“I won’t.”
She must’ve eventually fallen asleep because when his voice reached out to her the next time, it took effort to pull herself to consciousness.
“Remy?”
“Yes?”
“Stay.”
“I will.”
ChapterThree
Beep beep beep. The sound blasted through Jonah’s sleep. “What,” he rasped, “is that terrible noise?”
Remy jerked to a sitting position on her makeshift bed. “It’s my phone alarm. I set daily alarms to keep myself on schedule.” She crawled around, patting things, clearly searching for her phone.
He pressed pillows against his ears. The alarm grew louder and louder.
Finally, she shut it off and held the phone high. “Found it.”
He screwed his eyes closed and willed himself to go to sleep and wake up in the place where he actually belonged, fit and healthy. What was that old movie with the girl in the curly pigtails?The Wizard of Oz. And what was it she’d say?There’s no place like home. She’d had that right.
If he could rememberThe Wizard of Oz, could he remember his name? Who he was?
He thought hard, but no. He still couldn’t take hold of his identity. Worse, trying to do so made his head throb.
“How are you feeling today?” Remy asked.
“Like roadkill.”
“Good morning to you, too.” She opened the curtains, then left the room. Soon after, he heard her banging around in the kitchen.
Rain pattered against the window. The trees were still shaking and bending the way they had yesterday.
Gloom pressed down on him, making his chest hurt even worse than it already did. He had to find a way to cope with his situation until he could go home.
He staggered across the hall to use the bathroom. After washing his hands, he gripped the sides of the sink and confronted his face in the mirror.
Though he couldn’t recall his history, looking at himself wasn’t like looking at the face of someone he didn’t know. It was like looking at his own face.
His hair was a mess—coarse from the ocean. His features were drained and exhausted beneath the dark gold stubble on his cheeks. If he had to guess, he’d say he usually shaved and didn’t often let stubble grow.
His vision lowered to his bare torso. He didn’t know what he’d been through, but he did know it had been serious. Vicious bruises marked his ribs and his head wound ached.
He glanced to the side, taking in the small space. One of the bathroom’s shiplap walls wore a coat of fresh gray paint but the other three were semi-covered in peeling white paint. The pedestal sink, clawfoot tub, and rusty curtain rod ring above the tub looked ancient. The light fixture was more recent, but only half its light bulbs worked. A packaged toothbrush waited for him in a cup.
He cleaned up as much as possible. With the help of the doorframe, he started the journey back to the bedroom. He was so weak his head started to spin. The remaining distance seemed to be growing longer, like a special effect in a movie.
“Going on an excursion?” Remy asked, hurrying toward him down the hallway. She wore a denim shirt, cargo pants, and scuffed lace-up boots. Her braided hair rested forward over her shoulder. She took hold of his arm, offering support.
“I don’t need help.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The headboard in her room was wood, the sheets and comforter white, the floors hardwood, the rug jute.
As he was returning to the reclining position he needed but was already coming to hate, he noticed something he hadn’t before. His watch and ring rested on a saucer on the bedside table. Strange. He didn’t remember taking them off.
