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He accepts, his eyes widening. “We live together?”
“Yes. On the day of your accident, we were going to get married.” I leave out the details, as I don’t want to overwhelm him.
“What?” he gasps, his face paling. He looks at Saxon for confirmation. “Is it true, Sax?”
I meet Saxon’s eyes. He looks torn. “Yes, Sam,” he replies a moment later. “It’s true.”
“How old am I? How old arewe?”
Saxon swallows. “We’re twenty-seven.”
“What year is it?” His chest begins to rise and fall.
“2014.”
“No. It can’t be.” Sam shakes his head violently, disbelieving.
“It is,” Saxon confirms soberly.
“Where do you live?” he asks, sitting upright.
“In Oregon.”
“Why?”
Saxon averts is gaze.
“Sax, why?” Sam presses, his tone incensed. “Why would you move so far away from me?”
“Things change,” he replies, leaning against the wall and bracing his boot against it.
“What happened to our pact?” When Saxon remains quiet, Sam continues. “We promised to move out together after high school and live the college life. We promised to party hard, pick up chicks, and live the wild life. We promised to hitchhike around the country together if we both didn’t get into the same college. We promised that one day, we’d get to sunny California and surf the biggest waves. We promised to never let anything,anyonecome between us. Do you remember that?”
“We were eight,” Saxon refutes, but his argument doesn’t deter Sam.
“Do. You. Remember?” he repeats, pausing between each word for effect.
“Yes.” Saxon sighs, his cheeks puffing out.
“So what happened?”
Silence.
I suddenly feel my pulse spike because the air is charged with anger and accusation.
“I know,” Sam snarls, his irate gaze landing on me. “I know what happened.Youhappened. You took my brother away from me.”
“What? No.” I shoot up, latching onto his forearm. “Sam, no.”
But he shakes his head, tugging his arm out from under me. “There’s a reason why I don’t remember you.”
That’s my cue to walk out that door, but I don’t. I need answers. “Why?”
With nothing but venom lacing his words, he declares, “Because maybe I don’t want to.” He holds up the photographs, flailing them in my face. “Maybe I want to forget these memories because I want to forget you.”
“Sam, stop it!” Saxon rushes forward, standing at the foot of the bed.
“Why are you sticking up for her?” He points at me, his finger accenting his anger.
