Page 113 of Help Me Remember
“All right.”
In under two hours, Cole Security is ready to go. Quinn will be with me the whole way, which per Charlie, is more than enough, and Jackson will meet us at my mother’s.
She and Mark take my bags, and when we get to the door, my heart sinks. Emmett is there, his eyes full of confusion. Charlie’s hands grip my shoulders. “You don’t have to . . .”
“It’s okay,” I say and move toward him. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he crushes me to him. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I have to go.”
“I know that too,” he says, cinching me a little tighter.
When he releases me, the damn tears are back in full force. “Will you go to him?”
He nods. “Will you tell me what happened that has you running?”
“I can’t live in a place where nothing makes sense. Until it does, it’s better for me to go to the only person left who is a constant.”
Emmett’s lips form into a tight line. “I’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“I’ll let you know if my memory returns and I can give us answers.”
He winks, and I turn to Charlie. They usher me down the hall and to the car. She gives me a big hug and steps back.
“Thank you,” I say before getting in the car.
“Take care of yourself, Brielle. Give me a call if you need anything.”
Quinn snorts a laugh. “You don’t even work for the company, and you do more than your husband, who owns half of it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Now I know why Ashton volunteered you for this assignment.”
He gets into the car, chuckling. “Ready?”
I look at my apartment, the building that seemed so different fewer than twenty-four hours ago. I was happy, waiting for Spencer in a beautiful dress. There was so much hope for what we could’ve been and now all I see is darkness.
I turn to him. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
With my earbuds in, I close my eyes, unwilling to watch this slip away from me, and drift to sleep to a song about losing the love of your life.
* * *
We’re about four hours from my mother’s house, and Quinn looks over at me for the tenth time.
Since I moved the location, the team had to readjust completely, and Jackson is meeting us outside the city limits. I feel horrible and silly, but I also know this is the only option I can handle. With each mile we travel, my heart and head settle a bit more. I needed this distance. I needed to get out of there.
“You can say it,” I tell him, knowing he’s been itching to weigh in.
“Say what?”
“Whatever is on your mind.”
“I’m not paid to think,” he says, focusing on the road.
“You’re his friend.”
“I am.”
