“You seriously don’t have any of your memories?” Just the notion is a little too far-fetched for me to wrap my head around.
“None,” he says, but he isn’t frowning when he answers.
“Not a single one?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head for emphasis.
“You don’t remember tripping her at prom last year?”
He swallows, looking down at Piper before answering, “No, I don’t.”
“It’s in the past,” Piper says when I open my mouth again.
“He ripped the dress you worked so hard for. The entire class laughed at you. They put a picture of you on the floor crying in the yearbook,” I remind her, like she could ever forget such an awful night.
“Piper?” He looks down at her, and my mouth snaps shut before I can serve up another memory because the guy looks genuinely crestfallen. It hurts him that he hurt her.
Like I’m not even there, she turns in his lap so she can face him fully. “In. The. Past.”
“But—” She presses her fingers to his lips.
“Leave it there,” she tells him before moving her fingers to his cheek and kissing his lips. “We’re moving forward, remember?”
He nods, but it’s clear he isn’t happy with the person he used to be. Maybe he has changed. Maybe she has forgiven him for all the ways he used to torture her. Is it my place to judge him, to still keep him at arm’s length because of what happened in the past? If she’s letting it go, then I need to do the same because it doesn’t seem either one of us are going anywhere anytime soon.
“What happens if you get your—”
The shrill alarm on his phone interrupts my next question.
“Already?” Piper whines.
“Sorry, babe.”
Babe? Gross.
He kisses her, chastely at first, but after a couple of seconds, I’m left wondering if I should excuse myself and let them have some time alone. My fingernails become very interesting for the next minute or so.
“See you later, Frankie.”
My eyes follow Dalton out of the bedroom, and I don’t speak until the sound of the front door closing makes its way up the stairs.
“Did he just call me Frankie?”
“Yep. I tried to tell you he isn’t the same guy.”
Dalton, as well as all the jerks at school have always called me Frank, seeing as I’m small and don’t resemble a woman at all. It’s given me all sorts of body complexes.
“What if he gets his memories back and realizes he likes being that mean guy again?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“You know it’s possible though, right?”
“I know, but I guess I just hope that he never gets them back, but if he does? He’s been honest about how he feels and he doesn’t want to lose me.”
“You love him.” It’s not a question. Anyone who spent time with them could see it from a mile away.
“And he loves me,” she adds. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know I’m not being played. I know he’s being honest with me every day.”
“I can see it,” I begrudgingly confess. “Why did he have to leave?”
I’m not upset he’s gone. He’s had her undivided attention all summer long, and it’s about time I got some alone time with my bestie.
“Well,” Piper looks to the open door, “my parents aren’t very happy with him.”
“Because of the wreck?”
“That and when I went to the hospital the second time, they went through my things.”
“Oh, God. They read your journals?” Piper is devoted to her journals. She writes in them constantly. I do the same, but just not to the level that she does. I usually save my journaling for when I’m stressed or upset. I see myself spending quite a bit of time later this week with my own journal.
“Yeah. They know how mean he was to me, and they don’t care that I’m willing to look past it. There’s also the wreck.”
“They’re pissed he was driving drunk? Because I can tell you that’s bad, but at the end of the day you chose to get in that car with him.”
She grins. “Tell it like it is, why don’t you?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Sort of.”
I tilt my head in confusion as she wrings her hands in her lap.
“What’s going on, Piper?”
“You’re my best friend, right?”
“Of course.”
“I have to tell you some things, but I want you to stay calm.”
“I’ll do my best,” I wager.
“Calm, Frankie,” she urges.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, ready to hear what she has to say when I open my eyes again.
“I was driving that night.” My jaw practically unhinges. “He was drunk and I wouldn’t let him leave, but then we started arguing on the way home.”
“Oh, God, Piper, tell me you didn’t wreck that car on purpose.”
“No.” She shakes her head almost violently. “Truthfully, I thought about it. I just wanted him to shut up, but I was so wrapped up in those thoughts that I wasn’t paying attention. We drifted to the shoulder. The car was overcorrected, and we ended up going off the ravine.”