Page 51 of Your Love

I let the name roll around in my mind, but it remains utterly unfamiliar to me. “Do you know him? Is he a nice person?” I inquire, hoping for any connection.

“We hadn’t met him until today,” Mama says. “But your grandparents can’t stop raving about him, and they say the two of you are inseparable. We have every reason to believe he’s a good person. But if you don’t feel comfortable seeing him again, we will tell him to go home,” she adds, her eyes filled with concern and love. “The most important thing is your recovery, and I’m sure he would agree with that.”

I turn to face the doctors, my palms sweaty and my heart racing. “What do you think?” I ask them, my voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. “Would it be better for my recovery if I see him and talk to him?”

“I believe it would,” Dr Sparks responds calmly. “Perhaps not today or even tomorrow, but when you’re ready, it would be beneficial to speak with him. He holds the key to unlocking the last year of your life, and confronting those memories may help you move forward.”

“Are Nana and Papa coming back?” I ask Mama.

“No,” she says with a heavy sigh. “They had to go back to the farm. Landry was helping out there, and once they finished their duties, he came here to visit.”

I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, trying to contain the anxious thoughts swirling in my head. “Can I call them before seeing him again?”

Mama smiles kindly at me. “Of course you can.”

“I just have so many questions...” I trail off, unable to form coherent sentences. “Maybe he can come back tomorrow?”

My head is too thick and confused for today, but I know deep down that I need to speak with Landry. If what the doctor said is true, he holds the key to unlocking my recent past.

Chapter 23

“Whatever It Takes”

Landry - Age 19, 1989

“I’m sorry about all of this, Landry,” Kerri’s dad says.

He called my hotel last night and asked to meet this morning before heading back to the hospital. When he called, I was sitting on the uncomfortable hotel bed, the cheap, itchy bedspread scratching the back of my legs. I didn’t care. All I could do was stare at the blank wall in front of me and wait for someone to tell me what was going on.

“I appreciate you calling me, Mr. Thatcher.” I sit back in my chair and blow out a breath.

“Please call me Charlie,” he replies with a warm smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners, just like Earl’s do. Their mannerisms are uncannily similar, from the way they tilt their heads when thinking to the slight lilt in their voices when they speak. These people exude an inherent genuineness that is hard to find nowadays. Kerri once described them as the “salt of the Earth,” and I can’t help but agree.

“So they said she’ll get her memory back soon?”

“Well, you know how doctors are,” Charlie responds with a small shrug. “They never want to commit to anything concrete. All we know is that it will happen eventually, but no one can say for sure when.” His eyes hold a hint of frustration, but he still attempts to sound optimistic.

“But she’s still scared of me?” I ask. I might as well rip my heart out of my chest at the thought.

“She’s scared of the jumbled-up memories of her mind.” He clarifies. When he asked me to join him for a cup of coffee, I knew he’d have some heavy things to tell me. I never could have anticipated we’d be dealing with this. I’m still trying to process the information, but I’m not a stranger to brain injuries after what happened to Paisley. I’m fucking tired of it.

“How’s her friend doing?” I ask.

“Looks like she’s going to recover as well,” he says, “although it’s going to be a longer process physically for her since she was on the side of the car that was hit.”

I hear his words, but I’m having a difficult time focusing. My gaze wanders over his shoulder, drawn to the colorful display of knick-knacks and mismatched coffee cups lining the shelves. The room is filled with a hazy warmth, almost like a dream. “It’s a peculiar coincidence, don’t you think?” I finally manage to respond, my voice just above a whisper.

Charlie regards me curiously. “What is?”

My hand grazes the rough stubble on my chin, a nervous habit I’ve developed recently. “Kerri was supposed to be on that side of the car. Have they found the driver of the other car?”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips as he shakes his head. His fingers tightly grip his steaming black coffee. He sets it down with a thud, the sound breaking the uneasy silence. “No,” he replies, his voice strained with worry. “I’ve thought about it, too, but right now, we have to focus all our energy on Kerri getting better.”

“Do you think she even wants to see me?” My heart sinks at the thought of causing her more pain and fear. I love her so much, and I can’t bear to be the source of her suffering again.

“She said she wants to speak with you today,” he says, his voice gentle and full of concern. “My daughter has always been fiercely protective of those she cares about. She can’t stand to see anyone in pain, especially when she feels responsible for it. She wants to talk to you, even if she doesn’t fully understand the situation.” He takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “But I’m not going to blow smoke up your ass—this is going to be difficult for you.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips despite my heavy heart. “No need for any ass smoke, Sir,” I reply. “Honestly, my feelings don’t matter right now. All that matters is how Kerri is doing. That’s all I care about.”