Hands trembling, she handed over the bag of marshmallows to me and then excused herself from the room.
Linc ran after her.
And the rest of the group stared at me like I was a complete stranger.
“How far back do you remember?” Demetri asked in a sober voice.
I frowned. “I don’t remember getting here, I mean I remember parts, but everything’s spotty. I recorded with you guys, a few weeks back and have been holed up in the house ever since.” My body rejected that falsity. “Or wait, that’s not right. I recorded a few kick ass songs, I remember nearly killing a piano in the process.”
Demetri’s face was tight. “What’s the date man?”
I shrugged. “March twentieth.”
Alec mumbled a curse and responded. “That was over four weeks ago.”
Most of the faces that stared at me were familiar, one of them in particular, an older gentleman held a woman’s hand, they seemed so nice, I wanted to talk to them, I wanted to hug the guy for some reason. I hated that I didn’t know why.
“I should know you, too.” I directed it at them. “Shouldn’t I?”
“Pretty sure all he needs to do is clean a gun in front of you and synapses will start firing,” Demetri said in a teasing tone.
“And the girl?” My voice shook, “The one who ran out of here?”
Jay’s eyes locked on mine. “You love her.”
“What?” My heart swelled, and my next breath stalled. “What do you mean?”
“She’s your girlfriend, son.” The man spoke with an easy smile. “But this here is a lot to take in after surgery, why don’t you rest a bit? We’ll all get some food and come back.”
“Okay,” I whispered, hating myself for letting them down, for having nothing but fuzzy gray areas where the last four weeks should have been.
“It’s going to be fine.” Jay slapped me on the shoulder. “Eat a marshmallow.”
Hah, my stupid answer to everything, at least that was still the same.
When they left, the headache worsened, I gripped the bag of marshmallows like a lifeline, then opened them, in desperate need to calm the hell down.
When I poured them out, a note fluttered onto my lap.
To Zane: From Zane
I knew you’d go here first. We are so freaking predictable. Look, the doc and I had a long talk while Fallon was in the bathroom. She was worried that I’d have some memory loss after the surgery. The good news, it’s probably short term, it should heal itself, it’s mainly just from the trauma, which is great.
But it’s going to hurt her.
You’re going to hurt her without realizing it.
Unless I’m an ass, and you’re totally fine right now, so if I’m an ass go screw your girlfriend and slap yourself on the back for being a modern day superhero, but if not, I kind of made a little fail safe.
I stored as many pictures as I could of us with Fallon. I want you to know how great she is, because here’s the thing—even if she’s a stranger to you now—she won’t be for long. Girls like Fallon are impossible not to fall in love with, and you’re a lucky bastard if you get to do it twice. Because that’s the thing, Zane, man, we love her, we love her so much.
She knows about the foster care.
About grandma.
The marshmallows.
Hell, I confessed I hated cake and look she stuck around!
The point is this, I figured you may need a story. Listen to the songs on your album, they’re here, every damn one.
Look at the pictures.
Embrace life, because you’ve been given a second chance with a very special person, one who wants to keep you.
Forever.
But you have to want her back—and right now, she’s probably hurting, so your job, your mission if you choose to accept it: be the Zane women fall in love with while singing on stage, be the guy that chases after the girl. Be the guy that Fallon deserves.
Kiss her.
Love her.
Let her help you remember.
Because the love she has for you? There’s no chance in hell it’s so weak that a simple cut into your brain would remove it.
Go.
Try not to be a jackass.
Oh and by the way? That girl stole your virginity—you offered it to her, the same night, she gave you her heart. Tread lightly—hearts are breakable.
From, Zane (pre-surgery)
Chapter Forty-One
Zane
WITH SHAKING FINGERS, I folded the note up and greedily searched around for my phone. My stuff was in the corner, neatly folded, my phone had to be there.
“Come on Zane, you can do this, just a few steps.” My legs slid over the side of the bed while nausea tossed my stomach in circles.
Five feet.
I could go five feet. Right?
I pushed up onto two very wobbly legs. My body felt so weak it was ridiculous. Two steps felt like a freaking marathon, and I wasn’t even all the way there yet.
Three steps and sweat was pooling in the palms of my hands.
Almost there.
Two more steps and I leaned against the chair ruffling through my clothes until my hand came into contact with a cold object.
Another note was attached to the phone.
Good job you bad ass, you took your first steps! No, but seriously, I’m glad you made it. The other side effect is learning how to walk again. Your headphones are in the back left pocket of your jeans. The tracks from the last few recording sessions are under the usual session folder in your music. Just a suggestion, but maybe look through the pictures named Fallon while you listen, it could help. Every little bit helps.