Wesley turned to him. “I’m much better. Thank you,” he said.
“I'll leave you to rest now.” Dr. Smith collected his things, and everyone murmured their well wishes that Wesley had been freed from his prison. The helmet was left on the table and abruptly they were alone.
Willa began to weep. No sobs, no theatrics, just a steady flow of tears trickled down her face.
Wesley slumped forward or perhaps he intended to stand. Willa went to him and knelt in front of him. His glossy stare focused on her.
He cupped her cheek. “Am I hideous?”
A laugh burst from her.
“Is that why you are crying?”
She pressed her forehead to his knee, hysterical giggles racking her body. His hand brushed over her hair until it was falling around her shoulders. Willa drew in her breath, so shaken that she trembled all over. She felt like she was vibrating like a leaf, rattled and fragile, on the verge of being blown away. She met his gaze.
Eyes so achingly familiar stared back at her. Warm brown, flecks of amber and coffee, creating a kaleidoscope of color.
He took a deep breath. “Are you frightened of me? Is it that bad?” he asked.
Willa came up on her knees and brushed his jaw with her knuckles. “I was so surprised. I’m sorry if you thought that…” More tears rushed her lashes. She tried to wipe them with her sleeve.
“What is it? Whose name did you give me? You called me Wesley,” he said. His brow furrowed and then he winced and touched the bandage.
“We should've washed your hair before he bandaged you,” Willa said. She didn’t know how to answer his questions. How could she explain to him that all this time she could have told him everything he wanted to know about himself?
He nodded. “I feel so much lighter now, but dirty.”
Willa took a deep breath. She had to tell him. He’d been so lost for days now. Frustrated. They both worried so much about what the future might hold. And all along, she'd known who'd she'd been sharing a room with. Sharing a bed, sharing intimacies… Heat flooded her cheeks.
“Wesley,” she said again.
He refocused on her. “That name…”
“Does it sound familiar to you?”
“No. Why?”
“Because it's yours. I know you—have known you for two years.”
His eyes widened with shock. “What?”
“We've been friends for two years.”
He frowned again. “How can that be?”
She shook her head. “I don't know. What a strange twist of fate that you should be…”
The man I fell in love with.
She had so many questions, but he couldn't answer them. He had no memory beyond the meadow. Would telling him help fill the gaps? But it wouldn't help anything between them. She’d fallen in love with a man with no identity, and yet all along he’d been one of her dearest friends.
She closed her eyes and swallowed. The world spun around her faster than she could comprehend. But Wesley was there to hold her steady.
He took hold of her shoulders. “Willa,” he said. “I don't understand. We know each other?”
“Yes.”
“Who am I?”
