Forget Me

by K. A. Harrington

  “Yeah, but it’s not the content of the note I wanted you to see. It’s the handwriting.”

  I’d had my suspicions, but now I could verify them. I traced my finger over the capital F in the warning to Evan. FORGET HER. Then I compared it with the one in the notebook. Forget me.

  They were the same.

  “Flynn sent that photo to me,” Evan said, confirming my thoughts out loud. “He was the one who warned me about you.”

  I leaned back in the chair, my mind spinning. We knew it for sure now, but it still made no sense. Flynn knew I wasn’t dangerous. Why did he want Evan to stay away from me? Why did he even think we might cross paths? And why did he want me to forget him and move on?

  “What’s written in the rest of it?” he asked, flipping through the pages and squinting his eyes.

  “Really messy notes that make no sense.” I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. “I just wish I knew what was going on.”

  He dropped the notebook and put his hand over mine. Our fingers interlaced. It was such a small thing, but felt so intimate. My feelings for Evan had grown from that small spark at mini golf to something bigger. Something real. But I couldn’t let myself feel anything for him. Not when I still had so many questions.

  “We can figure it out together,” he said. But I was staring at his hand, feeling the warmth of it, the tingle it sent through my skin, wanting so much to run my thumb over his knuckles. But I didn’t move.

  He slid his hand back and gave me a long look. “Did you love Flynn?” he asked, and it wasn’t so much hurt or jealousy in his voice as sympathy.

  “No,” I answered honestly. “But I might have grown to love him if . . . he’d stuck around longer.” I paused, overcome with the need to share. “Can I tell you something no one knows, not even Toni?”

  He met my eyes. “Of course.”

  I nervously licked my lips. “Right before the accident, before he got out of my car and started walking . . . he broke up with me.”

  Evan blew out a breath. “Well, that explains the nutty stuff in his notebook.”

  “How so?”

  “He was clearly insane. He’d have to be crazy to dump you.”

  He said it with a flirty grin, and I felt like my heart was melting. I allowed my eyes to linger on the full lines of his lips. I let my mind wonder what it would feel like to have that perfect mouth on mine.

  He inched forward.

  My chest heaved, my breath coming faster and deeper.

  “Oh! Evan, I didn’t realize you had company.”

  Evan pulled back, his eyes widening. I sat rigidly in the chair as I turned to look at the woman in the doorway. She had that type of unmoving helmet hair you mostly see on news anchorwomen, but her smile was warm and welcoming.

  “Mom, this is Morgan,” Evan said.

  I found my voice. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Murphy.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her pale yellow pantsuit. “Likewise. Can I offer you something to drink or a snack? From the looks of it, my impolite son hasn’t done so.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Evan mumbled, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. It hadn’t occurred to me, either. We’d had . . . other things on our minds.

  “Thank you,” I said, “but I’m fine.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll leave you to . . .”

  “Homework,” Evan finished.

  “Homework,” Mrs. Murphy repeated with a smile as she backed out of the room.

  Evan turned to me. “Was that awkward?”

  “Mildly.”

  He blushed a bit, then asked, “Hey, do you have any plans tonight?”

  I thought about coming up with some lame line like, Nothing I can’t cancel, so I didn’t sound like a loser with no plans on a Friday night. But then I remembered the advice I’d given Reece and how well he and Toni were working out. So I went with honesty.

  “No, I’m free.”

  He brightened. “Want to have dinner with me? Out somewhere? Like . . . not here? We can talk more about everything and try to figure out—”

  “Sure,” I cut in, dropping any pretense of cool.

  “Great. Let’s go somewhere in River’s End,” Evan said while I repacked my bag. “Littlefield doesn’t have much.”

  River’s End wasn’t much better, but we did have Sal’s. “How about pizza?” I asked.

  “Perfect.”

  I followed Evan back down the expansive hallway, our footsteps echoing. We were almost to the door when a deep voice said, “Going out?”

  Evan stopped midstride, his shoulders drooping. “Just one more introduction,” he whispered to me.

  “It’s fine,” I whispered back. I didn’t mind meeting his parents. Especially since they seemed nice. This was going a lot better than it would have at my house with my parents freaking out over a dead ringer for Flynn.

  We both turned around with smiles plastered on our faces, ready to do the quick meet and greet and escape to somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted.

  “Dad, this is Morgan. We were just heading out for some food.”

  “Oh, I won’t keep you, then,” Mr. Murphy said brightly. His eyes took a quick scan of me, not in a creepy way, and then he gave one of those imperceptible nods to Evan that said, Hey, she’s pretty, good work.

  But I was frozen in place, like another statue for their entryway. I opened my mouth to speak, but my mind was somewhere else, and it took a moment for my lips to catch up. I finally conjured the words, “Great to meet you, Mr. Murphy.”

  After a quick and awkward exit, Evan opened the car door for me, then got in on the other side. He gave me a curious look. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I said quickly, though I wasn’t quite sure. I needed the drive to Sal’s to think. I needed to figure out if this meant anything.

  Because I’d seen Evan’s dad before.

  CHAPTER 18

  Evan held the door of Sal’s open for me, and the little bell rang as the door closed again behind us. I was immediately blasted by that familiar pizza smell, and I breathed it in.

  “So this is the famous Sal’s, huh?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I said. “Fancy. Consider yourself lucky I brought you here.”

  “Yeah, right. I bet you take all your guys here,” he joked, but I immediately felt a small pang. I had brought Flynn here.

  At my expression, Evan quickly said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine,” I said, giving him a halfhearted smile, and the pinch in my chest disappeared.

  Evan started moving toward the one open booth. My eyes made a quick sweep of the room to see if anyone I knew was there. And, lo and behold, Cooper and Diana were in the corner, holding hands over the table and making goo-goo eyes at each other.

  Diana’s face darkened when she saw me. I had no idea what her problem was. She whispered something at Cooper, and he looked over his shoulder. He flashed a smile at me, but it faltered. He did a double take at my dinner companion and shot up out of his seat.

  At the sight of a stranger charging toward us, Evan stepped in front of me.

  “Are you . . .” Cooper’s voice trailed off as he inspected him.

  “No,” I said, sidestepping Evan. “He just looks like him.”

  Cooper motioned to me with his head. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” The unspoken last word was privately.

  Evan thankfully wasn’t a jerk about it. “I’ll grab the booth for us and put in an order,” he said.

  I told Evan what I wanted and followed Cooper back toward the doorway. He rested his elbow on the top of a gum-ball machine and looked at me expectantly.

  I spread my hands. “I know this seems weird.”

  “I thought you’d found Flynn. I thought he was alive.”

  “He’s not. It’s not him.�
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  “But this is why you suddenly wanted to do all that research about him.”

  I nodded.

  He narrowed his eyes at Evan in the distance. “And you’re sure he’s not . . .”

  “I’m sure. Flynn’s dead.”

  Cooper shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Wow. It’s uncanny.”

  “I know. I’m just getting used to it myself.”

  “Are you two . . .”

  “No,” I answered quickly. “He’s just helping me.” I glanced over my shoulder. “And you should probably head back to Diana before her head explodes.” She was sitting rigidly in the booth, arms crossed, making pouty faces because Cooper’s attention had gone elsewhere for one freaking minute.

  “Yeah, okay. Good seeing you.”

  He hurried back to his corner booth, and I returned to Evan. “Sorry about that,” I said, sliding into the seat, my jeans catching on the cracked vinyl. Our sodas had arrived, or rather Sal had brought over two cans from the cooler. Sal didn’t have glasses. You drank from a can or you went thirsty.

  I cracked mine open and took a sip, closing my eyes as the cold slipped down my throat.

  “Is everything okay with that guy?” Evan asked. “Is he a jealous ex-boyfriend or something?”

  I nearly spit the soda out. “Um, no. He’s Toni’s older brother. He thought you were Flynn, so he had a minor freakout.”

  “Ahh,” he said, understanding. “To be expected, I guess.”

  “Yeah, just wait till you meet my parents.” The words came out before I could stop them, and now they hung in the air like the world’s most awkward and ill-placed tapestry. “Not that you’ll definitely meet them. Or that there’s any reason to meet them.” Shut up, Morgan.

  Evan’s mouth twitched. I was glad he was fighting that laugh instead of letting it out and making me feel even more embarrassed. Good effort.

  “So . . . I have something to tell you,” I said, changing the subject. “I’ve seen your dad before.”

  “Oh yeah? Where?”

  “Yesterday. At the falls. I was there on assignment. Someone jumped. And your dad was there, wearing a suit and looking . . . pensive.”

  The lighthearted expression fell from Evan’s face. “It couldn’t have been him.”

  “Why?”

  “My dad doesn’t go to the falls. Ever.”

  I pursed my lips. “If it’s a fear of heights, he wasn’t at the top. He was at the bottom—”

  “No,” Evan interrupted, “it’s not that.”

  I smirked. “Does he have something against beautiful views?”

  “That’s where his brother died,” he blurted.

  “He . . . jumped?” Evan’s uncle had committed suicide?

  Evan took a long drag from his soda and nodded wordlessly.

  I sank deeper into the booth. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He gave a small shrug.

  “Maybe that’s why your dad was there. Maybe he hadn’t visited since . . . your uncle . . . but felt the need to after hearing the news today . . .” I let the words trail off and Evan considered them.

  “Yeah, maybe. I know he hasn’t dealt with Uncle Doyle’s death very well. He never wants to talk about him.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “Five years ago.”

  Something pinged in the back of my brain. I wanted to know more. “Did your uncle have a family?”

  “No.” Evan pulled a napkin from the dispenser on the table and started ripping tiny pieces from it.

  “Do you know why he did it?”

  He ripped one more corner off, then raised his eyes to mine. “Do you remember Stell Pharmaceuticals?”

  Of course. Five years ago was when everything exploded with Stell, the plant was shut down, and everyone lost their jobs. Evan’s uncle must have been another piece of Stell collateral damage. I rolled my eyes. “Say no more.”

  Evan returned to the napkin, his fingers slowly rolling a ripped piece back and forth along the table. “Was your family affected?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “My parents both worked there. And Toni’s dad. They, obviously, all lost their jobs. And my friend Jennifer’s parents owned the deli across the street from headquarters that went out of business soon after. I could go on and on. It seems like everyone in town was connected in some way.”

  I heard him swallow.

  “Did your uncle work there, too?” I asked, and that part of my brain started tingling again. I was only eleven when Stell went down and my memories were fuzzy, but this felt familiar.

  Evan chewed on his lower lip and nodded.

  “Did he lose everything?” I didn’t know why I was pushing him. He was obviously uncomfortable. But there was something there, right under the surface, and I knew if I only scratched a little bit, it would be revealed.

  “Morgan, I have to tell you something.”

  The bell above the door rang as Diana opened it, walking out hand in hand with Cooper, who cast one last curious glance at us before the door closed behind him.

  “What?” I asked, my attention refocusing on Evan.

  “One large cheese pie,” Sal gruffly announced. He dropped the metal pizza pan and two paper plates in the center of the table and walked back to the counter.

  Evan sucked in a breath, like he was relieved by the interruption. “We can talk about it after we eat.”

  “No,” I said. “The pizza’s too hot anyway.” I separated the slices to help the cooling process, then motioned to Evan to keep talking.

  He squirmed in his seat, making it even more obvious that he didn’t want to tell me. But now I had to know. “Evan?” I prodded.

  His eyes snapped up to mine, and I flinched at the fear I saw in them. What was he scared of? What was his secret?

  His gaze went distant as he began to speak. “My family is responsible for all of this unhappiness—in your family, in Toni’s, in all your other friends. The small businesses that shut down. The abandoned places you visit. It’s all because of us.”

  Panic had started to edge his voice, so I reached across the table and laid my hand over his. “Evan, slow down. What are you talking about?”

  A sort of depressed resignation settled into his normally bright eyes. “My family owned Stell.”

  I pulled my hands back. “What?”

  “My father was the CFO, the chief financial officer. My uncle was the CEO, the head of the company.”

  I remembered now. The CEO had committed suicide. My parents didn’t let me watch morbid stuff like that on the news at that age, but kids talk on the playground. He was one of the falls’ many jumpers.

  And Evan was his family.

  Evan continued, “My dad just handled the money, but my uncle ran the business. He knew about the deaths tied to the migraine pill. He covered it up, kept producing the drug. Then when the whistleblower blew the lid off the whole thing and Stell was put out of business . . . Doyle’s life was pretty much over. My dad lost his job, too, even though he did nothing wrong. He’ll probably never be a CFO again, but he does independent consulting now, here and there, traveling to other firms and helping them buy out other companies or whatever. But Uncle Doyle was done. He was going to face charges. So he . . . did what he did . . . at the falls.”

  That now-familiar anger I’d felt over and over again throughout the years surfaced, reddening my cheeks. The leaders of Stell had always been these nameless mythical villains in my head. People I could blame without having to see or talk to them. But now, here was Evan. His last name, Murphy, was so commonplace here in Irish Massachusetts, I never would have connected him to some CEO who died when I was in elementary school. I hadn’t even remembered the guy’s name. But Evan should have told me.

  “Why didn’t you mention this before?” I asked.

 
His voice was tight. “Because I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now. The way my classmates look at me. At all of us. That’s why my sister goes to boarding school. She couldn’t handle it.”

  That’s why he was wary of bringing me home. Why he drove a cheap, unassuming car.

  “So why are you telling me now?” I asked.

  “Because I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.” His eyes implored mine to believe him.

  My insides twisted as I absorbed the information. It was unfair of me to lay anything on Evan. He was only a kid when everything happened, just like me. It wasn’t his fault. And he’d clearly suffered for Stell’s wrongdoings as well.

  He leaned forward. “What are you thinking? Please, just tell me.”

  I opened my backpack and slid Flynn’s notebook out. “Now that I know this, I should share something else with you.”

  Evan looked confused. “You already showed me Flynn’s note.”

  True. But now, I realized, the rest of it was relevant, too. “The messy notes he wrote in the rest of the book,” I began. “They were about your family’s company. He seemed to be . . . researching it.”

  Evan blinked rapidly in surprise. “Why?”

  “That’s what I plan to find out.” I hesitated. “And I guess I need to know if you’re still with me.”

  Evan took the notebook from my hands and wordlessly flipped through it, stopping to squint and run his fingers over certain words and names. After what seemed like forever, he handed it back to me, his jaw set rigidly, his eyes burning with determination.

  Through clenched teeth, he answered, “Definitely.”

  CHAPTER 19

  As far as I knew, Toni had never been interested in attending a high school baseball game in her natural-born life. But now that she was dating the first baseman, she’d suddenly been infected with a giant case of school spirit, and here we were.

  On my way out to the field, I had swung by the library and photocopied the notes from Flynn’s journal. Evan wanted to inspect the notebook more, but I wasn’t about to part with it. So I filled my pocket with dimes and let the copy machine do its work. Then I headed to the game.