Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“I almost ran to her today, Amy. I came so close to calling out her name, but I can’t. I can’t make myself do that to her.”
“When? When is enough time, Nolan? It’s been five years and she hasn’t dated a single person.”
“There is a reason she’s blocking me from her memory still. She’s not ready to remember.”
Amy cursed. “Sometimes I wish I had never agreed to go along with this. I know it’s for the best, and I know it was the right thing, but at some point, Nolan, you’re going to have to give her the chance to remember. And the only way she’s going to do that is if you let her see you again.”
I reached up and scrubbed my hand down my face. “I know, Amy. I’m just so…”
“Scared.”
“Yes. What if she remembers and then hates me?”
“Oh, Nolan. Are you still blaming yourself for the accident?”
A gut-wrenching feeling hit me hard. “Yes! It was my fault.”
“It wasn’t!” Amy practically shouted. “It was an accident. Nolan, it was investigated, you were cleared. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
My breaths started to come faster and shorter. I couldn’t breathe. Fuck, I couldn’t breathe.
Amy’s voice was calm over the phone as she whispered my name. “Nolan, I want you to take in a deep breath.”
The air…it wasn’t coming. “Can’t. Breathe.”
“Listen to me, a deep breath in, and then out. Focus, Nolan.” Her voice was soft and steady. “In. Out.”
I closed my eyes and did as she said until the pressure on my chest eased and I could breathe freely once again.
Amélie ran out, and I held up my hand. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
She gave me a weak smile and then turned and went back into the coffee shop. I hadn’t had an episode like this since that day in the hospital.
“I’m sorry,” Amy whispered. “Does it happen often?”
“No,” I managed to get out. “It hasn’t happened since that day.”
“Nolan, will you please think of coming for Christmas? Please.”
Knowing damn well I had no intention of going back to Boerne for Christmas, I lied. “Yes, I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” she said, a hopeful sound to her voice. “And Nolan?”
“Yes?”
“Think about what I said, okay?”
I inhaled a deep breath through my nose. “I will.”
We ended the call after our goodbyes, and I once again looked up at the windows before I stood and walked back to the flat I had rented. Suddenly, I was so damn tired.
Linnzi
Paris, France — Five minutes earlier
I STARED DOWN at the man sitting outside the coffee shop. He looked agitated, and at one point, I swore he was having an anxiety attack. For some reason I had been drawn to the windows by the same kind of pull I had felt earlier when I first stepped out of my flat to leave for work. It was a similar feeling that happened every few months or so, like I was being watched. A strange tingle that went up and down my spine. It felt like someone was close by. Someone…important. It was the oddest damn thing.
“He is rather cute.”
I smiled at the voice that came from my right side. Penny Worthy was one of the women I had become fast friends with when I moved to Paris a few years back. She had moved to Paris after she graduated from Oxford. At the time, I had been involved in an accident that had left me with amnesia. Only a small part of my memory was gone. Simply gone. I remembered bits and pieces of high school, some college, but not much. Of course my love of art was still there. I had withdrawn from most of my friends whom I still had a memory of, why I wasn’t entirely sure. I knew my parents were keeping something from me regarding my lost memory, but for some reason, they didn’t feel the need to fully fill me in on what exactly I had been doing those lost few years that were missing. And I hadn’t shown an ounce of interest in learning what happened. A part of me knew it was something bad. People in Boerne looked at me strangely, and I couldn’t ignore the whispers. I knew I had to make a change—a big change—because it was all just too much for me.
It didn’t take me long to accept a position with the museum in Paris. I was more than ready to leave my hometown and all the lost memories behind. The sense that something was missing was so strong when I was back home. I could still remember how sad I felt sitting on my folks’ front porch, staring out at the rolling hills of the Texas Hill Country. The overwhelming need to cry or call out for someone was so present. I knew it was part of the reason I had never asked questions regarding the accident, and had even told the few friends I had left I didn’t want to talk about it. If I did, I knew I would find out why I felt so … empty. That scared the hell out of me. The sense of a profound loss was deep within my soul, and I tried with all my might to ignore it. When it got to the point where I could no longer dismiss it, I had to escape to anywhere, and Paris called to me.