The next morning, I was back at the hospital.

Apparently, when I told Riley I would come back, I had meant it with the determination of someone who had been released from prison and immediately committed the exact same crime again. My parents had tried to convince me to stay home for one more day. Dad had suggested breakfast first. Mom had suggested I at least wait until visiting hours had properly started. Brooklyn had suggested chaining me to my bed, though I was almost certain she had been joking.

Almost.

Harper had been the only one who didn't argue. She had simply looked at me over the rim of her coffee mug and said, "You're going no matter what any of us say, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She had nodded as though she had expected nothing else. "At least eat a piece of toast."

So I had eaten a piece of toast.

And then I went back to Riley.

I felt better than I had the day before, physically at least. My hair was clean, I was wearing fresh clothes, I had slept in an actual bed for more hours than I probably needed, and Dad had successfully gotten two bowls of soup into me before I escaped the house that morning. Emotionally, however, I was carrying around the knowledge that I had accidentally texted a boy with amnesia at four thirty-seven yesterday afternoon, so there was that.

The message had haunted me for the rest of the evening. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart had attempted to leave my body. Harper texted me, and I panicked. Brooklyn sent me a picture from downstairs, and I panicked. Hudson sent me a video while sitting approximately twenty feet away from me, and I panicked. At one point, my phone had buzzed because one of my apps needed updating, and I had nearly thrown it across the room.

Riley never answered.

Which was good.

Very good.

Wonderful, actually.

It was exactly what I wanted.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself as I walked through the hospital carrying two coffees, one for me and one for Willow, because I had learned very quickly that Riley's mother was surviving almost entirely on caffeine, worry, and the occasional granola bar Kai forced into her hands.

I reached Riley's room and knocked lightly against the open door. Willow was sitting in the chair beside his bed, talking quietly with Kai, while Lydia stood near the window eating something out of a vending machine bag. Milo was nowhere to be seen, which meant someone had probably convinced him that kindergarten was still a requirement even when his older brother was in the hospital.

Riley was awake.

He looked toward the door when I knocked.

And smiled.

My heart did something stupid.

I ignored it.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Lydia said.

I stared at her. "It's nine in the morning."

"Exactly. You're late."

"I was here before you yesterday."

"And look how well that turned out for you."

Willow looked over her shoulder, and the tiredness in her face softened when she saw me. "Autumn."

I lifted one of the coffees. "I brought a peace offering."

Willow's eyes immediately dropped to the cup. "Is that for me?"

"Yes."

"I always knew you were my favorite."

Kai looked offended. "Excuse me?"

Willow looked at him. "Did you bring me coffee?"

"I drove you here."

"Exactly."

I smiled as I walked into the room and handed Willow the cup. "Vanilla latte. Extra shot."

She pressed one hand dramatically against her chest. "You remembered."

I froze for only a second.

It was stupid. A normal word. A word people said every day without thinking about it. Still, the room seemed to shift around me, and Willow noticed immediately.

Her smile faltered. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean—"

"No." I shook my head quickly. "It's okay."

Riley was watching me.

I could feel it.

I looked at him, and his smile was gone now, replaced by that quiet, searching expression I was beginning to recognize.

"Good morning," I said.

"Good morning."

I walked toward the chair beside his bed and sat down.

My chair, apparently.

That was a dangerous thought.

I immediately ignored that one too.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Tired."

"You always say tired."

"I'm in a hospital."

"Excuses."

His mouth curved again.

"You look better," he said.

I stared at him. "Wow."

His brows pulled together. "What?"

"Yesterday you told me I looked tired. Today you sound surprised that I look better. You're really good at talking to women."

Lydia snorted. Kai coughed into his fist, and Willow took a very long drink of her coffee.

Riley looked horrified. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I meant you look more rested."

"Keep digging."

"I'm going to stop talking."

"Probably safest."

He shook his head, but he was smiling, and I hated how much I loved making him smile.

Before the accident, Riley's laughter had been one of my favorite sounds in the world. I had known exactly how to earn it. I knew which jokes would make him roll his eyes, which ones would make him smile, and which ones would make him laugh so hard he had to turn his face away.

Now I was learning him all over again.

Or maybe he was learning me.

I wasn't sure anymore.

Willow and Kai stayed for another half hour before Kai convinced her to go downstairs and eat something. Lydia went with them after announcing she needed real food before the vending machine chips destroyed her organs, which left Riley and me alone again.

I looked toward the door after they left, then at Riley, then at the door, and then back at Riley.

He noticed.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing." I said a little too quickly.

"You're acting weird."

"I'm always weird."

"Were you?"

"Yes."

"How weird?"

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Sure."

"Twelve."

He nodded thoughtfully. "That explains a lot."

"Excuse me?"

"You're the one who said it."

"You weren't supposed to agree."

"I'm still learning the rules."

Despite myself, I smiled.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. Riley was looking through one of the books Lydia had brought him, though I wasn't sure he was actually reading. He kept turning the same page back and forth.

I tried not to think about my phone.

I lasted approximately forty seconds.

"Where's your phone?"

Riley looked up.

My heart stopped.

Why had I asked that?

Why?

I could have found out naturally. I could have asked Willow. I could have waited for someone else to mention it. Instead, I had walked into Riley's hospital room and, within an hour, demanded to know the location of his phone like a criminal checking whether the police had found the evidence.

"My phone?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He looked confused. "I don't have it."

Relief hit me so quickly and violently that I almost sighed out loud.

I managed to stop myself.

Barely.

"Oh."

Riley's eyebrows pulled together. "Why?"

"No reason."

"You asked me where my phone was for no reason?"

"Yes."

"That seems unlikely."

"Well, sometimes I say things."

"I've noticed."

I ignored that. "So you don't have it?"

"No."

"Like, at all?"

He stared at me. "Autumn."

"What?"

"You're being weird again."

"Twelve out of ten, remember?"

"Why do you care about my phone?"

I shifted in my chair. "I don't."

"You definitely do."

"I was curious."

"About the location of my phone?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Because I don't remember anything. Questions are kind of all I have."

That shut me up.

I looked down at my hands. "Sorry."

Riley's expression softened. "I was joking."

"Were you?"

"Mostly."

He watched me for another second before setting the book aside. "My mom has it."

My head lifted. "She does?"

I tried very hard not to look relieved.

I failed.

Riley noticed. Of course he did.

"She told me the doctors don't want me looking through it yet," he continued. "Not until they think I'm ready."

I nodded quickly. "That makes sense."

"She said there's too much on it. Pictures, messages, social media. Everything."

"Definitely." I said.

He tilted his head.

I stopped talking.

"Why do you look so relieved?" He asked me.

"I don't."

"You do."

"That's just my face."

"Your face looks guilty."

"My face has always looked guilty."

"Has it?"

"No." I said.

He stared at me.

I stared back.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed.

Not the quiet breath of amusement I had gotten from him before. Not the tiny smile everyone had treated like a miracle. A real laugh.

It wasn't loud, and it didn't last long, but it was Riley's laugh.

My Riley's laugh.

My chest tightened and I looked down quickly.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Now you're obsessed with my face."

"I'm trying to figure out why you're acting like you committed a crime involving my phone."

My head snapped up. "I did not commit a crime."

"I didn't say you did."

"You implied it."

"I said you were acting like you did."

"Same thing."

His eyes narrowed playfully, and I could practically see the questions forming.

I panicked. "How long did the doctors say you can't have it?"

"Nice subject change." He said with amusement.

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I accepted it as one."

He shook his head. "I don't know. A few days. Maybe longer."

I relaxed into the chair.

A few days. Maybe longer.

Perfect.

That gave me time.

Time for what, exactly, I had no idea. It wasn't like the message would disappear. But maybe if Riley didn't see it for a week or two, he wouldn't notice when I had sent it. Maybe he would assume it was from before the accident.

Yes.

That could happen.

It was possible. Technically.

As long as he didn't look at the date, or the time, or think about it for longer than three seconds.

I could work with that.

"What are you thinking about?"

I looked at Riley. "Nothing."

"You do that a lot."

"Do what?"

"Say nothing when you're obviously thinking about something."

I stared at him.

My chest tightened.

He didn't know. He couldn't know.

But he was right.

Riley had always known when I was hiding something. Before the accident, he would look at me for half a second and ask what was wrong. I would say nothing, and he would stare at me until I told him to stop doing that. Then he would ask what he was doing, and I would always give him the same answer.

Knowing me.

The memory hit so suddenly that I forgot how to breathe.

"Autumn?"

I blinked.

Riley was watching me.

"What?"

"You disappeared."

"I'm sitting right here."

"You know what I mean."

My fingers curled around the sleeves of my sweater. "Sorry."

He studied my face. "Did I used to know what you were thinking?"

The question caught me off guard. "What?"

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like I said something I'm supposed to remember."

I went still.

Riley glanced down at his hands. "You did it yesterday too."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad."

"I know."

"I just want to understand."

I looked toward the window. Outside, the sky was pale blue, and the hospital parking lot was full of people coming and going. Entire lives moved beneath us. People arrived. People left. People had ordinary mornings while I sat beside the boy who used to know me better than I knew myself.

"Yeah," I whispered.

Riley waited.

"You used to know what I was thinking."

"How?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"That's not helpful."

I smiled faintly. "You just did."

"Like mind reading?"

"No."

"Disappointing."

"You knew my face."

He looked at me.

I swallowed. "You knew when I was pretending to be okay. You knew when I was annoyed before I said anything. You knew when I wanted to leave somewhere without me having to ask. You knew when I was anxious. You knew when I was tired. You knew when I was lying."

Riley's expression softened.

"You knew me," I finished quietly.

The words settled between us.

He looked away first. "I wish I remembered that."

I stared at him.

His voice was so quiet that I almost wished I hadn't heard it.

"Why?"

He shrugged slightly. "It sounds nice."

"What does?"

"Knowing someone like that."

My heart hurt. "It was."

"And you knew me too?"

I laughed softly. "Better than anyone."

He looked back at me. "Tell me something."

"About you?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

"Something small."

I tilted my head. "Small?"

"Everyone keeps telling me big things."

I went quiet.

Riley looked toward the photographs Lydia had brought. "I know where I was born now. I know where we went on vacation when I was fourteen. I know what sports I played and what my favorite books were. Mom told me about my first day of school. Dad told me about teaching me to drive. Lydia told me about every fight we've apparently had since birth."

"That sounds like Lydia."

"But I don't know the little things."

My heart stopped.

The little things.

I thought about my phone. About sitting in bed yesterday and scrolling through years of conversations. About the realization that had broken something inside me. Everyone was giving Riley the big memories, but what about the tiny ones?

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

He thought about it. "What did I do when I couldn't sleep?"

I smiled. "You called me."

"Every time?"

"Pretty much."

"What did we talk about?"

"Nothing."

He frowned. "I called you to talk about nothing?"

"Those were our best conversations."

He smiled faintly. "What else?"

I thought for a moment. "You hated when people touched your neck."

His hand immediately moved toward his neck. "Why?"

"No idea. You just hated it."

"Good to know."

"You always checked the back seat of your car before getting in."

"That sounds reasonable."

"You watched one horror movie when you were twelve and never recovered."

He smiled. "What else?"

I looked at him. "You stole the marshmallows from my hot chocolate."

"Why?"

"Because you were a terrible person."

"Fair."

"You always gave Milo the bigger half of anything you split with him, but you pretended it was an accident."

His smile faded into something softer. "Really?"

"Every time."

He looked down. "What else?"

I kept going. "You turned the volume down whenever I started talking, even if your favorite song was playing. You hated when your socks got wet. You read the last page of books before you finished them."

His face twisted in horror. "I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"That's terrible."

"I told you that constantly."

"Did I care?"

"Not even a little."

He laughed softly. "What else?"

I smiled. "You always carried gum but never chewed it."

"Why?"

"Because I liked gum."

He went still.

So did I.

I hadn't meant for that one to come out.

Riley looked at me. "You mean I carried it for you?"

I looked down. "Yeah."

"But I didn't chew it?"

"No."

"Because you did."

"Yes."

He was quiet for a moment. "That's weirdly nice."

"You had your moments."

"What else?"

I should have stopped.

I didn't.

I looked at him.

There were thousands. Millions, maybe.

Tiny pieces of Riley that no one else would think to give him because they hadn't seemed important until they were gone.

"You always walked on the side closest to the road."

"What else?"

"You hated tomatoes but liked ketchup."

"That makes sense."

"It does not." I made a face.

"It does to me." He replied.

"You slept with one foot outside the blanket."

"Why do you know that?"

My face heated. "Sleepovers. Family vacations. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"I didn't say anything." He said quickly.

"Your face did." I pointed.

"Apparently, you're the mind reader now."

I laughed.

He smiled.

And for a while, that was what we did.

He asked, and I answered. I gave him pieces, tiny ones that had once seemed so ordinary I had never imagined a world where I would need to explain them. I told him about the way he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel when he was thinking, the fact that he always forgot where he put his keys, and the way he ate the red candies last because they were his favorite. I told him how he hated thunderstorms as a child but pretended he didn't because Lydia loved them, how he said ow whenever someone else got hurt, and how he always checked that everyone had gotten home safely.

Riley listened to every one.

Sometimes he laughed. Sometimes he asked questions. Sometimes he became quiet.

But he never remembered.

Not once.

And somehow, for now, that was okay.

Eventually, Willow and Kai returned with Lydia, and the room became louder again. Willow asked if Riley needed anything. Kai adjusted the blinds. Lydia complained about the cafeteria. Milo arrived an hour later after school and immediately demanded to know whether Riley had missed him.

"I did," Riley said.

Milo beamed.

I looked at Riley.

He looked at me.

And something warm passed between us.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was the beginning of something. I didn't know. I only knew that when I checked my phone later that afternoon, my message still had no response.

I just woke up and I think sleeping for seven hours somehow made me more tired. Explain that, Romeo.

Delivered.

I smiled, not because Riley hadn't answered, definitely not, but because I had time. A few days. Maybe a week. Maybe longer. By the time he got his phone back, there would be so many other things happening that he might not even notice the message. If he did notice it, he probably wouldn't check the date. If he checked the date, he probably wouldn't check the time. If he checked the time, he probably wouldn't do the math.

And if he did all of those things, I would deal with that when it happened.

For now, Riley didn't have his phone.

My secret was safe.

Unfortunately, I had known Riley long enough to understand one very important thing.

Secrets had never stayed safe around him for long.