You Will Remember Me by Hannah McKinnon (best sales books of all time txt) 📕

perished, too. One way or another, I needed closure, and the only people who could help with that were Ash and his sister.

I tried not to shudder when I remembered how Maya had stared at me, as if she could somehow see into my soul. I figured we were about the same age, but she seemed older, wiser and way more self-assured. Being assertive like that didn’t come naturally to me, something Dominic Martel had picked up on easily, and used to his full advantage. I’d noticed how Maya spoke, too, always direct and with certainty, and in the few encounters we’d had, I’d never heard her use a single filler word—not an uh, or an um, not even a misplaced like. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, and expressed herself so precisely, it was as if she’d rehearsed for weeks. Charismatic, interesting, sexy and seductive were words to describe Maya. Where did that leave me? Intimidated, that’s where.

I grabbed a sandwich from a small store in town and added a bottle of white wine on a whim. Back at the motel I sat on the plastic chair outside my room, absentmindedly eating food I didn’t want, and leaving the alcohol to cool in the fridge. My belt would need another hole soon if I didn’t eat properly and on a regular basis. Had Ash been the Jack I knew, and he’d noticed my shrinking frame, he’d have burst in with a giant, cheese-laden pizza, and a stack of Patti’s blueberry pancakes bigger than my head.

My face fell, replaced by the fear he’d never know me again, wouldn’t remember anything we’d ever shared. All our inside jokes and all our memories were now mine and mine alone. Losing him once had been hard enough, but a second time, especially when he was in front of me, so close yet out of reach... I didn’t think I was made to withstand those levels of heartache. I’d loved Ash more than anyone. We’d had a future together. He was the first man who didn’t make me doubt myself, who let me be me, and loved me for who I was. A good man, Fiona had said. Except he’d lied. And because of that I now doubted everything.

I sat back, pulled out my phone and was about to dive into research about amnesia before changing my mind and searching for local doctors instead, scrolling down the short list until I found the name Ash had mentioned: Dr. Adler. “No time like the present,” I said, putting my sandwich down and dialing his number, explaining who I was, and why I was calling, in ten seconds flat.

Dr. Adler cut me off as soon as I mentioned Ash’s name. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss—”

“I understand. Confidentiality and all that. But could I come and talk to you about amnesia in general? Please? I’m so lost and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Reid, but I’m about to go on vacation.”

“On the phone then?” I said. “I don’t know much about amnesia, but I’ve heard of the retrograde kind before. I believe it’s what Ash has, where he’s lost his past?” His silence reminded me he wouldn’t discuss his patients, so I tried again. “I don’t know much about it, but is it true it may only last awhile?”

“Each case is unique,” Dr. Adler said, “but as I mentioned, I can’t go into specifics.”

“Yes, yes, of course, but I’m wondering if my being here is a good idea.”

“You have to understand I’m a family physician, not a neuro-specialist. However, theoretically speaking, in the case of retrograde amnesia I’d advise the patient to be in familiar surroundings as much as possible, and to try and get back to their normal routine.”

“But in Ash’s case...?” I stopped. “I mean, what would the best scenario be for a person who’s been living elsewhere? Where would it make the most sense for them to try to get their memory back? The place they’ve been living for the past few years, or the town they grew up in?”

“Well, depending on the type of amnesia, often older memories are recovered first, so I suppose the argument could be made the person might benefit from being in their childhood surroundings.”

“Oh...”

“On the other hand, someone who spent a lot of time with the patient in recent years may well jolt the memories of their more recent past. Frankly, it’s difficult to say. Each brain is wired a little differently, and each case of amnesia is unique. There are no hard-and-fast rules.”

“Could my... I mean—” I blew out my cheeks “—I want to know if my being here might harm him or hamper his progress.”

Dr. Adler took a deep breath. “In this theoretical case I’d advise you to watch for the patient’s reactions. If he seems distressed or angry when he sees you, my advice would be to back off and try again later. Less might be more. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, thank you. Could Ash—”

“Ms. Reid, I can’t go into more detail. If you want to discuss this case specifically, please come back with Mr. Bennett. I’m afraid it’s the best I can do. Be patient with him,” he added softly. “And with yourself. I can only imagine how difficult it must be, but he’s lucky to have people who care so deeply for him. It’ll definitely help with his recovery. You can come see me again anytime after I get back, together, or for matters pertaining to your own health, of course, or should you need a referral to a specialist to help you deal with this situation.”

“Of course. Thank you,” I whispered, not wanting to hang up, but knowing I had to.

As I sat outside on my plastic chair, I wondered what to do for the rest of the evening. I debated sightseeing, taking a drive up the coast or down to Portland, but with everything weighing on my mind, playing tourist felt ridiculous. I still hadn’t decided