YOU
WILL REMEMBER ME
Author:
Hannah Mary McKinnon
ISBN:
9780778331810
Publication
Date: May 25, 2021
Publisher:
MIRA Books
Book
Summary:
He wakes up on a deserted beach in Maryland, wearing only
swim trunks and a gash on his head. He can’t remember who he is. Everything—his
identity, his life, his loved ones—has been replaced by a dizzying fog of
uncertainty. But returning to his Maine hometown in search of the truth raises
more questions than answers.
Lily Reid thinks she knows her boyfriend, Jack. Until he
goes missing one night, and her frantic search reveals that he’s been lying to
her since they met, desperate to escape a dark past he’d purposely left behind.
Maya Scott has been trying to find her estranged
stepbrother, Asher, since he disappeared without a trace. Having him back,
missing memory and all, feels like a miracle. But with a mutual history full of
devastating secrets, how far will Maya go to ensure she alone takes them to the
grave?
Cold. Cold was the first word that came to mind. The first thing I noticed
when I woke up. Not a slight, uncomfortable chill to give me the shivers, but a
cramp-inducing, iced-to-the-bone kind of frozen. I lay flat on my stomach, my
left ear and cheek pressed into the rough, grainy wet ground beneath me, my
entire body shaking. As my thoughts attempted to assemble themselves into some
form of understandable order, a wave of icy water nipped at my bare toes and
ankles, my instincts pulling my feet out of reach.
I had a sudden urge
to get up, a primal need to take in my surroundings and assess the danger—was I
in danger?—but the throbbing pain deep in my head made the slightest effort to
shift anything seem impossible. Lifting a finger would be too much effort, and
I acquiesced, allowing myself to lie still for another few freezing seconds as
the frigid water crept over the balls of my feet again. When I blinked my eyes
open, I was met by a thick, fuzzy darkness enveloping me like a cloak. Where
the hell was I? And wherever it was, what was I doing here?
When I lifted my head
a fraction of an inch, I could barely make out anything in front of me. There
was hardly a noise either, nothing but a gentle, steady rumble in the
background, and the cry of a bird somewhere in the distance. I made my brain
work its way backward—bird, rumble, sand, water—and the quartet formed the
vaguely cohesive image of a beach.
Searching for
confirmation, I inhaled the salty, humid air deep into my lungs as another
slosh of water took aim at my calves. This time the discomfort was enough to
push me to my feet, and I wrapped my arms around my naked torso, my sopping
board shorts clinging to my goose-bump-covered thighs. An explosion of pain in
my head threatened to send me back to my knees, and I swayed gently, wishing I
had something to steady myself with, willing my body to stay upright. As I
pressed a hand to the side of my skull, I let out a quiet yelp, and felt along
a two-inch gash in my scalp. My eyes had adjusted somewhat to the lack of
light, and my fingertips were covered in something dark that smelled of rust.
Blood. How had I…?
Another low rumble
made me turn around, shuffling slowly in a semicircle. The behemoth effort was
rewarded by the sight of a thousand glistening waves dancing under the
moonlight like diamonds, the water stretching out and disappearing into the
darkness beyond. As my ears tuned in to the rhythmic whoosh of the waves, my
mind worked hard to process each scrap of information it took in.
I’m definitely on a beach. It’s nighttime. I’m alone. What am I doing
here?
Before I could answer
the single question, a thousand others crowded my brain, an incessant string of
chatter I couldn’t stop or get away from.
Where is everyone? Never mind them, where am I? Have I been here long?
How did I get here? Where was I before? Where are my clothes? What day is it?
My legs buckled. Not
because of the unfamiliar surroundings, the cold burrowing its way deeper into
my core, or the pain in my head, which had increased tenfold. No. My knees hit
the sand with a dull crunch when I realized I couldn’t answer any of the
questions because I couldn’t recall anything. Nothing. Not the tiniest of
details.
Including my name.
Chapter 2—Lily
A frown settled over my face as I put my phone
on the table, pushed the bowl of unfinished berry oatmeal away and stretched
out my legs. It was Saturday morning, and I’d been up for ages, too eager—too
hopeful—to spend a day at the beach with Jack, but those plans had been a
literal wash-out. The start to the summer felt capricious, with this second
storm in the last week of June poised to be much worse than the first. I’d
convinced myself the weatherwoman had exaggerated or got her forecast
completely wrong, but clouds had rolled in overnight anyway. As a result, I’d
been unceremoniously woken up at two thirty by a trio of bright lightning,
deafening thunderclaps and heavy raindrops pelting against my bedroom window.
At first, I’d pulled
my pillow over my head to deafen the noise, and when that didn’t work, I rolled
over and stretched out an arm. The spot next to me was empty and cold, and I
groaned. Jack hadn’t come over to my place as I’d hoped he would, slipping into
bed and pressing his naked body against mine. I’d buried my face back into my pillow
and tried to ignore the tinge of disappointment. We hadn’t seen much of each
other this past week, both of us too busy with our jobs to spend more than a
night together, and I missed him. Jack had called the day before to tell me
he’d be working late, finishing the stain on the cabinets he’d labored on for
weeks before his boss had to let him go. Apparently expensive custom kitchens
weren’t in as high demand in Brookmount, Maryland as originally thought.
“But you got laid
off,” I’d said. “It’s your last day. Why do you care?”
“Because I made a
commitment. Besides, it’ll help when I need a reference.”
Typical Jack, always
keeping his word. He’d bought a lottery ticket once, and the clerk had jokingly
asked if he’d give him half of any winnings. Jack had laughed and shaken the
man’s hand, and when he won ten bucks on the ticket, had promptly returned to
the store, and paid over the share as promised. His loyalty was one of the many
things I loved about Jack, although part of me wished he weren’t quite as
dedicated to his soon-to-be ex-boss.
“You could come over
to my place when you’re done,” I said, smiling slowly. “I’ll leave the key
under the umbrella stand. I don’t mind you waking me up gently in the middle of
the night…or not so gently.”
Jack laughed softly.
The sound was something I’d fallen in love with eighteen months ago after our
eyes had met across a crowded bar, the mother of all uninspired first-encounter
clichés, except in this case I’d been forced to admit clichés weren’t always a
bad thing.
“It’ll be really
late, Lily,” he said, his voice deep. His English accent was something of a
rarity in our small coastal town, and still capable of making my legs wobble in
anticipation of his next words. “I’ll go for a quick swim now, then finish up work.
How about I come over in the morning? Around nine? I’ll bring you breakfast in
bed.”
“Blueberry pancakes
from Patti’s? With extra maple syrup?”
“This time I’ll order
three stacks to make sure I get some.”
“Pancakes or sex?” I
said, before telling him how much I loved him, and whispering exactly how I’d
thank him for waking me with sweet weekend treats. I’d hoped it might change
his mind and he’d come over earlier, except it was ten now, and he still hadn’t
showed. It was odd. Jack detested being late as much as he loved being early.
He often joked they set Greenwich Mean Time by his father’s old watch, which
Jack had worn since his dad passed a little over a decade before we’d met, when
Jack was only twenty.
I checked my phone
again. Jack hadn’t answered either of my calls, another anomaly, but I tried to
talk myself into believing he’d worked late into the night to make the final
good impression he wanted, and overslept. Maybe there was a line at Patti’s—the
restaurant was slammed every weekend—and perhaps his phone was set to silent.
I picked up my bowl
and wandered to the kitchen. My place was the smallest of six apartments, a
tiny but well-maintained one-bedroom in a building a few miles from the beach,
farther than I’d planned, but the closest I could afford. I’d lived there for
almost five years, had furnished it with an eclectic assortment of third-hand
furniture, my favorite piece a royal blue microfiber sofa I’d bought for fifty
bucks, and which Jack swore was the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.
Whenever he sank down into it and pulled me on top of him with a contented
sigh, I’d tease him about what made him happier; the squishy, well-worn
cushions, or me.
The image made my
frown deepen. Where was he?
Excerpted from You Will Remember Me
by Hannah Mary McKinnon, Copyright © 2021 by Hannah McKinnon. Published
by MIRA Books
Buy
Links:
Author
Bio:
Hannah Mary McKinnon was born in
the UK, grew up in Switzerland and moved to Canada in 2010. After a successful
career in recruitment, she quit the corporate world in favor of writing, and is
now the author of The Neighbors, Her Secret
Son, and Sister Dear. She lives
in Oakville, Ontario, with her husband and three sons, and is delighted by her
twenty-second commute.
Social
Links:
Twitter: @HannahMMcKinnon
Instagram: @hannahmarymckinnon
Facebook: @HannahMaryMcKinnon
No comments:
Post a Comment