Chapter 7

The harsh banging noise hits Brenda. like a gunshot and she jumps. Her fork clatters to the ground. The banging has her forgetting where she is, has her forgetting the words that tumble past her lips, and has her remembering Vince. The slam of the door when she tried to leave. His hands reaching for her throat. Fear has her on edge all over again, her body bracing for a blow.

"Dylan," she says, and her voice must be a magnet because he's already there, beside her. Instinctively, she reaches for his hand, needing the firm feel of it, his strength.

"It's okay." he tells her, palming her trembling hand. She looks up, scanning his face. Dark with an icy irritation. "Who is it?"

"I don't know." His hand tightens around hers. Dylan and Steve spring to life as a second sound—the doorbell—joins the thrum of incessant battering on the front door.

"I'm getting the goddamn shotgun," Dylan snaps, yanking off the apron. As he stomps off, Brenda doesn't miss the pointed glance Dylan gives Steve: Keep Brenda in the kitchen.

Brenda watches Dylan's tall slim form disappear around the corner.

"The shotgun . . ." She eyes Steve, who's leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, on alert. "He wouldn't really do that, would he?"

Steve's rumbly sleep voice moves over her like a breeze. "You'd be surprised what Dylan would do for you."

The statement's blunt. Not meant to shock or wow, but just to state a fact. Like saying the sky is blue or that you need oxygen to breathe. Brenda's beginning to think she's Dylan's oxygen. Steve tosses her a smile like the unpleasant intrusion is no big deal. "You should eat," he says, handing her a clean fork.

As Brenda picks at her eggs, she listens. The swing of the front door. The creak of the screen. Dylan's low, whiskey-smooth voice blending with someone else's. Higher-pitched. Fast-paced. Female.

Brenda's heart sinks. She's not oxygen. Not by a long shot.

Trying to keep her voice casual, Brenda looks at Steve, "He's got a girlfriend?"

Steve gives her an incredulous look.

At last, with a small chuckle he says, "No. No, he doesn't." He cuts her a funny grin. Weighs his words carefully. "There's only you, Bren."

Her breath stalls, and she's barely able to choke out, "Then who is it?"

Then a male voice. Calm. Familiar.

At the slam of the screen door, Steve groans in response like he suddenly knows who's here. He straightens up, moving fast for the doorway. A flurry of commotion fills the room, a flash of brunette, and then fierce arms are surrounding Brenda. The world around her spins as Brenda rocks and wobbles on the tall barstool chair, but the person holds tight.

"Holy shit…Bren…holy fucking shit! A voice quiet in her ear.

The person throttling Brenda pulls back, and she finally gets a good look. Standing in front of her is a woman with medium length brown hair perfectly styled in beach waves. Bright blue eyes. A cute heart shaped face. A rack that makes Brenda envious. She's dressed in low waited jeans that hug her curves perfectly, a creamy silk blouse and stiletto high heels, making Brenda, in her ratty T-shirt, feel like the epitome of grunge.

A growl comes from Steve. "Geez, Val. Ease off for a minute. She doesn't remember you. You're scaring her."

The name rings a bell. "Valerie. . . " Brenda murmurs, recalling the brief rundown of characters Erica mentioned on the bus.

The bombshell that was with David. His soulmate she described. "You're my..."

"Best friend," Valerie finishes. Her hands hold on to Brenda's at their sides.

"I can't believe it, I just can't believe it. When David came home and told me. . ." She squeezes Brenda's hands tight, "It's unbelievable."

"Hey," Dylan says gruffly. He's leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking pissed as hell. "She just got home. Can you maybe not go full-throttle banshee on her?"

Valerie draws back. Brenda has to smile at the brunette as she gives him side eye.

Dylan floats Brenda an apologetic smile. "I didn't want it to be too much for everyone to be here at once. I thought in a week she could visit after you acclimated, but . . ." He breaks off, rolling his neck around on his shoulders as if to release irritation.

He breathes deep, exhales. "Valerie does things her own way."

"Damn straight."

A snort comes from Steve. Laughing, Brenda untangles herself from Valerie.

"It's okay," she reassures him. She thinks it's funny how Dylan and everyone else have kept a respectful distance, not touching her, careful to give her space, while Valerie is all over her with an obvious eagerness.

She see's David against the doorframe, leaning calm with his hands in his pockets also. A small smirk on his lips. His face says he couldn't have kept her away, even if he had tried. She raises a hand to wave at him and he waves back.

She turns her gaze to Valerie again. Arches a brow. "Best Friend's huh?"

Valerie's face pains on for a second, then a tough exterior replaces it. "You really can't remember?"

"What? You thought we made it up?" Dylan grumbles.

Crossing the kitchen, Dylan takes a sip of coffee, scowls at its coldness, and dumps it in the sink. Although, the bitter grimace on his face makes Brenda think it doesn't have anything to do with the coffee.

Brenda feels the kitchen tense. There's a dizzying push-pull in the energy that she can't quite place. Sliding forward off the chair, she swivels her head around the kitchen and frowns.

"Is everything okay?" Dylan's expression softens. Every line in his face smooths out as his brown eyes slide her way.

Intent. Laser-focused.

A blush creeps over Brenda's cheeks. She's getting that a lot. And she likes it.

"Everything's fine baby." His voice—husky, hoarse.

"We're fine." Valerie repeats, "He's mad at me…doesn't matter." Smoothing out Brendas hair. "What're you doing today?"

Brenda's eyes brush to Dylan's, hopeful of their plans to feed the horses. She wants more of this morning. Long talks, learning more about her life, listening to Dylan's easy voice.

But without waiting for an answer Valerie adds."I'm taking you out."

Dylan's shaking his head. Vehemently. "It's her first day home. You aren't—"

Valerie cuts Dylan off with a raised hand and a scowl. "I am. I am taking Bren shopping. We're going to catch up, reconnect. girl stuff so to speak."

"Girl stuff? Is that like braiding each others hair and talking about our crushes?" Brenda jokes, attempting to lighten the mood that's darkened the kitchen.

Valerie stares at her and says, deadpan, "Oh, thank fuck, you're still a smart ass."

Steve groans and buries his face in his hand. Though Dylan looks none too happy, he glances at Brenda.

"Is that okay with you?" His eyes tell Brenda that a single word from her and he'll strong-arm Valerie and her plans out the door.

"It's fine," Brenda says brightly, wanting to diffuse any argument. But she finds herself torn between staying safe and secure on the ranch and going out and seeing the city she's lived in for the last five years.

Besides, she can't hide out in the house forever. She spent too long doing that with Vince.

She smiles up at Dylan. "I'll go out. I don't mind. It'll be nice to see Nashville. Who knows? Maybe I'll remember something."

"It isn't a bad idea, Dylan," Steve's voice cuts in, "We got that thing with Marshall at noon. This way she won't be alone."

Brenda doesn't miss the way Dylan tenses on the word alone.

Valerie's smug smirk tells Brenda she's resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. "Don't worry. I'll get her back in one piece," she promises.

Turning to Brenda, Valerie picks up Brenda's breakfast and hands her the plate. "Here. Take this upstairs, eat, go change, and we'll get out of here."

As Valerie ushers her away, Brenda shoots Dylan a what-the-hell grin paired with a shrug. Though he forces a smile, Dylan looks sad to see her go. Brenda finds herself feeling the same way.

The minute Brenda disappears up the stairs, the gloves are off. Valerie and Dylan face each other. Spines stiff, faces tight. Steve sighs and settles in to play referee as David joins.

There's no way they're going anywhere. They'll tear out each other's throats.

A muscle in Dylan's jaw jumps. "You aren't supposed to be here, Val. Not till Sunday."

"I tried to tell her." David adds only to get a look from Valerie that tells him to stay the fuck out of it.

Valerie crosses her arms. "I couldn't wait."

Dylan needles his brow. Normally, Steve would find Dylan's frustration funny. Make fun of him. Maybe even take Valerie's side to rile him up. But not today.

With the appearance of Valerie, Steve knows she's upended all of Dylan's plans to get Brenda adjusted, get her into therapy.

Dylan wanted visitors to arrive at a trickle, not a flood. "We talked about this. We agreed—"

"No, you agreed," Valerie bites back. "Also imagine my surprise when I got a hysterical call from Brandon this morning that he saw in the paper, mind you, that his supposed dead twin sister is alive. David said you were going to call him? What the fuck Dylan? The Walsh's are besides themselves. I had to promise I would come over here and see Brenda for myself before they jumped on a plane and just showed up. So you're welcome."

Dylan sighs, "I was…I was going to call them."

"When? It's already been multiple days!" Valerie yells.

Silence fills the space. Valerie breathes out heavily. "Look I'm here to help you. I had to beg Brandon to stay put just for now. I told him to let me come see her, get an idea of what we are dealing with. I'm here to help Dylan, to protect her. I mean, my god, Dylan. She's so thin. She looks anorexic. Her hair…"

Bristling, Steve pushes off the counter. "Brenda has been through some shit. So ease up and be nice."

Turning to face him, Valerie's hand on her hip. Her chin juts in defiance. "I'm always nice."

That seems to earn a chuckle from both David and Steve.

A growl from Dylan's lips. "Don't you fucking dare say that shit out loud to her."

Steve can tell Dylan wants to pull the ripcord and unleash on Valerie. But he won't, because every so often his eyes dart to the stairwell, worried Brenda will overhear.

The last thing he'll do is upset her. Dylan would rather be run over by a steamroller.

Raking a hand through his hair, Dylan paces around the kitchen. "I mean it, Val. She can't have this stress in her life. The doctor's said it isn't good for her. It isn't good for her recovery."

As if the universe was out to get him, Dylan's cell phone rings echoing in the kitchen. He pulls it from his back pocket. The name Brandon flashes easily.

"Fuck." He swears.

"I told you." Valerie arms fold across her chest self righteously.

Dylan takes a deep breath, blowing it out loudly to prepare for the conversation.

"Hello." He answers.

"What the fuck Dylan? Brenda is there? Is she okay? Why didn't you call me?" Brandon's voice is so loud on the other side of the cell, Steve, Valerie and David all hear his words perfectly. "I had to find this out from a coworker Dylan…a fucking coworker that was doing a story on my sister! My fucking sister who we thought was dead!"

"I was going to call you today." Dylan says calmly.

"Today? She was found three fucking days ago. I'm coming out there."

"No…Brandon give her some time to settle in. She doesn't know us. The last thing I want to do is overwhelm her."

"I'm coming, someone has to protect her, which is more than you've done." Dylan pales considerably, but his eyes go as dark as a storm cloud.

"The doctor says to keep Brenda's life right now stress free." Dylan says gritting his teeth.

Brandon laughs. A challenging, mocking sound. "What about all your stress, Dylan? Or have you even told her yet? Have you even told her what happened before the plane crash?" Pain flashes in Dylan's eyes.

Steve winces hearing everything clearly. Steve should take the phone, be a referee which he's done between the two of them for months. The shattered look on Dylan's face tells him Brandon has already driven Dylan to the edge of pure fury.

At Dylan's silence, Brandon continues "You don't deserve her," he spits. "You did this to her. You—"

"You gave up on her!" Dylan hurls back. "Hell, you had a fucking funeral for her. You wanted me to declare her dead. You going tell her about that Brandon?" It's a challenge. All Dylan's got to bargain with, and he'll do it too if it means protecting Brenda.

Brandon's enraged, "Only if you tell her about Kelly."

Valerie, David and Steve go as still as death. It's the worst thing he could say.

It's too much for Dylan. He's had enough and he grips the phone so hard it may break. Fire rages in his eyes. His voice turns low and lethal.

"I told you once, I'll tell you again. I was never—" Dylan breaks off, his voice fractured. "I was never unfaithful to Brenda." There is fury in his voice. "And to hell with you if you don't believe that. Don't blame your relationship issues with Kelly on me."

Steve's own heart hangs heavy in his chest. Dylan's been put through the wringer about Kelly—but the person blaming Dylan the most is Dylan.

A long silence has filled the kitchen, then finally Brandon speaks, much more calmly than before, "I want to bring her here, to Washington, I'm going to come and get her."

"The hell you are. She is my wife!"

"And she is my sister. My job is to protect her at any cost." Brandon takes a deep breath."You're the cost, Dylan. You cost her too much."

Irritation rankles Steve. He's pissed off at how the two of them are behaving. Blaming the other for what's happened, when there's no one to blame at all.

Steve moves quickly, snatching the phone, hitting speaker. "You're both acting like a couple of jackasses," Steve says loudly, "This is Brenda we're talking about. You love her, we all love her. You're both trying to do what you think is best for her—but stop thinking of yourselves and think about her. We gotta support her, instead of fighting all the damn time."

Brandon starts to argue, but Steve steps in. "You say a word to her about Kelly or that baby, and I will never talk to you again Brandon. I swear to Christ. We're done."

Steve turns to stare Dylan down. "You too, man. Cool it."

For a long minute, there is nothing but silence again. Long and uncomfortable silence. Then Dylan drops his head in shame. When Dylan raises his face, his eyes are clear. His fists unclench. He looks at Steve and gives him a grateful nod. "You're right."

He reaches for the phone, keeping it on speaker "Listen, I don't like keeping secrets from Brenda any more than you do, but the doctors want us to minimize stress. She's sick. She gets dizzy, has migraines. I'm sorry I didn't call you, it wasn't on purpose or to be spiteful. Having Brenda back has been a whirlwind of emotions. I'm truly sorry Brandon. My main focus has been Brenda." Dylan lifts his eyes to the ceiling, the creak of the wood floors signaling Brenda's on the move.

He lowers his voice. "I'm not risking her health, Brandon. We'll tell her—but when she's in a good place. A healthy place."

"I think what Dylan's trying to say is that she's fragile." David gets involved, "And we all know Brenda isn't fragile, not like this."

A pained sound comes from Valerie, who looks like the hard reality of the situation has finally settled around her. "Was she hurt?" she asks in a small voice.

When Dylan doesn't reply, she turns to Steve. Her hands ball into fists, her manicured nails daggers. "What happened to Bren these past nine months, did that monster hurt her?"

"What monster…Jesus guys please." Brandon's voice is pained now, solemn. "What happened to my sister?"

Steve turns away to brace himself against the question. Brace himself against the memories of the scene on the beach—Brenda fainting in his arms, the bruises on her throat, the slow wade into the water, the readiness to take her own life.

His throat bobs. "If she wants to tell you, that's her business, not mine."

"She doesn't remember us," Dylan says slowly. He's treading water—not to mention sanity—with Brandon and Valerie. "We have to go slow."

"Well, of course she doesn't remember," Valerie sniffs. She steps forward to tug on the end of Dylan's beard. "Go shave, you barbarian. No wonder she doesn't even recognize you you look like Chewbacca."

Dylan looks stunned, and Steve and David have to swallow a laugh.

As if he's finally remembering how much of a grizzled mountain man he's turned into, Dylan runs a hand across his whiskered jaw. His expression contemplative, concerned.

"She's right, you know." Steve arches a brow, peering closely at his friend. "I'm not so sure Brenda's ever seen you with a beard."

A moment of stillness, of peace, descends over the kitchen. "Guys…who has a beard? What the fuck is happening?" Brandon calls out being left out of the conversation for a moment.

"Truce? Brandon? We'll meet in the middle, put aside our shit for now."

Brandon sighs, "Fine. But I'm coming out."

Dylan groans quietly.

"Dylan…it's non-negotiable, She's my sister who doesn't even know who I am. I need to see her."

"You're parents?" Dylan hand rubs his face roughly. He can't deal with everyone at once. There is no way. He doesn't think Brenda an either.

"I'll call my parents. It's not like traveling from Hong Kong is an easy thing. I'll talk to them but you have to promise me you'll have Brenda call them. Even if it's just to meet them over the phone. Have them hear her voice. Dylan…it's their daughter. My mother and father are besides themselves."

"Of course," Dylan says understanding. "Of course Brandon. My intention isn't to keep her from you or them. You're her family."

"I know." Brandon sighs sadly. "I just can't believe this. I don't know whether to cry or do damn cartwheels. It's unbelievable."

"I know." Dylan breaths. The energy in the kitchen now saddened. "We good? We're on the same page?"

"We're on the same page." Brandon says back.

"We keep Brenda safe. We help her. For Bren."

"For Bren." Brandon concedes. "I'll text you my flight information. I don't care how much it costs I'm going to try to leave tonight."

"You want me to arrange it?"

"I got my own fucking money Dylan, I don't need…"

"Okay…Bran…we'll see you soon." Steve rolls his eyes interrupting, they don't need an argument about money to ruin the progress they made so far.

"Right…okay…Bye then." Brandon gets the point.

"Bye Brandon." Dylan takes a deep breath as he hits end.

"Well that went better than anticipated." Valerie smiles oblivious.

Dylan shakes his head with a roll of his eyes, but then his eyes find Brenda as she gallops down the stairs with a smile, she looks happy. All the stress of Valerie showing up and Brandon's phone call disappears as he smiles right back. Brenda is the priority.

An hour later, after a hellish drive through downtown Nashville, Brenda hanging on for dear life, Valerie intent on evading what she thought was paparazzi, Brenda's finally on solid ground. She takes a seat on the outdoor patio of The Optimist restaurant, chosen because of their private patio.

Puffy white clouds stretch the noon-blue sky above. Brenda smiles into the sunshine, and her soul lightens. Twisting in her seat, she takes in the restaurant. The patio is covered in ivy, brick-walled and beautiful. Quaint, like some faraway place in Europe. She wonders if she's been here before.

"I think we lost those assholes." Valerie says, dropping into a chair across from Brenda. Her cheeks are flushed.

Brenda stifles a laugh. "Oh, you think? Nice driving, Evil Knievel."

Valerie tosses her keys on the table. Arranges a can of pepper spray next to her silverware as she surveys their surroundings with eagle-eyed intensity.

Brenda raises a brow. "Do we really need that? Is it really necessary?"

"You're famous as hell. And now…back from the fucking dead, yes it's necessary." Valerie sighs, fiddling with the gold locket that hangs from a long chain around her neck. "Dylan told you that much at least?"

"He did, it's just . . ." Brenda trails off as a waiter drops menus on the table. She keeps forgetting that she is somewhat of a star. Well known in the public eye. She briefly wonders how Dylan deals with all of it. He's so down-to-earth. Confident, not cocky, well maybe a little cocky but in a sexy way. Their life seems so normal.

Brenda turns her attention to Valerie. She's staring over her menu, looking at Brenda like she's a mirage. It's unnerving. "You want wine?" Valerie blurts, startling like a deer when she realizes Brenda's staring back. "You like wine. Can you drink wine? I want wine. We should get wine." With a wave of her hand, she promptly flags over a waiter and rattles off a well-practiced order for drinks and appetizers.

Brenda smiles. Though Valerie's seems more tightly wound than a ball of string at the moment, Brenda likes her. She's tough, a no bullshit kind of aura, fashionable, gorgeous and talkative. She doesn't seem to treat Brenda like she may break at any moment. Maybe it's a woman to woman thing. She sadly doesn't know. Since being back she has only been around men, minus Erica. They've been catering to her, acting like any sudden movement will cause Brenda to break. Valerie isn't like that. Brenda could tell they have a long history, she doesn't know how long or how deep it might be, but she feels it. Valerie isn't one to coddle and it's fantastic. Plus she is another person who can fill in the gaps of her life. While she's glad for the info drop, she also craves the return of her own mind. Spoon-fed memories are exhausting. Not to mention lonely. But she'll do anything she can to jumpstart her memory. Even if it means playing twenty questions with everyone she comes into contact with.

The wine arrives along with two glasses.

"Is there anything you want to know?" Valerie asks, reaching for the stem of her drink. Brenda feels like the invisible woman, lost in time, an observer pressed against the window of her life. She knows she's married, she likes to run, which she still finds weird, and she's an actress. A good one it seems. Now she has a best friend named Valerie who's an event planner in Nashville. She thinks of what's next.

"What about my family? Will I see them soon?" Though she's not sure she's ready for a whole swell of visitors, Brenda is curious about her immediate family.

Valerie nods, "Your brother is coming out, soon like probably tomorrow. He is suppose to text Dylan with the details. Your mom and dad live in Hong Kong. They moved there ages ago for a job, for your dad. Your mom was a stay at home mom. Anyway, your dad retired but they like Hong Kong. With Brandon living in Washington and you all over really, they decided to stay put."

Brenda sits back and breathes out. This is surreal. "Are we close?"

Valerie smiles, "Yeah…the closest. Your family is great. Overbearing and controlling sometimes." She laughs, "But great."

Brenda smiles, that doesn't sound so bad.

Valerie pulls back her shoulders and pulls out her cell phone. "Here. I came prepared."

A folder on Valerie's phone is named BREN'S MEMORY.

Leaning over the table, Valerie scrolls through photo after photo. "This," she says, stopping on a photo of a pretty brunette woman posing by beautiful roses, "This is your Mom. Cindy." Brenda searches her mind to place the woman's face but finds nothing.

Valerie doesn't let her dwell, "This is your dad, Jim or Jimbo. We call him both." Brenda looks at the picture, recognizing both her parents from the wedding group shot from the mantel but Valerie's pictures give her a better glimpse.

"God this is weird." Brenda breathes out.

Valerie leans across the table, squeezes Brenda's wrist.

"You'll remember Bren…if anyone can overcome this shit…it's you."

"Was I a good person?" It may be a funny question but Valerie doesn't even flinch.

"Hell yes…you were…are the fucking best. You're a bad ass, you don't let anyone walk all over you. You have the biggest heart I know. You're generous…talented…just the perfect amount of bitch and sweet."

Brenda laughs. She likes Valerie…a lot.

"This is Brandon. Your twin brother. Not identical obviously." Brenda stares at a close up picture of herself and her twin. Something creeps through her veins. Some sort of recognition, for a brief second, it's warm and fuzzy, she loves him. But as quickly as the feeling comes, it's gone. Brenda tears up.

"God he missed you. We all did." Valerie takes the phone back. Closing the phone for now, seeing Brenda's tears, knowing that maybe it's enough for now.

"Did we go to school together?"

Valerie smiles, "We did. We grew up together. You and Brandon might have been twins but I was the honorary triplet of our trio. Then my parents moved to Buffalo. We kept in touch but it wasn't the same. Then you guys moved to Beverly Hills, and met new friends. Brandon and I reconnected in college when I moved to California but you had gone to live in London by then. You and I reconnected…" Valerie thinks hard, "A coulle years after college graduation. I moved back to New York and you had been doing a play there. We ran into each other and things just clicked between us like we had never parted. We've been best friends ever since. Ride or die bitch."

Brenda's clears her throat, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Oh my God, you have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back, to think before I speak. That wasn't us. Ride or die meaning…"

Brenda emits a slight laugh. "It's okay, Valerie."

"No, it isn't." Tears spring to her eyes, and she clutches at Brenda's hand. "I missed you so much, Bren. I didn't know what I'd do without you."

Valerie shakes the sadness from herself quickly, Brenda suddenly realizes that must be Valerie. She must not show her vulnerable side to many, even her tears seems to make her uncomfortable.

"Don't worry. You got me through some shitty times. I'll get you through this."

It's a strong vow, one that has Brenda wondering at the reason. But either way, she's grateful. She gives her friend a pat on the hand. "What's your favorite memory of us?" she asks in an attempt to change the energy. "It'll help me know who I am."

A beat. "8th grade, my parents had allowed me to visit for the summer and we went to the lake," Valerie says. "I had just gotten boobs and felt so fucking uncomfortable in front of the boys in my bikini. The boys were making jokes, about my boobs and begging us to go skinny dipping, so we acted like we would, if they did. So when the boys took their bathing suits off and jumped in the lake, we took theirs."

Brenda laughs out loud, "We did that? What did they do."

"Who knows, we took the clothes and hid them in the woods."

Now Valerie and Brenda are both laughing. Warmth fills Brenda's heart. "It was so worth being grounded by your parents the rest of that summer."

"Sounds like it was." Brenda smiles faintly, saddened by the loss of the memory. "I wish I remembered that."

"Me too." Valerie adjusts her napkin. "But enough about that. How are you doing?"

"It's all so strange," Brenda admits.

"So you really can't remember anything…nothing at all?"

"I don't think so," Brenda says, taking a sip of her wine. It's delicious. Icy and crisp like apples. Warming her insides, loosening her tongue. "Small things maybe. Like dreaming of the plane crash. Feeling like I knew Steve when I met him."

She smiles when Valerie makes a face of jealousy. "But everything—and everyone—else is jumbled. Like puzzle pieces that don't quite fit me yet."

"Will it come back?"

"Maybe," Brenda admits. "The doctors aren't sure." She pauses. She looks at Valerie closely, her mind going back to this morning. The tension in the kitchen. Dylan with his arms crossed, Valerie's eyes pinning him with her dagger like stare.

"Is there anything I should remember?" Valerie opens her mouth. A chirp sounds from Brenda's purse. She ducks her head to check her phone.

Dylan.

She smiles at the text he's sent: Everything okay?

Brenda writes back: All's good. At lunch.

Dylan: Technically, the proper way to engage with Valerie is with a taser.

Brenda smothers a laugh with her fingertips. And finds herself missing Dylan. The way he was with her this morning—protective, strong, kind. Their banter, their conversation that came so natural. She's drawn to him, which gives her hope. Like maybe he feels the same way about her.

"What about me and Dylan?" Brenda asks when she glances back up. Valerie's pouring more wine. Maybe her best friend can shed some light on the mystery that is her husband.

Valerie stares at her wineglass with narrowed eyes. "What about you and Dylan?" Her voice is stoic—icy.

This time it's Brenda's turn to frown. "The way you're talking . . . you don't like him?"

Valerie sighs. "I like him fine, Brenda."

"Then . . ." A flush of her cheeks as the question dies on her lips. She doesn't know what the words will mean to her, only that she yearns to make sense of their familiar connection.

"Don't get me wrong, Dylan and I are friends. I didn't like that he wasn't allowing me to come see you. We're close, he knows this. The tension was because Dylan had told me to keep my distance. But to be honest with you, Brandon found out you were alive from a journalist buddy of his. He's a writer for the Washington Post. I wanted to come let you guys know. Dylan was suppose to call him. I love Dylan, fuck David and I moved to fucking Tennessee for Dylan."

"You did?"

Valerie leans her arms on the able, "Dylan…he's been a wreck since the plane crash. Rightfully so but…none of us felt comfortable leaving him on that ranch alone. We were scared what he might do…what he might become without you."

Brenda's heart breaks. "Do I love him?"

Valerie takes a swig of wine, her body so stiff she could moonlight as a mannequin. But when she meets Brenda's eyes, her voice is soft.

"Yeah. You love him a lot."

"Does…he love me?"

Valerie smiles, relaxing more and more. "That man would kill for you Brenda. He adores you."

Brenda's eyes widen at the choice of words, "No…Brenda…he loves you…so much…always has."

Brenda stares at her supposed long time friend. She swallows hard but can't stop the rush of relief, the rush of sadness she doesn't remember and the gratitude for Valerie. Her no nonsense personality. She feels she is honest. That if Valerie didn't have anything nice to say she wouldn't say anything at all.

"Thank you." Brenda whispers.

Valerie winks and then playfully sighs, "Alright what the fuck are you eating cause bitch you look like a waif. Literally…you have a killer body, let's get you those curves back."

Brenda laughs out loud and nods, grabbing her menu. Yeah…she likes Valerie. She likes Valerie a whole lot.

So who guessed right? Well I guess if you guessed Valerie you win the prize but if you guessed Brandon, you get points too cause he was there…kind of. So Brandon is coming, they are going to try to keep the Walsh's at bay a little which might seem a little weird but my reason is it's too much too fast. Can you imagine your family finding out your alive and if you didn't remember them? No I can't imagine. Brenda will talk to her parents. And Brandon wouldn't and can't stay away. Next up, Dylan spends the day anxiously waiting for Brenda's return and you do find out about Kelly and a little bit of the puzzle. Dylan shaves and sparks a little fire in Brenda. And Brenda gets something off her chest ands asks Dylan a serious question. Hit review kids. Love that you're enjoying this.