“You might not have a choice,” she said quietly.

I whipped around, and the next words came from a place hidden deep inside me. “What would your friends think, Mom? Having a daughter who needs to see a therapist?”

Mom blanched. “The same thing they thought when my daughter got drunk and drove her brand-new car into a tree. Or when my daughter was in those pictures for everyone to see! Or when—”

“Wait. What pictures?”

She gave me a pointed look, one that said she wouldn’t disgrace herself by repeating what those pictures were.

“What pictures?” I screamed.

Mom didn’t answer.

The moment we stepped inside the house, she went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured herself bourbon. She downed it in one gulp and then poured another. “Honey, I want you to get better. Not because of what my friends think, but because you are my daughter. Seeing a therapist isn’t—”

“No,” I cut her off. “I’m not going to a therapist.”

She looked away, taking a healthy drink of the bourbon. I left the room, having nothing else to say.

I spent a couple of hours in my bedroom, pacing back and forth. Every so often, I stopped and looked at the music box and then at Cassie’s picture. When I heard the garage door open, I panicked. I didn’t want to be in the same house with the woman I was driving to drink and the brother who surely thought I was crazy. Slipping out the back door, I started walking beyond the pool and the little bungalow surrounded by trees. A man was working on them, carrying thick branches to the back of a pickup truck. Sweat glistened off his dark skin.

He didn’t even look up. I was invisible to him, and I liked that.

Moving toward the end of the property, I climbed over a stone wall surrounding the yard. There was a path carved through the grass and rocky soil, splitting between trees. Up ahead was a tree house built into a large maple.

I stopped under it, wondering if my subconscious had led me here. There had to be a reason why I found this.

There wasn’t anything special about the tree house. It was more like a hut in a tree, with an open side that allowed you to look out over the grounds. It took several tries to get into the main part. From there, I crawled through a small opening and into a space big enough for me to lie down in but not stand. I seriously hoped the wood wasn’t rotten.

A cool breeze picked up a few strands of my hair, tossing them across my face. I shivered and hunkered down in my sweater.

I’m not crazy.

Didn’t Mrs. Messer say that the memories could come back in the form of disjointed images? Images that screamed at me—that bled? A horrible thought struck me. What if the image of Cassie bleeding had been a recollection of something I saw that night? But why would she yell those things at me? There was no answer to that, because I didn’t know what my life was like before Wednesday. And then there were the two notes. The last one talked about blood…and then I saw a bleeding Cassie? I knew the notes weren’t imaginary. Scott had read one. Someone had to be placing them there. To scare me? To warn me?

What pictures?

Surrounded by birds chirping and the dragging swoosh of bare branches rubbing together, I realized another terrible thing. Missing best friend or not, I didn’t want any part of my old life back. I didn’t want to remember the terrible things I’d said and done, but I suppose it didn’t matter. Even if I couldn’t remember who I was, everyone else would never forget. No matter how badly I wanted to ignore the person I used to be, I couldn’t escape a past I didn’t remember.

I must’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t realize someone had joined me in the little tree hut until I heard the wood creak and groan behind me.

My heart jumped in my throat, then skipped a beat when I turned and saw him sit down beside me. “Carson?”

“You know, you could’ve picked a more comfortable place to hang out. I doubt this place is entirely safe.”

Several moments passed before I could find the ability to say something other than his name. “I didn’t mean to be up here so long.”

“I figured as much.” He tilted his head toward me, eyes shadowed.

I scrubbed my eyes, fighting a yawn. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine thirty.” Carson paused. “Everyone is looking for you. Your parents—Scott and Del. They’re combing the whole town.”

“And you found me?”

Carson laughed. The sound was nice, deep, and warming. I had this impression that I didn’t get to hear him laugh a lot. “I know. It’s a shocker, huh? I was kind of surprised you were in the tree house. No one would have thought to check here. And it was really a last-ditch effort on my part.”

Warmth crept through me as I stared at his half-shadowed face. Our gazes locked, and the heady rush of heat spread lower. “Why were you looking for me? You don’t even…”

“Like you?” he supplied, grinning.

“You hate me.”

His brows shot up. “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. You were…just really hard to like sometimes.” He turned back to the night sky, letting out a soft breath. “Why did you come here? Did you remember this place?”

I twisted my chilled fingers together, pleased that at least he never hated me. It was probably the best news I’d heard all day. “I don’t know. I don’t remember it, but I ended up here anyway.”

“The three of us used to play here when we were little,” he explained. “And when you would get in trouble for not going to piano class or dance class, you’d hide here. I bet you haven’t stepped foot in this tree house since you were eleven, though.”

Piano and dance classes? That explained the music box, but that wasn’t what was important. I thought about the coffee trip this morning. “You know a lot about me.”

“We grew up together.” He was quiet for a moment. “You spent a lot of time here. Scott used to dangle you off the ledge.”

I laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

Carson nudged me with his arm. “You loved it. You had this thing about flying. Once you actually jumped out of this thing. Your brother broke your fall. And he broke his arm.”

My lips kept spreading as I stretched out my legs, wiggling my toes in my sneakers. “Was he mad at me?”

“No.” Carson laughed. “He was scared to death you were going to break your neck. Don’t even get me started on the things you used to do on top of the pool shed. Like I said, you had this thing with flying and a daredevil streak. You still kind of do, actually. Scott was telling me a few weeks ago you went bungee jumping, and apparently Del almost pissed himself.”

Instead of laughing, I felt something heavy pressed down on my chest. I turned away. The sky was dark, full of clouds. No stars, and just a glimpse of the moon.

Carson sat up, his shoulder resting against my back. “What is it?”

I glanced over my shoulder, finding our faces inches apart. A sudden wild curiosity consumed me. I wanted to know if his lips felt as soft as they looked. I bet they were firm, sensual. Dispelling the desire, I lowered my gaze. Not hating me didn’t equal wanting to make out with me. “I asked Del what I was like.”

“And?” His breath was warm, tantalizing on my cheek.

“And all he could tell me was that I liked to shop and party.” I sighed. “But after ten minutes with you, now I know I was sort of an adrenaline junkie. That’s better than being the party girl, right?”

He leaned back, putting some distance between us. “You’re more than a party girl, Sam. You’re smart—incredibly smart. I’d be failing bio if you weren’t my partner. And I can’t fail if I want that scholarship, but anyway, you’re also strong. I mean, come on, how many people who have a complete loss of memory would jump right back into their life? You’re tenacious.”

I flushed. “Tenacious?”

“Yeah, it’s my word of the day.”

Twisting around, I grinned at him. “Your scholarship? Where do you want to go?”

“Penn State,” he responded. “If I can keep my grades up, I’ll get a full ride.”

“That’s awesome.”

Carson stared at me, then laughed and shook his head. “You’re planning on going to Yale. That’s pretty awesome.”

My grin faded. “What if I don’t want to go to Yale now?”

He laughed again. “Your parents would freak out, Sam. And seriously, that’s an opportunity you shouldn’t just give up because things…are different now.”

I tucked my feet under me and sat back. He had a point, but I wondered if Yale was ever my dream or more of my parents’ heritage. “Do you still come to the tree house?”

“Yeah, it’s a good place to get away and think.”

“Maybe that’s why I came here.” I shrugged.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said. When I lifted my eyes, he was close again. I nodded, and he reached out, catching a piece of my hair the wind had blown across my face and tucking it back behind my ear. His hand lingered for maybe a second, but I felt it in every cell of my body. “What happened at lunch?”

Spell broken, I moved to the edge of the observation deck. “Nothing.”

Carson scooted forward, giving me no place to go. “Something happened.”

There was no way I was going to tell him what I’d seen. Having my mom think I was crazy was one thing, but a boy this incredibly hot? Yeah, not going to happen. I shook my head. “Nothing happened. I was…tired.”

He looked doubtful. “I’m just trying to help, Sam.”

I started to tell him that I didn’t need his help, but then I had an idea. And once it took hold, it wouldn’t let me go. “You really want to help me?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Do you know where Cassie lives?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Why?”

“I think seeing her stuff might help me remember.” It was a long shot, but it was something. “Can you take me there?”

Carson stared at me for a long moment and then nodded. “I can do it. Next Saturday, if you can wait that long? I have practice almost every day until then.”

I didn’t want to wait that long, but I also didn’t want to ask anyone else. “I can wait.”

Mom and Dad read me the riot act when I returned to the house, and I did feel bad. Considering that I was gone for four days, the last thing I should’ve done was to disappear without any warning. I apologized and meant it.

Dad looked so surprised I was worried he was going to have a heart attack.

There were several missed calls and texts from my friends and Del. I sent a mass text, telling them that I was okay. When Del responded with a phone call, I felt terrible for vanishing. The concern that tainted his voice pulled at my heart.

“I want to come over,” he said, and I could hear a door shutting behind him. “I have to see you.”

I dropped down on the edge of my bed, staring at the music box. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. My parents are pissed.”

A heavy sigh came through the phone. “But your parents love me.”

“I’m not sure they love me right now.” I chewed on my lip. “Can you come over tomorrow after school?”

“Yeah, of course.” There was a pause, and then the sound of a can popping open. “What happened today at lunch? Veronica said you were acting really weird, and then you got up and sat with your brother. A few minutes later, you just ran out of there without saying anything.”

“I was just tired.” I flopped onto my back. The stars were glowing. “Do my friends hate me now?”

“No.” Del laughed. “Don’t be stupid, Sammy. They know you’re going through a lot.”

Don’t be stupid? I frowned.

“And you’ll be back to your old self in no time. They understand,” he said. Another door shut. “Look, I’ve got to get off here. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

“Hey, wait a sec.” I sat up and swung my legs off the bed. “Mom said something today about pictures of me. Do you know what she was talking about?”

He was quiet so long I thought he’d hung up. “Who knows? You probably weren’t wearing any makeup or something. You know your mom.”

Not really, but it sounded like her. I let him go after that, and even though it was late, I opened my laptop and tried again to access my e-mail. There had to be personal stuff in there. Something that could help me remember. Mrs. Messer said there’d be triggers.

I needed a trigger.

But I couldn’t answer the damn personal-verification question. Who is your childhood friend? I’d already typed Cassie. Didn’t work. Veronica. Nope. Lauren. No chance. I then tried Julie and still couldn’t get in. Frustrated, I got up and went to my brother’s bedroom door. I knocked on the door.

Bedsprings creaked, followed by the sound of clothing being hastily dragged on. Oh no…I started to step back from the door, but it swung open.

Scott was pulling his shirt down his flat stomach. Over his shoulder, Julie sat on his bed with a book in her lap. The book was upside down, and I grinned. He cleared his throat, cheeks flushed. “Are you okay, Sam?”

“Uh, yeah.” I averted my gaze to the poster of the Phillies above his bed. “I was wondering if you can answer a question for me.”

Julie looked up, a curious expression on her pretty face. I smiled at her, and she responded with a tentative smile.