Chapter 12
The following Monday morning Jonah found Lauren sweeping off her deck. He probably should’ve been home studying—his grades
had gone to crap the past two weeks. But it was her day off and he hoped to spend time with her.
He caught sight of her through the pine forest, face freshly washed, hair still mussed from sleep. She nudged Graham playfully
with the broom. The dog snapped at the bristles, then jumped to attention, tail wagging.
Lauren brushed at his feet. “Take that, puppers.”
Graham barked.
“Mr. Broom’s gonna getcha!” She let him grab the bristles, then tugged it away again, laughing.
The dog bowed on his front legs, back end in the air, and barked.
Jonah’s heart twisted painfully. She didn’t remember the dog any more than she remembered being in love with Jonah. Yet she
was obviously letting Graham in. She’d taken him back under her wing. She was playing with him, affectionate with him.
I’m jealous of a dog.
It was an all-new low. But seeing her guard down made him miss her so much. Whenever Jonah was near her, Lauren was present—but she wasn’t. The Lauren he’d fallen in love with was somewhere in there. But she wouldn’t drop her guard with him, and he didn’t know how to convince her to let him back in.
Before, he’d gradually won her over by spending time with her on the job. It had taken months for her to open up about her
mom’s abandonment, her difficult childhood. But she wouldn’t even give him the time of day now. And she’d probably be horrified
to realize all the private things he knew about her.
Had she seen the photos on her phone or read their texts? If she had, she’d surely see how happy they’d been together. Or
would the images only make her grimace?
She must’ve heard his approach because her head snapped his way. And just like that her playful expression disappeared and
her eyes grew guarded.
He battled disappointment and lifted his lips. “Morning. How are you feeling today?”
“Fine. Just catching up on some chores.”
He reached the deck and stopped to pet Graham, who’d come to greet him, his entire back end wagging. “Want some help? I need
a break from studying.” Did that sound like the pathetic lie it was?
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
Lauren was nothing if not fiercely independent. That much hadn’t changed. “I thought I’d see if you wanted to go for a bike
ride on the rail trail.”
“The rail trail?”
Right. She wouldn’t remember. “It’s an old railroad track they turned into a trail. It runs for twelve miles along lakes and
pastures and through the woods. You used to like it. Used to drive me crazy, reading every single informational sign explaining
the trail’s history.”
She didn’t return his wistful smile. She didn’t remember any of those moments they’d spent together or the laughter they’d
once shared. Didn’t remember their first kiss at the gorge or the first time he’d professed his love.
Her gaze flickered to her cabin as she put a hand to her throat. “Um, thanks, but I’ve got a lot of chores to do today.”
He was the last person she wanted to spend her day off with. Message received. He pushed past the hopeless feeling welling
up inside and dredged up another smile. “I should probably get some stuff done too. If you need anything, I’ll be around.”
“Okay, thanks.” She resumed sweeping.
He gave Graham a final pat and headed back toward the lodge, his steps weighted with despair. They were sixteen days past
the accident and she obviously remembered nothing. He kept coming around, trying to show her he cared. But the door to her
heart was closed to him. And locked. And boarded over.
She’d let Meg in a little. They’d gone to that bonfire together, had a coffee date last week on her day off. Even his mom
and dad had made some headway in regaining her friendship. But she wanted nothing to do with Jonah.
Help me, God. I don’t know what else to do. How can I help her remember if she doesn’t want to? How can I win her back when she avoids me at every turn?
Could he find reasons for them to work together as he’d done early in her employment? He was afraid, given her current mental
state, that she’d only feel pressured and close up like a clam. He couldn’t help but feel there was only one solution and
it was out of his control.
Please let her remember. I can’t lose her for good. I just can’t.
He swallowed against the lump in his throat. He hadn’t lost it once since the accident. Kept pushing back the emotion, telling
himself she’d remember. But he was starting to lose hope.
The lodge was blessedly quiet when he entered. He should study, but he’d never be able to concentrate. He needed something
to do. Something that would keep him busy enough to distract him from this miserable nightmare.
Meg glanced up when he stopped by the office. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Checking on Lauren.”
She homed in on his face, probably seeing everything he wanted to hide. “How was she?”
“Same.”
“Her symptoms seem better. She’s back to her normal schedule.”
“True.”
Neither of them said it, but they were both thinking it. Everything was back to normal—except her memory.
“I’m actually glad you stopped by. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”
Her tone warned him it wasn’t good news. He sank into his mom’s desk chair. “That sounds foreboding and I don’t know if I
can take more bad news.”
“I’m sorry. I know this has been hard. This might not be news to you at all.”
“Is it about Lauren?”
“Yes.”
Oh, what the heck. How much worse could things get? A lot, if the adrenaline pumping through his veins was anything to go
by. “Why not? Lay it on me.”
“She said something in passing yesterday when I mentioned her memory loss. She—she implied she didn’t want her memories back.
That she’d rather forget what happened over the summer and move on with her life.”
The words were a sucker punch. She didn’t want to remember him? Remember them ? It was the ultimate rejection. God, why is this happening? We were in love. We were about to be engaged. She’s the love of my life.
“I’m sorry, but I felt you should know what you’re up against.”
“For all the good it does me! She won’t even talk to me. As far as she’s concerned we’re over, and that’s the way she prefers it. I feel like I’m in waiting mode—and we both know that’s not exactly my specialty. I’m just sitting around waiting for her to get her memory back.”
“This must be so hard.”
“If I don’t do something, I might as well throw her a farewell party.” The thought of saying good-bye to her made his stomach
twist. They’d been about to start a life together, and now it was all gone because of that freak fall. One stupid accident
and she was gone to him forever?
His gaze sharpened on his sister. “I have to do something. I can’t lose her, Meg.”
“I can only imagine how hard this is, honey. But Lauren’s not one to be pushed. You should know that better than anyone.”
He pounded his fist on his thigh. “Then what the heck am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’ll get her memory back soon and this whole problem will go away.”
“But what if she never gets it back?” The question hung in the silence between them.
Fifteen minutes later the conversation still plagued Jonah as he dribbled the basketball on the concrete pad attached to the
old garage that now served as the laundry facility. He put up a shot and the ball swished through the net. He collected the
ball and took it back to the invisible foul line. Shot again. All net. His body went through the motions as he recalled his
discussion with Meg.
He felt stuck. He couldn’t just do nothing while Lauren moved on with her life alone. But she clearly wanted nothing to do
with him, and pressuring her would get him nowhere.
Stuck.
He was gonna lose her.
Memories flittered through his mind. Lauren smiling at him as he rowed them to the cove the first day they’d gone swimming
together. The shy way she bit her lip when she was thinking about kissing him but didn’t want him to know. The way she sometimes
burrowed into his side like she wished she could climb inside him.
He missed the way she felt, her back pressed against his chest as they watched the sun sink below the horizon. He missed her
passionate kisses and her contagious laughter. The way she’d quirk a brow at him when he teased her about her shoe collection
or the rainbow assortment of nail polish on her bathroom windowsill.
That heat flushed his skin again and the back of his eyes burned. And still he put up a shot. And another. And another.
***
As luck would have it, the laundry building was clear on the other side of the property. When Lauren had arrived at Pinehaven,
Ping-Pong and foosball tables had been crowded in with the washers and dryers.
But Lauren had suggested converting the upstairs of the boathouse into a game room for the teen guests. And at some point
over the summer, the Landrys had implemented that idea. Meg had taken her up to the hideout and raved about how popular it
had been over the summer. They’d spent over an hour up there playing games that day until they’d laughed themselves silly
over their lack of coordination.
Lauren had also suggested renting out pier space to local boat owners, and that idea had apparently netted twenty-four thousand
dollars over the course of the season. Easy money for the Landrys. Another of Lauren’s ideas that was in the works: resort
for a day. Starting next season they would make their property and its equipment available on a limited basis to tourists
staying off-site.
It felt great that they were taking her ideas seriously and that they were apparently paying off in spades. Lauren needed that little punch of validation right now because she felt so off .
She shifted the laundry basket to her other side, and as she neared the building she heard a thumping sound. Someone was playing
basketball on the far side of the building.
She entered the facility and set her basket on the dryer. But before she opened the washer, she headed to the window as if
drawn by some invisible force.
Standing to the side, she peeked through the curtains. Just as she suspected, Jonah was making use of the court. He wore only
a pair of worn jeans and tennis shoes. Her gaze locked on him as he spun, darted, and pivoted with precision borne from years
of experience. He hit every shot as he played imaginary foes. His muscles rippled across his back as he came up for a hook
shot, grabbed the rebound, pivoted, and put up another.
Sweat gleamed off the defined ridges of his abdomen and the honed curves of his biceps. He was lean and fit and more muscular
than she’d realized. His calves bulged on a jump shot, and his thighs flexed as he juked one invisible opponent, then dodged
another. He scrambled toward the basket and jumped for a dunk. The ball went through the net and hit the pavement with a whump .
She’d been so busy admiring Jonah’s skill—and his physique—she didn’t notice anything amiss until he braced his hands on his
knees, breath heaving. Until the sunlight, dappling the court, glimmered off his face. At first she thought it was sweat.
But no. Tears trickled from his eyes, running in rivulets down his face. His jaw was clenched, his eyes closed, as if against
some unseen agony. She’d never seen him this way. It was so different from the confident, judgmental Jonah she remembered.
So vulnerable and... broken.
Lauren’s heart gave a painful squeeze because she knew without a doubt— she had caused this.
It was her fault he was hurting like this.
She couldn’t have helped the fall from the ladder or the resulting memory loss. But she’d been so busy worrying about her
own problems, she’d hardly given a thought to Jonah’s feelings.
They’d been in a happy relationship, and in the blink of an eye he’d lost her. She’d wondered how the feelings could’ve been
real when she felt nothing for him now.
But seeing him out on the court, there was no doubt about it. One glimpse of his suffering removed all questions about the
genuineness of his feelings or their previous relationship.
She pivoted from the window, unable to bear the sight anymore. Her chest ached. Was this just empathy, or did some small part
of her remember her feelings for him?
Every morning since the accident, Jonah had checked on her with those hope-filled eyes, and she all but brushed him off. He
loved her, and she’d been harsh and uncaring. Her chest tightened.
She’d been exactly like so many of the adults who’d reigned over her childhood, and she hated herself for it.
Maybe she no longer wanted a relationship with Jonah, but she didn’t have to be a terrible human being. Uncertain what to
do about the empathy wrenching her heart, she glanced out the window again.
Jonah retrieved his shirt from the ground and wiped his face. He grabbed the ball that had settled near the court’s edge and
headed toward the parking lot.
A minute later heaviness settled over her as he got into his truck and pulled from the lot. She had to do something to make
up for how callous she’d been. For how much she’d hurt him. Something to relieve the pain he was feeling.
But something safe—from a distance.
She withdrew her phone and opened the texting app. Her finger hovered over the thread between Jonah and her. The last entry was September seventh, the day of her accident. She couldn’t bring herself to read all the texts they must’ve sent back and forth.
So she forbade herself from scrolling up and began tapping on the keyboard.