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“I remember,” I say.

“Do you?”

“Enough.”

She studies my face. “What happened to you in there, Gray?”

I laugh without humor. “You want the short version or the depressing one?”

“I want the truth.”

“Broken ribs. Fractured pelvis. Collapsed lung. Head injury. Months learning how to walk without falling on my ass.”

Her expression crumples.

I hate it.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you feel sorry for me.”

Her chin lifts. “I’m looking at you like someone who loved you was worried sick about you.”

Loved.

Past tense.

I deserve that.

“You should’ve let me see you,” she says.

“Couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I was a fucking mess, Autumn. Couldn’t walk. Couldn’t sleep. Half the time I couldn’t remember what somebody told me five minutes earlier.” I tap the scar at my temple. “Still happens sometimes. Not exactly the charming bastard you remembered.”

“You think I cared about that?”

“You should’ve.”

“Stop telling me what I should’ve done.”

My mouth snaps shut.

She steps closer, her heels clicking against the stone.

“I knew you were hurt. I knew Eli died. I knew you were going through hell. What I didn’t know was whether you were ever going to let me back into your life.”

I stare past her toward the dark mountains.

Eli.