Page 67 of Everything We Left Behind

“There are a lot of pictures of you and Aimee,” she said, her tone flat, giving me the phone after I’d dressed. She twisted her hair, her attention drifting to my phone on the desk where there were plenty of snapshots of us.

“Hey,” I murmured. My hand cupped her face. I skimmed my thumb over her freckled cheek, the skin as smooth as expensive bedsheets. “I loveyou.” I kissed her gently, then rested my forehead against hers. “You.”

She nodded. “I know. It’s just ...”

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“Yes, I do. Someone has to protect you so you aren’t knocked over the head again.”

We both laughed uneasily.

“Have you looked through the pictures?”

I shook my head. Seeing James’s life through his pictures was a gamble with my mind I didn’t want to take.

She moved away from me and grabbed her purse. “I found the address where you lived. We should go.”

We now sat in the car Natalya had rented, parked one house down from the one I owned, orhadowned. Two boys played catch on the lawn, and the woman sitting on the porch was not Aimee.

“She must have moved,” Natalya surmised.

I’d told her on the way over that Aimee and Ian had recently married. That part of my conversation with Thomas I did remember.

A dull ache burned across my forehead. I scooped out the two aspirin I’d brought with me from my front pocket and dry-swallowed them.

Natalya passed over a bottled water. “How many have you had since I woke you up?”

I chugged half the bottle. “Six, I think.” I screwed on the cap and returned the bottle to the center console’s cup holder. “They aren’t helping.”

“Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“No. No doctors. I don’t want anyone else messing with my head. I don’t want to forget my sons.” I grasped her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Or you.”

“God, you’re stubborn. No doctors, unless your headache gets worse. Promise?”

I leaned across the front seat and kissed her. “Promise.”

She turned on the ignition “Where to next? The café?”

The dash clock read 5:56 p.m. “We don’t have time. The café closes at six.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes against a wave of light-headedness. “I was thinking Aimee’s parents’ house. They can tell us where she’s living. But I need to eat something.”

She shifted into gear and pulled from the curb. “Let’s call it a day, then.”

“What a waste of time,” I complained, grinding the heel of my palm against my head.

Natalya shot me a concerned look. “We’ll visit the Tierneys tomorrow. Tonight, I’m buying dinner. Then I’m giving you a back rub.”

“Just the back?”

She snorted and playfully knocked my shoulder. “Let’s get some food in that belly of yours, then we’ll see what happens.”

It was midmorning when I rang the Tierneys’ doorbell. Natalya stood beside me, our shoulders brushing. I tightly grasped her hand. She rubbed my forearm. I loosened my grip.

“I’m as nervous as you.” She pressed closer.

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