Remember Me? (Book 1) COMPLETED

3 Months Pt 1

BETSY

4:30am.

I woke up to a ringing phone. My phone. Blearily, I felt around the bed for the device, answered, and pressed the speaker to my ear.

"I need you to take me to the doctor." Tori's voice came shakily over the phone.

I shot up, heart drumming in my ears. "What's the matter?"

She groaned. "Something's not right," she said, breathing heavy. "Too much blood..."

"What's going on?"

"Just pick me up, please."

"I'll be there in ten."

I hung up the phone and was halfway to the front door when I stopped, hand hovering over my keys. What in the world was I doing?

Sure, my investigation had revealed little over the past few months: no late-night escapades, no check-ins to the Nimbus Hotel, no outward signal of infidelity but for his sleeping in the guest room across the hall. Though I had the room closest to Camille, and had helped her with her recovery from a wheelchair to sometimes using a water, she didn't suspect anything of my connection to Tori. Or so I hoped.

But this had been common, too, the past year. Rick would go months at a time without disappearing, then be gone three nights out of the week and come home drunk. What's to say they were biding their time? Taking me for a sucker underneath my own roof?

All at once I could feel the mid-November cold seep through the hardwood floors, crawling through any cracks. I shivered, but I couldn't bring myself to grab a coat. My cold fear suddenly turned to hot magma in my blood and I caught myself.

I had to remember Tori's kindness to me the past few months. In truth, if I didn't suspect her of sleeping with my husband, we might almost be friends.

At least, she thought so.

So what would she think if I ditched her when she was in need? What would I think? I could just see the sleepless nights moving forward, should something happen and I stayed at home.

With that thought, I snatched up the keys and gently closed the door behind me. Her voice over the phone had been shaky and breathless—how could I ignore it?

I blew through a few stop signs on my way to Katherine's house. Gravel crunched under my tires as I pulled into the driveway, only for a bright shape to move in front of my headlights at the last moment. I braked—hard—and my back protested at the sudden jolt.

"Hurry, let me in!" Tori rushed to the side of the car and tugged on the handle.

I stared at her.

"Come on," she said, red hair wild about her shoulders and down her back. "We gotta go."

Parking the car, I unlocked the door. Tori slid in beside me, a white towel wrapped around her blue pajamas. She looked at me, a frenzied fear in her green eyes, cheeks bright with cold, and I didn't hesitate to follow her instructions to the emergency room.

Our arrival was a blur. Tori rushed out of the car, her face ashen, and almost fell. That's when I noticed the red blooming on the white towel. The dark crimson that ran down her legs and dripped a trail from my car to the ER when we arrived. The attendant summoned a nurse and Tori was whisked away, while I was left to park the car.

By the time I returned, the attendant referred me to Room 306. Private. The last time I'd seen private rooms for patients was when it was serious—like Camille. Concern coursed through me like wildfire, drawing me to knock on the door before I even realized.