When I Was You Read Online Free PDF Page A

who this woman really is because she’s sure as hell not who she’s claiming to be.”
    “No, no,” he says. “You don’t need a private investigator. You need a doctor. The head kind. Something’s not right about you.”
    My cheeks flush; my insides burn.
    I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt the physical sensations of embarrassment, and here I am, allowing a complete stranger to make me feel silly and all of two inches tall.
    “Screw off.” I hang up on him and shove my phone away before getting up and pacing the room.
    I have to untangle this sordid web.
    And if no one’s going to believe me, if they’re all going to think I’m crazy, then I’m going to have to do it alone.

CHAPTER 5
    I’m not sure what day it is or how long I’ve been sleeping, but when I open my eyes and sit up enough to reach the window curtain, I’m met with a storm-darkened sky, the soft patter of rain, and the gentle roll of thunder. I can’t be sure if it’s early morning or the onset of night.
    The emotional strain of this “other me” nonsense worked me into another debilitative state, though I’m not sure how many days or hours I’ve lost this time.
    I’ve only been sitting a few seconds when the searing throb on the side of my head roars back to life. My stomach churns, and I mentally calculate how long it’s going to take me to reach the bathroom.
    Ever since the attack, I’ve suffered stress-induced migraines. Sometimes they last half a day and I can sleep them off; other times they last a solid twenty-four hours or longer.
    I need to grab my phone and check the time. Every time I take my migraine prescription, I make a note in my Notes app so I don’t accidentally double up, but my vision is so sensitive that the mere thought of checking my phone screen in this dark room makes the pain in my head throb harder in anticipation.
    With eyes half-shut, I trudge out of my room, dragging my hands along the floral-patterned walls and feeling my way toward the kitchen, where my pill bottle rests right where I left it, next to the sink.
    I fill a glass of water, one eye shut and one half-open, and I choke back another pill before returning to my room and burying myself beneath a mountain of covers.
    I just need to sleep this off, and I’ll be okay.
    My head hurts too much to think, so I lie there in an almost meditative state, waiting for sleep to take hold of me, drifting in and out of consciousness.
    It’s only when I roll onto my side—in view of my door—that everything begins to fade away . . .
    Until a figure appears in my doorway.
    A man’s figure.
    I try to gasp for air, but I somehow end up choking on my spit before I can get a word out.
    “It’s okay—it’s just me,” he whispers. “Just got home. House was dark. Wanted to check on you. Go back to sleep.”
    I sink back into my pillow.
    It’s only Niall.

CHAPTER 6
    According to my phone, it’s early Saturday morning when I come to again, groggy this time but migraine-free. I’m guessing I doubled up on my meds, which knocked me out for longer than usual.
    It’s surreal, losing significant chunks of my life, but in a way, it makes me appreciate the clearer moments and the fact that I’m still alive and kicking. And if anything, this last bout has only intensified my desire to get back on track, to take back what’s mine.
    All I want is some normalcy.
    And to feel like me again.
    I hit the shower and wash over two days’ worth of stale sleep smell from my body. When I’m finished freshening up and dressed for the day, I head to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
    “Morning,” Niall greets me, a full carafe in his hand. Without saying a word, he grabs a mug and pours mine.
    “Thanks.” I fish the creamer from the fridge and dig a packet of sugar from a canister by the stove. “You have the weekend off?”
    I ask a question to which I already know the answer, but he doesn’t need to know that. I don’t know him well enough to know