Running into Sadie the day after I saw her on the field was surreal. Why was it happening now? After her accident, she’d wanted nothing to do with me. After three months of trying, I’d given her what she’d wanted and given up.

Now? She was everywhere I looked. It was bullshit.

I didn’t know how I felt about that. She still had the same effect on me that she had always had. She was beautiful, and she made me feel like a real man. Strong and tall. She was short, just over five feet, and she was delicate. That didn’t mean she was fragile. She had always been one of the strongest women I knew.

But I didn’t want her to have that effect on me now, not when I knew she didn’t want me. I knew that just after the accident, it had been difficult for her. And maybe I had pushed a little too hard. But knowing all of her and not having her remember anything about me had been pure torture.

The guilt also ate me alive. I felt it was my fault she had fallen. And I guess, emotionally, I felt responsible to do something to fucking make everything okay again— even though the more rational part of me knew that nothing would ever be totally okay ever again.

I had kept trying to talk to her about things we’d done together, to hopefully jog her memory. Eventually the doctors had to explain to me that there was nothing I could do to help. Either her memory would return, or it wouldn’t. And they also strongly hinted that my presence was becoming unwanted.

I didn’t understand why she didn’t want me. I hoped she didn’t think of me as some stalker, but even if she couldn’t remember me, the Sadie I knew and loved would have listened to what I was telling her and realized that in time, memories would come. She was also so reasonable and kind.

The doctors told me that she had undergone a complete personality change, though, which they said was not unusual for survivors of head injuries and people who had been in comas. Where she was once outgoing and trusting, she was now reserved and distrustful. I suppose anyone would have been, after what she had gone through.

But it was more than that— sometimes her answers to me, to her own parents even, were snappy and angry, whereas before she had always been so sweet— sometimes even too nice. The doctors patiently explained to me that it was likely a combination of a lot of different factors. A protection mechanism she had built up based on trauma, frustration at not knowing who she was, and different personality traits than she had before the accident.

They told me that in all honesty, my presence in her life and insistence that she regain her memory was likely making her more upset. I was crushed to find out that not only was there nothing I could do to help Sadie, but I was actually making things worse. I finally realized that the best thing I could do for her was leave.

When I walked away, it ripped my heart to pieces, and I told myself I would never get involved with anyone again. Yet I was barely even able to be fully attracted to someone, or just with girls physically. Basically I sentenced myself to a life of loneliness and dissatisfaction, but I didn’t know any other way to be, because my heart just wouldn’t let her go no matter how much my brain told it to.

And now, I was responding the same way to her all over again. I couldn’t believe I kept running into her, and I knew I shouldn’t be happy about that fact, but I couldn’t help it. Clearly, I still had a soft spot for her, and the conversation had gone well. Better than I’d imagined.

She hadn’t been angry or hostile. She hadn’t even been suspicious. She’d been interesting and open and in a good mood. And mischievous. I wondered if she knew how much of those traits had been there from the start. I wondered how much of herself she’d managed to regain since the accident.

I pushed the thoughts away. We had a history, but that was all it was. The relationship hadn’t even ended badly. It had just disappeared in the blink of an eye. We had both moved on with our lives. Sadie was in the past, and it would be better for me if she stayed there.

Although, I really wanted to see her again. Now that I knew she wouldn’t be hostile and hurt me more, I wanted to talk to her. Fuck, I was in trouble. Nothing had happened yet, and I already felt like I was stuck in a time loop.

I had to get out of my head because now I was back near the rest of my team.

“Where were you?” Hanson asked when I sat down in my seat in the VIP section.

I shrugged. “Just walking around.” I hesitated before I added, “I ran into Sadie.”

Hanson frowned. “Sadie? As in the Sadie? Your ex-girlfriend?”

I nodded and swallowed. “It was coincidence.”

I didn’t add that I’d seen her at the training facility. Nothing had happened there, and I hadn’t thought I would see her again. I hadn’t been ready to be grilled by Hanson about it. But now, I couldn’t hold this in— it was just too big of a deal. My need to tell my best friend outweighed my reluctance to be interrogated or perhaps lectured at.

“And?” Hanson asked. “How did that go?”

“Better than I thought it would,” I said. “At least she knows who I am. But only from after the accident. You know…” I blew out my breath, unable to find the words. “Shit.”

I rubbed my hand over my face. I felt off balance, to say the least.

Ever since I had first seen her, I had felt that way. My heart seemed to permanently be trying to leap out of my body. And my cock seemed to be permanently trying to leap out of my pants.

Hanson nodded slowly. His face was concerned. He had never known Sadie, and we’d met after I’d recovered from the worst when I’d had to walk away. But I’d told him enough for him to know that I had been through hell. And he had been a big proponent of my goal to forget about the past and move forward in the future.

That’s why he always played my wing man before he met Lacey, and pushed me to meet girls or at least hook up with them. He always thought I was too stiff and needed to let loose and relax and have a good time. But he didn’t know what it felt like to lose the love of your life without really losing her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Exactly how you would expect me to be feeling, I wanted to say. It’s not like anyone would feel fan-fucking-tastic in this situation.

But instead I just said, “I’m fine. Surprisingly.”

But that was a damn lie. I wasn’t fine at all. I had no idea what I was feeling, but I wasn’t fine. Seeing Sadie again had brought back a rush of memories. The memories were bittersweet, not because we had been in love and it hadn’t worked out, but because I had all those memories and she didn’t have any of them.

This reminded me of another variation of another old saying: “If a tree falls in the forest and nobody's around to hear it, does it still make a sound?” If a man dedicated two years of his life to a woman and she didn’t remember it and went about her life as if she didn’t even know about it, did it still count? Had any of it even fucking happened?

I had to be honest with myself. I didn’t want to see Sadie because I still felt like it was my fault. I felt guilty. I always asked myself the same questions again and again.

How could I have stopped it? How could I have saved her?

I had known that she was being careless, and I had seen her teeter on the rock in the wind before she’d fallen. I should have told her to come to me, or I should have fetched her and pulled her back. I should have saved her. How could I have fucked up so badly?

If I had done the right thing, done everything differently, I would still have her now. If I had, she wouldn’t have forgotten me.

I yanked myself out of the spiral of guilt and what-ifs and pushed it away. I could kill myself going around in circles like this, trying to figure out what I could have done differently. I could tell myself that everything would have been different if we hadn’t gone away from the rest of the group to have sex. If we hadn’t had alcohol. If we hadn’t gone at all.

No matter how much I beat myself up or how many times I ran through everything I could have done, it didn’t change the past. When my mind ruminated like this, I tried to remind myself that I had told her to come to me, and I had started going to get her.

I did what I could with the limited amount of time that I had. The accident had happened anyway, for whatever reason and none at all, and Sadie didn’t remember who I was. Thinking about it so much and feeling overly guilty wasn’t going to change that simple, sad fact.

In two seconds, two years of my life had disappeared without a trace. Fucking fantastic.

I took a deep breath and looked at Hanson. He was a great friend. He’d been there for me when I’d fallen apart before. He’d even sacrificed to allow me to hold onto the life I had created for myself. He was a true friend, more loyal than any other, and I was grateful for him.

When Hanson looked at me, I turned my eyes back to the game, but he somehow understood and clapped me on the back, as if to say it would all be okay. I didn’t feel like it would be.

By the time the game was over, I had managed to pull myself back together again. Hanson got up and grabbed his phone to call home and to let Lacey know that he was on his way. She was a good woman, and I was happy for Hanson.

A pang shot through my chest, though. Fuck, I wished I had that. I wished what I had before was still in my life. I would have settled down with Sadie. Yeah, we’d been young and reckless in love, but I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

I wished that she remembered me. I wished that there was a way she could get the two years back she’d lost. Then, she wouldn’t have to walk around forever, thinking of me as the stranger who tried to persuade her for three months that she was someone who just wasn’t there anymore.

“I have to head home,” Hanson said. “I don’t want to leave Lacey alone with the baby all night. Are you going to be okay?”

I nodded. “Go to your family,” I said. “I’m going to be fine.”

I was going to be more than fine. I was going to push through the crowds until I ended up at the bar, and I was going to drown my sorrows in alcohol. I had come in a cab so I didn’t have to worry about driving drunk.

I wasn’t going to keep torturing myself by being sober after I’d spoken to Sadie again. It was ironic how hard I had tried to get Sadie to remember us, when what I was always doing now was trying my best to forget.

The crowd was still thick, pulsating around me with excitement from the game, of being in the Hard Rock Stadium. A trip out with the family to watch football was fun, something different. Something purely American.

I made my way through the throngs of people, and slowly, they started to die down. I’d just about reached the entrance to the beer bar when someone caught my eye. With all the people milling around, you wouldn’t think it was possible, but it was.

I saw her. She stood to the side with another woman, talking, heads bowed together to hear each other more clearly. I walked to her. I didn’t even think about moving on, leaving her there without talking to her. She was there, and I had to go to her. It was a simple fact.

“Sadie,” I said when I was close enough for her to hear me.

She looked up, and at first she appeared confused and shocked, but then she smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled at me like that when I’d seen her.

“Hi,” she said.

Her friend looked at me with question marks in her eyes, seeming even more confused than Sadie. She cleared her throat.

“Oh, Lorraine,” Sadie said. “This is Brian. He’s—”

“The running back,” Lorraine finished, and I realized what the confusion in her face had been. Lorraine was star struck. I smiled at her and held out my hand.

“Brian,” I said.

Lorraine was taller than Sadie, her hair a dark brown and her eyes the same. She was beautiful in her own way, but in my eyes, she paled next to Sadie.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

She smiled at me and looked a little faint. I didn’t really like it when women fawned over me. Even though Sadie couldn’t remember who I was before I’d become famous, she didn’t blubber when she spoke to me. She was confident, upright, and sure of herself. It was refreshing to see that part of her was still there. I didn’t think she even knew that it was there, which only added to her appeal.

“Do you want to have a drink with me?” I asked Sadie.

It was an impulsive question, and suddenly, I was terrified that she would say no. Fuck, what was I doing? I was tumbling into the one thing I’d promised myself I would stay away from. I glanced at Lorraine, whose face practically glowed with hero worship.

“Both of you,” I added.

Sadie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I could see the rejection forming on her lips before she spoke.

“I’m really tired, Brian,” she said. “Not tonight. It’s late.”

Fuck.

I nodded, forcing a smile as empty as hers.

“Alright, then.” I should have been more polite, but I couldn’t find it in me. “Well, you ladies have a good night.”

I started to turn.

“Brian,” Sadie said, and I turned to her, even though I wanted to walk away. Her voice tugged at me, and I couldn’t help but stop when she asked me to. “How about we do something in the morning?”

Was she giving me a second chance? Maybe she really was tired.

“Brunch?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes at me, and some of the suspicion that she’d harbored just after the accident seemed to return. Like everyone was out to get her and she couldn’t tell truth from lies. Even though I understood how she could feel that way, it still hurt to see it in her eyes, when all I ever used to see when she looked at me was love and happiness.

Lorraine nudged her.

“Yeah, okay,” she finally said. “Brunch.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing that she responded only after Lorraine nudged her, but I would take my chances. In the back of my mind, a little voice warned me that it was dangerous. Again, true to form, I didn’t listen to it.

“Let me take your number, and we’ll arrange a time,” I said and pulled my phone from my pocket.

This time, Sadie didn’t hesitate before taking my phone and pushing the buttons. I watched her slim fingers dance on the screen. I got a flashback of the two of us standing in the hallway at school, next to our lockers where we once got in trouble for making out. She still had many of the same mannerisms that she had had back then.

“Call me?” she asked when she handed me my phone.

“For sure,” I said.

She smiled, and then she disappeared in the thinning crowd with Lorraine. I stared at the phone, at the digits on my screen, at her name, and suddenly, I didn’t feel the urge to drink anymore.