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“Wow,” I say, partly speechless. “I didn’t know you had that many words, Madison.”
Or that she was that perceptive.
“Please, Daddy?” She turns again to the person who holds the reins.
To be honest, the idea of a makeover sounds appealing to me. But I don’t make any money, and Logan has to do something in town… so it all falls on him.
And because nobody can say no to a pouty Madison, he eventually shrugs with a smile.
“I guess I can postpone my business. Makeover, it is.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, as one trying to be polite would.
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I think I might join you guys for a makeover, too. As long as I don’t have to do my nails,” he chuckles.
I laugh briefly. “Noted.”
We pile into the car, with Madison claiming the back seat and Logan’s phone while I sit in the passenger’s seat.
“So,” Logan asks as he pulls out of the hospital’s parking lot, “how did it go?”
I shrug with indifference.
“Same old, same old. We did the usual, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that hasn’t shown on the other scans before. I guess it’s ameproblem at this point,” I say, trying not to put too much inflection in my tone.
He turns to look at me, though, and the empathy in his eyes almost gets through my heart. But I know it’ll only make me admit how I truly feel, so I turn away.
“Well, I think it’s going to happen pretty soon. Ethan was the same way, too. You just need someone strong enough that it makes the memories come rushing back. And it’ll happen,” he says with certainty. “I know it. And it’ll be okay.”
I want to believe him, but after the discussion with Doctor Michael, there are more things I’m worried about now than just getting my memory back.
“Have you ever wanted to be someone else?” I ask, glancing back to ensure Madison isn’t interested in our conversation.
I see that she’s engrossed in the sounds from the phone.
Logan shrugs ever so slightly. “I guess. If you’re not talking about wanting to takeherplace, then I guess not.”
I understand whosheis, so I don’t ask for clarification.
“I don’t know,” I say instead, “I keep wondering what would happen when I regain my memory. Would I like who I really am? The life I lived before you found me?
Maybe I was a horrible person who pushed everyone away, and that’s why nobody is looking for me. Or I lived the life of a hermit in a house filled with things I didn’t need. What if I have friends who don’t like me?
I used to be stressed about getting my past back, and now I don’t know what I’d do if it’s something I hate. What if there is someone out there for me, but I’m not in love with them?”
Close to the end of my rant, Logan reaches for my hand. I don’t notice that it’s his hand until I’m done and stare at it for the longest time. In shock.
We’ve never had physical contact like this.
The most was the time I almost collapsed at the hospital and when I fell asleep on his shoulder because he was comforting me. For him to reach out—
My heart begins to pound, and I whisper for it to take a chill pill.
“It’ll work out,” Logan says. “I promise. And if it doesn’t, who says you can't start again or continue what you have here? That’s why we’re humans, right? We’re allowed to change, evolve.
Besides, if you have a partner out there and they haven’t begun looking for you, they aren’t your best bet. You might want to start by breaking up with them.”
I nod then chuckle.
