Lost Stars (The Jewel Project #3)

14.1|| The Memory of Tom

Angie looked at Billy's beat up face, wondering if he'd ever wake up, if Tom would show up. This was so stupid. She should've asked for his address. She should really focus on more relevant things than being jealous of Little Miss Nurse.

At least she'd talked to Tom and Billy's doctor. Billy had brain swelling and it was dangerous to wake him up until it deflated at least a little. He hadn't been in a coma for too long, so everything looked promising. Maybe in a few days, they would wake him up. Tom, on the other hand, was seriously concussed and suffering from amnesia. Whether he'd get his memory back or not, the doctor couldn't say. Whether it was a good idea to try and trigger it, he couldn't say either. Apparently there was a scientific debate about that.

Angie didn't really care. She was going to try and trigger it anyway. Maybe she still had some luck in this world and telling him about his life would make him remember it.

The door opened and her tired eyes shot towards it. Tom walked in, a concerned look on his face. She tensed. Could something have happened to Billy?

"I need your address," he said.

"Hello to you, too," she answered out of reflex. But what he'd said made her bubble up with warmth. "Only if you give me yours, too."

He sat down on the chair next to hers, pulled out a piece of paper, and started scribbling on it. "I think this is it," he said, handing it to her.

Angie scanned the address, focusing on his handwriting rather than the words, because she had no idea where that was anyway. It was the one she recognized, readable but messy. At least that hadn't changed. She ripped a portion of the paper and scribbled the address of her motel on it.

Tom read it with a frown. "Weird. Your handwriting is familiar."

Angie stared, her head pounding. What was the chance of him recognizing her handwriting but not her? "I hope that's proof that you did know me."

"I'm sure I know you. I never doubted that." He chewed on his lower lip again, in that weirdly uncharacteristic gesture. "I want you to tell me everything you know about me."

Finally! She took in a deep breath and started from the beginning. She told him how they met in a club, how he used to be a DJ and work as a barista; how he was an orphan, but found his family after he joined a secret agency; about his brothers, about Snitch Gravel and about their quests to recover massive jewels.

He listened intently, a crease of concentration between his eyebrows, only nodding, never interrupting until she fell silent, her throat stinging.

"So you're not only my friend, but my coworker as well," he said.

"Yes, I guess so." She'd never thought of herself as his coworker. More like his partner, facing the madness together.

He looked towards the ceiling, drumming his fingers on his chin. "That's a lot to take in."

"I know it is." Please remember, please remember, please remember.

"I want more details."

"Can't you remember anything?" she asked. The despair in her voice made her cringe.

He just frowned, looking nothing like the Tom she'd come to know, to love. He looked like jerk Tom from Tucson, right before he turned his back on her and walked away.

"I can," he finally said, but his tone gave her no hope. "I remember a small room filled with reddish light. I remember pain, fear, screaming. My screaming."

The blood in her veins turned into chips of ice. The torture. He remembered being tortured in the labs.

"I have scars on my back. I've felt them. And this." He traced the scar above his right eyebrow. "What happened to me?"