By late evening, Riley's hospital room looked less like a hospital room and more like the aftermath of one of our family game nights. Lydia had disappeared sometime after dinner and returned nearly an hour later carrying a canvas tote bag stuffed with things she had apparently decided Riley could not survive another night without. There was a sweatshirt from his bedroom, two bags of candy, a pair of fuzzy socks Willow insisted she had not asked for, one of Milo's stuffed dinosaurs that he had apparently forgotten at home, and, buried beneath everything else, a battered box containing Riley's favorite card game.

The second I saw it, my heart sank just a little. "Oh, no," I said, while Lydia looked at me with the kind of grin that meant she had absolutely no intention of showing mercy.

"Oh, yes," she said, pulling the box from the bag.

"We don't have to do this."

"We absolutely do."

"I can think of at least seventeen better things to do."

"Name three."

"Sleep, stare at the wall, and voluntarily undergo dental surgery."

Kai laughed from his place near the window while Riley looked between us with an amused expression. "I'm assuming I liked this game?"

"You were obsessed with it," Lydia said.

"You were insufferable," I corrected.

Riley looked at me. "Those sound like two very different things."

"They're not."

"They really aren't," Willow agreed, taking the box from Lydia for a moment like even touching it brought back years of emotional damage.

Lydia carried the game toward the little rolling table beside Riley's bed and held the box out to him. "This was your favorite."

Riley took it from her and turned it over in his hands. I watched his face as he studied the pictures on the front, then flipped it over and read the words on the back. Nothing changed. There was no flicker of recognition, no sudden smile, no widening of his eyes. He simply looked at the box like someone seeing it for the first time, because he was.

"Have we played this a lot?" he asked.

Lydia laughed. Kai laughed. Willow groaned. I said nothing.

"A lot?" Lydia repeated. "Riley, we have played this game so many times that I genuinely considered burning it."

"You tried once," Kai said.

"I was eight."

"You were sixteen."

"Same thing."

Riley smiled faintly. "Was I good?"

The entire room went quiet. Lydia stared at him. Willow stared at him. Kai stared at him. I looked down at my hands because I already knew what everyone was remembering.

"Oh," Riley said slowly. "I was really good."

"You were annoyingly good," Lydia said.

"The worst," Willow added.

Kai nodded. "Unbearable."

Milo climbed onto the chair beside Riley's bed and hugged his stuffed dinosaur against his chest. "You made me cry once."

Everyone looked at him.

Riley's eyes widened. "I did?"

Milo nodded seriously.

"I made my five-year-old brother cry over a card game?"

"You said I had the strategic intelligence of a potato."

Lydia covered her mouth, Kai looked toward the ceiling, and Willow closed her eyes like she was trying very hard not to laugh at something she knew she shouldn't find funny. I bit the inside of my cheek, but it didn't help much.

Riley looked horrified. "I said that?"

Milo nodded again.

"I'm sorry."

Milo shrugged. "It was funny."

"You cried."

"Only for a little."

"I called you a potato."

"You gave me ice cream after."

Riley stared at him while Milo smiled like all had been forgiven the second dessert got involved. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, and everyone looked at me. I quickly covered it with a cough, but Riley's eyes narrowed.

"You think this is funny?"

"No." I said quickly.

"You're smiling."

"I'm remembering."

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and my smile disappeared almost as quickly as his did. The room went quiet for half a second before Lydia clapped her hands together and announced that we had experienced enough emotional trauma for one evening and needed to start playing.

She began setting everything up on the rolling table while Kai pulled another chair closer. Willow moved to sit beside him, and Milo insisted on being Riley's partner until Lydia reminded him that the game did not have partners. Milo argued that rules could change, Lydia told him rules could not change just because he was losing, and Willow reminded Lydia to stop bullying the kindergartener. Lydia insisted he had started it, Milo looked proud to be considered dangerous, and Riley watched all of us with a strange expression on his face.

I noticed, because I always noticed. "What?" I asked.

His eyes moved to me. "Nothing."

"You're doing the thing again."

"What thing?"

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

His mouth curved slightly. "You really hate that."

"I do."

"I'm starting to notice."

My heart gave one painful little beat at those words. Starting to notice. I looked away before my face could give me away.

Lydia dealt the cards, and the first round started. Almost immediately, I realized everything was wrong. Not obviously. Not in a way anyone else would understand. The room was warm, Willow and Kai were sitting beside each other, Lydia was already accusing Milo of cheating despite the fact that Milo had spent the last two minutes holding his cards backward, and Riley was smiling as everyone talked over one another.

It should have felt familiar, and it almost did. That was the problem.

I looked down at my cards and tried to remember the first time we had played this game. I couldn't. There had been too many times. Hundreds, maybe thousands. We had played during family game nights at Riley's house, during sleepovers when we were children, on rainy afternoons and snow days, during holidays and summer evenings when we stayed outside too long and came inside smelling like grass and sunscreen. We had played on nights when neither of us could sleep and one of us would pull the game from the closet at two in the morning because apparently sleep deprivation and competitive card games were an excellent combination.

Riley always won. Not every time, technically, but enough that he had made sure everyone believed it was every time. And he was awful about it. Absolutely awful. Riley never played quietly. He never sat politely and waited for his turn. He talked constantly, taunted everyone, distracted people, and started arguments simply because he thought it was funny.

He would look at Lydia's cards when she wasn't paying attention and then loudly announce that he had definitely not looked at Lydia's cards, which, of course, immediately caused an argument. He would tell Willow she was making a terrible decision before she had even put down a card. He would accuse Kai of cheating despite never having any evidence whatsoever. He would spend five minutes convincing Milo to play the wrong card and then laugh when Lydia threatened to throw something at him.

And me? I always got the worst of it. I could hear him now, his voice so clear in my memories that, if I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend he was sitting beside me instead of across from me.

"That's the card you're playing?"

"Yes."

"Interesting."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"Riley."

"I just didn't realize you wanted to lose this early."

"Shut up."

"I'm trying to help you."

"You have never helped anyone in your entire life."

"That's hurtful, Juliet."

Then I would play the card anyway, and he would smile that stupid, smug smile that made me want to throw the entire deck at his head. Sometimes he had been bluffing. Sometimes he hadn't. I never knew, and that was what made it worse.

"Autumn?"

I blinked and realized everyone was looking at me.

"What?"

Lydia pointed at the table. "Your turn."

"Oh." I looked down at my cards and quickly chose one. "Sorry."

I played the card, then waited. Nothing happened. Riley looked at the card, looked at his own cards, then quietly chose one and placed it on the table. That was it. No comment. No smile. No ridiculous attempt to make me question every decision I had ever made. Nothing.

I swallowed as the game continued. Lydia played, Kai played, Willow played, and Milo attempted to play three cards at once before being immediately stopped. Then it was Riley's turn again. He looked carefully at his cards, too carefully, because old Riley barely looked at them. He knew the game so well that he spent more time watching everyone else than he did looking at what was in his own hands.

This Riley was reading the instructions Lydia had left beside him. This Riley asked questions. This Riley hesitated. This Riley apologized when he accidentally played out of turn.

I stared at my cards until Riley's voice startled me.

"You okay?"

I looked up. "What?"

He was watching me. "You're quiet."

"I'm always quiet."

"No, you're not."

The answer came so quickly that I froze. Riley froze too. Something passed over his face, confusion maybe, and for a second, we only looked at each other.

"You've known me for three days," I said quietly.

"I know."

"And you already know I'm not quiet?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I guess." Lydia was watching us, and so was Willow. I could feel it, but Riley only glanced down at his cards and added, "You talk a lot. Especially when you're nervous."

My fingers tightened around my cards because that was true. He didn't remember it, but he had learned it. Three days. That was all it had taken.

I looked down before anyone could see my face. "I'm just tired."

"Medical tired or excuse tired?"

I looked at him, and his smile grew.

"Excuse tired," I admitted.

"Thought so."

The game continued, and I tried to enjoy it. I really did. I laughed when Milo attempted to hide a card underneath his leg. I smiled when Lydia accused Kai of forming a secret alliance with Willow. I rolled my eyes when Willow reminded everyone that this was supposed to be fun and Lydia immediately responded that winning was fun. But every few minutes, I looked at Riley, and every time, something inside me broke a little more.

He was too quiet. Too polite. Too careful. I hated myself for thinking it because Riley had been through something terrible. He was recovering from a traumatic brain injury. He was sitting in a hospital bed surrounded by people he didn't remember, playing a game he had been told was his favorite. Of course he was quiet. Of course he was careful. Of course he wasn't teasing everyone.

He didn't know us. He didn't know which jokes would make Lydia angry. He didn't know how far he could push his mother before she threatened to take his cards away. He didn't know Milo loved being teased because it made him feel like one of the adults. He didn't know Kai pretended to be offended whenever Riley accused him of cheating. He didn't know me. Not enough. Not yet.

The first round ended, and Lydia won. She stared at the cards in front of her before slowly looking at Riley, a smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, my God."

Riley looked concerned. "What?"

"I won."

"Yes."

"I beat you."

"Congratulations?"

Lydia stood so quickly that her chair scraped against the floor. "I BEAT RILEY!"

Willow laughed while Kai shook his head and Milo started clapping because everyone else was reacting. Lydia pointed at her brother and said, "Do you understand how long I've waited for this moment?"

Riley looked at me. "Is she always like this?"

"Yes."

"I heard that," Lydia said.

"You were supposed to."

Lydia placed both hands against her chest. "Years. I have suffered for years."

"You're being dramatic," Willow said.

"You don't understand."

"I've played with him too." Her mother gasped.

"Not like I have."

Riley looked down at the cards. "Was I really that bad?"

Everyone started talking at once, telling him that yes, he absolutely had been that bad. Milo reminded him that he had made him cry, and Riley looked at me as though I might be the only person willing to tell the truth.

I smiled. "You were terrible."

His expression changed. "Were you mad?"

The question caught me off guard. "What?"

"When I teased you."

I laughed softly. "Constantly."

"So why did you keep playing with me?"

I looked at him, and the answer should have been easy. I could have said it was because the game was fun, or because everyone played, or because it had become a tradition. Instead, the truth came out before I could soften it.

"Because it was you."

The room became quieter, and my heart sank as I looked down at my cards. "That sounded more dramatic than I meant it to."

"No, it didn't," Lydia said.

"Thank you, Lydia."

"You're welcome."

Riley was still looking at me. I could feel it, so I shuffled my cards unnecessarily and tried to pretend I hadn't just emotionally destroyed myself in front of his entire family again.

"You liked playing with me?" he asked.

I smiled faintly. "I liked doing everything with you."

Silence filled the room again.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to look at Lydia. "Anyway, Lydia won. We should probably celebrate before the universe realizes its mistake."

"Excuse me?" She gasped.

"You heard me."

Lydia threw a card at me, and I laughed when it hit my shoulder. For a moment, everything felt normal. Then Riley picked up one of his cards and looked at it.

"I want to play again."

Lydia stopped gathering the cards. "What?"

"Again."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because I lost."

I stared at him. There it was. Something tiny, almost nothing, but something.

Lydia slowly sat back down. "You don't like losing?"

Riley shrugged. "Apparently not."

A smile tugged at my mouth because no, he definitely did not.

Lydia started dealing the cards again, and the second round began. Riley was better this time. Not much, but enough. He stopped checking the instructions as often. He watched the table more carefully. He asked fewer questions. At one point, Milo played a card that made absolutely no sense, and Riley stared at it before looking at his little brother.

"Interesting."

My heart stopped.

Milo frowned. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"Riley."

"I just didn't realize you wanted to lose this early."

The room went silent. My cards slipped slightly in my hands as Riley looked around, confused by the way everyone had frozen.

"What?"

No one answered.

He looked at me, and I couldn't breathe because that was almost exactly what he used to say. Almost.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Nothing."

"Autumn."

I shook my head. "It's nothing."

He frowned while Lydia looked at me from across the table. I looked back at her, and I knew she had heard it too. Of course she had. Willow pressed her lips together while Kai looked down at the table, and Milo was the only one who seemed completely unaware that anything had happened.

"I'm not going to lose," Milo said.

Riley looked back at him. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Very confident for someone who played that card."

Milo gasped, Lydia laughed, and Riley smiled. I looked down because suddenly my eyes were burning. He didn't remember. I knew he didn't. This wasn't a memory. It couldn't be. Maybe it was just Riley. Maybe somewhere beneath the missing years and empty spaces, some things were still there. His sense of humor. His competitiveness. His need to annoy everyone he loved. Maybe memories weren't the only things that made a person who they were.

I blinked quickly and looked back at my cards. The game continued, and slowly, Riley began to relax. He didn't turn back into the Riley from before. Not completely. He didn't suddenly remember the rules or start winning every round, but he smiled more. He questioned Lydia's decisions. He teased Milo. He started paying more attention to everyone else than he did to the cards in his hands.

Then Kai played a card, and Riley stared at it.

"That's suspicious."

Kai looked at him. "What is?"

"That."

"My card?"

"Yes."

"It's a completely normal card."

"That sounds exactly like something a cheater would say."

I froze. Kai looked at me, his eyes widening slightly, but Riley didn't notice because he was too busy arguing.

"You have no evidence," Kai said.

"I don't need evidence."

"That is not how accusations work."

"It worked on you."

Lydia laughed while Willow shook her head and Milo started yelling that everyone was cheating. For the first time since the accident, I sat back in my chair and listened. Really listened. The room was loud and messy and ridiculous. Riley was arguing with Lydia. Milo was talking over everyone. Willow was trying to restore order. Kai had given up. And I was smiling.

I didn't even realize it until Riley looked at me.

"What?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's suspicious."

"Apparently, everything I do is suspicious to you."

"You do have a guilty face."

"I hate you."

The words left my mouth automatically, without thought, without warning, like my heart had spoken before my brain could remember it wasn't safe.

Riley smiled. "Love you too, Juliet."

The world stopped. Everything inside me went silent. My heart, my breath, every thought in my head. Riley's smile disappeared as I stared at him, and he stared back. No one spoke. My cards slipped from my fingers and scattered across the floor, but I couldn't move to pick them up.

Riley looked down at the cards before looking back at me. "Autumn?"

I couldn't answer because he had said it. He had called me Juliet before the accident, and he knew the nickname now because I had told him the story, but not like that. Not automatically. Not in answer to I hate you. That was ours. That had always been ours. I hate you. Love you too, Juliet. Again and again and again for years.

Riley looked around the room. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

Willow had one hand pressed over her mouth. Lydia's eyes were shining. Kai looked like he had forgotten how to speak, and Milo simply looked confused.

Riley looked back at me. "Did I say something wrong?"

I shook my head quickly. "No."

"Then what happened?"

I bent down and started picking up my cards because I needed something to do with my hands. Anything. "You used to say that."

Riley went still.

I picked up another card. "And I told you the nickname, so it doesn't mean anything. You already knew it."

He stared at me. "But I didn't think about it."

My fingers stopped. "What?"

"When I said it."

I slowly looked up.

Riley's face had changed. "I didn't think about calling you that."

No one moved.

"Riley," Willow whispered.

He looked at her.

"Did you remember something?" Lydia asked.

Dr. Salloway's warning immediately returned to me. No quizzing. No pressure.

"Lydia," I said quickly.

"I'm sorry."

Riley looked down at the cards in his hands. "I don't know."

His voice was quiet, and my heart hurt.

"That's okay," I said.

He looked at me.

"You don't have to know."

"But—" he tried.

"It's okay."

He stared at me, and I smiled, at least as much as I could. "Maybe it was a memory, or maybe it wasn't. You don't have to figure it out right now."

The hope in his expression faded slightly, and I hated that.

"But either way," I continued, "you said it."

"So?"

I looked at him. "Maybe some things are deeper than memory."

Riley didn't answer, and neither did anyone else. Eventually, Lydia gathered the rest of the cards and looked around the table.

"Another round?"

Riley looked at her, then at me. I nodded.

He smiled faintly. "Another round."

We played until visiting hours were almost over. Riley didn't remember anything else. He didn't suddenly know the rules. He didn't remember the thousands of nights we had played. He didn't remember teasing me, and he didn't remember winning. But he argued. He laughed. He accused everyone of cheating. And he lost three times, which I made sure to mention repeatedly.

By the time I stood to leave, Riley looked exhausted.

"Get some sleep," I said.

"Medical tired."

"Definitely."

I pulled my coat on while Willow and Kai gathered Milo's things and Lydia packed the game away. Then I looked at Riley and said, "Goodnight."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Autumn."

My heart hurt, but this time, I smiled back. "Goodnight, Riley."

I turned toward the door, but his voice stopped me.

"Autumn?"

I looked back. "What?"

He hesitated for a moment before smiling. "I'm going to beat you next time."

A laugh escaped me. "You can try."

"I will."

"You'll lose."

"We'll see."

I smiled and walked toward the door. Behind me, I heard Lydia groan and say, "Oh, God. He's getting annoying again."

Riley laughed.

I stepped into the hallway, and for the first time since he had opened his eyes and asked me who I was, I walked away from Riley's hospital room without feeling like I was leaving him behind. Maybe Dr. Salloway had been right. Maybe Riley was learning. Maybe he was changing. Maybe he would never be exactly the same.

But as I walked down the hospital hallway with the sound of his laughter following me, I realized that I didn't need every piece of the old Riley back tonight. One was enough, and somehow, against all odds, the first piece he gave me was the part of him that had always loved driving me absolutely insane.