I feel as though they’ve morphed into one now, making me who I am today, but I’m still figuring out who that is.

When we finally make it out of town, I refuse to look in the direction of Boulder Trail. Mason and I have never talked about it. We talked about the stuff that followed, the articles, and the news reporters showing up outside of our houses, but I don’t think either of us can bear the conversation. He’s been different ever since it happened; we both have. It’s impossible to stay the same after going through something so awful.

He rolls down his window a touch, letting the early summer air filter into the car, before glancing between me and the road. “What are you thinking about?”

I turn to him, lifting a shoulder. “Nothing, really.”

“Well, I’m thinking that I don’t want you to leave.”

It’s a back and forth we’ve had for weeks, ever since I decided I was moving. He’d immediately wanted to go with me, but I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea.

“Maybe you can come visit me someday.”

“Do you want me to?”

“What do you mean?”

He watches the winding road ahead of us. “I just don’t know what you actually want.”

My heart sinks. “It’s complicated.”

A tense silence fills the car, backed by the fuzzy rock station cutting in and out as we weave through the mountains.

“You know, you can just tell me the truth,” he says, voice low. “That getting your memory back changed the way you feel about me.”

“What?”

“You’ve looked at me differently ever since.”

I shake my head resolutely. “That’s not true. I care about you, Mason. So much. That’s the one thing that hasn’t changed.”

His expression is clouded over and stormy, as if he’s not sure whether to believe me. My heart aches at the thought of hurting him, and I have to turn away, clearing my throat again.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“I think we could both use some space,” I murmur honestly. “I just . . . I want to find out who I am outside of all of this. If there was a way for me to do that with you, trust me, I would in a heartbeat. But as of right now, I don’t think there is.”

He exhales through his nose. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Mason,” I say. “Do you really think we would be happy together?”

“We don’t have to be together,” he argues. “The way things are right now is enough.”

“It’s not fair to either of us. You told me before that it wasn’t the right time, things aren’t any different now.”