I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And every day after for the rest of our lives.
Yours forever,
Trev
Chapter Sixteen
Trevor
Icarefully fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. It’s evident she’s read it a lot. Based on the creases in the tattered pages, probably hundreds of times.
I hand it back to her. “Did I give this to you, or did you find it in my sock drawer?”
“You gave it to me the very next day.”
“How old did you say we were?”
“Sixteen.”
“Pretty bold words for a sixteen-year-old kid.”
She holds the letter to her chest. “You’ve always spoken your heart. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
I cock my head. “What else?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What else do I love about you? I thought you didn’t want to do this. Baby steps and all.”
“One thing.” I hold up a finger, now curious after reading the letter and having that proof of my feelings.
“Okay.” She works her bottom lip with her teeth. “I love the way you’ve always taken care of me. Especially right after my mom died.”
“Your mom died?”
She nods. “She died when I was twenty-two. She raised me by herself. I never knew my father and didn’t have any other close family. You made me feel like I’d never be alone. Your parents became my parents. You were my family, even before we married.”
“How did she die?”
“Cardiomyopathy. It’s the reason you wanted to become a cardiothoracic surgeon.”
“Dang, really?”
“You’d graduated college and were working as a paramedic to save up money to get your masters degree in business when it happened. It’s when you decided you wanted to go to med school instead.” She pulls her coat tightly around her, as if adding a layer of protection between us. “Trevor, if you never get your memory back, do you think you’ll still want to be a doctor?”
I snort out an incredulous laugh. “One thing at a time. I’m still counting on this only being a temporary condition, Ava.”
She looks relieved. “I hope so. Because I’m not sure I could take it if… if…”
Her words trail off, and I can only imagine what she wanted to say. If I can’t remember us? If I can’t remember her? If I can’t love her anymore?
The sheer pressure I’m feeling when I’m around her has me standing. Even though we’re outside, I feel like I need air. “It’s getting colder,” I say as an excuse.
She stands and grips the box of letters. “I guess we should go. Do you want to see our apartment and the coffee house?”
Honestly, I don’t know what I want to do. None of that feels like baby steps to me, just more information that might cause my head to implode. But it’s what I’m expected to do. What the doctors said I should do. So I suck it up, nod vacantly, pick up the blanket, then follow her.
It doesn’t take long to reach civilization. The tree was in a clearing probably a quarter mile from the park where Carter dropped me off. As we walk through the park, she asks, “Um, do you want me to tell you stuff about Calloway Creek as we’re walking, or would that be too much?”
Contemplating which is worse—hearing about the town or walking in complete silence—I choose the town. Besides, I’m starting to really like the warm, soothing tone of her voice.
