She whirls around and the blatant hurt on her face makes me feel ill. “If you were truly a different person, you would’ve told me about it. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to give you a second chance,” she grinds out. “You’ve never been trustworthy. How foolish of me to think you losing your memory would change that. Is this why you broke up with Damien?”

Recoiling as though I’ve been slapped, I flounder for words. “What? No, that’s not—”

“It all makes fucking sense now.”

“The stuff with Parker happened before the accident,” I explain hurriedly, taking a step forward. “After I came back home, I shut it down as soon as I realized what was going on. He told me it was never anything more than a kiss. I don’t even remember any of it.”

She holds up a hand. “Spare me the details. It doesn’t matter when it happened. You still did it. It was still you.”

Her face threatens to break again, her bottom lip quivering. Tension hangs in the air, and I try to swipe away the tears that have begun to freefall. I knew it would be catastrophic when she found out the truth, but I never imagined this.

“He left me for you,” she whispers. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Audrey, please wait!”

Shaking her head vehemently, she brushes past me, causing me to stumble as she storms into the hallway and down the stairs. I follow her, scrambling to keep up as she bursts into her bedroom, going straight for the closet.

When she turns around, there’s a large suitcase in her hand. She sets it on the bed, throwing clothes inside haphazardly.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting the hell out of here,” she remarks. “I can’t stand being in this house anymore.”

Fear creeps into my chest. “Where are you going?”

She doesn’t answer, and the fear intensifies, making it hard to breathe. Sofia is away for a couple more days. If Audrey goes, too, I’ll be alone.

“Audrey?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I care about you.”

Audrey laughs again. “That’s a joke.”

She scoops a handful of things from her dresser, dumping them into the suitcase before heading to the bathroom to grab more. The amount of stuff she’s taking is worrying, like she doesn’t plan on coming back for a long time.

Maybe ever.

“Don’t leave,” I plead, but I know I’m fighting a losing battle.

Eyeing me, she heads back to her bedroom with her arms loaded with products. “I’m going to stay with friends in Vancouver,” she says. “I’ll call Mom when I’m on the road.”