Page 55 of Forget Me Knot

Shedidlove the door. When I brought Dinah home the night of her birthday and showed her the cat door I had installed in our joint hallway while we were gone for the day, she’d broken into tears again. Ever since, I’ve had a hard time rememberingwhether it was me or him who had the idea for the gift in the first place.

Jackson’s emerging memories are beginning to make my own harder to ignore. And I know that’s what they are. Memories.

A date to the farmers market.

The whispers of a kiss with glowing green light around us.

The faint memory of my hands pulling pale pink rose blossoms from a bucket, knowing they’ll put a smile on Dinah’s face.

A conversation with OwenInever had. Winnie’s laugh as she sings at the karaoke bar I haven’t been to in years. Washing dishes at my folks’ place after Monday lunch.

I don’t know what it all means or whether it will make a difference in the long run, but something is changing.

Owen and Winnie show up to my loft right after I close the shop for the day, and just as Chipper’s bell—because the woman I’m completely gone for insisted he needed one—jingles at my door.

“What in the world is he wearing?” Owen snatches the cat up, pulling the note in his collar out and pushing through the door. When Winnie grabs the message from his outstretched hand before I can, I huff and shut the door behind them.

“Come on in, y’all.” I stomp to the kitchen where dinner is on the stove, give it a stir, and open up the fridge. “Want a beer?” I ask Owen.

“Nah. Can’t in season.”

“Right.” Owen is extremely strict about his diet during baseball season, which is why I made a low calorie, high protein hash for dinner. “I knew that,” I say a little more defensively than necessary.

“I’ll take one,” Winnie chimes, unfolding my note.

“Give me that note and I'll give you a beer,” I hold out a bottle by the neck, giving it a little shake to really entice her.

“Oh… so it is a note?”

I growl and begin to prowl around the island.

“Nah.” She bats her eyes, and I’m ready to die for the note pressed between her fingers. “I think I want this more.”

I place the bottles gingerly on the counter then make my move, chasing her around the island like it's a baseball diamond, before she can get her crazy-big bird eyes on it. But if anything gives Winnie supernatural little sister energy, it’s a challenge. She leaps over a chair, walks across the couch, unfolding as she goes, and reads pieces as I chase her around the loft.

“Thanks for the”—she hurdles the recliner, and I lunge for her but miss—“sweetgood morning.”

Winnie faux gags and then erupts in laughter, setting my nerves on fire. “Hoping for— Ow, Jack!” She swats my shoulder when I manage to grab her by the arm and slide her onto the hardwood floor, dragging her through the hallway and back to the living room by her wrist. She continues reading my personal business aloud, and I’m pretty sure I saw Owen with his phone out, likely sending a video on the group chat with our parents.

See if I ever offer her one of my beers again.

“Hoping for a good night too. Meet me in the hallway at 11.” Winnie doubles over in a laughing fit, rolling into a ball while I wrestle the paper from her hands. “Jack!” She laughs, fighting me to the death. “You are a cad! Meeting women in darkened hallways at… oof. Ewwwww!”

When I give her a wet willy, she squirms, and I’m finally successful—not taking the time to look at the way Dinah always ends her notes with a tiny pretzel heart, an echo of the flowers I draw for her on my notes. Instead, I stuff the precious cargo in my jeans pocket and give Winnie the noogie she deserves beforereturning to my forgotten drink on the counter, swiftly punching Owen on my way.

“So, that seems to be going really well,” Owen says, leaning against the counter while I return to our dinner prep. “We liked havin’ y’all at lunch again this week. She’s a sweetheart, bro. Mom and Dad are obsessed.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure Gram has a mental mood board for your wedding flowers.” Winnie grins, tucking her hair behind her ear. “She’s totally a fan.”

I scoop hash onto plates, dolling it out to them, and hum a response in the affirmative. Honestly, I love that as I fall harder for Dinah, my family does too. She fits. Accepting the unknowns with grace and understanding, and learning the different parts of me when it’s sometimes felt like others didn’t take the time to try.

I wish I knew a bit more about Monday lunch and the days and times I’m not myself, but the sting of not knowing isn’t as prevalent today. It’s hard to be bitter when day to day life right now is so very,verysweet.

I’ve had coffee with my dad, invited Maloy and Nate over for video games one night, and both parts of me are, strangely, starting to feel unified. Mentally and emotionally, I feel healthier, though the migraines are still present. Even now, my head throbs with a dull ache that I pray won’t stop me from seeing my girl for thatgood nightshe mentioned. But when I pray, it isn’t for my old life to return. It's for contentment with the one ahead of me, whatever it may look like, and that Dinah is a part of it.

“You’re, um…” Owen shifts in his seat and glances at Winnie uncomfortably. “You’re treating her well, right? Being”—he clears his throat—“safe?”

“Grosssssss!” Winnie drops her fork dramatically. “Guys, don’t have the birds and the bees chat while I’m here. I’vealready seen Jack make out with two different girls… I won’t survive this.”

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