Will her voice be the same as I remember?
Our day with the dolphins wasn’t a dream at all. It’s a memory. A real one. It happened. If I can remember our kiss in the ocean, her taste of salt and honey, I might be able to remember more.
More of Dr. Paulson’s words come back to me, and I remember another one of our conversations.
“Memories don’t usually come back because youtryto remember them. They come back when your brain feels safe enough.”
“I’ve been reading about shocking the brain,” I said, leaning forward. “If that’s what it takes to get my memories back, I’ll do it, Doc. Wire me up.”
He shook his head slowly, concern etched on his face. “That’s not how it works, Elliot. It’s a myth that shock will ‘reset’ the brain. In reality, it almost never works that way.”
Then he leaned forward. “When memories return suddenly, it’s usually because the brain reaches a tipping point. After a steady stream of emotional and physical triggers, things can settle back into place. And recall happens. Not because it was forced.”
He’d paused.
“Or?”
“Or when something deep inside bypasses conscious control,” he said carefully.
“You mean if my mind snaps.”
He didn’t correct me.
“We don’t understand everything,” he said.
When I look back down at Crystal, my pulse quickens. This is just the beginning. You’re my future. I pick up her hand and hold it tightly.
CHAPTER 12
The Widow
I force my eyes open.
Ouch. It feels like I’ve run a thousand miles, and my head is killing me. My tongue is thick, my throat dry. Slowly, I turn toward the nightstand. A white ceramic lamp sits there, casting soft light across the dark room. Beside it, a long-stemmed pink rose. I can smell its faint sweetness.
Where am I? I recognize this room, but it isn’t my bed. Or is it? Then I remember.
This is Nathan’s cottage.
All these dreams about Nathan are making me go crazy. He’s occupying my thoughts as if I’d just lost him yesterday.
Someone’s holding my hand.
I flick my gaze to the person who’s sitting beside the bed.
My breath freezes in my throat, and my heart slams against my ribs once, then stops.
Nathan?
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the sudden tilt of the room as my vision blurs. My stomach rolls, and I force myself to inhale slowly through my nose, trying to fight down the wave of nausea flooding over me.
He can’t be real.
But I can still feel his hand.
Afraid I’m seeing things, I force my eyes open. He’s staring down at me, his grip on my hand tightening.
Wake up, Crystal. Please wake up.I plead with myself.
