“Let me ask you something,” I said. “I know I call her Peach. But why do you call her Peachy, and why did I wanna knock your lights out when you said it after you answered the door?”

John laughed. “Because I do it to mess with you, but mostly because I adore that little girl like a sister,” he added quickly. “You’re just greedy about it, but it fits her perfectly, and I can’t help it, because when I say it, she gets this lit up, happy expression on her face and giggles every time you start shit with me about it. It’s worth a punch or two in the arm,” he said and we both laughed.

Sam walked through the French doors carrying a tray of sandwiches and iced tea. She set it down on the picnic table and walked over to John and me.

“Hey, guys, can I get you anything?” she asked with an adorable smile.

“I’m good,” I replied “John, do you want anything?”

“Nah, Peachy, I’m okay. Thanks anyway,” he replied.

“Okay. We’ll be eating soon, but I brought out a couple mini sandwiches in case you guys were hungry,” she said as she pecked me on the cheek with a chaste kiss and walked back into the house.

“Damn it, man, I need a whiskey,” I said.

“Sure, but . . . why don’t we save the hard stuff for after dinner, okay?” John asked.

“Sure, good idea,” I answered.

As I watched Sam and the girls bringing everything outside it became clearer what I had to do. I wasn’t remembering, and I felt I needed an extreme change to figure it all out. We ate dinner, and as I sat across from Sam, I caught her looking at me with a subtle attempt at a smile. Her eyes were mostly down cast while she moved her food around her plate, only taking an occasional bite of her meal. I knew each day that I didn’t remember her, only caused her more pain. It was killing a piece of my soul each time I witnessed it.

We were sitting around the fire pit when Sam walked outside with a glass of whiskey and handed it to me. There was a slight tremble to her fingers as I took the glass from her hand. It wasn’t cold outside, so I knew it was me, and it made my stomach feel like there was a concrete block in it. I was losing my mind with all these emotions and trying to remember, yet not being able to. I tossed the whiskey back and stood up to get more. When I got inside the house, Tamron was waiting for me.

“Emmett, what the hell are you doing?” she seethed.

“Getting a drink,” I replied.

She smacked me on the shoulder. “I know what you’re doing. What I want to know is why. We always saved that shit for when we ran out of beer and were too blitzed to care. So why’re you drinking it like it’s going out of style?”

“Uh, I’m not. This was my first glass,” I retorted.

“That’s not what I am talking about. Sam said you’ve been drinking whiskey every night at home. That’s not like you. I don’t think you should keep doing that, Emmett. It’s not going to help you remember her,” she said.

“I know it won’t, Tamron! But it helps me fucking forget that I can’t remember her, or that my brother died! I can’t fucking sleep at night without dreaming of Alec. It’s tearing me apart. And I can’t stand the constant look of disappointment on Sam’s face! I can’t keep doing this. I just can’t.” My hands dropped to my sides, and I hung my head down in shame. I could no pretend that Sam hadn’t noticed.

“What do you mean, you can’t keep doing this?” she asked in a hushed but strained voice.

“I mean . . . damn it, I can’t keep living with Sam. I need my own place away from her and the constant turmoil. It’s killing both of us. I need to deal with Alec’s death before I can face not remembering the woman I’m supposed to be madly in love with.” I reached down and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “I’m so confused, because it feels right to be with her, physically, yet my mind is blank. It’s just too much. I drink to chase away dreams of Alec calling my name, but I can never get to him. I drink to numb the pain I feel when I see Sam’s lonely, sad expressions. She tries to act like everything is okay, but I know it’s not. I can’t take it anymore, Tamron.”

“Oh my God. Emmett, please. No. You’ll devastate her.”

“Look, it’s what I have to do. I don’t expect you or anyone else to understand, but I need to do it for me . . . and for her. It’ll be better this way, and maybe, if I ever remember her, and she’s still interested, then—maybe we can get back together. I’m gonna tell her tonight while she’s here with everyone. I think it may be easier having all of your support. Then I’ll see if John can drive me back to the apartment.”

“Oh fucking hell.” She threw her hands up. “This is going to be a clusterfuck of epic proportions, Emmett,” Tamron said as she walked out the back door.

I noticed Tamron walk back outside a few minutes after Emmett went in, probably for more whiskey. Her expression was grim, and she avoided my eyes. That wasn’t like her at all, and it left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I suddenly felt like I wanted to run far away. I couldn’t shake it and began to feel overwhelming grief. When Emmett walked back outside, he wasn’t carrying whiskey. He wasn’t carrying anything. It was like staring into a great void, looking at him as he walked toward us by the fire.

I caught Tamron watching me as she slipped her phone into her pocket. Emmett slumped down in one of the chairs opposite me. My peripheral vision picked up on Alison checking her phone, and I glanced over as her expression went from wide-eyed to gloomy.

Everyone grew silent as Emmett cleared his throat. I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest, afraid of what he was about to say. Panic started to fill my chest.

“Uh, I need to talk to Sam, but I don’t want her to be alone now or when I am done, so I’m going to do it here. It’s not as if you won’t all know soon enough, and y’all know everything that’s going on now anyway.”

I kept hearing the word no . . . no, no, no, no, no, and I realized it was me, repeating the words like a mantra. I looked around at the pity on all of my friends’ faces, but it was Emmett’s expression of regret that broke me.

“Sam, I need to leave,” he said.

“Okay,” I squeaked. “If you’re tired we can go home.”

“No, it’s not that. Please, listen to me. My memories of you aren’t coming back, and every night, I dream of Alec. I drink to numb the pain of each of those. I just need some time and space to clear my head. That’s all.”

I sat there, staring at the fire while he spoke. The flames seemed to be choreographed with the words he was saying . . . mocking me in their flickering dance. It only amplified the pain that I felt.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be okay if I don’t get off the whiskey and face things. But I can’t do that while living with you. I feel guilty every time I see your sad face. It tears me up that I am the cause. I wish there was another way, but I just have to go.”

When he finished talking, I finally looked away from the fire and saw pain and regret in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. Deeply and truly. I hope you’ll be okay, and realize that this is for the best. I need a fresh start . . . to figure out this mess.”

“A fresh start,” I repeated on a choked sob.

It was Alec’s words coming back to me all over again, only this time, from my Emmett. I rested my head in my hands.

“Just go,” I murmured.

“John, can you drive me so I can get my things from the apartment?”

Emmett looked at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed in sadness, then turned around and walked back into the house. John got up and followed him inside, not even looking in my direction. A few minutes later, I heard two car doors shut and the engine start. Tears streamed down my face as they drove away.