Won't Let Go by Avery Olive Page B

readable. At least the amnesia didn’t take that away from him.
    I had forgotten all about those papers stuck in the back pocket of my jeans, heaped on the floor in the bathroom. And how they got into his hands, though I’m desperate to understand, seems like the last thing I should care about.
    My body trembles at the fierceness in his eyes. “I—” I swallow down the lump in my throat, “—I needed to know more.”
    It’s the truth. Today was planned out entirely. Wake up—hopefully still in the arms of Embry—go see Elliot—Embry’s brother—and understand.
    God, I want to understand what happened.
    Need to understand.
    “You needed to know what? It says it all here, doesn’t it?” He thrusts the papers into my chest.
    “No it doesn’t Oakl—”
    “Don’t call me that! Don’t ever call me that again.”
    I look away, because the disdain in his voice slaps me, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “Sorry,” in a breathless whisper.
    I should have told him the truth.
    I shouldn’t have kept this from him.
    He doesn’t hear me, or maybe doesn’t want to, because he goes on, “My name’s Embry, Embry Winston. It says it here in black and white.”
    It’s the way he says it, the tone his voice takes on. He’s still full of anger and yet in the undertone—so slight I think I’m making it up—there’s frustration.
    I take a step closer, pushing aside his outstretched hand, still clutching the paper. “You’re not mad at me.”
    He shakes his head vehemently. I reach my hand towards him but he pulls back so quickly his body blurs. “You kept this from me. You—lied.”
    “I know. I just wanted to have answers...But that’s not what’s really bothering you. I know it’s not.”
    Embry takes another step back and falls into the office chair, defeated. “I can read these words, understand them and yet...I—”
    I close the distance between us again and kneel on the floor in front of him. Because, if this is the only thing I understand today, at least I get it. Had there not been Embry’s eleventh-grade picture in the inset of the article, I never would have believed it was about him.
    “This is me, isn’t it?” He laughs in a mocking tone. “Of course it is, I can recognize my own face and yet—”
    “You still don’t remember,” I whisper.
    Was it really all going to come back just by reading an article, especially one that points all the blame of his accident at his brother? I didn’t think so, but that doesn’t mean I’m not upset. I had hope and now that’s been crushed. The sheer amount of devastation in Embry is enough to make my heart clench, my stomach turn, and my eyes fill with tears.
    Embry’s sunken head rises to meet my eyes. His own are no longer full of anger, but pain and hurt. It’s something I’ve sadly seen a lot of in those blue orbs. “How can I not remember? This article—” He tightens his fist around the papers, and a loud scrunching noise fills the air, “—how could my own brother do this to me? What horrible thing did I do to him, Alexia, that would make him do this to me?”
    “I don’t know.” I rub my hands up and down his thighs, hoping the action calms and soothes him. “But we’re going to find out, Embry.” The sound of his name rolling off my tongue catches me off guard. Since I learned it, in my head he was Embry, in my heart he was Embry, but this is the first time I’ve spoken it to him. I search his eyes for some glimmer of recognition, but they’re hollow.
    “Is it going to matter? So what if we track him down, get the answers we need. Is it really going to make a difference? How can I begin to remember anything if my—” his eyes look down, sweeping over his clothes “—if my brain is dead?”
    There’s no answer to his question.
    He’s right.
    Totally right.
    How is he ever supposed to remember something if his real brain is locked? Not able to open its door to let something in or out except the Embry I see