Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(62)

“There’s no one who wants to catch my brother’s killer more than I do.” And just like that, I’m annoyed with myself because I keep pushing people to answer questions that I shouldn’t be pushing them to answer.

As if she can read my thoughts as they chase across my expression, Charlie gives me a small smile. “I know. Go back to your apartment, relax, and let the town party. Tomorrow, everything will be fine. Also, always have your keys. If something happened out here, we wouldn’t have been alerted until it was too late. The panic button should go everywhere with you.”

She’s right. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The point of it is to protect you. Let us do that. We have no idea if the killer is walking among us, and we want you to always be protected, no matter what.”

“Okay.”

Spencer comes back outside with my clutch. “Sorry, I had to . . . talk to a friend.”

Charlie smirks. “And I assume that friend had a bit of advice?”

“Ever the spy, Charlie.”

She turns to me. “Yeah, it definitely took a spy to figure that out.”

“Ready?” Spencer asks.

I take his arm, and we walk out to the car without a word.





The ride home is no more than nine minutes, but it feels like a year because there is this awkward silence in the car. My mind races with the right things to say, but nothing sticks. Charlie is right. I am not okay. I have a large gap of time missing, and I need to remember. I can’t start a relationship, not even if it’s one I have wanted my whole life, while I’m still like this.

Broken.

Damaged.

Scared.

Spencer has had enough of that from women in his life. There is a very real possibility that my memory will return, and I’ll remember the man I may have loved. What then? If I remember how happy I was and want that back, Spencer will have another woman walk out on him.

Then I think of the other guy who may exist, what of him? I don’t know who he is or why he hasn’t tried to find me yet, but for all I know, there’s a really good reason for his absence. How fair would it be to him if I pursued whatever this is with Spencer?

It wouldn’t be fair at all.

The car parks and neither of us move, almost as though we know tonight turned a corner.

I should say something. I want to, but I can’t.

“I don’t know where we go from here.” Spencer’s voice echoes in the quiet.

“I don’t either.”

“I know what I want. I know what I wish for.”

“Wishes and wants don’t mean it’s the right choice, and that’s what matters,” I say, but there’s something about the words that bothers me. As though I’ve heard it. As though . . . I knew it.

Spencer’s eyes meet mine in the darkness. The only light is the moon behind him. “What?”

“What?” I repeat his question.

“What did you just say?”

God, what if I’m quoting him? I start to wonder if I am because it sounds like something he’d say. “I’ve heard it before.”

“When?” The question exits his lips like a bullet, fast and strong.

“I don’t know. I just . . . said it and then had this feeling like I knew it.”

He turns back to the road. “I am trying so hard to do the right thing. The thing we both know we need to do. We can’t keep doing this dance, Brie. I never should have allowed any of it.”

“What dance? Don’t you get it? I don’t even understand what the steps are.”

“That’s the point! I never should’ve let any of it happen. You are . . . and I’m . . . Isaac deserves more. He deserved so much more than what I’m doing now.”

“What are you talking about, Spencer?”

“I never should’ve kissed you. I shouldn’t think about you, dream about you, find reasons to be around you. I never should’ve made you any promises about memories or kissing or dating. Not like this. Not now when you are dealing with all this. Not when I lost my best fucking friend a month ago. Not when I know . . .”

“You know what?”

He doesn’t answer me before he exits the car, walks around to my side, and pulls my door open.

I’ve had enough of this. Of all of it. I refuse to move. I cross my arms and stay in the car, very aware I look like a freaking idiot.

“Get out of the car, Brie.”

“Not until we’re done talking.”

Spencer sighs heavily. “We are done.”

“No, you’re done. You decided, and I don’t agree.”

“Get out of the damn car.”

The one thing I know is that no matter what, I am safe. He will never hurt me. He may wish he could strangle me right now, but he’d die before harming anyone he loves.

“You’re welcome to get back in or”—I reach into my bag and pull out my keys—“you can go inside if you like, wait there until I decide I’m ready.”

He laughs once. “You’re kidding?”

“I’m not. You’re done talking, but I want you to tell me what happened between almost kissing me at the MOTY awards and now.”

He reaches into the car, and at first, I think he’s going to pull me out, but he snatches the keys and walks toward the house. “Quinn? Can you watch her?”