Silas

A few receipts in, I found the one I was looking for. It was handwritten, like the kind old-school diners still used, with the name of the shop scrawled across the top.

“This is from the night before last.” I peered at it. “Not quite sure what it’s for, though.” The item listed was simply Dearmad. “Dearmad? What the hell does that mean?” I didn’t even know if I was saying it right.

George gestured for me to hand him the receipt. I did, and he looked it over. After a moment, he shook his head and handed it back. “No idea what that means or even what language it’s in.” He took out his phone. “Hey Siri. What does dearmad mean?”

Then he peered at the screen, and he snorted. “Okay, I’m pretty sure I didn’t say it right.” Turning his phone toward me, he added, “Unless you’ve taken up some really interesting hobbies recently.”

I eyed it, then chuckled. “My memory is gone, but I can guarantee I didn’t get into anything involving deer medicine, and I definitely didn’t go down a rabbit hole about deer diarrhea.”

George laughed, and he thumbed the same question into Google. This time, his eyes widened, and his eyebrows climbed his forehead.

“What?” I asked. “What does it mean?”

“It’s Gaelic. Something about ‘neglect’ or ‘mistake.’” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Or ‘forget.’”

My stomach dropped. “Oh. Shit.”

He swallowed. “I’d ask if you have any idea what that’s about, but…”

“Yeah. I, uh… I have no clue.” I picked up my own phone again. “Might as well find out.”

We were both silent as I called the number on the bottom of the receipt. It went straight to voicemail:

“Greetings, fellow traveler! You’ve reached Gach Rud at 14 Lohengrin Boulevard. We are currently closed, but we’d be delighted to assist you on the phone or in the store between 10 AM to 10 PM on our operating days. We are closed Sundays and Wednesdays. Please leave a message at the sound of the chime.”

There was a chime, and then I ended the call. “They must be busy. The recording says they’re closed on Wednesdays and Sundays. So the fuck what? Today’s Tuesday.” Except… My shoulders sagged. “Um. What day of the week is it?”

“Wednesday,” he said quietly.

I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned as my reality tilted one more degree off its axis. “Of course it is. Ugh. Fuck my life.”

“Damn,” George whispered. “Okay, but maybe we can do some research about what they sell that’s called… uh, however you pronounce that.”

I met his eyes. “We?”

He smiled. “Of course. I told you I’m going to help you, and I meant it.” He paused, glancing around the room, and his face fell a little. Meeting my eyes again, he said, “Listen, I’ve got my appointments cleared for today, but I should go back in and make sure my schedule is open tomorrow. I want to help you, and I want this to be my complete focus.”

I didn’t know what to make of him suddenly wanting to take off. No, he didn’t like leaving his patients or colleagues in a lurch, but he seemed… uncomfortable? Hell, maybe he was; coming back here after we’d split up might have fucked with his head more than either of us had expected.

He must’ve taken my silence for hesitation, because he gently insisted, “I’ll clear my schedule at the clinic, and tomorrow, when the shop is open again, we can go figure out what the fuck you bought.”

It sounded so simple, and yet so daunting. I wanted to know—needed to know—what was happening, but I was also afraid to know. Now that I thought about it, the only thing more unsettling than having a year of my life vanish from my memory was having it all come crashing back in at once.

George touched my arm. “Maybe take today and tonight to just catch your breath. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Why are you suddenly in such a hurry to leave?

I didn’t have it in me to argue, though, so I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.” The words “don’t leave” shot right to the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back. He was already helping me more than he had any obligation to, and I couldn’t begrudge him dealing with work.

I also wasn’t sure if he should stay. I was missing too many pieces of our recent past. In my mind, George was still the man who’d gone to sleep beside me last night. In his mind, I was his ex. His ex of at least a few months. We were in different places, and I had a giant blank spot where our breakup and all its context should’ve been. If he stuck around, I was liable to really forget, and then things might get awkward. Especially since, in that moment, the only thing I wanted besides my memory back was to get wrapped up in him and forget everything.

Somehow, between my last memory and now, we’d fallen out of love. But I didn’t remember that. I only remembered being in love with him, and I caught myself wanting him to remember that too. Maybe because I desperately needed comfort and a distraction. Maybe because, on some level, even though I vividly remembered going to bed in his arms less than twenty-four hours ago, I could also feel the wide gap between the last time we’d touched and now. I missed him as if that much time really had gone by, even though I didn’t feel like it had.

I dropped my gaze, suddenly choking on my emotions as I shakily wiped at my eyes. Losing a year’s worth of memory was wrong. Realizing I couldn’t touch the man I’d loved just yesterday? The man I still loved like we’d never split up? Jesus fuck.

“Hey,” he whispered, and collected me in his arms. “It’s gonna be okay.”

I wanted to ask how the hell he could be so sure, but right then, he stroked my hair like he’d done so many times before. All my touch-starved nerve endings lit up, and the mix of comfort and heartache—the feeling of being right where I belonged and also knowing on a visceral level that I hadn’t been here in way too long—was more than my brittle composure could take.

“God, I’m sorry.” I held him tighter. “I don’t remember us breaking up. It doesn’t feel like we did. But… I also feel like I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

George pushed out a breath and kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. I didn’t know anything anymore except that I was afraid to remember what life was like without him.

I drew back and looked up at him, meeting those familiar dark eyes. The extra shine on his lower lashes made my chest ache. “Are you—”

He quickly looked away and swiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is… I know it’s earth-shattering for you, but it’s a lot for me too. I’m not sure how to…” He trailed off into a sigh.

I couldn’t resist and touched his face, the coarse warmth of his jaw making my senses tingle as if I hadn’t caressed him just like this last night. Because I hadn’t. Because that had been a year ago. My senses remembered him the way I’d remembered my high school after years away—as something I vividly recalled and had never really grasped leaving behind, even while my mind thought we’d both slept here last night.

“I am so fucking confused right now,” I whispered unsteadily. “I can’t even get my head around us not being…”

George winced, and a tear slipped free. I brushed it away, but he wouldn’t look at me.

I swallowed hard. “What happened between us—is there any going back? You said we just drifted apart or whatever, but…”

“There isn’t,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him. “Trust me.”

How could he be so sure? What wasn’t he telling me?

George cleared his throat again and gently stepped out of my embrace. “I should go. Tomorrow, we’ll hit up the shop and figure this out.”

I wanted to reach for him. His arms had been the only place that had felt remotely right all damn day, and I didn’t want him to let go.

But maybe he was right. There was a lot I didn’t know about us, and my best bet was to follow his lead until I could remember how we got here in the first place.

“Okay,” I said. “Just, um… I guess we’ll go to the fae shop tomorrow?”

He nodded sharply. “First thing in the morning.”

A moment later, he was gone, leaving me alone in the condo he still should’ve lived in. There were still hours left in the day. Hours I could spend digging into my own past and piecing things together.

But for as much as I could apparently forget the whole last year of my life, I couldn’t forget the tears in his eyes or on his face. Or the way he’d abruptly decided he needed to go.

And I was suddenly scared to find out what I’d forgotten.