Page 30 of When Hearts Remember

“Have you found anything on Summer?” My fingers twiddle with the blanket on my lap.

“No. That girl has vanished. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find her.”

Disappointment crests inside me—I remember Summer well. My high school partner in crime. I’m sure she was worried about me after my accident.

Knock knock.

We swivel our attention to Art, the physical therapist I’ve been working with for the last six months.

“Hey, Arthur!” Taylor grins.

“Art. Like the subject, Taylor. Arthur makes me feel like I’m a hundred years old.” He ruffles his light brown hair and flushes. The man has a little crush on my friend.

Too bad for him, he doesn’t know that—

“Minx, you ready?” Charles murmurs from the doorway, his brow arching at the interaction.

A grin curls his lips and he strides in, his blond hair gleaming, and he hauls Taylor up in his arms before delivering a deep kiss like he needs her to live.

Another interesting development that happened while I was in a coma—Charles, my charming, workaholic, older brother, role model all rolled into one, is head over heels in love with a girl I used to see as my little sister. They got engaged a few months after I woke up. It took sometime getting used to, but seeing him so besotted and actually taking time to enjoy life makes me grateful for Taylor.

“You know I’m not invisible, right? I’m right here and don’t need to see you exchanging saliva with mybestfriend.”

Huh?My brows furrow.Best friend? Where did that come from?

Taylor breaks the kiss, her eyes bright with excitement. “Did you remember something?”

My mind draws a blank. I rewind my words in my brain to see if I can trigger a memory or unlock a dormant part of my brain.

But nothing comes.

The familiar scorching sensation rises to my chest again.

Useless. So damn useless.

“No. Were we best friends, Tay?”

Her familiar dark eyes glimmer with moisture and she rolls her lips inward. As if sensing her emotions, Charles pulls her to his side and presses a kiss on her hair.

“Yeah, we were close, Lexy.” Taylor’s voice is raw. “You were the best and loyalist friend. The very damn best.” The haunted look is back in her eyes. I want to ask her what she’s not telling me, but I know she won’t say anything.

Art clears his throat. “Ready for therapy?”

I shove the ever present unease away and nod. “Let’s do this. Box jumps, Art. I want to try the jumps again. No half-assing it.”

It’s a tough challenge to jump up a box a foot tall when you can’t really feel half your body.

But I got this. I have to do this…for myself.

I need to get my life back.

“It’s so weird how I know how to drive, but can’t remember taking the stupid driving test. And now, I’m trying to learn to jump again,” I grumble.

Art chuckles. “The brain is interesting. Your episodic memories are stored in a different region than your procedural or semantic memories. But we’ll get you there.”

I scrunch my nose.Two out of three’s not too bad, I suppose. It could be worse.

Swinging my legs off the bed with renewed determination, I grit my teeth and take my first steps with a limp. I probably look more like I’m waddling—a toddler learning her first steps, but I find my rhythm.

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