CHAPTER 1 #3
He met Caroline’s curious gaze. “Not yet.”
Silence stretched between the three of them.
Caroline kept her arm linked through her sister’s.
Maybe a gesture that wasn’t purely for emotional support.
Maybe it was about protecting her. He’d file that observation away for later—a superpower he’d developed lately.
Catalog the details and store them. Somehow, his brain would sort it all out later.
At least, that’s what the doctors had told him.
“You have family here, you know,” Megan said softly. “People who care about you.”
“Good to know. Right now, I need to find a job and a place to live.”
Oof. Sounded pathetic when he said it out loud.
Almost dismissive. But how else could he convey that he didn’t have any connections to this little coastal town smushed up on a hillside beside the bay?
He knew the facts on paper—parents’ names, an address, a date of birth—because he’d done the internet research at a tiny community center in an Arctic village.
Those details mattered. Frankly, he’d clung to them like precious gold nuggets.
But they weren’t the same as core memories.
“Your mom—she still lives in your childhood home. We can take you there,” Caroline said. “If you want, I mean.”
“I appreciate the offer. Let me stop by a couple of places and see if they’re hiring. Can’t afford to stay unemployed for long.”
The younger woman frowned. Like she disapproved.
What was he supposed to do—just show up on his old porch?
Hug his mom and ask her to let him move in?
Was it kinder to let her know he’d come back?
Or more palatable to stay away until he remembered more?
Because the internet had served up a tragic backstory—his father and brother had died in a terrible boating accident years ago.
Maybe some memories were better left lost in the void.
And yet here he stood. He’d fixed the truck of a stranger who’d been stranded on the highway near Sheep Mountain.
Instead of accepting payment, he’d asked for a ride to Redemption.
The fella had happily agreed. The bruises on Trevor’s knuckles and the grease under his nails testified to the work he’d completed.
Evidently, he could turn a wrench and get people moving again.
He just couldn’t figure out how to do the same for his own life.
So now what? If his subconscious knew why he was here, but the rest of him couldn’t reconstruct relevant facts, how was he supposed to start over when he already felt so exposed?
People in Redemption seemed to know who Trevor Kelly was.
He sure wished he did too.