"I knew it! That’s why he kept looking at you more than usual!"
More than usual?
My eyebrows are somewhere in my hairline, and I just stare at Denielle.
"Sorry, keep going." Of course she won’t elaborate on what she means by that.
Shaking my head, I continue, "I told him that I thought I was going crazy. I was remembering things that were not part of my life—not the life I do remember, anyway. I told him everything, and he...got up and left."
Now Den’s eyebrows shoot up, and she opens her mouth, but I hold my hand up.
"The way he acted, I just knew he was hiding something. So, I confronted him."
That gets me a smug smile; she is proud of me, and I sit up a little bit taller.
"The first thing he said to me was he loves me."
Denielle interprets it the same way I did. "Aww, that’s sweet."
I grin at her reaction. "No, helovesme."
I wait. The wheels are turning, and then it clicks. Her eyes turn to saucers, and she opens and closes her mouth several times until it remains shut. Seeing my best friend speechless is a rare sight.
"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too. Anyway, that wasn’t the biggest shock of the night."
"Um..." She still can’t form a coherent sentence, so I keep going. The faster I get everything out, the sooner I can, hopefully, get my heart rate under control. I’m pretty sure otherwise I’ll have a heart attack soon.
I word vomit the next part. I had no clue I was capable of speakingthatfast. "He told me that I wasn’t going crazy. I was kidnapped when I was six. I was held for several weeks and then eventually turned up at a hospital in Northern California. Rhys didn’t know a lot of details either since he was just a kid himself when it happened. From what I know now, I was so traumatized that I wouldn’t let anyone near me, and whoever had me kept threatening my parents. So, they decided to hide me and make me forget."
Time to breathe.
After what feels like an eternity, Den finally bursts out, "Holy shit! I mean...Holy. Fucking. Shit!"
I smile tightly as she interlaces her hands around her coffee mug and stares at her hands. We sit, and the silence elongates.
Eventually, she looks up. "You found all this out by coincidence? Because of our assignment?" Her tone is matter of fact.
I nod. Again.
So much nodding this morning.
"Whoever had me has been taking girls for the past ten years. I found the most recent victim, and the more I dug, the more I found and also remembered."
Denielle briefly glances to the ceiling. "Okay, so let me get this straight. You were kidnapped, got your memory erased, were implanted in a fake family, and your brother—well, fake brother—is in love with you?"
Oh Lord. I cackle out a laugh. "Only you could make this sound like a terrible soap opera."
My statement is met with a smirk and a one-sided shoulder shrug.
I try to explain. "My parents—I mean, Heather and Tristen—had been friends with my biological parents forever. My birth mother and Heather went to kindergarten together or something. Rhys and I pretty much grew up together, even before."
I tell her about our trip to California, how we ended up in Saint Louis, and the blanks Madeline filled in.
This time, Denielle snorts, "THAT. IS. SERIOUSLY. FUCKED. UP." She enunciates every word. "So, where are your real parents? What are their names?"
I hadn’t expected to feel this relieved once everything is out in the open. But then, she knows me almost as well as Rhys. We’ve been friends for years. I think about her questions for a second before answering.
"Their names are Emily and Henry. I haven’t figured out where they are. Rhys has been helping me piece the information together. He helped me remember more, but there is no trace of my parents anywhere."