“You ready?”
“Yeah.”
My fingers tighten around the handle, and I step out of the car, tilting my face up to the sun, letting its late spring warmth seep into my skin.
God, it feels good to be outside. To be free of that sterile white hospital room. My family visited constantly—my brothers, their wives, my sister-in-law’s, Lydia, even Lydia’s father, the town’s preacher. But at night, it was lonely. Quiet. And sometimes, I swore I wasn’t alone despite seeing no one. I swore I felt someone sitting beside me in the dark. Like the warmth of a presence never fully left my side.
Maybe that’s just how it feels when you have a brush with death.
I shake off the thought, adjusting my shorts—a simple white cotton pair with a tight, red cropped top that Molly brought from the house so I wouldn’t have to leave the hospital in a gown. My freshly washed hair falls down my back, the loose waves brushing against my skin. I feel good. Healthy. No physical impairments, my PT had said. A miracle, really for how badly my car was crushed. And while my short-term memories are still missing, the doctor said there’s still a chance they could return.
I step up onto the porch, placing my hand on the familiar wooden railing, and exhale. Then, finally, I push open the screen door. A clean, citrusy scent greets me immediately along with the unmistakable smell of Clorox on every surface, like someone was just here wiping things down. The wood floors gleam, the furniture is pristine, the air carries the faintest trace of fresh linen and the set-up. Whoa. This isn’t how it looked when Mrs. Mayberry lived here.
“Wow...”
Molly steps behind me and squeezes my shoulder. “You decorated it when you first moved in. Colt helped you rip out the carpeting to get down to the original hardwood, and he and Cash moved in your furniture. I think Hayes has made a few additional updates this past week.”
I nod because it looks like me. This makes sense. It certainly doesn’t look like a guy lives here. A guy I don’t even know. That thought has me spiraling for a second, my stomach twisting as I scan the space again, searching for something that might jog my memory of living with Hayes for weeks.
“I…” I walk toward the kitchen, my fingers skimming over the counter, my eyes flicking to the appliances I don’t recognize, the food in the fridge I don’t remember putting there. It’s like stepping into someone else’s life despite the home being familiar. “Where is my bedroom?”
“Second door upstairs on the right.”
I head up the steps, hoping that maybe walking into the place where I used to dream might trigger something but when I hit the landing, my steps slow as my eyes catch on the open doorway to what is clearly the master bedroom and not mine. I hesitate, curiosity pulling me in. The bed is neatly made, a navy-blue comforter with subtle stripes stretched tight. White dressers, a few framed pictures clutter the wall. My pulse kicks up as I step forward cautiously, half-expecting Hayes to appear out of nowhere.
God, what was he thinking marrying me for this property? Did we really do this just as a matter of convenience? He hadn’t seemed like the type to settle down from what I remember seven years ago. Why is he even in my town?
The thought sends me spiraling, and I grip the doorframe to steady myself before turning and heading straight for my room. But I stop short when something catches my eye in the corner of his room: a cowboy hat. One that looks way too familiar.
I step toward it slowly, where it’s resting on top of a dress. My breath catches as I brace myself, then flip it over. There it is.His name, phone number, and a date I’ll never forget written in faded felt-tip marker. The day we met, seven years ago.
God… he kept it?
I set it down like it’s burning and back away, then rush down the hall. When I step inside my room, I pause. It looks… almost untouched. Simple. Lived in, but not in the way I expected. I move through it slowly, trailing my fingers over the furniture, opening drawers only to find nothing new. All my things, everything familiar, just… here. Like I’d never changed. Like I’d never become someone who could agree to this arrangement in the first place.
I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I don’t find it in here and I have a strong feeling that’s because what I’m searching for is out there.
Sighing, I head downstairs, back to the kitchen where Rae, Lydia, and Molly are all seated, watching me with worried eyes. I barely make it to the counter before I huff.
“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Are you… okay?” Molly asks, and something inside me snaps.
“Can everyone please stop asking me if I’m okay?” The words burst out before I can stop them, my voice sharp, my hands flying up in frustration before I drag them down my face, exhaling hard.?
I know they mean well. I do. But every time they ask, it feels like a reminder that maybe I shouldn’t be as okay as I am right now. Like I should be unraveling. And I’m just... not.?
At least, I don’t think I am.
I press my fingers to my temples and sigh. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Molly says gently. “We just… we get it. We just don’t know if you want us to stay here tonight. We brought our bags. We can do a girls’ night and watch movies…”
“Why would I need you to stay?”
Lydia steps forward this time. “Well, because you’re living with a guy you don’t know... who you also happened to be married to.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. I’m having dinner with Declan in a few hours. Then I’ll come home and go to sleep. I remember Hayes.”From seven years ago. Not now.“It’s not like he’s a serial killer.”
