I cling to Audra, afraid to lose my grip on her. Afraid to lose my grip on reality.
But the rhythmic pattern of her breath on my skin calms me, and the whispers of the Easterly fill my mind, leading me to sleep.
The second I leave consciousness, a tidal wave of memories slams into my brain. An entire childhood sliced and diced. Smiles, hugs, laughter, tears. Faces I know. Faces I don’t. Places I can’t recognize. Places that feel like home. All laced with different emotions—love, joy, fear, anger, hurt, regret. And wind. Lots and lots of wind.
I want to make sense of it all, piece my past back together and finally feel whole. But it’s too much to process all at once. My brain throbs so hard I want to tear it from my skull.
Then Audra’s whispers wash away the chaos and her face fills my dreams for the first time in days. Her dark hair sweeps against my face, and her sad eyes watch me as her lips speak words I actually understand this time. A hushed apology.
What is she sorry for?
She doesn’t say. Just repeats “I’m sorry” over and over and over. So softly it feels like she doesn’t want me to hear it. But I do.
I yank myself from the dream.
“Try to relax,” Audra murmurs. “Having your memories come back can be overwhelming.”
I jerk away from her, sitting up. “You know about that?”
She frowns as she sits up next to me. “Were your memories coming back before?”
Crap.
“I’ve had a few resurface since the breakthroughs,” I mumble.
She hisses something that sounds like a curse word. “I should have realized that might happen. The Southerlies during your breakthrough probably drew a few toward them on their way out of your mind.”
I have no idea what that means. Though it does tell me one thing. “So . . . you knew the memories could come back. Funny, considering you told me that was impossible.”
She scoots away, like she needs space from my accusation.
I take that as a yes.
“Why did you lie to me?”
Her hands find her braid, twisting the loose ends. “I thought I was sparing you. You have a lot of hard memories in your past. I honestly don’t understand why you want them back.”
My mind plays through some of the flashes from my dreams. I still can’t make sense of them. But there’s one that stands out.
My mom—my real mom.
I can finally remember her face.
I’m six, and we’re in a wide-open field, our hands locked tight as she spins me so fast my feet lift off the ground, twirling me in the wind. It feels like flying.
Round and round we go until we’re both so dizzy we collapse to the grass in a fit of giggles. She wraps her arms around me and I bury my face in her tangled red-brown hair as she kisses my cheek. Then she tilts my chin up and makes me look into her clear blue eyes. And she tells me she loves me. That she’ll always be there for me. No matter what.
I’ve never felt so safe and happy.
“Because there are good memories too,” I remind Audra. “Proof that my parents loved me—that I loved them. Do you know how much I worried that I erased my family because I didn’t love them enough to remember them? How guilty I felt?”
My anger deflates when I catch the way she flinches at the word “guilt.”
Bingo.
“So, my memories will keep coming back?” I press.
“I removed the barrier locking them away. I’m not exactly sure when and how they’ll return, but they’ll all resurface.”
“Any in particular I should worry about?”
She hesitates before she answers. “You . . . have a lot of pain in your past.”
“I can handle pain.”
“I hope so.” Her hands tug at the buttons of her coat and she swallows a few times. “There’s something you should know. About the day your parents died. About what happened to them.”
My stomach tightens and my mind flashes to the gnarled tree I dreamed about a few nights ago. Coated in blood.
Does Audra have something to do with my parents’ death?
Will it matter if she did?
My heart launches into overtime as her lips part, ready to spill the secret she’s been hiding so long.
What if it’s something I can’t forgive?
She closes her eyes and I hold my breath.
Everything hangs on her next words—and I’m not sure I’m ready to hear them.
CHAPTER 40
AUDRA
This is it. Time to strip away the layers and lies I’ve piled on top of my secret shame and show Vane the dark, ugly truth.
If only I can find the words.
I feel like my voice has dropped away, fallen into the pit of my stomach and tangled with the sourness filling me. If I try to drag it back up, it will reduce me to a crumbled, heaving mess.
I focus on the morning sun on my skin. The breezes in the air.
Calm. I need to stay calm.
All I have to do is say it: It was my fault.
Four simple words that have been the sum total of my existence for the last ten years. They flash before my eyes, making the world blur. Or maybe that’s my tears.
Just say it.
Maybe he’ll hate me.