Present day
Tristan came into the building, bringing the wind and his large, dominating presence with him. He was impossible to ignore, and Samantha found herself looking up, seeing the same face from all those years ago. He began to walk toward her, and for some reason the tiny wild horses ran hard across her chest again. Maybe because of their past, or maybe because of all the things the server had said that Samantha couldn’t quite deny. But there was a part of her that knew it was more than that. More than words or glances. Because being around Tristan again had awakened something vulnerable inside her. Something she’d been repressing for a long time.
He grinned as he came closer, as though he’d missed her during their short separation. He unzipped his coat, letting it drop down his shoulders before draping it across the back of his seat and sliding into the booth.
“Anything sound good?” he asked, reaching out for a menu.
She cleared her throat, still slightly dazed as she nodded her head. “Well, it would be a shame not to try the soup.”
Her voice was barely audible, but he smiled nonetheless. “You’re probably right.”
The server came forward, and set two mugs on the table while eyeing Samantha warily. She didn’t say a word, but the way the girl watched her made Samantha nervous. As though she’d seen Samantha’s reaction to him entering the room. As though she knew everything Samantha was feeling without her saying so.
“Are ya’ll ready to order?” she asked, filling their mugs with piping hot coffee. “Or do you want me to give you another minute?”
Tristan shrugged, lowering his menu to look at Samantha. “I’m ready if you are.”
She took a breath, turning toward the server before nodding her head. She could feel the walls of doubt closing in around her. Doubts about this trip, her relationship, her sanity.
“Can I have half a grilled cheese, and a cup of soup, please? Split pea,” she confirmed, then she rose from her seat without saying another word and excused herself to the bathroom.
Alone in a stall, she fished her phone from the bottom of her bag and called Steven. She needed to hear his voice, to hear him say he missed her, he loved her, anything that would ground her back to the life that seemed to be slipping through her fingers by the second. Steven’s phone rang a half dozen times, then finally rolled to voice mail, making her heart drop.
“Hey babe,” she began, her throat constricting as she thought of words to say. “We’re in Chippewa Nebraska. It’s so cold I can see my breath.” She paused, resting her head on the toilet roll and feeling almost sick. She began to laugh, not hard, but in a way that could easily shift to crying given the opportunity. “I think it may rain before we stop; isn’t that crazy?” She pulled in a breath. “I already miss our sunshine. I miss you.” But as the words crossed her lips, they didn’t quite feel genuine. They didn’t quite feel hers. “Call me.”
She disconnected the call, lowering her head to set her ears between her knees. But all she could think about were the words Tristan used back at her apartment. “I don’t remember much about you, either.”
“Much.” What did that even mean? The more she thought about it, the more impossible it became to ignore. He had to remember something. Maybe not their time in the woods, but something.
When she finally made it back to her seat, their food was already set on the table, and her brow was set with determination to get some answers. She slid into the booth, finding him relaxed and eating his meal, yet looking so perfect, Samantha had to force herself to look away. Her mind was clouded with confusion. So much so, she could hardly see straight. Because two days with Tristan had sent doubts about everything scorching through her veins.
She poured some creamer into her coffee, fetched a spoon from the table and began to stir. “What do you remember about me?” she whispered. She meant for the words to sound confident, like one of the random questions asked around a bonfire. Like the ones they asked each other in the car. But it came out unsure. Almost frightened. Not strong and steady like she’d intended them to.
His brows furrowed and he put down his burger. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know?” She shrugged. “I mean, Renee and I have been best friends for ten years. You can’t possibly remember nothing…”
Her words trailed off, and he pushed himself back in his seat and tilted his head. “Hmm… I remember you always wore two braids.” He paused. “Split right down the middle on either side.” He took a sip of coffee and grinned. “I remember you played the flute.”