Page 58 of Your Love

“Please don’t treat me like that,” she bites. “I’m not a child, and I’m not going to break. Please tell me what he said.”

I blow out a breath. “He said it’s a shame you weren’t on the other side of the car. He made it sound like someone purposely hit that side of the car, and you were supposed to be there. I don’t know if it was a coincidence or if he had something to do with it, but I feel like it’s possible. That’s part of the reason I want to stay—to protect you.”

“I thought it might be something like that,” she says. “I’ll talk to Daddy, and we’ll have some people look into it. I doubt he had anything to do with it. He’s as spineless as he is worthless. This is just my sixth sense talking, but he probably saw us together and took the opportunity to be the douchebag he is.”

Kerri’s fire is one of the things I’ve always loved about her, and I’m happy to see it right now.

“I have plenty of protection here, Landry. I have Mama and Daddy and friends and uncles and cousins. It’s not your job to protect me.”

Out of anything she could have said, that might be the most painful because if she remembered who I am at all, she would know that my job is to protect her. At that moment, I know that I need to respect her wishes.

I could stay in town and try to watch her from afar, and the idea crosses my mind for a moment. But then I think it through, and if she finds out, it will only put a bigger wedge between us. I need to give her the time she asked for to figure this out. Having me here makes her feel weak. So if my being here is making it more difficult for her, I need to go home, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.

“I’ll go home,” I tell her, “but can I still call and write letters sometimes?”

Her eyes glint with unshed tears. “Of course,” she says. “I’m not much of a letter writer, though.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, me neither. That’s why we always ran our phone bill up when you were away at school.”

Kerri offers me a small smile. “Landry, I’m really sorry about all of this. I’m not the only one who’s been affected by this. I know how hard this has been on you, and I know deep down that you’re an amazing person.”

I can’t stand to hear the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech, so I stand and tell her the same thing I said months ago: “Nothing needs to be decided right now. I’ll go home, and you work on feeling better. We’ll just wait and see what happens.”

I won’t let her say the words that she’s breaking up with me, even though I know that’s what she’s trying to tell me. I can’t hear the words. It’s too final. It’s too hard.

Kerri follows me to the door, and I turn to give her one last look, not knowing the next time I’ll see her. She gazes up at me with those bright blue hopeful eyes that I’ve lost myself in so many times before. “Landry,” she croaks, “promise me we can stay friends?”

I lift my hand up and wrap my pinky around hers. It’s the first deliberate physical contact I’ve initiated since her accident. Her eyes go wide at first, but then they settle on our interlocked fingers. I squeeze lightly. “Pinky promise,” I whisper, and then release her hand and walk out the door.

Chapter 26

“Desperately Wanting”

Kerri - Age 19, 1989

Today is just like the last several Tuesdays. The sun rises slowly as I groggily wake up. With a sigh, I push myself out of bed and begin my morning routine—showering, getting dressed, and heading to physical therapy. At least I’m able to drive again, so that’s something. I’m nervous behind the wheel, but I feel more comfortable every day.

As I arrive at the clinic, the smell of disinfectant hits me, immediately reminding me of countless hours spent working hard, sweating, and complaining about the pain to Carlos, my therapist. But despite the discomfort, I understand the importance for the benefit of my recovery.

With school starting soon, I’ve been faced with a decision—whether to return to the university where I’d been studying before my injury or stay here and enroll at the local college. After much contemplation, I decided on the latter. The thought of going back to a place I don’t remember still makes me uneasy. It seems easier to start fresh in a new environment rather than trying to pick up where I left off.

I’m told the transfer to the local college should go smoothly. I have to fill out some paperwork and get my transcripts sent to my new school. I’ll need help with that since I don’t remember where my last school was. It seems that every time I take a step forward, I’m reminded that my brain is still broken.

Hopefully, I can move forward and not have to retake any classes, but it depends on how well I test when I get there. Since I don’t remember the material covered, it’s going to be a challenge, but the last thing I want to do is repeat my first year of college. I’m doing my best not to allow it to bring me down. My accident could’ve been a lot worse, and I’m aware of that. Paige is barely walking now. She had two broken bones in her right leg as well as a ruptured spleen, so her recovery has been much more difficult. She still remembers her boyfriend and best friends, though, so score one in Paige’s column, I guess.

I want so badly to remember Merrimack. I keep thinking that if I just will myself to remember, it will happen. Deep down, I know it’s a futile effort, and it doesn’t work like that—just like when I was little, and I was convinced that if I focused hard enough, I could move things with my mind. That never worked, either, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

My brain does seem to be trying to fix itself, at least a little bit. The memories of my first trip to the hospital and my relationship with Beau have become more clear. Of all the things that I want to remember, that’s the last one I’d ask for, but the doctors say it’s a good sign, nonetheless. That faceless person who was so horrible to me now has a face, and it’s one I’d very much like to donkey-kick.

It seems as though memories drift back to me in fragmented pieces. First, it was Beau’s unruly mop of hair, then the cold blue of his eyes, and finally, his insincere smile, which was a facade that hid his deep-seated spite and anger.

I sink onto my soft, cozy bed and pull my baby chicken stuffed animal close to my chest. With a sigh, I gaze up at the textured ceiling above me, its patterns swirling and twisting like thoughts in my mind. The memory of Beau lingers, and that’s a good thing, an important thing. I can’t avoid those memories and ultimately must accept that what transpired with him has shaped me into the person I am today. But so did Landry and my friends in Merrimack, and even as I try to focus on the good, the guilt for the way I treated Landry in the hospital washes over me in waves.

It doesn’t matter that everyone knows it wasn’t my fault; the pain I caused him must have been excruciating. To be mistaken for someone like Beau...it’s unbearable to think about. And then I asked him to leave. It seems that causing Landry pain is a skill I’ve become terribly efficient at, and the realization causes a sharp pang of self-loathing in my chest.

I let out a long, exaggerated sigh. At least Daddy has taken matters into his own hands and gone to the district attorney and other law enforcement officials in town, determined to get to the bottom of the accident. Thankfully, Beau’s father no longer works here, so we don’t have to deal with that potential roadblock.

Beau has disappeared since the day Landry threatened him, and no one has seen or heard from him since. Hopefully, he’s hiding and laying low like a scared cat at the dog pound. After witnessing the confrontation up close, it’d be wise for Beau to stay out of sight. He’s no match for Landry. Beau only picks on people who are smaller and weaker than himself. If he were melted down, he couldn’t be poured into a fight with Christian Landry.