Page 75 of Never the Same

“I dropped out of high school as soon as I was eighteen and joined the army. I couldn’t wait another semester.”

I was done with my mother’s meth addiction.

Done with my father beating the shit out of me.

I knew if I stayed, one day I’d hit him back.

At least he’d never set a hand on my mother. He’d be dead. I’d be in prison.

I kept that shit to myself. I didn’t need her feeling even worse for me.

“Got my GED in the military. I thought if I ran far enough, I could actually get away,” I finally finished.

“And did it work?”

“Yes and no.” I lifted my head, tipping my chin up, eyes shooting to the ceiling. “But at some point, I discovered all I was doing was running in place. Other side of the world, same demons chasing me. I stupidly thought I could outrun them, wound up only running headfirst into new problems.”

Instead of offering an apology or pity like I’d have hated, she hit me with something as unexpected as that pillow earlier. “You think we’re different? I actually think we’re alike.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

She let her hand fall from my back, and the absence burned a hole in my heart. “Sounds weird coming from someone who can’t remember her favorite color, but based on what I’ve learned about myself . . . well, it seems to me I spent the last eight years trying to run away from who I was. I couldn’t even tell Audrey the truth. I wanted to play pretend. Escape. Maybe my mother was right about me.”

Her words had me about-facing, unsure what to make of them or how to respond. A tear slid down her cheek, and I caught it with the pad of my thumb, exhaling a shaky breath in the process.

I need to end this conversation while I still can. “Audrey should come talk to you. It can’t be me.” For reasons we’d already discussed, and I had no plans to go back over them again.

“Any other ideas for a distraction, aside from Audrey?” she asked as Ranger ran over, offering an idea of his own—to pet him. She took a knee, rubbing his back.

Lucky dog. I looked around the room, not able to come up with anything that didn’t involve getting myself into trouble and crossing lines.

“Maybe the whole ‘remembering stuff organically’ isn’t what I need.” She tossed out partial air quotes with one hand. “Any chance you have some reading material for me? You know, so I can get better acquainted with myself.”

“What do you—”

“Texts.” She stood, and Ranger whimpered at the loss of her touch.

I looked at Ranger, fighting a smile. Yeah, I get that feeling. Trust me. I blinked, pulling my focus back to the woman we both wanted attention from. Only one of us should be getting it, though.

“Did we ever exchange any messages that I could read?”

A chill rolled down my spine, and I roped a hand around the base of my neck and squeezed as the tension ticked up. “Yes, and you’ll discover the truth.” Then maybe she’d finally stay three feet away from me and stop asking personal questions since I couldn’t stop violating my own rules.

“Which is?”

“That we don’t work.” The truth burned as I said it. “We’re oil and vinegar.” I went into the kitchen, where I’d left my personal and work phones, deciding this was for the best. Maybe I should have thought of this before. I had clear evidence I could provide her, proving her dream was pure fiction.

When I came back to her with both phones, she was already waiting for me with her hand open. I rattled off the six-digit code for both phones as I gave them to her.

“Eleven, twenty-five, twenty-one,” she repeated. “Trusting me with your password, are you?” She attempted to lighten the heavy load I’d literally dropped into her hands with a small smile.

“I have nothing to hide.” Not on the phones, at least. “I’ll be in the gym, finishing cleaning my weapons.” Unable to bear standing before her any longer, I started to leave, but of course she had to ask one more question, stopping me.

“Do those numbers have any significance? Sounds like a date.”

It was a date. November 25, 2021. But why’d she have to ask me about it?

I wasn’t a liar, but I also couldn’t give her the whole truth. The best I could manage was somewhere in between. I kept my back to her as I rasped, “Yeah, the date marks my reset point.”