I lay it out there, like flesh flayed open, like pink muscle, like blood.
Dare closes his eyes, his gleaming black eyes.
“I know,” he says softly. “You didn’t remember me. For months.”
We know that. We both know that. It’s why we’re here, standing on the edge of the ocean, trying to retrieve my mind. It’s been out to sea for too long, absent from me, floundering.
I snatch at it now with frantic fingers, trying to draw all of my memories back. They’re stubborn though, my memories. They won’t all come.
But one does.
My eyes burn as I fix my gaze on Dare.
“You confessed something to me. It scared me.”
Dare’s lids are heavy and hooded, probably from the weight of guilt.
He nods. One curt, short movement.
“Do you remember what I told you?”
He’s silent, his gaze tied to mine, burning me.
I flip through my memories, fast, fast, faster… but I come up empty-handed. I only emerge with a feeling.
Fear.
Dare sees it in my eyes and looks away.
“I tried to tell you, Cal,” he says, almost pleading. “You just didn’t understand.”
His voice trails off and my heart seems to stop beating.
“I didn’t understand what?” I ask stiltedly. Just tell me.
He lifts his head now.
“It isn’t hard to understand,” he says simply. “If you remember all that I told you. Can you try?”
I stare at him numbly. “I’ve tried already. I… it’s not there, Dare.”
Dare’s head drops the tiniest bit, almost imperceptibly, but I see it. He’s discouraged, disappointed.
He shakes his head. “It is there. Trust yourself, Calla. Your memories are real. Finn was dead, and then he wasn’t.”
“My mom died instead. I thought I was crazy,” I murmur. “Because if it was real, then I somehow exchanged my mother for Finn.”
Dare sighs, a ragged and broken sound. He tries to touch my hand, but I yank it away. He doesn’t get to touch me. Not anymore.
“You don’t understand,” he says quietly. “But you’re not crazy.”
I stare at him. “No, I don’t understand.” And you have no idea what this feels like.
“You will,” he replies tiredly. “I swear to God you will.”
A lump lodges itself in my throat as the sea breeze rustles my hair. I take a deep gulp of it, filling my lungs with the clean scent.
“Did you ever love me at all?” I ask, the words choking me, because no matter what, it’s the most important thing to me right now.