at all. It was stupid of me to think that you could just… remember.”
“I don’t think that not giving up hope is stupid. Not at all. It just shows how much you care.”
I try to let his words fill me with some sort of warmth. Peace. But instead, all I feel is numb.
Oakley clears his throat, holds out the book toward me. “Here. You should take this.”
Our fingers brush as I take it, sending a shudder through me. That blush rises on his cheeks again and he jerks away, gaze falling to his feet.
He gnaws on his bottom lip for a beat, hesitating. “We really loved each other, didn’t we? I can tell. From the drawings, I mean. The way we look at each other.”
A fresh onslaught of tears prick my eyes. “Yeah. We did. We were like… two halves. We made each other whole.” Sniffling, I turn my watery gaze away. “I wouldn’t be who I am if it wasn’t for you.”
Holding the book in a white-knuckled grip, I turn away, making slow strides back toward the door. When I reach it, I look back over my shoulder. Oakley’s still standing in the same place, gaze fixed on mine.
“I know this all must be confusing for you,” I say, trying and failing to keep my voice steady. “And I know you don’t owe me anything. But… I want you to promise me something.”
He swallows hard. “Okay.”
“Don’t trust your uncle. He’s— he’s not who he says he is. When you get out of here, take April and get as far away from this place as you can. It’s not safe.”
With that, I pull open the door and leave.
The walk back through the hospital feels like it’s in slow-motion, everything around me blurred and out of focus. I don’t think I even blink or take a breath until I’m back in the car, the silence surrounding me making my ears ring.
It’s over.
Oakley has no recollection about a single second of our time together. It’s all gone. He has no memory of how much he loved me, how much he wanted me. Now, all he feels for me is pity. I could see it in his eyes, clear as day. And when our fingers touched for that brief moment, he jumped away like he’d been struck by lightning. No, he doesn’t want me anymore. All those feelings disappeared when his uncle hit him over the head with that iron bar.
And if he runs away with April like I asked him to, there’s a strong chance I’m never gonna see him again.
He’ll be far away from here, able to have a fresh start, and I’ll always be this. An empty shell, heartbroken and pining for the love of my life that doesn’t even know who I am.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket, my movements sluggish. My dad’s name flashes across the screen.
My lawyer just called. We have traffic camera footage of Chief Farrow in the same area as where Oakley’s parents were murdered on that same night, driving a car he rented at the start of that week. It turns out that when he gave it back, there was significant damage to the front of the car that he claimed was caused by hitting a deer. We’re so close, Asher. So close.
I close my eyes, letting my phone slip from my fingers.
If spending the rest of my days miserable and alone is the price I have to pay to have Chief Farrow locked up and Oakley safe, then I’ll do it.
I’ll do it without hesitation.
Even if it feels like it’s killing me.