I had, hadn't I?
I'd sagged against the doorframe, massaging my head, gasping for breath, whispering her name. I knew this place. I'd been here before.
No, no, no. "I don't understand," I'd gasped out.
Brandon's hand had gripped my shoulder. "Man, there's no Lily. Okay, whoever you thought you saw—"
"No!" I’d insisted, shrugging his hand off, despair racing through my veins. "No, I didn't fucking imagine her. No. Lily! Jesus, Lily, please, please," I’d choked, gripping my head in my hands. God, had I made her up? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. No, no, she was real. I wouldn't believe otherwise.
"Did you bring drugs with you, Ryan?" Brandon had finally asked. "Did you sneak drugs into your bag?"
I'd let out a shuddery breath. "Yes, but they weren't hallucinogens. They were pain pills. And . . . Look," I'd said excitedly, going over to the fireplace mantle, "no dust. How could there be no dust in here unless someone had been using it?" I’d looked at him expectantly, perhaps a little desperately.
Brandon’s hands had been in his pockets and he’d stared at me piteously and shrugged. "It's in the middle of the building? Sealed up tight. I don't know," he’d said. Clearly he hadn’t been convinced pain pills couldn't make me high enough to see shit, or he’d thought I was completely off my rocker. God, I was. I was off my rocker.
Oh my God. I was insane.
My father had told me I was crazy, and he was right.
He was right.
I was crazy.
I was worthless.
"No," I'd said weakly.
I had let Brandon lead me out of there. No. Lily, Lily, Lily . . .
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ryan
I saw her everywhere. Walking down sidewalks, in crowded restaurants, once in the brief flash of dark hair and white lace right before an elevator door closed. Without thinking, my heart thundering in my chest, I'd run up four flights of stairs only to find that it was someone else. Someone holding a little boy's hand. She'd pulled him closer to her side as she’d exited the elevator, looking at me warily as if I might grab him and run.
Those were the times I still doubted my own sanity, still questioned whether she had ever existed at all. But then I'd remember the feel of her fingertips on my skin, the slippery silk of her hair, the sound of her laughter, and the way I loved her still, and I'd know, I'd know, deep down to my soul that she was real.
I dreamed of her, and in the darkness, she held me in her arms. In the darkness, she whispered that I was strong enough to hold on, that I was worthy of the love she'd given, and she reminded me who I was before I was anyone at all.
My Lily of the Night. Only of the moon.
Because now, just as then, when daylight came, she was no longer there.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ryan
"During the time you were in Colorado, did you ever question whether you were really Holden?" Dr. Katz asked. She never wrote anything on the notepad on her lap, so I wondered why she had it sitting there. Maybe she vigorously scrawled out notes between appointments and wanted to make sure it was at the ready. Maybe she just held it to look professional. Did I want a doctor who needed props to convince her patient she was professional?
I'd seen a psychiatrist the first six months I was back in San Francisco, but he seemed less interested in hearing my story than in prescribing medication. The last thing I'd thought I needed was more damn pills. And so about a month ago, I'd made an appointment with a psychologist. Maybe I just needed to talk to someone. This was only my third appointment, and despite her notepad prop, I liked her.
I shook my head. "No. I mean, there were places I think I kept myself from going in my mind, things that felt wrong that I didn't choose to investigate, but . . . no. I never actually questioned it. I had all his thoughts, all his feelings, all his memories. For that time, I was him. Only . . . I wasn't either. It's so damned confusing. Even for me."