Page 15 of Remember, Love

Epilogue

Five weeks later…

Beth

“Come on, let’s go.” I’m dragging Logan through the woods. He’s carrying a picnic basket and I’m crazy excited. “It’s so beautiful!” I spin around, jumping and laughing. We made it to the campsite.

“You know, if you think I’m going to remember—” Logan looks around the clearing.

“I don’t. I know what the doctor said. We’re lucky you remember as much as you do. Dissociative amnesia can take a person’s whole identity. Your memory may come back, it may not. It’s okay. I love you either way.”

He looks at me and there’s hunger in his eyes. “No, you don’t,” I say, “I made us chicken, and corn on the cob, and cake!” I squeal as Logan dives for me. “I said there’s cake!”

He doesn’t listen. So I take off at a run, squealing and laughing as he chases me through the woods. I duck under branches and jump over logs. Logan is right behind me, so close I can hear his breathing. I grin and reach down, grabbing a handful of leaves. I spin around, catch him by surprise, and rain them over him.

“Take that!” I laugh at the surprise on his face, then sprint off again.

“You better run!” he shouts. He charges after me and I gasp as he lifts me from the ground. My stomach flips as he tucks and rolls and brings me on top of him.

He lies in a bed of leaves, I settle on top of him.

I brush at his hair. “You have a leaf,” I laugh. “Here, and here, and—”

He catches my wrist in his hand. His muscles are tight and he’s staring at me in shock.

“Beth,” his voice breaks. “Fuck.”

I stare down into his eyes, I can see the memories crashing in.

He shudders and lets go of my wrist. His hand reaches toward my brow, his touch gentle on my skin. “And an earthworm,” he whispers, “right here.”

A sob bursts from my lips. I never thought I’d be so happy to hear about a worm. Logan flips me under him. His mouth finds mine, reaches me and lifts me up.

“I love you,” he says, a promise, a prayer, “I love you.”

“I know,” I say. “I love you. I always have.”

He strips us naked, there in the wet, leaf-strewn woods. I don’t feel the damp, the cold, the twigs and tree roots. I only feel his love and the promise of always.

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