“You’re selling?” She actually looked crestfallen.

  “I can’t stay here, Paige. I don’t know how to move forward if I keep living in the past.”

  “Are you sure, sure? It’s only been a couple of months,” she said.

  It hurt to know that everyone could classify my time apart from Ryson so flippantly, as if it’d passed without pain.

  “I know. But you say a couple of months like it’s this quick blip of time,” I said, snapping my fingers. “But for me, it’s been sixty days of torture.”

  Living here without Ryson wasn’t living at all. It was too hard—too many memories, too many ghosts lurking around every corner. Selling the house would be the first step in reclaiming my new life. I’d been living on pause in the months since Ryson’s accident, and I couldn’t live that way anymore. It was time that I acknowledged the truth—he wasn’t coming back.

  And it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. And I had to stop being so angry with him for it or feeling sad for all we’d lost. It was time to find who I was without him. It wouldn’t be easy, but it needed to be done; otherwise, I’d waste the rest of my life away, and I deserved more than that. Old Ryson would have never wanted me to spend my life in misery, surrounded by what-ifs and if-onlys.

  Paige wistfully looked around the yard. “I love this house.”

  “I do too.”

  “You’re sure this is the right thing to do? You don’t want to get something temporary and see how you feel in six months or a year?”

  I knew that Paige believed that if more time passed, I’d eventually change my mind or accept the idea of living here alone. But the thing was, the more time that passed, the worse I felt, and the less that I could accept building a life in this home without him in it.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know yet. Maybe inland? Bel Air? Toluca Lake? Somewhere closer to the studios, so I don’t have to drive so damn far.”

  “It will be weird, not coming to Malibu to hang out.”

  “At least Walker and Madison still live here, so we don’t have to quit it altogether.”

  “It’s not the same though,” she said.

  I knew she was right. Whether it was because Paige had been there during the buying process or not, there was something special about this house.

  “I know.” I offered her a small smile.

  She dropped her sunglasses over her eyes and lay back down on the lounger. “I wouldn’t be able to stay here either if it were me and Tatum. Just in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t.” I let out a laugh, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I knew … that it was all going to be okay.

  That, at some point, I was going to be okay.

  FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF

  Ryson

  I was in a rut. The days and hours passed, and nothing changed. I hadn’t left the house and still had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I was no closer to any answers than I had been my first day here.

  I’d cut myself off from everyone, except my mother, and that in itself was depressing. I needed to get back out there. To where exactly, I had no idea, but I needed to at least start figuring it out. My new life was waiting for me to begin living it, and instead, I’d been ignoring it, hoping it would miraculously create itself.

  “I had a long talk with your doctors today,” my mother announced.

  I hadn’t even heard her come in the house.

  “Why?” I asked, annoyed that my mom was the one talking to them instead of them talking to me.

  “Because I feel like you’ve given up.” My mom rounded the corner, her voice stern and annoyed.

  “Why are you so mad right now?”

  “Because you’re just accepting this and not even trying to fix what you had. You’re avoiding everyone you knew. You won’t look at pictures. You won’t even touch your phone. It’s like you don’t want to remember.”

  “If it was that easy, don’t you think I would have done it by now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you like your new life of sitting on my couch and pouting like a damn five-year-old.”

  Well, that was brutal. “I’ll get out of your hair then, Mom. I have more than enough money to get my own place.”

  I stood up and took two steps before she reached me and yanked on my arm.

  “Sit down,” she said, pointing back at the couch.

  I did what she’d demanded because, to be honest, a pissed off Mom was scary as hell.

  “You’re going to sit here and watch this with me until it’s done. Do you hear me?”

  “Watch what?”

  My mom pointed at the TV as it turned on, and a younger version of myself and Quinn appeared on the screen. I moved to stand up and storm out of the room the same way I had after Quinn’s interview, but my Mom’s voice stopped me cold.

  “Sit your ass down and watch this, or I’ll handcuff you to the chair.”

  I shot her a look, not liking being told what to do, but listening anyway. Like I’d said, scary. As. Hell. Chuffing out a breath, I sat begrudgingly and hoped to God this wouldn’t hurt too much—either from the disappointment of not jogging my memory or seeing my unrecognizable face staring back at me.

  I was going to stop the drugs. I needed something else to focus my attention on. It couldn’t be Quinn—I knew that—but I also felt like something was going to have to take their place in order for me to get through this. I was starting to worry that maybe I had some sort of addictive personality disorder, always needing to chase a high to feel content. The worst part was that I hadn’t been like this before I did drugs for the first time. There had never been this overwhelming void inside of me, just begging to be filled. I had been utterly normal. It was like the drugs had shaken up my insides and rearranged everything, throwing it all off-balance. I hated it.

  Glancing around my trailer, my eyes landed on a banged-up surfboard propped up against the wall. It had been sitting there for so long that I stopped seeing it. I’d played a surfer in my last movie and fallen in love with the sport after I insisted on filming my own water scenes. Well, most of them anyway. There was no way in hell that I could ride the kinds of waves those guys cut through with ease. That took years of practice, and I’d been on a board for about two and a half months, tops.

  I had taken lessons from the best pro surfers in the area. I studied the water, wave breaks, and reef placement. I practiced harder than anyone else because I wanted my work to look authentic. The only way I was giving the okay for a stunt double in any of the water scenes was if I couldn’t make it look good myself. And, apparently, I had done all right because the majority of me actually surfing made the final cuts instead of the cutting room floor.

  I remembered how proud I’d been of my hard work and how much I’d loved being in the water, searching for a wave to catch. It was calming, almost meditative, floating there, being at one with something so vast.

  How could I have forgotten that?

  Reaching for the blue-and-white board, I pulled it free from its clips and leaned it up against my table. After we wrapped for the night, I was going to strap this baby to my car and hit the water ASAP.

  If the ocean didn’t help kill me, maybe it could save me.

  What the hell was that? A scene from this movie? A scene from my life?

  “Mom, stop the movie. Stop the movie!” I shouted, my body trembling.

  She pressed a button, and my face, as I held Quinn’s in the palm of my hand while I looked at her like she’d hung the damn moon, was paused on the big screen.

  “I think I remembered something.”

  IT’S TIME

  Quinn

  After talking to Paige the other day, I’d been feeling better about everything. About my decisions, my state of mind, and life in general. I really had accepted the fact that Ryson wasn’t ever going to remember us, something I’d sworn I’d never be able to do for as long as I lived and breathed. After the interview, it’d all seemed easier somehow. It’d felt like as long as we had kept Ryson’s memory loss a secret, we could pretend it wasn’t really happening. Once the cat had gotten out of the bag, so to speak, true healing had begun.

  I’d talked to Ryson’s mom briefly about selling our house, and she agreed that it was probably the best decision for both of us. She mentioned a clean slate, starting fresh, and then she cried. I’d stayed strong while we were on the phone, but the second I’d ended the call, I’d lost it and grieved for the future mother-in-law I was never going to have. It was amazing how much one life could be wrapped up in another’s. How intertwined all of our individual pieces could become.

  My real estate agent, Jules, told me that the house would most likely sell within the first week, and my gut instincts told me that she was right and wasn’t just BS’ing me. She seemed genuine and not arrogant like a lot of real estate agents in the area tended to be. Malibu was always a hot market, and since our house was celebrity-owned, it only added to the appeal. I knew the second I decided to list it, things would happen quickly, so I tried to get a bit of a head start on all the packing without feeling rushed.

  I could have hired a company to handle it, but I knew that I needed to be the one to do it. To box up our things. To look at them one last time before saying good-bye. To let go of the memories I had assumed would be a part of our forever. I hoped it would be cathartic, sorting through our shared life and putting it into separate boxes. It was representative of the way the two of us existed now—once inseparable, now apart.

  To be honest, it wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined it would be. Maybe because I had taken a page from that Marie lady’s playbook and thanked each one of Ryson’s items before I placed it in a box, never to see it again. Who knew that thanking things could help you let go of them? That Marie chick was really onto something.

  Taping up a box of Ryson’s clothes from the closet, I was startled by a knock on the door. I narrowed my eyes, wondering who it could be. I knew that Madison and Paige were both at some showcase in the valley, and no one else aside from their boyfriends’ knew the code to get past the gate. Curious, I walked down the long hallway.

  Another knock.

  Another.

  It was the third knock that racked me with nerves. Someone on the other side was antsy, and it made me feel like they didn’t belong at my front door. It would be easy to hop over the rod iron fence outside if you were determined enough. Were they hoping I wasn’t home, so they could rob the place? Maybe they’d heard I was thinking about selling?

  “Quinn!”

  It was Ryson’s voice, and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Even though I hadn’t heard him say my name in months, the familiar tone and timbre caused time to stand still. My heart leaped inside my chest. It wanted out. Peeking through the peephole, I noticed him pacing back and forth. When he lifted his arm to knock again, I slowly opened the door, unsure of why he was here.

  “Quinn,” he breathed out, relief flooding his features as confusion flooded mine.

  “What are you doing here?” I looked around his back to see how he’d gotten here.

  I noticed his mom’s Audi, but she wasn’t in the driver’s seat. He’d driven himself?

  “I came to tell you something,” he said, his voice coming out a mile a minute. “I mean, I have something to tell you.”

  “So, tell me,” I started to say before my words were cut off by Ryson’s lips pressing against mine.

  My mouth opened without prodding, my tongue finding his like it had been made to do it. My brain spun, but I shut it up, forcing myself to get lost in the kiss, the feel of him, so familiar yet it had been so long. This man was my home, and every ounce of me recognized it. Part of me thought I should push him away and ask questions, but the rest of me screamed out to let this moment last for as long as he allowed it. Maybe I’d never get the chance again.

  God, I’d missed him so much. Much more than I had ever allowed myself to realize until the moment his lips found mine. Only once Ryson pulled away did I find my footing, reaching out for the handrail to steady myself.

  “I’m so sorry, Quinn. God, baby, I’m so sorry.” Ryson looked pained as he cupped my cheek.

  “Baby?” I asked, unsure of whether or not that word meant what I thought it meant. “You remember?” My eyes instantly welled with tears as something resembling hope filled my chest.

  “I remember. I remember everything. I’m so damn sorry it took me so long,” he announced before reaching for me again, his fingers tangling in my updo, his lips claiming mine. “I’m never going to stop kissing you,” he breathed into me, and I found myself crying more than I was actually kissing him back.

  He was the one to pull away again, breaking our mouths apart as we walked into the house, and he closed the door behind us. I was thankful the paparazzi had stopped camping out. Our story, while still newsworthy, wasn’t what front pages were made of. At least, not anymore.

  I realized that was all about to change … again.

  “All I want to do is take you to the bedroom and make love to you until my body gives out, but we should probably talk first,” Ryson said with a grin.

  I smiled back, suddenly lost in the fantasy of Ryson’s touch. A touch I’d thought I was never going to get to feel again.

  “Well, that’s a shame,” I teased, “but you’re probably right.”

  I couldn’t believe that I was looking into the eyes that remembered me. I’d convinced myself that Ryson was lost to me forever, and now, here he was, home again.

  “Talk first. Worship every single inch of you after,” Ryson said.

  I swore, my panties melted right off my body then and there.

  This man.

  I closed my mouth shut, forcing the thoughts from my mind, and tried to refocus as his hands continued to touch mine, almost like he was afraid to let go. And to be fair, maybe he was. The feel of his skin on my own was overwhelming.

  “So, how did you remember? What happened? I want every detail,” I asked as I led us into his office, his fingers wrapped in the belt loop of my shorts so I couldn’t get away.

  I wasn’t sure why I’d picked that room in particular, but maybe it was because it was the only room I hadn’t started packing yet. I thought I’d always knew that I’d get to it last. That his office would somehow be the most difficult to put into boxes and return to him. To be honest, I had barely walked in this room since the accident. But now that Ryson was here, I could go in it again and not want to throw up.

  Looking around, I wasn’t sure where to sit. As if reading my mind, Ryson grabbed me. He sat down in the office chair and pulled me onto his lap, one hand tightly holding my back while the other pulled my hair out of the bun it had been in.

  “My mom made me watch our movie.” He gave me a crooked smile before kissing my neck. “She yelled at me. Told me she’d handcuff me to the chair if I didn’t sit down and watch it,” he explained between kisses.

  Instead of laughing at what his mom had said, I rolled my eyes back in my head as a breathy moan escaped.

  “Is this a dream?” I wasn’t sure if I’d said it out loud or thought it in my head.

  “Not a dream,” Ryson answered between kisses, and I tried to move away from the spell he had me under, but his grip was too strong. “I’ll stop. For now. Just don’t leave.” He sounded so worried, so unsure.

  “Where would I go?” I looked into his dark eyes and cupped his face, still in disbelief that this was really happening. And when he didn’t answer my question, I brought us back on point. “Is that really how it happened? You just watched our movie, and it all came rushing back?”

  He offered me a shrug. “No, not exactly. I remembered some of my internal thoughts at first, but I wasn’t sure what they were. I started talking to my mom about what I was seeing, and then more and more scenes started playing out in my head. I realized that they were memories. Of you. Of us. Once I made that realization, it was like someone flipped a switch in my head. I got it all back.”

  “I can’t believe that. During our movie,” I said, shaking my head.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if we could have saved ourselves a lot of time and heartache if we’d forced him to watch it months ago. I guessed we’d never know.

  “Like I said, my mom insisted. I think it was her last-ditch effort. If that hadn’t worked, she would have finally accepted that nothing was going to.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “I came straight here. Once I remembered it all, I came right over to apologize, hoping like hell you’d forgive me.”

  Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Forgive you? It wasn’t your fault.”

  His arms tightened around my back as he pulled me against him, his face burying in the crook of my neck. Warm tears spilled down my back, and I knew that my big, strong man was crying. It almost broke me apart.

  “I know it wasn’t my fault, Quinn, but I’ll never forgive myself for not knowing who you were.” He slowly pulled his head up, his dark eyes boring into mine, begging me for understanding. “How could I ever forget you? How could my heart and soul not know who you are? How, Quinn?”

  Ryson and I had made a pact long ago to always be honest and tell each other the truth, no matter what. This could not be an exception to that particular rule.

  Pushing out of his lap, I started full-on crying then, the tears rolling down my cheeks like someone had turned on a faucet. I paced back and forth in the room, a million feelings racing through me. Everything had caught up to me in that moment with his questions, all of my emotions warring against one another.

  “I don’t know. I asked myself that every day. I didn’t want to be, but I was so mad at you. So mad and so hurt. I didn’t understand how you could look at me and see nothing. You were so cold,” I said as I stopped pacing, thankful that I didn’t have to tiptoe around my feelings and worry about hurting his.

  “I know I was. But I hated myself. It was the worst feeling, not knowing anything, but now that I’m back, I hate even more that I hurt you. I hate that I could ever talk to you the way that I did. I wasn’t myself. I’m so sorry I left you. Please forgive me, Quinn. I’ll never leave you again.” He moved from the chair before falling to his knees and gripping the lower half of my body with all his might.