Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(40)

“I don’t know what it was, but it was gone. I felt cold and alone and . . . it all left.”

“Did you ask Spencer?”

“No, I was too upset. I wanted that memory to stay so badly. I was happy and felt like I was going to be okay, and then I was terrified.”

We talk a bit more as he asks questions about the memory and the beach. I answer everything I can as thoroughly as I can, hoping he’ll be able to tell me how to remember more of my past.

Dr. Girardo’s alarm rings, and he sighs. “I would love to keep talking, but it seems our time is up for the day. We’ve covered a lot, and it’s important to rest as much as it is to work. I’d like you to keep a journal of memories or dreams you have. We can go over them each time. Also, you should try to meditate each morning. One of the keys to your recovery is nurturing yourself. It’s like the saying about putting on the air mask for yourself before your child, you can’t save someone else if you don’t save yourself.”

I am going to kill Holden for this. “I don’t need saving. I need to do the saving.”

“And that’s the goal we took our first step toward today, whether you realize it or not.”

He’s right. I don’t think we accomplished anything today. I didn’t get any answers, I just went back over all the crap we already knew. “I don’t think you’re right. I’m no different from when I walked in.”

“That’s not true.”

“I still have no memories of who killed my brother and tried to kill me.”

He nods. “That much is the same, but we did learn a lot.”

“What did we learn?” I ask with frustration.

“What I look for is a pattern or something to indicate what the brain might be triggered by. For you, it’s fear and comfort.” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “What would you think if I told you that we’ve met several times before?”

My heart rate accelerates, and my breaths come quicker. What? Did we? Why does this keep happening? How could I sit here and talk to him and he not mention this if we have before?

“Brielle?” he prompts. “Tell me exactly what you’re feeling. Describe it all.”

“I’m angry. I’m so angry because everyone keeps things from me. We’ve met? When?”

“Those are questions and not the answer to what I asked. Tell me what you’re thinking and your emotions.”

My eyes well with tears of frustration, and I spew it all. “I would be hurt and sad. Right now, I am cold, and my heart is racing. The shaking in my hands makes it all worse. Because if we’ve met before and I don’t remember it, then who’s to say I don’t walk by a dozen other people I’ve met and have no recollection of? It’s terrifying.”

He leans forward so he catches my eyes. “I can assure you that we haven’t met before today, and I’m sorry for causing you distress, but let me ask you something else.” After a second, I nod my permission. “Earlier, when I asked you to recount the memory about your brother’s car, what went through your head?”

I look up, wiping the stupid tear that fell. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do. It’s the same thing you felt at the beach.”

My lips tremble as the truth crashes around me. “I felt safe.”

“Yes, you felt comfortable and safe. You weren’t drowning in fear. What I would like to focus on is helping you establish control of it, which will hopefully be a big step in helping you regain your memories.”

“How do I control it? How do I get rid of it?”

He smiles. “Start keeping a list of anything you know is real. Concrete and absolute. We will go over it during our next session.”





Chapter Fourteen





SPENCER





“Hit me,” Emmett says as he taps the green felt.

“You’re going to bust,” Holden warns.

“I’m going to bust your lip if you don’t shut up.”

Tonight is Holden’s last night in town. He decided to head back home after his call with Dr. Girardo, which he’s been tight-lipped about.

“Let him lose, it’s his money,” I say, dealing the card he asked for.

Emmett curses. “Damn it. I needed a three.”

“You need to learn how to play,” Holden notes. “You don’t hit when you need a three. It’s like you can’t count.”

“I can count the number of times you’ve irritated me.”

I snort. “You can count that high?”

Emmett flips us both off.

I look over to the screen, which shows a live stream of Brielle’s door, wondering if she’s okay. She came home about three hours ago and hasn’t left since.

My mind has been a mess all day. I keep seeing her on that beach, blonde hair flowing down her back and the sun on her beautiful face. My mind burned the images of those shorts and the tank top that showed every curve on her perfect body. I wanted to haul her in my arms and kiss her until she could do nothing but remember us, but I can’t do that.

No, instead I have to stare at a photo in my dresser, tracing her face with my finger through the glass.

“What about you, Spence?” Emmett asks.