Rebel North by J.B. Salsbury

Twenty-Five

Gabriella

I called in sick to work the last two days. Unable to trust my own head, my memories, my feelings, I stayed curled up in bed. But awake or asleep, I can’t escape the flickering memories.

Kingston.

Ainsley.

Remy.

And a boat.

That song keeps playing on a loop in my head.

He lied to me. All this time, he lied to me. I offered him my heart and my body, and he never thought to tell me the truth.

How much does he know about me?

How close were we before the accident?

I search my mind for Kingston before the boat and find nothing but pale memories of a girl with dreams and aspirations.

Desperate for answers, I reach for my phone. I haven’t seen my neurologist in almost a year. I’d given up on regaining my memory and my desire to dance again. I was sick of searching for my past life and accepted that I had a new life to begin.

I clutch my pillow and press the phone to my ear.

“Dr. Madison’s office. How can I help—”

“Dr. Madison, please.”

“He’s not available right now. Can I take a message?”

“Tell him it’s Gabriella Sterling-Penn, and it’s an emergency.”

“Gabriella?” she says softly. “This is Janet.”

“I really need to talk to him,” I say with a shaky voice. “Please.”

“Give me one minute, okay?”

I hum out a response and close my eyes while the hold music plays in my ear.

A text vibrates my phone, and I don’t have to look to know who it’s from. Kingston has been texting non-stop for two days. He’s worried and just wants to know I’m okay.

I am very much not fucking okay.

“Gabriella?”

My eyes shoot open at the sound of Dr. Madison’s voice. “Yes, Dr. Madison, thank you for taking my call.”

“I’m in between patients, so I don’t have a lot of time. Is everything okay?”

I sit up in bed and clutch my legs to my chest. “My memories. They’re coming back.”

“Okay,” he says cautiously. “We knew they might eventually. Are you having nightmares? Depression? Anxiety?”

I close my eyes. “Can I trust them? Are they really memories, or are they my imagination?”

Dr. Madison takes the next fifteen minutes to talk me through my feelings and explains the neuroscience behind my regained memories. He asks me to make an appointment to see my therapist—another person I let go of years ago when I realized there was no progress to be made.

When I hang up the phone, I get the gist of what he explained.

My memories are coming back.

Kingston was in my life before the accident, and he may have been the cause.

He may be responsible for my life being ripped from me.

Kingston

“It’s open!” I say from my prone position on the couch to the person who just knocked on my front door.

I haven’t locked my door since the morning Gabriella left days ago. I also haven’t left my couch. I keep thinking she’ll change her mind, that she’ll come back, and I don’t want to miss the chance to see her. To talk to her. To explain.

She’s refusing my calls and won’t respond to my texts. The only thing left to do is hunt her down.

The click from the front door opening would normally send me to my feet with the hope of seeing Gabriella, but I know who’s here because she texted me saying she was coming over for an intervention.

“Smells like two-day-old Chinese food in here,” Jordan says as she comes through the door. “Oh, look. Two-day old Chinese food.” She grabs the white cartons filled with food that I barely picked at and tosses them in the trash.

I stare at the blank television screen and listen to her tidying up behind me. Empty booze bottles hit the recycling container, and she gags as she rinses out days-old cereal I couldn’t swallow.

She circles the couch and shoves aside empty glasses on the coffee table to sit across from me. She sighs. “You look like shit.”

I grunt. “I feel like shit.”

“Alexander told me what happened.” She leans forward with her elbows on her knees. “For what it’s worth? I believe you. I don’t think you’d turn on North Industries like that.”

“Huh?”

She frowns. “Ms. Coleman? August firing you?”

“Oh, that.”

“I have to admit.” She takes me in, from my dirty, messy hair to my stained sweatpants that I haven’t taken off since Gabriella left—time just stopped the second she walked out of my life. She continues, “I didn’t think you’d take the firing this hard.”

I roll to my back and rub my eyes and scratch the stubble on my face.

“Alexander said you’d be over here packing up. We have the spare bedroom ready for you.”

I drop my hands from my face and look at her. Her expression is neutral, but there’s worry in her eyes. “I’m not leaving.” Gabriella might be back, and I want to be here when and if she comes around. And it’s only a matter of time before my phone is shut off, seeing as it’s paid for by North Industries.

Jesus, when did I become so entwined with North Industries that parting ways meant that I lost my job, income, home, and my fucking phone?

Her brows pinch together. “But Alexander said—”

“I’m not leaving!”

Rather than recoil from my outburst, she narrows her gaze and leans closer. She studies me now with a scrutiny that makes me shift uneasily under her inspection.

“What?” I snap.

“This has nothing to do with North Industries, does it?” She looks around my place as if seeing it all under a different light. Her gaze comes back to me. “Gabriella?”

The groan that responds to her name is one of pain and regret.

She takes in a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Okay, this makes a lot more sense. What happened?”

The death grip that squeezes my chest makes it impossible to take a full breath. “I screwed up,” I grunt without enough oxygen.

“You North men seem to do that, but rarely without a good reason.”

I throw my forearm over my eyes. “I can’t let her go. I’ve tried, and I can’t.” My voice cracks.

Her warm palm lands on my shoulder, and she squeezes. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Gabriella really cares about you. Just give her some time. Maybe she’ll come around.”

“My only hope is that she does. Which is why I’m not leaving.”

“August’s realtor is going to be here to list the place, so we need to get you packed up and out of here.”

“I said I’m not—”

“Kingston,” she says and pulls my arm away from my eyes. “How long are you going to lay around here and let life happen to you? What is it going to take for you to get the fuck up and make your life your own?” She hops to her feet and uses both hands and all her strength to pull me upright. “We do not lie around and go whichever way the wind blows us. We make our own destiny.”

My shoulders slump. “That seems like a lot of work.”

“It is the most gratifying work you’ll ever do, which, in turn, makes it not feel like work at all.” She pulls me to my feet and pushes me toward the hallway. “Hot shower, stat. Dress in comfortable clothes. We have a lot of work to do.”

“I’m not leave—”

“You are.” She gives me one final shove into my bathroom. “And once you do, we’re coming up with a plan to get your life back. And hopefully, Gabriella comes with that.”

I suck in a shuddered breath and drag my feet to the shower.

I want to believe that Jordan’s idea is possible because imagining a life without Gabriella is no life at all.

I remember. I lived without her before.

I can’t do it again.