Back to Square One

Chapter One

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rowan Thomas’s mother glanced out the window on Friday morning at the car that had just honked its arrival.

Then she looked at Rowan with that same overly worried look she’d carried since bringing Rowan home from the hospital four weeks ago—eyes slightly wider than normal, brow a little furrowed, the sides of her mouth just a bit downturned, almost a frown but not quite, like she ended up frowning because she was concentrating so hard on not frowning.

“Mom. I need this.” Rowan had to work to keep her voice neutral because the truth was, her mom was driving her nuts. She ran a hand down her mother’s arm. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Kelly Thomas didn’t look even remotely convinced, but to her credit, she gave one nod. “Okay. But I’ll be right here. If you need anything—and I mean anything—you call me. I’ll be there in a flash.”

Rowan didn’t point out that the lake was almost three hours away, so there was no way her mom could get there “in a flash.” Instead, she nodded and promised she’d call if she needed anything.

The door opened then, thank fucking God, and Stevie Donahue waltzed in, all tall and tanned and tattooed.

She smiled at Rowan, then wrapped her in a tight hug—something new that had come out of the whole fiasco, these hugs—then let her go.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Rowan said, her hand still on Stevie’s arm.

She tried hard to school her features so her face didn’t read Please get me the hell out of here right this very second, which was what she was feeling in that moment.

But Stevie seemed to get it, even as she bent to give Rowan’s mom a kiss on the cheek.

“Mrs. T. How are you?”

“Nervous,” Rowan’s mom said with a grimace. “Worried. Thinking this is a terrible idea.”

Yeah, don’t sugarcoat it or anything, Mom.

“Don’t you worry. I will take care of our girl.

She’s gonna be with me the whole time. I won’t let her out of my sight.

I promise.” Stevie crossed her heart and gave Rowan’s mom that smile that had charmed a multitude of women over the years.

It had always worked on Kelly Thomas, and today was no exception.

With a sigh, Rowan’s mom gave them a dismissive wave. “Fine. Fine. Go. Before I change my mind.”

Again, Rowan didn’t point out that she was thirty-six years old, and her mom had no say in what she could or could not do, but circumstances were extenuating here, and the last thing she wanted to do was make her mom feel bad for worrying.

Stevie pointed at the suitcase and grocery bags near the door. “These going?” At Rowan’s nod, she began taking things out to the car.

“Kevin.” Rowan bent down to the gray tabby cat that had been sitting and watching all the activity with his big green eyes, and she scooped him up in her arms. “You be a good boy, okay?” She nuzzled his soft fur and kissed his head.

“No parties, no strippers. I mean it.” More kisses.

“Listen to your grandma. Don’t give her a hard time.

Make sure you give her some snuggles so she’s not lonely.

” Another kiss as he rubbed his face against her jawline.

“And if you have to puke, do it on the hardwood and not the carpet. Okay?” One more kiss to the very top of his head, right between his ears, and she set him down, then turned to her mom.

“Easy on the treats, okay? He’s getting chubby. ”

Her mom lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I make no promises.”

“Mom,” she warned, then pulled her mother into a hug, felt her arms tighten almost painfully around her.

“You be careful,” her mother whispered in her ear.

“I will.”

“And call me.”

“I will.”

“Take your meds.”

“Promise.”

When they finally parted, Stevie was back for the last bag. “Ready?”

With a nod, she grabbed her purse and tossed her mom a wave. “Bye.”

“Have fun,” her mother said, with little conviction. “And be careful.” That line came out with much more certainty.

Once she and Stevie were tucked into Stevie’s truck and buckled in, Rowan gave one last wave to her mom, who stood framed in the screen door of Rowan’s little house. “God, what must it feel like to be as worried about somebody as my mom is worried about me?”

“We can’t know unless we have our own kids, I guess,” Stevie said as she shifted the truck into gear and pulled out of the driveway.

“Her worry for me makes me worried for her,” Rowan said. “It’s a vicious cycle.”

“I get it. But, Ro, she’s worried because you could’ve died. Cut her some slack, okay?”

Rowan sighed. “I know. You’re right. I guess I can’t blame her. But she’s just…” She dropped her head back against the headrest. “She’s getting to be too much. I can barely move without her asking what I’m doing, where am I going, what do I need. It’s exhausting.”

“So, what you’re saying is, your mother is smothering you. She’s become…your smother.”

There was a beat of silence before Rowan turned to look at her. “Oh, God, that was so bad it was good.” They both burst out laughing.

“Well, I’m happy we’re getting you a break from your smother.”

“Seriously, thank you for inviting me. I really didn’t go the last two years?”

Stevie shook her head as she used her signal to indicate her merge onto the highway. “You said it was work.”

The blank spots in her brain were something she couldn’t get used to.

She thought amnesia was only something that happened in soap operas or cheesy dramas from decades ago.

Turned out, all you had to do was fall off a ladder and crack your head on some concrete and you, too, could have your very own version of amnesia.

As if reading her mind, Stevie asked, “Anything coming back lately?”

She blew out a slow breath. “Not since the combination to my garage door keypad. But that could’ve been a lucky guess, too.”

“But the doctors still think you could regain your lost memories, right?”

A nod. “It’s possible. The loss seems limited to somewhere between three and four years, as far as I can tell.

Like, I remember my job, getting it, how to do it, but I don’t remember the guy they hired eighteen months ago who sits right next to me in the office.

” She shook her head as she recalled Jason’s crestfallen expression when she’d stared blankly at him last week during a visit to see her bosses.

“That’s gotta be so fucking weird,” Stevie said.

“It is. I haven’t forgotten how to do anything, I just don’t remember a lot of people, conversations, or things that happened. And I often don’t know I’ve forgotten something until I’m faced with it, if that makes sense.”

“So fucking weird,” Stevie said again.

“The Evie stuff is the weirdest, hardest part of all of it.” Her voice went soft as she spoke, and a sudden lump lodged in her throat.

It was Stevie’s turn to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I can imagine that one stung.”

“Stung? It was gutting.” She gazed out the window, an image of Evie Price filling her head.

Tall, all long legs and arms, long, dark hair, wide smile, directed right at Rowan, deep, brown eyes filled with love…

Rowan wiped a hand across the space in front of her as if erasing a whiteboard.

“Never mind. Let’s not talk about that. This week is supposed to be about fun and relaxation.

” She forced a smile and turned it on Stevie.

“Yes! I’m down with that.”

“So, who all’s coming?”

“Let’s see.” Stevie counted on her fingers as she drove and listed names. “Becca and her girlfriend, Jasmine.”

“Girlfriend of the month, you mean.”

Stevie looked at her. “No, she’s been with Jazzy for over a year now.”

Rowan gaped. “Becca the serial dater has been with the same woman for more than a year?”

“Yep. And Jazzy’s great. You’ll love her.”

“I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve seen some of these people. I can’t even blame my accident for being uninformed. I mean, I could, but it’d be a lie. Who else?”

“Lizzie and Justine.”

Rowan nodded. “It’ll be good to see them.”

“And Claire’s supposed to come, too.”

There was a beat of silence. “Ah. Okay.” Claire was Evie’s best friend. At least from what Rowan could remember…which didn’t count for much these days.

“She might not, though,” Stevie hurried to add. “Not sure. She never confirmed.”

Rowan nodded but said nothing.

“And Sara’s coming by Wednesday. She had some stuff going on early in the week.”

Well, that was a relief. Sara was Stevie’s wife and Rowan’s favorite person in the world besides Stevie. “Oh, good.”

“And how have you been feeling?” Stevie asked. “Physically, I mean.”

Rowan tipped her head from side to side. “Not terrible. The headaches still show up out of nowhere, but they’re less frequent, I think, so that’s good. I’ve got some strong painkillers for those.”

“Are they, like, migraines?”

She used to get migraines as a teen and into her early twenties.

“No, not quite. My migraines always settled on the right side of my head. These are across the top, sort of.” She hovered a hand over her head, just above her forehead.

“And they don’t pound like a migraine. They just sort of…

ache. But they can get bad, and I have to lie down. ”

“Well, from what I understand, this house is huge, and I made sure you’ll have your own room, so if you need space to get away from people and chill, you’ll have it.”

Rowan gazed at her friend for a moment, studied her profile—the long, straight nose, the spiky blond hair.

“Hey,” she said, then waited until Stevie glanced at her.

“Thank you for always looking out for me.” Her voice was soft and cracked slightly with some surprise emotion—another new aspect of her injury.

Stevie reached over to grab her hand. “Listen, I thought I was gonna lose you.” She cleared her throat, ever the masc who tried—and failed—to keep her emotions in check.

“And I want you around for a long, long time. You’re my rock, you know.

” She squeezed Rowan’s hand before letting go and returning her own hand to the steering wheel.