Page 46 of The Two Last Moments

Meanwhile, Danny ordered a private background check on “Lark Richards” too, and the results of that one didn’t make me feel any better. In some ways, it was worse. Because aside from that one semester at Northern California College, we can’t tell that Lark Richards even exists. There are women with that name, but they’re not me. My address on file with the school turned out to be an anonymous apartment with no record of me, and NorCal College didn’t have my Social Security number or anything else concrete that could lead to more info about me.

My real family and friends could still be out there looking for me. But if they are, why hasn’t anyone else filed a missing person’s report?

Who am I?

I’m essentially back to the beginning. Struggling for answers. If it wasn’t for Danny and Nina, it’s scary to think about where I’d be. Aside from right here, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, anyway.

“All right,” I say. “Get moving. You’re not allowed to feel sorry for yourself.” The Bradleys have been wonderful to me, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

But if I don’t get out and do something new—something that’s not therapy—I’m going to start climbing the walls.

I roll out of bed and take a shower. On my way out of the room, my foot catches on a small cardboard box and I almost trip on it. But the sight paints a huge grin on my face.

I grab the box and head into Nina’s room. She’s sitting up with her iPad propped in front of her. Whatever she’s looking at, it’s got her so absorbed she doesn’t notice me at first.

“Nina?” I hold up the box. “You have an addiction.”

She glances up guiltily, turning her iPad facedown.

I crack up. “Now I’m curious what you were watching. Trashy reality TV? Porn?”

She waves a hand at me. “Nothingthatexciting. What were you accusing me of?”

“Did you buy me more clothes?”

“What makes you think it was me?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” I grab a pair of spare scissors from a drawer and slice open the box. Just as I expected, there’s a dress inside. “Who else already bought me a bunch of girly dresses, but thought I needed one more?”

Nina’s kindness has been keeping me afloat for the past weeks, whether it’s buying clothes or books for me, or just letting me hang out with her. When Nina’s feeling well, Danny and I take her outside in her wheelchair and sit beneath the willow tree. It’s peaceful, and the branches drape so low that it feels like a secluded world all to itself. I can pretend for just a little while that I have a place here. That I’m not lost.

That the Bradleys are my family, and I’ll never have to leave.

“You’ve been filling out,” she says. “You need new clothes to show off those curves. Come on, hold it up and show me.”

It’s a maxi style in a shade of jewel green. Beautiful. The kind of dress I’d never buy for myself, but would wish for. And she’s right about my curves. I’ve gained at least five pounds on the delicious food around here. See? I have plenty to be grateful for.

I smile and lean over to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Nina. You’re too good to me.”

“Hush. We both know you love when I fuss over you. Try it on.”

I put on the dress in Nina’s bathroom and come out to show her. “What do you think?”

“I knew that green would match your eyes,” Nina says. “Don’t you agree, Danny?”

I turn. Danny has just walked in carrying a breakfast tray. He sets the tray on the table and looks me over. “It does match her eyes. Perfectly.”

I shrug, as if his assessment doesn’t make my heart race and my skin tingle.

“And she looks healthier,” Nina says. “I’m envious of all that shiny hair.”

“Huh, itisshiny. I hadn’t noticed.” Danny winks at me, and I discretely flip him off, as if this is just a joke between us. As if I don’t want to launch myself at him and maul his face with my tongue.

Despite that hot-as-fire kiss after running for my life, we’re back to being friends. But keeping things platonic was supposed to belesscomplicated. That was wishful thinking. There’s an awkward distance between us now. Fraught sexual tension that we both play off as teasing. Long looks that we each pretend we don’t see. Electricity when we touch that we pretend we don’t feel.

Danny and I are the very definition of complicated.

“It’s a pretty dress,” I say, smoothing my hands over the soft knit fabric. “Thank you, Nina. I love it. But you shouldn’t buy me anything else.”

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