Ryan
My heart aches. That name echoes in my chest. “No.”
Marcie swipes her tears away. “I think you do, somewhere in there, or you wouldn’t have come to Ardent.”
“I want to.” I squeeze her hips, anchoring myself in her. “Tell me… something. About him.”
“About you.” She smiles softly. “When you moved to town in first grade, someone accidentally sent your mom the second-grade supply list, so you showed up on the first day with all this stuff other people didn’t have. Markers and glue sticks and shit.”
Another echo. Back in the hospital, right after I woke up, the doctors said things would feel familiar before I actually remembered them, but they never did. Was this what they meant all along?
“Your cubby was right above Theresa’s,” she continues.
“Theresa?” The word feels familiar on m
