Page 68 of Before I Lost You

“Con—” Emerson’s eyes are wide. “Slow down before my brain explodes,please.”

I nod quickly, then try to steady my breathing. I guess rambling was probably not the right move, but it seems the story just doesn’t want to stay trapped inside of me anymore. “S-sorry.”

“The key worked?” he asks, eyes still wide. “A key from the past? Uh, future? Fuck, this is confusing.”

“It was December when I had the car accident, but when I woke up, it was fucking May, Emerson. I thought I was going crazy, but if this hadn’t really happened, then how do I have his key?”

Em grabs the keychain and turns it over, looking at the design with shaking hands. He slides it back toward me on the table, and I hold my breath for his reaction. His eyes arestillwide, and he’s biting his bottom lip as he looks at me.

“That sounds fucking insane, Conrad,” Emerson says slowly, and I flinch. He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Butthere has to be a logical explanation for this, right? I mean, something that isn’t time travel. Right?”

My mouth opens and closes several times like a fish out of water, and then I shake my head. “I don’t know how to explain the goddamn unexplainable, Emerson.”

Emerson nods. “Yeah, I guess this is a hard one to wrap your head around, isn’t it?” I nod now too, then look down at my hands, which I’m still wringing on top of the table. “Okay, say I believe you.” My eyes connect with his, and I feel hope blooming in my chest. “I guess you could say I’m a bit of a conspiracy theorist, so believing in time travel doesn’t feel too far-fetched, right?”

I chuckle lowly, but I’m not sure if he’s being serious, so I grow quiet rather quickly. He really is a bit of a conspiracy theorist. All in all, he thinks the government is controlled by the elite, so if anyone is going to believe my insanity, I know I can count on Emerson to do it. But what if he’s just humoring me to make me feel better? Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything—

“I really do believe you, Con,” he says, as if reading my mind. “You’re not crazy, and you’d never pretend to go through something like this. Not willingly, anyway. Your pride is too big.”

I sigh, relieved that he knows me. That he’s my friend. That I can confide in him. “I know it really does sound crazy—”

“—insane,” Emerson interrupts.

“—but I promise I’m not making this up. I need to find him again, Em. That’s why I went to the gallery today. I was hoping to see him, but he wasn’t there. I have to find a way to talk to him again. I need to get him back.”

“So you want to do what?” he asks, eyebrows scrunched. “Make him fall in love with you again?”

“Exactly,” I affirm, giving him a terse nod. “It’s not going to be easy either. He’s never really been open to the idea of dating.”

“That does make it difficult, I guess.”

“I have to try, though,” I reply, then gulp. “I can’t go the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened if I’d been braveenough to give it another shot. I also can’t just… forget I’m in love with him. It’s like I’m missing a fucking arm and I can’t function without it.”

Emerson grins. “Oh, shit, you’re inlove-love.”

I roll my eyes but return the smile. “You didn’t think I was making that part up for fun, right?”

“I don’t know… You in love seemed pretty far-fetched to begin with.”

“I know.” I sigh. “It’s become a fucking problem, truly.”

My friend throws his head back and laughs at this, and I shake my head and laugh too. Probably the first real laugh I’ve had since my past life. Then something I can’t explain happens—the hair on my arms stands on end as my body is suddenly covered in goosebumps. I shiver, and when I look up, the air whooshes out of my lungs as if I’ve been punched in the chest.

Kenneth is walking into the bar with another man in tow. Someone I don’t recognize. My stomach dips as apprehension fills me to bursting, and my eyes narrow in annoyance when the other man he’s with presses his hand to the small of Kenneth’s back. Ken smiles at him, cheeks pink, golden hair shimmering. He looks angelic, and I just want to run to him and wrap him up in my arms. To never let him go. Instead, I’m forced to watch as they sit a few tables away from us, and the man reaches for Ken’s hand. They’re too busy looking at each other, while I’m too busy gawking at Kenny. It hits me that this is a hookup, and I can’t watch any longer.

My chest heaves as I stand up from my chair, the loud scrape making Kenneth look at me. His eyes widen when he sees me, a flicker of recognition in them, and it almost makes hope bloom in my chest. Almost. Because then I remember he saw me at his apartment as he was getting out of the elevator. That’s the only reason he recognizes me. Not because of whatever we usedto have—in another world, another life, another timeline. Who even knows anymore? I’m too confused to figure it out.

We make eye contact for a long moment, but then I look away and walk off, uncaring that Emerson is probably confused as hell right now. If he wants to know what’s wrong, he can follow me out. All I know is that I need to get the fuck out of here. So I run. I run out of the bar and stop on the sidewalk even as my body screams at me to keep going. My penthouse is right around the corner anyway, and I need to be alone so I can break down in peace. Without witnesses.

I make the mistake of looking back one last time, but instead of finding Emerson, it’s Kenneth there, standing in front of the bar’s entrance with the door closed at his back. He’s looking right at me, his chest heaving, a frown on his face, and I wonder why he’s here. What made him come out here. Why he looks so agitated as he looks into my eyes. But before I can find out, I make a decision. He’s here with another man. Someone who isn’t me. So without a word, I turn around and run home.

By the time I make it inside my penthouse, my suit is making me burn up, my dress shirt sticking to my skin, making me feel uncomfortable. I run to the bathroom and strip, my breathing still shallow, my eyes stinging and burning with unshed tears. I know I need to let it out, so after a moment of waiting for the water to warm up, I get in the shower and sit on the tiled floor, head between my knees. My chest is tight as the sobs rack through me, shaking my entire body. My tears mix with the water falling in trails down my forehead, and I grip my hair tightly to try to ground myself.

It doesn’t work.

What if I’m crazy?

What if none of it was real?