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“Hey, Superman. I don’t have to let you have shit. I’m just warming up.”
Reid stayed put. “I feel like a demented clown is gonna pop out of those bushes and chop me into bite-size pieces.” “Don’t be silly,” I said, taking out the backpack of food and drinks from the back seat and putting it on. “Clowns don’t chop. They slice and dice.”
“So I could forget you?” His gaze was so direct, so penetrating, that I swore he could see the answer I feared in my head like it was written on a billboard. “That’s a possibility, however remote?”
“When I wake up, I might not be me. I might not know you anymore.” His eyes glassed over. “And I like knowing you.”
Stutter. Stutter. Stutter. My heart wasn’t ready for that possibility. “I like knowing you too.” Breathe. Just breathe. “But don’t think about the what-ifs. Think about waking up to me.”
“I’ll remember,” he said, his jaw set as his eyes met mine. “I swear I won’t forget you. I won’t forget any of it.” His hand squeezed mine so tight that my circulation...
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I just found you. I’m not losing you, and I won’t forget you, no matter what happens. But if, somehow, the worst-case scenario comes true, I need you to promise me you won’t give up on me. Help me remember. Help me find my way back to you. Love, Your Bluebird
