Chapter 5: The Memory I Lost
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
It was impossible.
That was the only thought my mind could form.
Impossible.
The picture showed me standing beside Lauren outside a hospital.
I was smiling.
My arm was around her.
Her hand rested on my chest.
We looked happy.
Not pretending.
Not forcing it.
Happy.
Like two people who had just survived something difficult together.
But I had no memory of that day.
None.
I flipped the picture over again.
The date was written in black ink.
December 28th.
Seven years ago.
Three days after our divorce papers were signed.
Three days after I remembered leaving Montana and never looking back.
“This isn’t real.””
Lauren’s face tightened.
“It is.””
“No.””
I stood up.
“No, I remember leaving.””
“Do you?””
The question stopped me.
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?””
Lauren’s eyes filled with sadness.
“It means you remember what happened after.””
My heartbeat increased.
“But not everything before.””
I stared at the photo.
“What happened?””
She took a slow breath.
“You came back.””
My fingers went numb.
“What?””
“You came back three days after you left.””
The room spun.
“No.””
“You did.””
“Lauren, I would remember that.””
She looked down.
“Would you?””
The question hurt because I didn’t know.
I hated that I didn’t know.
I hated that there was suddenly a missing piece of my own life.
“Tell me.””
Lauren sat down.
So did I.
And for the first time that night, she looked afraid of her own memories.
“You left after our final argument.””
I nodded.
“I remember.””
“You drove toward Chicago.””
“Yes.””
“You called me six hours later.””
I froze.
“I did?””
“Yes.””
“What did I say?””
Lauren looked at the photograph.
“You said you were sorry.””
My throat tightened.
“I apologized?””
She nodded.
“You said you realized you were trying to build a future where there was no room for the people you loved.””
I looked away.
Those words sounded like something I would say.
Something the older version of me would say.
But not the man I had been then.
“What happened after?””
“You came back.””
“Why?””
“Because you found out about the baby.””
My head snapped toward her.
“You told me?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“That night.””
I stared at her.
“Then why don’t I remember?””
Lauren was quiet.
Then she said:
“Because you never made it home.””
The sentence froze me.
“What?””
“You called me from the highway.””
She swallowed.
“You were crying.””
I felt pressure in my chest.
“Then what?””
“Then you said you were coming back.””
A pause.
“And then you disappeared.””
I stared at her.
“Disappeared?””
“Yes.””
“For how long?””
“Five days.””
The number hit me.
Five days.
A gap in my memory.
Five days I could not explain.
“What happened?””
Lauren shook her head.
“I don’t know.””
“You don’t know?””
“I know you were found in a hospital outside Billings.””
The room went silent.
“What?””
“You had been in a car accident.””
My hands went cold.
“I had an accident?””
She nodded.
“A truck hit black ice. Your vehicle went off the road.””
I touched my forehead.
A sudden headache formed behind my eyes.
“I don’t remember.””
“I know.””
“What did the doctors say?””
“They said you had a concussion.””
My breathing became shallow.
“And my father?””
Lauren looked at me.
“He came before I could.””
Of course he did.
The pieces started connecting.
“He told me you needed rest.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“He said you didn’t remember anything.””
My stomach dropped.
“He told you that?””
“Yes.””
“And you believed him?””
“I was twenty-nine years old, pregnant, terrified, and the man who was supposed to be my husband didn’t know my name.””
The pain in her voice silenced me.
“I thought you had changed your mind.””
“No.””
The word escaped before I could stop it.
“No, I didn’t.””
“I know that now.””
She looked down.
“But I didn’t know then.””
I covered my face with my hands.
My life had been rewritten while I was too broken to notice.
“What happened after the hospital?””
“You woke up.””
“And?””
“You remembered the divorce.””
My eyes lifted.
“But not the accident?””
“No.””
“Not the conversation?””
“No.””
I looked at the photo.
“Not you telling me about Noah?””
“No.””
A horrible realization formed.
“My father.””
Lauren nodded.
“He told you the baby wasn’t yours.””
The words hit harder than anything before.
“He said what?””
“He told you I had lied.””
My stomach turned.
“He made me think…”
I couldn’t finish.
Lauren whispered the words.
“He made you think I was trying to trap you.””
I stood up.
Anger replaced confusion.
“He stole my son.””
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears.
“He stole both of us.””
The room went quiet.
From the hallway came the sound of Noah laughing softly in his sleep.
A small, innocent sound.
And it hurt more than anything.
Because while I was rebuilding my career, my son had been growing up without me.
While I was angry at Lauren, she was raising him alone.
While I thought I was protecting my future, someone else was destroying it.
“I need to talk to him.””
Lauren looked worried.
“Your father?””
“Yes.””
“Liam—”
“No.””
I grabbed my coat.
“I need answers.””
“You just called him.””
“And he lied.””
I walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
Because Noah was standing there.
Half asleep.
Holding his stuffed bear.
He looked at me.
“Are you leaving?””
The question stopped me.
Seven years ago, I had walked away from one family.
I could not do it again.
I crouched down.
“No.””
He looked uncertain.
“Promise?””
I swallowed.
Promises had failed me before.
But this one mattered.
“I promise.””
Noah nodded.
Then he asked:
“Can you come to my Christmas morning?””
My heart broke.
Because it was such a simple request.
Something every father should be there for.
Something I had missed every year.
“Yes.””
I looked at Lauren.
“If that’s okay.””
She watched me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“Okay.””
I left the house twenty minutes later.
But I never made it to my truck.
Because sitting under the windshield wiper was a note.
No envelope.
No name.
Just five words written in black ink.
STOP DIGGING INTO THE PAST.
I turned the paper over.
There was one more line.
May you like
And when I read it, I knew my father was not the only person who had been hiding something from me.
Your brother knows the truth.
