“Good. Thanks, Jas. For everything. Thank Emi for watching Belle too.”
“You’re my brother, AJ. It don’t matter how much of an ass you were. Or how long we went without talkin’. There wasn’t a damn thing in this world that would’ve kept me from helping you and Grace. I’ll see you at noon.”
We hang up, and I stare at the wall for a full minute. One of our “official” wedding photos hangs right in front of me. Grace and I are hand in hand at the edge of the water on Galveston Island. She laughs as I press a kiss to her neck. Will she ever remember it like I do? Or will this forever be nothing more than a photograph to her?
As I trudge back into the bedroom, Grace sets the coffee mug on the nightstand and reaches for the walker.
I almost call out for her to wait—to let me help her—but then Belle whines.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I can do this,” she says, her voice stronger than it was yesterday. “But…stay close. Okay? Just in case.”
Backing away slowly, I head for the kitchen. Time to see what Grace wants for breakfast.
Grace
The closet smells like cedar and dust and something soft—AJ’s aftershave? It’s definitely his. I want to remember it so badly, it aches.
I lean on the walker, fingers curled around the grips, with Belle at my side. She steadies me when I sway, her big body so solid, she won’t let me fall.
The clothes are hung neatly, each shelf perfectly organized. The left side is clearly AJ’s. A dozen pairs of Wranglers, pressed dress shirts, jackets, Henleys. Even a black tux.
The other side is mine.
Apparently, I like color. Dresses, soft sweaters, a leather jacket with a rip in one of the cuffs. My hangers hold jeans, blouses, and skirts in deep jewel tones and soft pastels.
The shoes on the rack don’t feel like mine. But, I have no idea what my shoes should feel like any more than the clothes they sit under.
I lift my left hand to trail over the various fabrics and my fingers don’t feel like mine either. Then again, half the time they won’t do what I want, so I guess that’s…normal.
A green sundress is silky soft. A pair of well-worn jeans would be perfect for dinner and a movie. I recognize a red sweater from one of the photos AJ showed me.
There’s something… A flicker. A flash of purple. Laughter. Mine? I think so. AJ’s voice—deep, amused, almost…teasing.
“Grace, you can’t possibly wear that to the store?—”
“I’m buying fifteen sets of watercolors. They’ll expect me to be covered in paint.”
I close my eyes, trying to chase down the memory. But it’s just out of reach. Like a phantom made of nothing but smoke.
“Grace?” AJ’s voice echoes through the hall. I’m about to answer, when I see it.
At the very back of the closet, hangs a plain, white dress. Long sleeves. A high neck. No adornments. Cotton. A little wrinkled. Almost…forgotten.
I try to tear my gaze away. For half a second, I do. On the shelf above it, there’s a toy light saber.
It’s only a Halloween costume.
But I can’t breathe.
The walls close in on me. My chest constricts, a single wheeze all I can manage before my throat locks up completely. I clutch the walker, but the room tilts, sliding sideways off a cliff where no one will ever find me again.
Belle starts to whine, but it’s far away now. Miles and miles and years from home.
A harsh, lemony scent punches through my memories. Plain wooden walls. White tile. A hand around my throat.
“Grace? Fuck. Grace!” Strong arms catch me as the gaping maw of all the things I can’t—or don’t want to—remember is about to swallow me whole. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s me. It’s AJ.”
I’m frozen, but his chest at my back is warm. My entire body shakes, yet his voice is calm.
