Page 88 of Help Me Remember
Her dark blue eyes are on mine. “Just a song about Jax and the Beanstalk? Maybe it’s not him or anything, but I remember the silliness.”
“Jack and the Beanstalk?” I ask.
“No, it was a parody, and I just remember the kids and I laughing.”
It doesn’t sound like a full memory, but it’s something, which is better than nothing.
“Am I right?” she asks.
Jax smiles. “Yes, I wrote it and we would sing to the kids.”
Emmett’s threat about what would happen if I told her anything she didn’t recall on her own screams in my head. “Is that all you remember?”
She nods. “It’s a piece, I know, not the whole thing, but . . . it’s something.”
“It’s something.”
I turn to Jax. “Please excuse us.”
Brielle shifts her gaze to him, waves, and then turns to me. “That was rude.”
“Maybe, but I’ve never liked that guy.”
She raises a brow. “Jealous?”
“No.” Yes.
“I remembered that song. I remembered, and I was right.”
“You were.” I stop her on the center of the dance floor, extending my hand to her. “Dance with me?”
She looks around. “It’s kind of hard to say no since you brought me here and have your hand out.”
“Do you want to say no?” I ask as the music starts to cue up.
“I don’t.”
“Good.” I smile.
The last time we danced was two nights before the shooting. We stood in her apartment, the ring securely on her finger, and we danced. No music was needed. We just swayed as though we knew every step and beat in perfect harmony.
Brielle’s fingers play with the hair on the back of my neck. “Your hair is long.”
“I haven’t had time to get it cut.”
“It’s weird sometimes,” she says absently. “I don’t know anything about your life for the past three years. I don’t know anything about where you’ve been or what you’ve done besides what I’ve found on the internet.”
I smirk. “You googled me?”
“Don’t be so smug.”
“I’m not smug.”
“Yes you are,” she chides.
“Fine. A little.”
Brielle grins. “I just want all of my memories back.”
