Yesterworld: Down World Series Series, Book 2, page 32
“Parker must have let her in.”
Audrey looks at me apologetically as she struggles to wrangle the animal, expression sincere. She’s older by a couple of years, but I’ve been told we were often mistaken for twins when we were young. Now, I seem to favor our mother more than she does, bearing the same slender nose and defined cheekbones.
Sofia takes hold of Scout’s collar and pulls the dog to the French doors, releasing her into the backyard. A boy scrambles into the kitchen, looking flustered. His features are kind, and he has black hair a few shades darker than his skin cropped close to his head.
“This is my boyfriend,” Audrey explains. “He’s living with us for the time being, until he finds his own place.”
He extends a hand toward me. “Parker. My apologies for the dog.”
My shoulders melt in relief. He’s the first person who hasn’t been obviously uncomfortable about having to reintroduce themselves to me. “Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand, before adding, “again.”
“It’s good to have you back,” Parker says.
I’ve heard a lot about him already—he was the subject Audrey gravitated toward to keep the flow of conversation going whenever we hit a lull, but he never came with her to the hospital. Parker watches me for a beat too long, and my face grows hot under his scrutiny.
Sofia touches my shoulder, oblivious to the exchange. “Come, I can show you around.”
Leaving them behind, she gives me a brief tour of the house. It’s cozy and lived in, family photos adorning the walls, throws draped over couches, and comforting tones of burgundy spread throughout the rooms. In a way, it feels a bit like a cabin, woodsy and warm. She saves my bedroom for last, stopping outside of a door at the end of the hall on the second floor. The short journey up the stairs is enough to make my body feel weary.
Subconsciously, my breath hitches as she twists the doorknob.
A string of fairy lights hangs on the wall above the bed, bright and twinkling, and a diffuser sits on the nightstand, emitting wafts of lavender, making me relax my shoulders. There’s a desk in the corner, a surge of intrigue sparking in my chest at the sight of the laptop on the surface, as it’s likely to be a treasure trove of valuable information. Across from the bed, a myriad of photos are stuck to the wall, snapshots of someone else’s life.
The room is beautiful, but it doesn’t feel like it’s mine.
Any hope of my memory making a reappearance is rapidly snuffed out, and disappointment presses heavily against the backs of my eyelids. “It’s nice.”
“I’ll let you have some privacy,” she offers.
“Thanks, Sofia.” It’s the first time I’ve addressed her by name, and I don’t realize the magnitude of my mistake until I see the look on her face. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she says, her voice wavering. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
She leaves the room in a rush. I gravitate to the wall of photos, trying to move past the interaction. The level of awkwardness has apparently been upped now that we’re trapped in a house together, and it’s hard to imagine a time when it won’t feel this way.
There are so many pictures it’s hard to focus on one at a time. The majority of them have been taken in crowded living rooms. I’ve usually got a red Solo cup in hand, surrounded by the same handful of people—a beautiful blond with a dazzling smile, a curly-haired boy most often showing me some form of affection, and a stocky guy wearing a letterman jacket and a goofy grin.
A slew of faces with no memories attached to them. I don’t know if I can become the person in the pictures.
A knock sounds on my door, startling me.
“Come in,” I call, taking a seat on the bed.
The door clicks open slowly, and Parker pokes his head inside. He sees the look on my face and hovers in the doorway, sticking his hands in his pockets.
“Hey.” He greets me.
“Hey,” I respond evenly.
He takes my greeting as an invitation to enter the room, then sits on the bed a short distance away. “How are you doing?”
“You know, I’ve been asked that question so many times, and I don’t think I have an answer.” A beat of silence hangs between us. “Even if I did, I don’t think I’d be able to put it into words.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“Do we know each other well?”
“We do. You’re one of my closest friends.”
“Is that really me?” I gesture to the wall of photos with my chin. “For the most part, yeah,” he says. “You were always out. Always. Out with your boyfriend, out with your friends, out doing God knows what. I think you liked being unpredictable.” I stare at a photo of me laughing, my arms thrown around the people on either side of me. “But you clashed with your family a fair bit. There were a lot of arguments around here before.”
“Wow, I sound great,” I say sarcastically, causing him to break out in a grin.
“You are,” he reassures me.
“At least we get along. It’s good to know I wasn’t public enemy number one.”
He ducks his head, coughing to cover a laugh. I can’t explain it, but being around him is the most relaxed I’ve felt in the short amount of life that I can remember. I believe that we were close before everything happened. It makes him feel more familiar than anyone else. Maybe the relationship with my mother and sister truly was strained.
“What’s it like?” he asks suddenly.
“The whole amnesia thing?”
He nods.
“Like I’ve stepped into somebody’s life and now I’m picking up where they left off, except I have no idea what happened before I got here. Everyone is going to expect me to be that girl,” I say, pointing at the photos on the wall, “but I don’t even know her. All I’m going to do is disappoint everyone. I have this constant feeling of guilt—”
“Stop right there.” Parker interrupts me, his hand on my arm. “You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t choose this.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard the words, and I didn’t realize how much I needed them until now. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I can trust you. I trust that you’ll tell me the truth.”
“Of course,” he says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “You can always ask me anything.”
“Thanks.” I look down at our intertwined fingers.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” he murmurs, letting go of my hand.
In the next second, he’s cupping my face. A jolt runs down my spine as he leans closer and I freeze, but it only takes a second for me to come to my senses.
Placing my hands on his chest, I hurriedly push him away and stand up. “What the hell are you doing?”
Parker looks equally shocked, mouth floundering to come up with an explanation. I wait for him to speak, and he runs a hand over his cropped hair, cursing under his breath. “I’m sorry—that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“You’re Audrey’s boyfriend.”
“I am,” he confirms, his voice low.
“Then what was that?”
“Something that shouldn’t have almost happened again, especially right now.” He looks at me remorsefully. “I’m so sorry, Allie. I thought I had more self-control than that.”
“Again?” The urge to vomit is suddenly sharp. “You’ve done this before?”
Parker is silent for a few beats. “No,” he says finally. “Last time you kissed me. But—”
“This is so messed up!”
“It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right, it won’t,” I say, gritting my teeth. “You should go.”
Without another word, he heads out the door, closing it gently behind him. Once he’s gone, my face crumples, and I press my fists against my forehead, mumbling a string of curses like a mantra. What kind of person would do this to their sister, to their boyfriend, to anyone?
Minutes ago, it had felt like I had someone in my corner. Now all I feel is the sting of betrayal.
Removing my hands from my face, I stare at the wall of pictures, automatically drawn to a photo of Parker, Audrey, and me. I wonder what other secrets lie behind the multitude of faces and how long it’ll take before they all start coming to the surface.
Table of Contents
Contents
Dedication
Preface
Part One Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Part Two Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Part Three Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Blackout Sample Chapter
Landmarks
Cover
Half Title Page
Title Page
Table of Contents
Dedication
Preface
Body Matter
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Contributors
Copyright Page
Rebecca Phelps, Yesterworld: Down World Series Series, Book 2
