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No, it was like he was scared out of his mind. Like he waslost.
Fuck it. I got up slowly to make sure my legs stayed under me, came around the desk, and gestured for him to do the same.
“Come here,” I whispered, and… oh God. He did. He wrapped his arms around me, holding on to me fiercely as he trembled and tried to catch his breath.
“I’m losing my fucking mind,” he murmured unsteadily. “Something’s… I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m—”
“Hey. Hey. Easy. Just breathe for a minute.” I stroked his back with my good hand, pretending this wasn’t killing me for multiple reasons. I’d been aching to hold him. I didn’t deserve to be holding him. And I was also worried, and scared, and confused, and…
What the hell is happening?
After a moment, Owen drew back a little, but he didn’t pull away completely. Looking in my eyes, he whispered, “Everything is… different. The condo. Everything on the way here.” He did pull away this time, and he started pacing my office, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s like someone came in and just… changed everything.”
I leaned against my desk. “Changed everything? Like what?”
“Like…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Then he faced me. “You were there last night. Living with me. Your stuff was all over the place, same as mine. And then this morning…” His eyes lost focus as he slowly shook his head. “It’s all gone. It’s like you never lived there, and…” He trailed off.
My stomach twisted itself into knots. I had no idea what to say, especially because I knewexactlywhy all my things were gone.
“That, um… That sounds seriously disorienting.” I absently played with the edge of the bandage. “You said I was there last night?”
He turned terrified eyes on me. “Yes?”
I swallowed. “What else do you remember? From yesterday?”
“Um.” He wrung his hands as he kept pacing. “You came home from the conference. I picked you up at the airport, and—”
“Wait, wait.” I tilted my head. “Which conference?”
Owen halted and looked at me. “The one in Toronto.”
I blinked. “Toronto?”
Renewed fear filled his expression. “Yeah? I didn’t imagine that or something, did I?”
My mouth went dry. No, he definitely hadn’t imagined it. But I sure as shit hadn’t come home from the Toronto conference last night.
“Why?” Owen lost impossibly more color. “What am I missing? What’s going on?”
I inhaled slowly, and though I was confused and maybe getting a little panicky myself, I kept my voice even just so I didn’t freak him out more. “You didn’t imagine it. I went to that conference, and you did pick me up at the airport.” I moistened my lips. “But that was a year ago.”
His lips parted. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “In fact, it wasexactlya year ago last night.”
Owen’s eyes got wider, and he sank into the guest chair again as his face went slack.
I didn’t even have to check a calendar to be sure of the date or the anniversary. I knew—felt it all the way to my bones—because today was exactly one year since I’d torpedoed my entire world. One year since the guilt had been too much, and I’d come clean, and I’d destroyed the man I loved.
When he spoke again, his voice came out shrill. “Are you saying I’m missinga yearof my life?” Eyes unfocused, he breathed, “How… How the fuck does something like that even happen?”
Oh, there were ways. There was plenty of magic that could fuck with someone’s memory. I’d never heard of someone losing an entire year, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if it was possible.
“I have no idea,” I said as gently and evenly as I could. “But it’s… yeah, it’s been a year.” The longest and most horrible year of my life, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that out loud.
“I don’t know what to do,” Owen murmured. “I’m… God, what the helldoI do?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. I racked my brain to figure out what to even ask him. I couldn’t have him retrace his steps because he couldn’t remember them. Whatever had happened, there was just a blank space between the night I came home from Toronto and now.
