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Dr. Riordan’s eyes sharpen. “This is why I want to discuss something with you. I’m running an experimental drug trial that appears promising for patients who’ve lost their memories because of traumatic brain injuries. Now, we’re only at the trial stage, and there may be side effects—”

“I’ll do it. Sign me up.” Wings beat inside my chest and suddenly the room appears brighter and sharper. This is what hope does to you.

“Ms. Vaughn. Please think this through. Your body has been through a lot already. Being in an experimental trial means more hospital visits, exams, and tests. Not to mention, some participants have had severe side effects—nausea, insomnia—”

“Please, Dr. Riordan. I want to try everything and have no regrets. I want to do it.”

If I believe in it, who’s to say it isn’t true? And don’t I always say don’t wait to live life because the clock is always ticking?

Dr. Riordan stares at me for a beat before nodding. “Very well. I’ll be back with paperwork and the trial administrator, and we’ll go through the details with you. In order to preserve the integrity of the trials, no one in your life may tell you anything additional that transpired in those four years of missing memories. This is critical. So, please think through this. If you change your mind, you can always call my direct line.”

He hands me a business card and stands. “Oh, and I wanted to give you this.” He hands me a sheet of paper from his clipboard. “I think this might be helpful.” He smiles and leaves the room.

I stare at the document.Letters of Hope.A program that matches patients recovering from long-term stays to anonymous letter writers.

A pen pal program.

My fingers tingle and a rush of energy flows through me. Words, thoughts, and emotions barrel through my mind. I have so many things I want to say, but can’t because I don’t want the people I love to worry about me.

But dammit. I’m lonely.

I don’t think anyone truly understands what I’m going through. After all, how can they unless they’ve been in my shoes?

A pen pal may be the perfect answer. Someone to talk to, sight unseen.

Excited, I grab my cell phone from my nightstand and open the email app.

To:[email protected]

From:[email protected]

Subject: Pen Pal Assignment

Hello,

I’d like to participate in the Letters of Hope program. Will you assign me a pen pal? My name is Alexis Vaughn, patient ID 35267. Please advise on the next steps. Thank you.

Regards,

Alexis

I press send and release a sigh of relief. Finally, I can have someone to talk to. Someone to be completely honest with.

Smiling at the thought of the future, I grab the cup of tea and take another sip, when suddenly, another thought occurs to me.

How did Ethan Anderson know I like honey lavender iced tea? And why didn’t my head hurt this time in his presence?

Chapter 17

Past: One Year Before the Accident—Twenty-Three Years Old

“She should be heresoon. Thanks for doing this, man.” Liam slides his headphones around his neck and walks toward his room from the kitchen.

“No problem. I don’t have to work this weekend.” I feign nonchalance and tuck my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants, hoping Liam won’t notice them shaking.

My Nova is coming to our new apartment. It’s her first time, since Liam always visits the mansion and not the other way around, and Alexis spends most of her time on campus these days.

It’s a wonder our paths haven’t crossed until now.