Ash stared at me, the color in his face gone. “Why can’t I remember any of this?”
“I don’t want you to remember,” I said, trying hard not to raise my voice but barely able to contain it. “You were a mess, both times. Celine was your first crush, and you told me you had plans to propose to Kate.”
“Why does Keenan think I had something to do with Kate’s death?” When I looked away, Ash took a step toward me and grabbed my hand. “Tell me. Now. I want to know if—”
“What?” I shouted, snatching my hand away as my anger erupted. “What do you want me to tell you? That Keenan dated Kate before you did? That he blames you for stealing her away and consequently for her death, because if she’d stayed with him, she’d have had no reason to come here?”
“Woah, I—”
“Or that the police investigated you when she fell? Came to the house? Asked us questions?”
“Maya, slow down—”
“Of course they did, it’s their job. But you were with me all evening. We went out for a drive and weren’t even here. Kate slipped and fell, Ash. It was an accident.”
“Keenan doesn’t think so.”
“Of course not. He’s hated you from day one. Kate’s accident was just an excuse to reignite his obsession with blaming you for everything, including Celine’s disappearance. But we all know you had nothing to do with it. Any of it.”
“Then why did I leave town?” Ash fired back, his tone and temper almost matching mine.
“Don’t you think I’ve asked myself the same thing? Don’t you think I’ve wondered every single day? And now that you know about Celine and Kate, I’m terrified you’ll leave again.”
“Maya—”
“I lost you once. I can’t go through it again. I won’t. First my dad, then Mom, and Brad. We thought that was it. We promised each other we’d stick together, you and me, because it’s all we had, but you left. You abandoned me. I came home to a goddamn note on the kitchen table and the cops wouldn’t even let me declare you as a missing person because you chose to leave.” Unable to stop myself I grabbed the saltshaker from the table and threw it at the wall, where it punched a half-moon-shaped dent before skidding across the floor, leaving a thin white trail behind. “You hurt me, Ash. You have no idea how much.”
“I’ve no idea about anything,” Ash shouted back, and I realized I’d pushed him too far, I’d let my frustrations out and this was the result. Anger begets anger. How could I have been so stupid?
“For God’s sake, Maya,” Ash continued, his voice rising further still. “People think I hurt those women? I can’t deal with this. I don’t know how to...” He looked at me for a moment, his chest heaving, and before he said anything else, he stormed past me and out of the kitchen.
I flinched as I heard the front door slam shut behind him and, heart racing, I reached for my bag, for the clonazepam in the side pocket that I hadn’t needed for months. I dropped what was supposed to be my last pill ever into my palm before rolling it between my thumb and index finger. If I swallowed it my anxiety levels would immediately wane, but the consequence was my brain would feel fuzzy as cotton wool for the rest of the day. I stared at the medicine, cocking my head to one side, thinking things through before biting off half the pill and swallowing it dry.
Sometimes we all needed a little bit of help.
12
ASH
Standing outside clutching the wobbly railing of the old, rickety porch, I took deep breaths, attempting to steady my head, which whirred and spun from my sister’s revelations about the two women I couldn’t remember, but had been involved with. Celine had run away when we were teenagers. Kate had died. And then, a couple of months later, I’d disappeared from Newdale overnight. If that wasn’t the sign of a guilty conscience, I didn’t know what was.
Maybe Keenan’s suspicions were valid, but Maya had been adamant I’d had nothing to do with Celine leaving, or Kate’s death. My sister’s reassurances were welcome, because, without any firsthand knowledge of what I had or hadn’t done, her comfort was all I had.
Last night Maya had pushed pretty hard for me to see a doctor, and perhaps she was right, except...what if I saw someone, got my memory back and found out she was wrong about my lack of involvement? What if the doctor told me my condition was permanent, that I’d never remember anything about my past or know who I truly was? I couldn’t figure out which was worse. When I’d woken up on the beach in Maryland I’d felt lost and confused, scared even. Since my arrival in Newdale those feelings seemed to be turning into anger, a sensation buried deep inside my chest and which I was unable to explain. I could almost feel it expanding and growing, a snarling beast I wasn’t sure I could get under control. Had I always felt this way? This tightly wound? So close to exploding?
After another few minutes of deep breaths, ruminating and trying to force my brain to work properly, I went back inside. Maya sat on the stairs, and when I saw her, my anger dissipated some more. She hadn’t done anything wrong. From the moment she’d heard me on the other end of the phone at the petrol station, she’d bent over backward to help me.
“You don’t have to worry about me leaving town,” I said gently. “You’re my sister. I may not remember it, but I’m going to do whatever I can to make everything come back.”
She nodded, pressing
