She laughs. “Okay, if you’re sure. I usually have nothing to talk about.”

“You can just say hi, tell me about your day, tell me about the book you’re reading. As long as you’re talking to me, I’m happy. For years I listened to old voice messages you left me, just so I could hear you.”

I don’t tell her that I still do.

“I’m sorry, Asher. I forget sometimes that there’s more to…this for you.”

Annnnd there’s the wrecking ball.

Closing my eyes, I run my fingers across my forehead, at a loss for what the hell I’m supposed to say or feel in reply to that.

“It’s okay,” I finally say.

An awkward silence blooms between us, and I wait for her to blurt out a quick goodbye like she usually does.

“It’s not.” Her voice is soft and sad. “It’s not okay, and I know that. I can tell when you’re hurt, and it makes me feel bad. That’s why I avoid you.”

“Ember…” Emotion wells up into a ball in my chest. She rarely talks about how she feels, and never about me. “I don’t want you to feel bad. None of this is your fault. Not one bit of it.”

“It feels like it, though. I keep hurting you because I’m not Ember anymore. I don’t do or say the right things. I don’t have the right feelings.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong. The situation just sucks. Let’s just call it like it is. We’re in a fucked-up place.”

“Yeah…we are.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re going to stay in this place. You are Ember. I know you don’t feel like you are. But look what happened tonight—a memory came back. That’s a sign, babe.”

“It was just a song. I don’t remember anything more—”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s a start. And it’s so much more than you know, Em. I can’t say anymore because your brain has to do it on its own, but please just trust me. Your memories are there.”

She sniffles. “Do you think so?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Please don’t avoid me. If you say or do something that hurts me, I’ll deal with it. It’s better than not having you in my life.”

“Is it? I don’t want to hurt anybody. Katherine. Kenzi. Especially you. You’ve been so nice to me. You’re a sweet guy, and you don’t deserve this.”

I swear if she tells me to let go, I’m going to lose my shit. I put up with hearing it from everyone else, but I can’t take it coming from her.

“Sometimes things have to hurt before they get better,” I say. “This isn’t fun for you, either. I’m sure some of the things I say hurt you, even though I don’t want them to.”

“It’s not the same. I can feel that you love me. And I just…”

She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. My heart heard it. She just doesn’t love me.

Never did I think I’d be on the wrong side of unrequited love.

I cough into my hand and muster my voice back. “We’ll work through it together. You made my fucking night tonight. You finally called me. We shared a memory together. We’re talking about real stuff. It’s all good.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “I wish I didn’t feel so…out of place all the time. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know what I should be doing or feeling or saying.”

“Just do whatever you want. Say what you want, let yourself feel what you want. That’s all that matters—that you find you. But promise me you won’t avoid me anymore. How you gonna fall in love with me all over again if you stay away from me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“For you to fall in love with me? Hell yeah. That’s all I fuckin’ want.”

Her shy, nervous laughter floats through the phone. “You don’t hold back, do you?”

“Nope.”

“But…you’d have to fall in love with me too. Not the me I used to be…because she might be gone. The me I am now and the me I might be someday. You might not even like that me.”

“You’re right,” I admit as I shove a gummy bear in my mouth. “This is a two-way street we’re both lost on. I guess it’s kinda like we just met.”

“That’s how it feels for me, and I think I need you to start there too. Can you do that? Pretend we’re new?”

“For you? Of course I will.”

That was my first lie.

To her and to myself.

Chapter Eighteen

I’m getting better.

Everyone keeps telling me I am—the doctors, therapists, nurses, Kenzi, and Asher’s mom, Aria. They’ve all been saying it for weeks. In fact, the doctor has used the words “amazing” and “remarkable” several times.

Most days I do feel better. I wouldn’t say I feel amazing or remarkable, but I feel like I’m making progress.

I’m strong enough to walk with a walker now, and I can take a shower using the stool. I can dress myself if there aren’t lots of buttons, because my shaky fingers still don’t do well with those. If I’m really patient, I can put makeup on, as long as I don’t attempt the winged eyeliner look again. That was scary.