Page 1 of Don't Forget Me
1
ELIZABETH
Sometimes, it seemed there were seasons to life.
Elizabeth Ross used to know what those seasons were. When she was younger, she differentiated them by whatever boy she was dating, and in each season, she got to choose who she wanted to be.
As a teen, she’d lived on her skateboard, coming home with skinned knees that her mom told her were proof she’d gotten up, that she hadn’t let the fall take her courage.
Back then, there was Trev. She’d thought he was perfect in the way only kids could be. He was her best friend, teaching her how to run the ramps on her skateboard, teaching her rebellion was the only way to truly feel alive.
When she left for college, she had to unlearn much of what she’d known. Trev became a fond memory of the days when she got to be free.
Then, there was Corey. She met him her senior year of college. They loved each other in the way only fools did, the kind of forever love that was doomed to fail because they felt too much, loved too much.
But they hadn’t known it at the time.
And now, as Elizabeth prepared to turn thirty, she entered a new season of her life, one so different from what came before.
“Happy birthday.” Booker Hill flashed her the kind of grin that had the rest of the doctors at the Gulf City hospital they both worked at swooning. “You look lost in that head of yours.”
Elizabeth shrugged as she continued working, wiping down the counter in front of him, not wanting to look at her doctor best friend for fear he’d see the turmoil in her eyes.
Booker placed a hand over hers, his dark skin over her paler tones. Her movements stilled.
“What’s wrong with you?”
A sigh wound through her, and she pulled her hand back, not wanting him to look too deeply. “Just doing a lot of thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
The first thing Elizabeth learned about Dr. Hill when she met him three years ago was that he took few things seriously.
Except cancer. That was his livelihood, after all.
“Can I get you something?” She flicked a glance at her boss, who was preoccupied with another customer at the hospital’s coffee stand. They didn’t call it Starbucks, but they served Starbucks coffee, and everyone knew it.
Booker pursed his lips, studying her.
Even back when she’d been nothing but his patient, he’d ferreted out her lies.
I feel okay today.
That treatment didn’t make me too sick.
Sure, I believe I’ll beat this.
And now: Just thinking.
A high-pitched beep sounded from Booker’s white coat. He reached into the pocket monogrammed with his name, Dr. Hill M.D. and pulled his phone free.
His eyes widened, and she knew the look well.
“What’s wrong?”
Lifting his gaze to her, he said the words she’d never wanted to hear. “It’s Molly.”
Shaking her head, she tried to process his words. It couldn’t be Molly. She’d entered remission, was doing well.
