Dr. Salloway came into the room sometime in the early afternoon, just as Milo was attempting to convince Riley that he had once promised to give him his entire bedroom.

"You did," Milo insisted.

Riley looked at him suspiciously. "I promised you my bedroom?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you love me."

From her place near the window, Lydia snorted. "He's lying."

Milo whipped around to glare at her. "You weren't there."

"I live there."

"That doesn't mean you know everything."

"I know Riley definitely didn't promise you his bedroom."

Milo crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe he did it in secret."

Riley looked toward me. "Did I?"

I shook my head. "Absolutely not."

"You don't know."

"I know you."

The words came out before I thought about them, and something in Riley's expression shifted ever so slightly. I looked away before I could think too much about it.

"See?" Lydia said. "Case closed."

Milo frowned at all of us before turning back to Riley. "Fine. But you did promise I could have your big pillow."

"Did I?"

"No," Willow, Kai, Lydia, and I said at the exact same time.

Riley laughed while Milo looked personally betrayed by every person in the room.

"That is not fair."

The door opened before he could continue defending himself, and Dr. Salloway stepped inside with a tablet tucked beneath one arm.

"Good afternoon."

The entire room changed.

It always did when a doctor walked in. One second, everyone had been laughing, and the next, Willow was sitting straighter in her chair, Kai had stepped away from the window, and Lydia had stopped smiling. Even Milo seemed to sense the shift because he climbed down from the edge of Riley's bed and walked over to his mother.

I stayed in my chair.

Riley looked at Dr. Salloway. "Good afternoon."

She smiled. "How are you feeling today?"

"Tired."

I looked at him.

Riley looked at me. "What?"

"Nothing." I shrugged.

"You made a face."

"I didn't make a face."

"You definitely made a face."

Dr. Salloway glanced between us. "I take it tired has been a common answer?"

"Every time," I said.

Riley sighed. "I was in a car accident."

"Excuses."

Dr. Salloway laughed softly before looking back at Riley. "Fatigue is completely normal right now. Your brain and your body have been through significant trauma. Recovery takes an enormous amount of energy."

Riley gave me a pointed look.

I crossed my arms. "Fine. Medical excuses."

His mouth curved slightly.

Dr. Salloway moved closer to the bed and looked down at the tablet in her hands. "I've reviewed the results from your most recent scans and neurological assessments."

Willow reached for Kai's hand. She probably didn't even realize she had done it, but Kai's fingers closed around hers immediately. My stomach tightened as I watched them, and when I looked back at Riley, I realized he had noticed too.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Dr. Salloway said quickly. "Actually, things are looking very good."

No one moved.

I wasn't sure any of us breathed.

Dr. Salloway smiled. "Your scans are stable. The swelling has continued to decrease, your neurological responses are good, and physically, you're recovering very well."

Willow's entire body seemed to soften. "Oh, thank God."

Kai squeezed her hand while Lydia closed her eyes for a second.

I looked at Riley.

He didn't look relieved. Not exactly. He looked confused, maybe even nervous, as if he wasn't entirely sure what good news was supposed to feel like anymore.

Dr. Salloway continued. "We'll still want to keep you here for observation a little longer, but if everything continues progressing the way it has been, I think we can start talking about sending you home in a few days."

The room went silent.

Home.

Again, that word.

Riley stared at her. "My home?"

Willow's smile faltered.

Dr. Salloway nodded gently. "Yes."

Riley looked toward his mother and father, then Lydia, then Milo, and finally me.

"You mean I can leave?"

"In a few days, hopefully."

He looked around the hospital room, and I tried to imagine what he was thinking. For the rest of us, going home was good news. It meant Riley was healing. It meant he was stable. It meant the machines and fluorescent lights and constant visits from nurses were no longer necessary.

But for Riley, going home meant walking into a house he didn't remember. It meant sleeping in a bedroom that belonged to a version of himself he had never met. It meant opening drawers filled with clothes he didn't remember buying, seeing photographs he didn't remember taking, and living with people who knew everything about him while he knew almost nothing about them.

"You don't look happy," Milo said.

Willow glanced down at him. "Milo."

"What?" he asked. "He doesn't."

Riley looked at his little brother. "I am happy."

Milo frowned. "You don't look like it."

Riley gave him a tired smile. "I'm working on it."

Dr. Salloway pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "It's completely understandable if going home feels overwhelming."

Riley looked at her. "What happens when I get there?"

The question made my heart hurt.

Willow's fingers tightened around Kai's.

"You rest," Dr. Salloway said. "That will still be the most important thing. You'll have follow-up appointments, neurological assessments, and we'll continue monitoring your recovery. We may also recommend working with specialists who can help with some of the cognitive and emotional challenges that come with memory loss."

"Will going home make me remember?"

Dr. Salloway hesitated.

I hated that hesitation.

Everyone did. I could feel it.

"It might help."

Riley looked down. "Might."

"Familiar environments can sometimes encourage memory recall. Smells, sounds, routines, places, and objects can create associations that aren't always accessible in a hospital environment."

"So I could walk into my house and remember everything?"

"It's possible that certain memories could be triggered," Dr. Salloway said. "But I don't want you to put that kind of pressure on yourself."

The hope that had appeared in Riley's face dimmed slightly.

"You may walk into your home and remember something," she continued. "You may walk into your home and remember nothing. Neither outcome means you're doing anything wrong."

Riley didn't answer.

"Recovery from memory loss is unpredictable. Your brain isn't a puzzle that you can force together if you stare at the pieces long enough. It needs time."

"How much time?"

"I don't know."

"A few weeks?"

"Possibly."

"Months?"

"Possibly."

"Years?"

The room went completely silent.

Dr. Salloway's expression softened. "Possibly."

My chest tightened as Riley looked toward the window.

No one spoke.

I stared at his face.

Years.

The word felt enormous. I had known this already. We all had. The doctors had been honest with us from the beginning. His memories might return. They might not. Recovery could take days or months or years.

But hearing it again didn't make it easier.

Maybe nothing would.

Milo tugged gently on Willow's sleeve. "Mom?"

She looked down. "Yes, baby?"

"If Riley comes home, where does he sleep?"

Lydia blinked. "His room."

Milo frowned. "But what if he doesn't remember which room is his?"

No one answered.

Milo looked at Riley. "I can show you."

Riley's expression softened. "You can?"

Milo nodded. "I know where everything is."

Lydia laughed quietly. "That is absolutely not true."

"I know where important things are."

"Yesterday you couldn't find your shoes."

"I found one."

Kai rubbed a hand over his mouth, hiding a smile.

Milo walked closer to Riley's bed. "I can show you your room. And the kitchen. And where we keep snacks."

"The essentials," Riley said.

"And the backyard."

"Good."

"And my room."

"Okay."

"And Mom and Dad's room."

Willow shook her head. "Maybe not everything."

"And Lydia's room."

Lydia pointed at him. "Absolutely not."

Milo ignored her. "And the bathroom."

"I think I can probably figure that one out." Riley said.

"What if you can't?" Milo asked.

Riley looked at me, and I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh.

"Then I guess I'm lucky I have you," he told Milo.

Milo beamed.

The heaviness in the room lifted just a little.

Dr. Salloway smiled. "Having family around will be important."

Riley's eyes moved toward me.

I pretended not to notice.

"Should we show him everything when he gets home?" Willow asked. "Photos? His things? Places he used to go?"

"Slowly," Dr. Salloway said. "The most important thing is not overwhelming him. Let Riley decide what he's ready for."

Willow nodded.

"And no quizzing him," Dr. Salloway added.

Willow's face fell. "I wouldn't—"

"I know you wouldn't mean to," Dr. Salloway said gently. "But it's easy for questions to become pressure. Asking, 'Do you remember this?' over and over can be frustrating and frightening for someone experiencing memory loss."

Willow looked at Riley. "I'm sorry if I've been doing that."

"You haven't." He replied.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

She still looked guilty.

"Instead of asking him if he remembers," Dr. Salloway continued, "tell him things. Share stories. Let him experience familiar places without expecting a reaction."

My eyes dropped to my hands.

Tell him things. Share stories.

That was what I had been doing.

Maybe I hadn't been completely useless after all.

"Can he have his phone?" Lydia asked.

I nearly stopped breathing.

Why? Why would she ask that? Of all the questions available in the universe, why that one?

Dr. Salloway looked toward her. "Not yet."

Relief flooded through me again.

Wonderful. Beautiful.

I loved modern medicine.

"When?" Lydia asked.

I wanted to throw something at her.

Dr. Salloway considered the question. "Possibly once he's home and settled. We'll talk about it before discharge."

I stared at the floor.

Once he was home.

Fine. That was fine.

I had a few days. Plenty of time. Again, time for what, I didn't know. Maybe I could steal his phone from Willow.

No. Absolutely not.

That was insane.

Maybe I could distract Riley for the rest of his life.

Also unlikely.

Maybe I could simply accept that eventually he was going to see the message and deal with the consequences like a mature person.

Disgusting.

Riley looked at me.

I immediately looked away.

"What?" I asked.

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

"You were looking at me."

"I'm allowed to look at you. Your face did the thing again."

"What thing?" I asked innocently.

"The guilty thing."

"I don't have a guilty thing."

"Yes, you do."

Lydia looked between us. "She absolutely does."

"Stay out of this." I shot her a look.

She smiled. "No."

Dr. Salloway looked amused.

"What exactly are you guilty about?" Riley asked.

"Nothing."

"That answer is becoming suspicious."

"I'm an innocent woman." I held my head up in confidence.

"You sound guiltier every time you speak."

I crossed my arms. "You know, you were much nicer before the accident."

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.

The room went quiet.

My stomach dropped.

"Riley, I didn't mean—"

He laughed.

I stared at him.

He shook his head. "I highly doubt that."

The room relaxed again.

I exhaled.

"Good," I said. "Because you were actually terrible."

"According to you."

"According to everyone."

Lydia nodded. "She's right."

"Thank you." I pointed at her.

"Anytime." She grinned.

Riley looked at Dr. Salloway. "Can I request a different family?"

"No," Lydia said at the same time Willow and Kai did.

Milo looked concerned. "Where would you go?"

Riley smiled. "Never mind."

Dr. Salloway stood from her chair. "I'll check in again tomorrow. For now, keep resting. If everything continues looking good, we'll start making plans for discharge."

Willow stood too. "Thank you."

Dr. Salloway smiled. "You're welcome."

She walked toward the door.

"Doctor?"

Riley's voice stopped her.

She turned around.

He hesitated. "Do you think I'm going to remember?"

The room became still.

Dr. Salloway looked at him for a long moment. "I think you're healing."

"That's not what I asked."

"No," she said gently. "It isn't."

Riley waited.

She walked back toward the bed. "I don't know whether all of your memories will return. I wish I could give you a different answer."

His face fell.

"But I do know something."

He looked at her.

"You're learning."

Riley frowned slightly.

"You may not remember your family yet, but you're learning who they are. You're learning your mother's voice, your father's sense of humor, your sister's personality, and your brother's obsession with dinosaur pancakes."

Milo smiled.

"And Autumn."

My head lifted.

Dr. Salloway glanced at me. "You're learning her too."

Riley looked at me.

My heart beat once, hard enough to hurt.

Dr. Salloway continued. "Memory is an important part of who we are, Riley, but it isn't the only part. Whatever happens, you are still capable of forming new connections, making new memories, and building relationships with the people around you."

Riley didn't look away from me.

Neither did I.

"So yes," Dr. Salloway said softly. "I hope your memories return. But until they do, don't become so focused on remembering your life that you forget to live it."

No one spoke.

Dr. Salloway gave us one final smile and left the room, but the silence stayed behind. For a while, everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Willow held Kai's hand. Lydia stared out the window. Milo played with the sleeve of his shirt.

And Riley looked at me.

"What?" I finally asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

I narrowed my eyes. "You do that a lot."

"Do what?"

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

He smiled.

I froze.

Those were his words from earlier, and he knew it.

His smile grew.

I stared at him. "You're annoying."

"Was I always?"

"The worst."

"Good."

"Why is that good?"

He leaned back against his pillows. "Because apparently some things haven't changed."

My heart stumbled, and I looked away before he could see what that did to me.

Across the room, Lydia was smiling.

I ignored her.

Riley was going home.

In a few days, he would walk back into the house where he had grown up. He would sleep in his own bed. He would see his clothes hanging in his closet and photographs lining the walls. He would sit at the kitchen table where we had eaten hundreds of meals together and walk past the place on the living room floor where we used to build forts as children.

Maybe he would remember. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe something would come back tomorrow, or maybe something would come back years from now. Maybe nothing would.

I didn't know. None of us did. But Dr. Salloway was right about one thing.

Riley was learning.

He knew my name now. He knew I was stubborn and that I made jokes when I was sad. He knew I had loved him. He knew I always came back. He knew enough to notice when I was hiding something and enough to make fun of me for it.

And as Riley looked at me from across the small space between his hospital bed and my chair, I realized something that scared me almost as much as the day he had forgotten me.

He was learning me.

And I was beginning to wonder what would happen when he finally knew enough to decide whether he wanted to keep me.