Waking up to a strange bag on my nightstand and a note taped to my forehead, I spent most of my morning completing Grayson's carefully planned treasure hunt. I didn't expect to be sent on an Easter egg hunt in December, nevertheless, still in my pyjamas, I followed the first clue without complaint. When living with Grayson Ryder, you learned to embrace the unexpected.

     Knowing that I would try to disregard his hand-written clues, Grayson had hidden random, irrelevant eggs with nice messages like: Cheater! Really? You suck, Adams! Forced to follow his instructions, I was sent all over the house and yard. With the excessive number of eggs and the indecipherable clues, the hunt lasted for hours.

     Latest crumbled paper found with another poorly written hint; I wandered the house cluelessly for many minutes. Going on a whim that he meant the kitchen, I entered the doorway only to instantly reverse my steps. Escaping before an angry Claire could notice me, I hid in the living room. By the raised voices and stern faces, I suspected this was a conversation I wouldn't want to hear. But... I needed to finish this hunt, and to do so I had to search the fridge. Taking a seat on the living room carpet, I settled for trying not to listen while I thought of the meaning of the second part of the latest clue. Like the last time I overheard one of their conversations, it proved rather difficult to just turn off my hearing.

     "Grayson, this is serious—" Claire's tone was rigid.

     "I know."

     "Do you really? We've had this conversation a month ago and nothing has changed." I was taken aback by her tone. She was such a bubbly woman; it had never occurred to me to envision her angry. "You've failed two tests since then."

     "I'm going to make them up," Grayson reasoned. "I'm still passing my classes."

     "Just barely. You've never struggled with school before. This is not the year to slack off."

     "I'm not slacking off," Grayson argued, irritation growing. "I've transferred schools, of course, I'm behind."

     "That was two months ago. You haven't been trying to catch up."

     "Yes, I have!" I could picture the frustration in his stormy blue eyes. "I just don't have enough time."

     I winced. Of course, he didn't have enough time, he was spending it all on me. Guilt rising, I picked my nails. I suddenly felt in part responsible for Claire's anger, even though she would never express those concerns to my face.

     "I love that you're trying to help her, but you need to focus on your studies."

     "Are you suggesting that school's more important than Alex?"

     "Of course, not," she retorted incredulously; tone similar to the one I used when I thought Grayson was acting foolishly. It was a frequently used tone. "Alex is safe now. You need to take a rest, and truly appreciate that. You're still trying to save her, but you may not be able to save her from this... I want nothing more than for that girl to remember you, but you can't risk your own future to do so. This is hurting you more than it is helping Alexa."

     Kitchen painfully silent, I could picture Grayson's torn expression; lips pressed tightly, and brows furrowed.

     "This is to stop the hurting," he eventually said, voice a whisper. Had my ears not been so attuned to the unique sound of his voice, I might have missed his words. "As much as you may think otherwise, this is helping me."

     Claire heaved a heavy sigh; earlier anger released with a single breath.

     "Your grades beg to differ... And you hide it well, but I know you're exhausted. How much sleep did you lose making today's treasure hunt?"

     "Doesn't matter."

     "She wouldn't want this for you."

     "She would have done the same for me."

     Claire sighed again, seemingly incapable of opposing his remark. "Would you want her to do as you're doing to yourself?"

     "Yes," he said immediately, failing to mask the lie in the short word.

     Claire must have shot him a pointed look, for it was Grayson's turn to sigh in defeat.

     "This is the only way," he conceded. "She's given me until the end of the school year. I don't—"

     "You're as oblivious as ever," she chuckled softly, half exasperated. "Alexa may not remember you, but she already cares for you more than you think. I highly doubt she's leaving when those 248 days are up."

     "I can't take that chance."

     "I have so much faith in your ability to make this work... but have you considered what happens if it doesn't? What if she leaves and you're left Alex-less and career-less? What would have been the point?"

     Chest heavy with the realization of the extent of my potentially negative impact on his life, I forced myself to stand.

     "I don't want a—"

     Evident ache in his voice heightening the heaviness in my chest, I covered my ears and sped away. Maybe the answer wasn't the fridge. I headed for the mailbox, the only place I hadn't searched and conveniently located far from conversations I wasn't meant to hear.

     Scavenger hunt lasting even longer as I tried to avoid Grayson, finally I reached the last egg. Instructing me to find him, the egg forced me to face him. Doing my best to act as though I hadn't heard anything that would cause me guilt or pity, I found him in the kitchen, removing a pizza from the oven. To avoid stirring suspicion, I greeted him with my usual tired, half smile. Answered his usual enthusiastic storytelling with my usual feigned exasperation and eye rolls.

     I managed to portray a convincing act until I screwed myself over later than night. Planting herbs in tiny flowerpots like I was told we had for Mother's Day of 1999; I finally approached the topic of the offer that had been troubling me all night.

     "Did you finish the bio project, yet?" I questioned casually; eyes fixed on the orange pot in my hand.

     Noting the silence and catching his frown reflected in the window, I laughed.

     "You didn't start," I resolved. It sounded like he didn't even know about it.

     "No, but I'm assuming you did."

     Chewing my lower lip, I nodded, briefly considering my reply. "You're into sports, right?"

     With a small frown, he nodded.

     "I'm focusing my research on the way physical activity affects the body... would you mind if I asked you a few questions about it?"

     I had already finished half of my project and had yet to mention sports, but it was the only way I could think of approaching the subject with him. I guess I would have to restart.

     "You want my help with a school project?" he asked, brows furrowed in clear disbelief.

     "Only if you don't mind."

     Grayson smiled brightly, planting his latest seed with even greater enthusiasm. "Of course."

     "Thank you," I smiled softly, pausing as I tried to muster the courage to mention what I truly intended. "Since you're helping me, feel free to ask for my help for your work too."

     He turned my way with slight surprise. "Thank you."

     I shrugged nonchalantly. Keeping my gaze strained on my basil seeds, still I felt his intense blue eyes watching me.

     "I'm not the best student," I admitted. "But I do quite well in history... we could study for the next test together."

     Eyes flicking towards our reflections in the kitchen window, again his features read surprise.

     "Is this your way of offering to tutor me?"

     I shrugged. "We'll probably get it done faster if we're two."

     Looking at me with a funny expression for few moments, finally he smiled and returned his attention to his plant.

     "I'd really appreciate that," he said, voice so soft and sincere that I was weak in the knees. "You're becoming quite the eavesdropper, Adams," he added, smile of appreciation replaced with a sly smirk.

     Nearly dropping my flowerpot, I exhaled exasperatedly. There was no way I could play dumb, now.

     "I don't do it by purpose." I mumbled my weak defense. "Maybe you shouldn't talk about me when I'm living in the same home."

     "In my defence, the hunt wasn't supposed to bring you anywhere near the kitchen."

     "I thought that last blue egg was referring to milk!"

     "Milk-man," he explained, as if the revelation was meant to clear everything up.

     "What's that got to do with a mailbox?"

     "Milk-Man. Mail-Man," he said, as if he was comparing two very similar things. It was no wonder the hunt took me so long.

     "No one would have put that together!"

     "You found the egg, didn't you?"

     "By pure luck it seems," I snorted.

     Despite the insults related to his poor ability to create clues, he laughed as I did. Painting our names on the orange ceramic, I wanted to further reassure him. I wanted to tell him that he didn't have to rush; that I would give him as much time as he needed to recreate our memories. But I couldn't find it in myself to fully mean the promise. As much as I was taking a liking to the Ryder family, if no memories returned by summertime, I couldn't help by feel that it would be so much easier to go my own way and start a new chapter in my life. I knew it was a selfish way of thinking, but knowing that I could never be the Alexa Adams they used to love, knowing all the time and effort they placed into helping me, only to have it go to waste... I didn't know if I could handle a lifetime of a guilt of the such.