Splashes of brown and green rush by in a blur as I stare out the window in the back of the taxi. The landscape is choking in this Texas heat. The lush greenery that was thriving just two months ago is slowly fading. I focus on the dying brush instead of the disappointment brewing in my head. Walking out past airport security, I thought I’d see the face that got me through the past couple of months. Instead, I got faces full of sympathy as they watched me look for someone who wasn’t there. I wasn’t worried that I didn’t get a hold of her when I got a chance to call, but now this, it stings a little.

I close my eyes, running scenarios through my mind. She had the date wrong of me coming home. She’s shopping with her friends, lost track of time. She got a job and couldn’t leave. But I always end at the one that kills me inside; she’s moved on.

“Bootcamp as bad as I’ve heard?” The driver asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Physically, no.” I had it in my head that boot camp would make me more in shape than before I left. I think I gained fat being there. Pre-training is going to kick my ass.

I have the driver take me to my dad’s house first so I can pick up my truck. When we pull up, I shake my head, looking at the overgrown yard. Weeds have taken over the lawn. Days of newspapers litter the driveway.

Home sweet home.

My duffle bag makes a thud sound against the old worn out hardwood floor. The stench—from god knows what—invades my nostrils. I bet the asshole hasn’t cleaned anything since I left. The house is dark from the pulled curtains and the putrid smell gets worse as I walk into the living room. I pull my t-shirt over my nose hoping for a slight reprieve from the offending odor. Beer bottles are strewn across the coffee table with the caps littering the floor. I’m thankful I have shoes on when I step on one.

Yanking the curtains back, a couple of months of dust float in the air. I feel like I’ve walked into an abandoned house. There’s no resemblance to the house I grew up in. The life inside of it died when my mom died. I grumble at the smell, it’s so bad. “What the fuck is that?” I yell out.

I should turn around and leave. The only reason I came here was to get my truck, pack up some things and then go see Everly. I get pissed at myself for feeling guilty. He did this to himself. He’s a fully capable human being able to take care of himself. It’s like the angel and devil of my subconscious are having a fight. I’m on the devil’s side, but it’s the angel that’s making me head toward the closet. The box of trash bags I bought before I left is unopened, proving the bastard didn’t throw anything away. I yank a bag out, shake it open and start cleaning up.

When my fingers touch something wet on the counter under the mound of paper plates, I snap them back. I smell my finger and my stomach convulses and I cough through my gagging. My eyes water as I rush to wash off whatever the hell that was. I think I found the culprit of the stench. Tying a towel around my face, making sure to cover my nose, I dive back into cleaning.

The spilled curdled milk on the counter only made me gag a couple more times, but the house is somewhat clean now. I snatch my bag off the floor and walk down the hall to my bedroom. The shower is calling my name. I practically lived outside the last two months, yet I never felt this dirty. It’s probably the damn smell of spoiled milk that won’t go away.

“Well, if it ain’t the prodigal son returning.” My dad’s gruff voice slurs as he walks in the front door. I look up from tying my shoe for a moment, briefly catching his blood-shot eyes, before looking back down and finishing. “I’m surprised you came back, boy.” Sitting up, I watch him look around. He nods with his lips puckered like he just ate a lemon.

“You’re welcome,” I say, snidely.

He ignores me, walks to his La-Z-Boy and drops into it. “Not sure what you came back for. It’s not like you have a girlfriend anymore.” I stare at the back of the chair, stunned by his words. I’m trying to figure out if he’s being his typical asshole self, or my worst scenario is actually true. No. He’s lying.

I jump up, grab my keys and jog out the door. I can hear him heckling as I shut the door. Asshole. See if I ever clean your house again. You can die in your stench next time. The drive over, I nervously tap my thumbs to the beat of the song. Could she really have moved on from me? Did our love mean nothing to her? I knock the heel of my fist against my head. Stop thinking this shit. There is no way she forgot about me and moved on. Never.

“Kase, wait,” Everly’s dad says, holding out his hand. As soon as I drove up, he met me outside and stopped me. I stare at him wondering why he’s keeping me from going inside. “She was in an accident.” What? My body lunges forward needing to get to her before my brain can catch up to ask questions.

“Everly!” I yell as he holds me back. I repeat her name again.

“Kase.” He shakes me, and I glare at him, my nostrils flaring. “She was hurt pretty bad.”

“Where is she?” My voice is in full panic mode. “Tell me where she is!”

“She’s inside, but —”

He might be bigger than me, but he’s not as fast. I twist out of his grip and run inside, the screen door slamming behind me. “Everly, where are you?” I yell, trying my hardest not to scream it at the top of my lungs. Glancing into each room as I rush through the house, I finally find her in her bedroom. She’s sitting up with a book in her hand, but her eyes are pinned on me when I enter the room. I’m halted by the look of panic. It’s not until that second I wonder why she didn’t come running for me when I was calling her name.

“Everly, what’s wrong?” I take a step and her back stiffens, so I stop. She’s scared. Of me? The rise and fall of my chest is the only movement in the room. I glance around and question myself if this is the guest bedroom. No, the guest bedroom is in the back of the house. That window, I’ve crawled through a million times. But this isn’t her room. Pictures of us that are normally plastered everywhere, are all gone. The walls are bare. What the hell is going on?

“She lost her memory.” Her dad stands behind me in the doorway, his words feel like needles pushing into my heart. I keep my eyes on her to see her reaction. “Everly, this is Kase. He’s a friend.”

I whip around and narrow my eyes at him. My hands fist at my side. “I’m more—”

His jaw tightens, and his eyes bore into me as he interrupts me and says, “Stop. She doesn’t remember any of us.” Everly’s mom places her hand around his arm and gives me a sympathetic nod. She pulls on his arm and nods her head to the side, gesturing that he leaves us. He hesitates for a beat but gives in. “Don’t say anything to upset her,” he warns me before leaving.

She really did forget me. Literally.

I slowly turn around, wringing my fingers. What do I say? The love of my life is staring at me like I’m a stranger. Shit, I am a stranger in her head. Does her heart not feel anything when she sees me? I blink back the tears that threaten to escape.

“What was your name?”

I have dreamt of her voice for months, the pure, sweet angelic tone that I could never get enough of. But I could double over in pain from those words. I hold myself together so I don’t upset her, but this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Choking on my name, I clear my throat and try again. “Kase.”

“That’s a weird name.”

I chuckle and nod. Her answer takes me back, eight years ago, when she said the exact same thing. “So, you don’t remember me?” I whisper.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t. Were we good friends?”

I pull in a harsh breath and it shakes coming out. My knees weaken, my whole body wants to collapse, but I stand tall. “We were. I mean…we are.”

We love each other. We’re getting married. The words are seconds away from slipping from my mouth. I begin to close the gap between us. Maybe if I touch her, it’ll spark her memories. She scoots to the side of the bed, stands up and holds up her hand. It’s not until then, I see the newly scarred cuts on her arms.

“Please, stop,” she says, tears trickling down her face. Rejection from her is so foreign, it’s difficult to understand. “Can you just leave?”

“Everly, you’re getting upset because you don’t know why you’re feeling something, but there’s a reason. Let yourself feel it,” I plead with her, trying to pull out what I know is still in there. Her brain might not be working right, but her heart is still beating, and I know it beats for me.

She shakes her head quickly. “No. That’s just it. I don’t feel anything, and I can see how much I mean to you. It’s…” She pauses, taking in a quick breath. “It’s killing me that everyone looks at me, expecting me to remember them and I just don’t. I’m tired of people touching me, telling me stories that sound more like a book I read than a memory. The disappointment in everyone’s faces when they leave… I don’t know what to say to make y’all feel better,” she cries.

“Kase, I think it’s best you leave,” Everly’s mom says, coming into the room. She places her hand on my arm like she did her husband’s. The gentle gesture feels like a hand of steel crushing me. I wipe the tears running down my face. I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to go back to training in a couple of days, but I don’t want to leave her. She’ll remember me. She has to.

I find her gaze again, but she looks away.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” My heart splits open as I walk out of the room. Everly’s dad is on the porch as I pass. I’m sure he’s loving the fact that his daughter can’t remember me. Everly’s mom takes her place next to him.

I swallow back my emotions and spin around. “What happened?”

“We’re not exactly sure. She drove right through a red light, running head-on into a truck. We’re lucky she’s alive,” her mom answers.

My brows furrow. “She didn’t stop. At all?”

She shakes her head. “A witness said they saw her leaning forward like she was passed out before she hit the truck, but we can’t be sure.”

“How long… how long until her memories return?” I stutter, pointing at her door.

“We don’t know. The doctor says it could be tomorrow, it could be never.”

I double over, gripping my jeans at the knees to keep me standing. It’s hard to breathe. “How can she not remember me?” I whisper to myself.

“We need to tell him,” I hear her mom say.

Standing, I murmur, “Tell me what?” Her dad glares at her mom. Whatever she wants him to say, he’s not happy about. “Tell me what,” I say louder this time, taking a step toward them. He firmly shakes his head twice at her like he’s not going to tell me.

He sighs, looking back at me. “We’re moving her to a facility that specializes in helping patients with amnesia.”

“O…kay,” I respond, wondering why he didn’t want to tell me that? The quicker she can get help, the faster she’ll come back to me. “Where?”

“It’s in Arizona.”

“Arizona? There isn’t anywhere closer? Like Dallas? And why did you take down all her pictures? Don’t they say to keep showing her pictures because you don’t know what will trigger her memory?” I don’t have a freaking clue if that’s what they say, but it sounds reasonable. It’s crazy to think, but it sounds like they’re trying to take her away from me. The sadness inside me switches to anger.

“We didn’t take them down, she did.” I’ve never wanted to punch Everly’s dad as much as I do right now. His smug face fuels the fire burning in my gut. He takes a solid step toward me, lifting a brow as if taunting me to do it. The only choice I have is to turn around and leave. He wouldn’t hesitate to throw me in jail and it’d destroy my military career.

The slight satisfaction of leaving tire marks in front of his house as I speed away lasts less than a second before the reality of the situation sets in.

I’ve lost Everly.