Page 39 of Forgetting You, Forgetting Me

“Lucy, can you help me unpack?” Saxon says, breaking through the palpable tension. I wordlessly nod, not sure what to do or say.

Saxon huffs angrily, glaring at Samuel before walking out of the room. I stand miserably, looking at the man I love more than life itself. But that man no longer exists. I leave Sam sitting happily alone on the couch as he perches his feet onto the coffee table.

I’m moving on autopilot as I ramble down the hallway and into the guest bedroom. The moment I see Saxon standing by the bed, his hands interlaced behind his neck, I burst into tears. I need to stop crying, I especially need to stop crying in front of Saxon, who no doubt is questioning his decision to return.

He makes a pained face. “Lucy, please don’t cry.”

I hide my tears behind my palms, attempting to mute my sobs. “I’m s-s-sorry.” The action only makes me cry harder. I feel weak, silly, and embarrassed that I can’t hold it together for more than five seconds, but these tears, they’re laced with anger, frustration.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize.” The floorboards creak as he steps towards me and rubs my upper arm. “He’s just lashing out. He used to do it all the time when we were growing up. He’s frustrated and annoyed, that’s all.”

“But he’s b-being such an asshole,” I stutter, choking on my sniffles. “He was never this mean before. It’s like he’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” The fact Saxon isn’t jumping to his defense makes me think he doesn’t entirely disagree with me.

My ugly sobs eventually die down and silent tears rack my body as I try and pull it together. I need to stop this emotional diarrhea. It isn’t helping the situation one iota and it just makes me feel worse. When I think I can speak without choking, I pull my hands away, embarrassed to face Saxon after yet another breakdown. But what I see surprises me. He looks completely and utterly saddened. I was expecting maybe annoyance, not sadness.

“Are you okay?” he asks, dipping down to meet me at eye level. “I hate seeing you cry.”

“I’m sorry.” I quickly wipe away my tears, not wanting to upset him further. But he reaches out and gently secures my wrist. Looking down at our connection, I feel a strange sense of security seeing his strong fingers fixed firmly around me.

“I meant, I can’t stand to see you cry. It tears me up inside.”

My mouth pops open for the second time tonight.

He lets go of my wrist, shaking his head. “You don’t deserve to be treated this way. It appears Sam’s also forgotten his manners. But that doesn’t surprise me. Decorum was never his strong suit.”

I know Saxon doesn’t want to hear this, considering he’s still bitter towards Sam, but he’s the only person who understands. He’s the only person who can explain to me why Sam is being this way. “What does that say about me? About us? About our entire relationship, if he doesn’t remember who I am?”

He looks torn, appearing to weigh up what to say. “Lucy, I wish I had the answers. At the risk of sounding like a complete asshole, Sam’s behavior doesn’t surprise me.”

I cock a brow, intrigued.

“Samuel has always been a spoiled brat. He always got what he wanted. And now that he’s being told what to do, he’s acting out. I can feel his isolation,” he reveals, pulling at his white t-shirt as if it’s suffocating him. “He feels like he’s drowning, and the old Sam, the Sam thatIknow, hates not having the upper hand.”

I shake my head, jumping to Sam’s defense. “That’s not true. That’s not Sam. I don’t know what happened between you two, but—”

“That’s right,” he interrupts, angrily. “You don’t know. So don’t start making excuses for him. He may or may not remember, but I do, and I’ll never forget it.”

“He’s your brother, Saxon.” I keep my tone light, not wanting to wave a red flag in front of an already angry bull.

“I know who he is. I don’t need reminding.”

“What did he do that’s so bad?”

“What didn’t he do?” is his bitter reply.

I remain silent, hoping he’ll at least share a small snippet of their past.

“It’s all the small things, Lucy, that amount to the bigger picture. Like him organizing that party the weekend my parents went away. He used my cell, without me knowing, of course, because if my parents ever found out, all they had to do was check the phone bill and see that it was my phone the calls were made from.”

My mouth pops open. “It wasSamwho organized the party that Fourth of July weekend?”

Saxon nods. “Yes. I tried telling my parents it wasn’t me, but like Samuel predicted, they checked the phone bill and then there was no point arguing. I was grounded for a month because Kellie’s precious crystal ornaments got used as bowling balls.”

I always thought it was out of character for Saxon to throw such a huge party. But I never doubted Sam when he told me it was Saxon’s idea.

“Or how about the time Sam thought it would be fun to get a fake I.D. in my name and then go out and buy beer.”

“He didn’t?” I shake my head, incredulous.

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