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I nodded, trying to understand. But I couldn’t—no one could. “If you ever want to talk to me… I know we’re not really friends, but I’m here for you.” I pointed over my shoulder. “Just across the hall, actually.”

She gave me one of her half-smiles that barely pulled at her lips and didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought you said we were ‘kind of’ friends?” Her use of air quotes helped punctuate her point.

I laughed despite myself. “I’m kind of shocked you remember that.”

“My memories from before I was taken are what’s gone; everything after is perfectly clear,” she explained. “I also know that you’re perpetually late. That’s about it, though.” Her gaze grew concerned, and she looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers.

“What’s up?” I asked. She shook her head, but I didn’t let it go. I pushed off the doorway and took a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. Our shoulders were a breath away, our thighs only inches apart. The scent of cherries and vanilla wafted around me. “Talk to me, Goldie.”

She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “I wonder if I’m being stupid coming here without even knowing you. I should probably be more careful… after everything that happened.”

“You know it’s not your fault that you were taken, right?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t, because I don’t even remember it. Maybe it was my fault, but I just don’t know. And that’s the worst part: I can’t even trust my own mind because I have no memories to pull from. Down there, in that place, it didn’t matter. I just needed to get out. I just needed to survive. But now I’m here,” she looked around the room, “I’m back in the world, but I still feel like I’m in the dark.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

She raised a dark brow and looked at me. “Huh?”

“What do you want to know about me? What will make you feel better about your choice to be here?” I asked again. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Call me an open book.”

She searched my eyes for a moment. She must have seen that I was telling the truth, because a flicker of light flashed in her eyes. “Favorite color?”

“Orange.”

She scrunched her nose. “That’s, like, the worst color.”

I laughed. “I like it. What else?”

She pursed her lips as she thought. “Scariest day of your life?”

“The day River was dropped off at the office.”

She looked at me in shock. “What do you mean, dropped off at the office?”

I smiled as I recounted the story of when River’s mom had left my month-old son at the office without a second glance. It felt like a lifetime ago, but I could finally start looking back on that day fondly. We spent the next hour in that same spot, sitting on the edge of her bed as she asked me everything she could think of. She learned my favorite food, favorite band, my most embarrassing story, the very short baseball career I had in middle school, and even a few random facts about River.

“Why River?” she asked finally. She was fully relaxed now, the tension in her shoulders gone.

I shrugged. “I wish I could say there was a good reason, but really, there wasn’t. I liked the name, thought it was unique—kind of like mine—and called it a day.”

“Speaking of your name, why does everyone call you Lex, not your full name?”

“Oliver,” I began, but chose to explain his connection to me again in deference to her memory issues. “My older brother—he had always called me Lex. He was the one who referred me, so everyone at work called me Lex, too. It just kind of stuck.”

“Did I call you Lex?”

I shook my head. “You always called me Lexington. I think it was your way of scolding me at first, and then it just kind of stuck.”

She laughed lightly, and I was so grateful to hear it again. “Why didn’t I like you? I must have had a reason.”

My gut twisted, but I pushed it down and stood. I forced a laugh and turned to her. “Nope. This is my chance, boss, to get you to finally like me,” I teased. She seemed to enjoy the joking tone, and her eyes followed me as I made my way to the door. “I’m using your memory loss to my advantage. Operation: Get Goldie to Finally Tolerate Me has officially commenced.”

Her eyes scrunched at the corners, her smile even more noticeable now. “Well, I guess you have until all the memories come back to sway me. It’s a real race against the clock.”

“Should I be concerned about how unethical this is? I mean… I kind of kidnapped you, and you don’t know me, and what if I have ulterior motives?” I did my best to joke, but I couldn’t keep my very real fears from slipping through in my tone.

She shrugged. “Probably, but… well, I don’t know why, but I know you won’t hurt me.”