Page 101 of Remember Me

“Not without any other clothes, no.”

Her mouth forms an adorable little O as she takes in what I’ve just said. “Shall I go and put something else on?”

“No!” I rush out, almost shouting and startling her. “No, what you have on is fine.” Running my hand down my face, I pull out her chair. “Let’s eat.”

After what was one of the most torturous dinners I’ve ever endured, we snuggle back on the sofa, going through the letters I sent religiously to Lottie. Her replies are safely tucked away at my penthouse, and maybe I should get those so she can see what she said to me as well.

We laugh at teenage me when I tell Lottie about my disastrous first kiss, we cry when we read the letter about my dad, and we laugh again when we recount Lottie's first—and what appeared to be last—date with a kid named Troy. Seriously, was he a High School Musical reject? It still makes me laugh to this day that he took her to Burger King on her birthday when she’s a vegetarian. I mean, come on, dude. Burger King? Seriously?

It’s a surreal experience when we read them and she recalls perfectly what happened, but she just doesn’t recall telling me, or her feelings about me at that time in her life. It’ll be harder when she reads her journals from our college years, I’m sure.

We sit there for hours, pouring over hundreds of letters until Lottie lets out a yawn and we call it a night.

After brushing our teeth side by side, we get under the covers, me being the big spoon to her little spoon. Once her breathing evens out, I whisper, “I love you so much, Lottie.”

I kiss the back of her head, breathing her in before I let sleep take me.

Chapter 68

Charlotte

These last few weeks have been bliss. Jake has mostly had home games and hasn’t been away, or at least not gone for longer than a couple of days at a time.

We spend every spare second of time together, and the more time we spend with each other, the more in love I become. I still haven’t told him that yet, though.

Something is holding me back and I don’t know what. Maybe it’s because I haven’t recovered any further memories, but what if I never do? I can’t keep waiting around on a what if.

Jake has a home game against Vegas and we’re all going to cheer the guys on. Even Hannah is coming as she’s officially off dog watching duty for the night, thanks to her neighbor’s teenage daughter wanting to earn some extra money.

Padding down the hall, towel drying my hair, I spot Jake on the terrace. He’s on the phone to someone in what looks to be a tense phone call, judging by the furrow in his brow.

I can just make out snippets of his call and hear the words “Jackson, expansion draft…one year left on contract…traded.”

Oh my god, is Jake about to be traded? About to be taken away from me? And where the hell is Jackson?

Grabbing my phone, I do a quick Google search and find a news article all about the proposed expansion, noting Jackson is in Texas. Texas? That’s like halfway across the country.

My thoughts are spiraling right now. What happens if he gets traded? Would he want me to go with him? Would I want to go with him?

I’m completely rattled by this news, but I’m going to put on my brave face and not show Jake that. I don’t want him to be on edge before his game, that’s the last thing he needs. I could message the girls or Wren, but I’m a big girl and can figure this out on my own. I’m sure I can

I wish my parents were here. They’d know just what to do.

Through the window, I can see Jake wrapping up his call, so I rush to look busy and not like I was eavesdropping.

Quickly running round the kitchen island, I turn the coffee machine on and gather some cups, keeping my hands busy and stopping them from shaking from the news I’ve just heard.

Arms creep around my waist. Unintentionally, I tense up, my body going rigid under his touch.

“Baby? Are you ok?” Shit, he’s noticed.

Turning in his arms, I give him a smile—I can only hope he doesn’t realize is fake—and say, “I’m fine, just a bit of a headache, that’s all.” Reaching up, I plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“Come on, The First 48 isn’t going to watch itself.”

He looks at me. He can tell something’s off, but he doesn’t say anything, just follows me over to the couch.

Jake leaves for the arena around two hours later, and I’m left stewing over his earlier phone call. I know I should talk to him about what I heard, but I need to get my head on straight first.