Forgetting August(105)

He didn’t give me a chance to speak as he delved into his explanation, pulling something out of his pocket but hiding it from view.

“Letting you leave was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” he said, but it was said as more of a statement than a proclamation. I watched him warily, wondering where his humanity had gone since that last night I’d spent in his arms.

And only one word came to mind.

Trent.

“I spent days…weeks even, hating myself and the decision I’d made. I’d drowned myself in that damn box, looking over pictures of us—of you until I was near mad with need. It wasn’t normal—what I was feeling, and I knew I’d never be able to exist without you. I needed you back. I grabbed several pictures of you, holding them between my hands for strength as I planned exactly what I’d say to get you back, and then something happened—something in a photo caught my eye.”

He stepped up on the pedestal, causing me to stumble backward. His arm darted out, righting my stance before his hands fell back into his pockets. He tugged one out again and produced a single green stone.

“Do you remember this?” he asked.

My heart thundered in my chest as I nodded, my eyes frozen on that tiny bead in his hands.

“Remember how I asked you if you’d ever seen it before and you said no?”

I nodded once again, a single tear slipping from the corner of my eye. I took a ragged breath as I waited for the revelation of the single secret I’d held within me for nearly three long years.

Raising his other hand, he flipped over a single photo—one that had been taken years ago at one of my many burger birthdays. August was crouched behind me, his eyes alive and full of excitement, just like mine, as I blew out the candle stuck in my burger. We looked younger, carefree and happy.

“Do you see the necklace around your neck?” he asked, holding the photo up.

I swallowed slowly as I gave a single nod. “Yes.” The word came out strangled and shallow as I stared at the picture. There I was, smiling back at myself with a beautiful green emerald necklace around my throat.

“The strangest thing happened when I saw that green beaded necklace wrapped around your pretty neck. My head felt fuzzy and my vision blurred and suddenly I was on my damn knees, reliving a memory. Only it wasn’t a memory of this life—it was from my former life. Can you guess what memory I had, Everly?”

My lips trembled as I tried to keep everything tightly together.

“No? Let me remind you. You and me—in a dark alley? Only there was no one else. No evil muggers or scary robbers, as you conveniently reported to the police. Just you and me. How did I get in that coma, Everly? How?” he demanded.



“We have to go. We’re not safe here,” he pleaded.

“No, I’m not safe with you!” I yelled, struggling out of his grasp. He tried to catch me as I moved erratically in his tight hold, until finally I broke free, my fist making contact with his head as I turned. The pain of my necklace being ripped from my body made me swivel back around just in time to see his large body collapse to the ground, his head crack against the pavement as tiny green stones fell around him.



“Me,” I cried. “I did it.”

“Yes,” he answered, taking my hand in his. It shook as he opened my palm and placed the tiny bead inside. His cold, lifeless eyes met mine as he said the words I’d feared since the night he awoke.

“And I remember everything.”

The monster was back.





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Remembering Everly





Prologue



Guilt, regret, dread.

Three simple words that had the power to strip a man bare.

To make him feel powerless in the most primitive of ways.

That was what my life had been reduced to. Surrounded by money, unlimited wealth and affluence, and yet I couldn’t protect her.

I couldn’t keep her safe.

“Why aren’t we taking a hired car?” Everly’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts as I turned to see her sitting next to me in the passenger seat. She was a vision tonight—the way the indigo blue of her dress brought out the crimson color of her hair. She wore the beaded necklace I’d given her so many years ago—maybe as a peace offering, hoping to bridge the gap of silence that had grown between us.

Because of me, and all of my many failures.

“I thought it might be nice if it were just the two of us tonight,” I answered, sliding my hand across the center console to reach for hers. She didn’t seek mine out, but she didn’t resist my touch either.

The thought of my embrace didn’t make her draw back in fear. There was still hope in her eyes that I hadn’t become the monster she feared.