“I’ll always remember how this feels,” I whispered.
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t make promises. You never keep them.”
I didn’t say anything more, but I knew that it was one promise I’d never break. She’d branded me permanently. I may not have had specific memories of her when I awoke in that hospital room, but my soul and my body had known her instantly.
She might not be mine after tonight, but every piece of me would always belong to her.
Clothes were shed and as I joined her on the bed, I tried to commit to memory every single inch of her body. The soft curve of her hip, the scattering of freckles over her collarbone that reminded me of confetti, and even the winding tree branch that disappeared over her right shoulder.
My fingers instinctively traced the intricate tattoo, following it toward her back, where the birdcage hung. She turned, letting my hands lightly explore her skin.
“It’s time for this bird to fly, Everly,” I said softly. “It’s time for her to dream and explore and find her own path.”
Resting her head against the pillow with her eyes trained ahead, she asked, “But what if she’s too scared?”
“She’ll find her way. She’s stronger than you think.”
“I don’t know if you’re right about that. I once said I’d never shed another tear over you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as I held her in my arms for the last time. “I guess I don’t keep my promises either.”
She turned toward me, her eyes wide with doubt as I bent down and kissed away the tears, until our mouths fused together and no more words were spoken for the rest of the night. We lost ourselves in one another over and over, stoking the fire that would no doubt burn for each another until the end of time.
But sometimes love and passion isn’t enough.
When I awoke the next day, she was gone.
And I was left with a pile of pictures and a lifeless house of memories.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Everly
They say time heals all wounds.
But can it forgive?
It was the one question running through my head over and over again as I climbed the steps to Ryan’s apartment that fateful day. After my world had crumbled around me, I’d spent weeks in hiding. Refusing to leave Sarah’s house for days at a time, I’d nursed myself back to health after walking away from August for good this time. I should have seen it coming. I should have known.
No one ever changes.
Not that much.
Not for good.
Sarah had taken her role as best friend seriously, never uttering an “I told you so” or blaming me for my own heartbreak. She did, however, threaten bodily harm to various parts of August’s anatomy, an offer I’d turned down.
This was as much my fault as his.
At least he had lack of memory as an excuse. I remembered everything and yet I’d still gone back begging for more.
August had always managed to bring out the senseless side of me.
But in those quiet weeks, as I cried myself to sleep in her tiny apartment, remembering the feel of his body against mine, the words and promises he’d spoken, I realized things about life and about myself. Loving August had been easy. Falling for him had been one of the simplest things I’d ever done. But when it came down to a fight, he always walked away.
There was always something better, bolder or brighter waiting for him on the other side, and I was never enough. Even after he’d changed—became someone else, he’d chosen wealth, power, and prestige over love. He’d chosen Trent.
And I’d been left with nothing.
Again.
When would I ever learn?
Ryan had once told me loving someone should be simple—as easy as breathing.
I’d had that. Now I wanted someone who would fight for me. And Ryan had been quietly fighting for me all along…waiting for me as I came to the conclusion he’d known all along.
I finally took the last step, my heart running like a bullet train in my chest, on the short walk to the front door. The little purple door decoration I’d made with acrylic paint and a wood cutout from the craft store was still attached. It had been my first attempt at painting and I had pretty much failed at it. The poor little flower looked like something from the kindergarten junk pile, but Ryan had loved it so much he’d proudly stuck it on the door and never allowed me to take it down.
He’d always loved me. Even when it hurt.
Even when it had been nearly impossible to do so.
Holding my hand up, I knocked several times and waited as my heart threatened to catapult out of my body at any second. The door opened and there he was. Gentle brown eyes and a warm curious smile.
“Took you long enough,” he said.