"Oh, right."
He fished around in his pocket for what seemed like an eternity, until he pulled out a small set of keys. A shiny, new car key was strung next to the familiar house key and I rolled my eyes, trying not to imagine what that expensive car must look like now.
"What thought process did you go through when you decided to buy a car … and then hours later, crash it?" I asked, dangling the key in front of him before I used the other to let us in.
"Hmmm, well … I thought, ‘Pretty car … I want,' and that was about it."
At least he hadn't been drunk when he'd crashed. Otherwise, he'd be facing jail time along with those cuts and bruises. Apparently spending two years in a hospital bed had made him a bit rusty behind the wheel. He'd been broadsided when he failed to stop at a light. No doubt he'd be slapped with a fine and have to pay damages for other driver's car, but I doubted any of that mattered to him now.
"Go sit on the couch. I'll get you some water," I replied curtly before disappearing into the kitchen. Flipping a switch, I watched the large space become illuminated with light.
The room still looked the same-like taking a walk back in time.
I took my time walking around, admiring the beautiful cherrywood cabinets and polished marble countertops. During the day, light would filter in from the skylights. I rested my hands against the edge of the counter and took several deep breaths.
This had always been one of my favorite spaces-when things were good between August and me.
The inability to decide what I wanted to do with my life wasn't a new thing. I'd been "wandering" for years, trying to find my niche in the world. Before we lived here, I'd dabbled with college, taken a few classes and tried out several majors, but nothing ever stuck.
After August hit it big and I had no reason to seek work, I'd turned to the kitchen, watching cooking shows and copying what their chefs did. It wasn't anything amazing, but it gave me something to do during the day that was my own.
So many good and bad memories were wrapped up in this one space-it was hard to make sense of it all.
Turing toward the closest cupboard, I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, knowing in an hour or two, August would need to re-up his pain meds. I had no plans of being here to help him with that.
I'd already done enough.
Being here, with him, was already too much.
It stirred emotions, made me feel things, remember …
Stepping out into the living room, I glanced around, looking for the large injured man I'd ordered around, but he was nowhere to be found.
"Damn it," I muttered.
Snatching the meds off the coffee table where they had been dropped, I scoped out the rest of the first floor before making my way up the stairs.
If the kitchen brought back a flood of memories, trudging up the stairs to the second floor was like standing on a beach when a tsunami hit. A damned disaster. I didn't bother checking any of the guest rooms. If he was up here, there was only one place he would have gone at this time of night.
The one place I didn't want to enter-the master bedroom.
The double doors were wide open. Moonlight streamed in from the open windows and a breeze fluttered the curtains, filling the air with the smell of the sea. August had always said this one room was the reason he'd bought the house.
From here, it felt like you could see the entire Pacific, right outside your balcony window. Endless turquoise waves crashed against the staggering heights of the cliffs. From left to right, it was nothing but the crystal blue coastline California was known for.
I don't know how many nights we fell asleep listing to the soothing sounds of the waves crashing below us. It was a mesmerizing sound, and for a moment I just stood there and let it consume me.
"I know you're out there," August said, tearing me from my quiet calm.
"I wasn't trying to hide," I answered, walking swiftly toward him, not bothering to hide my annoyance. He'd managed to rid himself of his shirt before falling onto the mattress. He was thinner than he used to be, the loss of muscle taking its toll on his body, but he was still beautiful.
Still August. Still dangerous.
"I have your pain meds and a glass of water," I announced, placing both items on the nightstand beside him.
He watched me, his eyes following my every move in the dimly lit room.
"Can you check my stitches?" he asked softly, pointing to the bandage on his head. Due to a small flying chunk of glass from the window, he'd gotten a nasty cut just above his left eyebrow. Thankfully, he'd needed only a few stitches-it could have been so much more.
"Why?" I asked.
"I think I pulled at them when I was taking off my shirt-can you just make sure they're okay?"
"I guess." I sighed, taking a seat on the bed next to him. Reaching toward him with obvious hesitance, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. That intense gaze followed me as he watched my fingers reach toward him. Lifting the edge of the bandage, I quickly took a peek under the edge and made sure everything looked as it should.
"Yep, looks good," I quickly answered, pulling back and placing my hands in my lap.
"I'm sorry-I didn't mean to upset you," he said, reaching out toward me but then second-guessing his decision.
A ghost of a laugh fell from my lips as I glanced down at him.
"You didn't mean to upset me? Really, August? After everything tonight-that is the one thing you apologize for? Making me look at your nasty ass stitches?"
"I-I'm sorry for everything?"
"You're sorry? You're sorry! You fucking asshole!" I screamed, jumping up from the bed. "You have no regard for anyone, or anything! You could have died! Died! You stupid jerk! And you're sorry-for what? You don't even know, do you? You're apologizing for nothing. Nothing!"
Rage, anger and then tears. It happened all so quickly. I didn't even realize it when the hot salty trails made their way down my cheeks; I just kept yelling and screaming at him.
A volcano can only stay dormant for so long … and mine had enough emotions bottled up inside, it was ready to explode. A timid hand finally touched my shoulder, and I turned to find August standing before me, balancing on one leg.
"I hate you!" I shouted, banging on his bruised chest. "I hate you," I said again, losing my fight. "I hate you, August," I whimpered one last time.
I have no idea which one of us initiated it, but I soon found myself cradled in his arms, sobbing as I held on to him like a lifeline. My body quaked as the pain tore through me. My fingers dug into his skin as salty tears fell from my cheeks.
"I know. I'm sorry, Everly. I'm sorry-for everything."
His voice cut through me, sobering my emotions, like getting hit with a bucket of ice cold water. I pushed against his bare skin, putting much needed distance between us. I quickly whisked the moisture from my eyes, sniffling as I tried to control the echoing sobs that still tugged at me.
"Good-bye, August," I said, taking a final glance at him under the moonlight.
"Good-bye, Everly," he echoed, his gaze following me as I fled.
Fled the memories, the man, and the life I needed to forget.
I wasn't surprised to find Ryan waiting for me when I walked in.
Clutching a cup of coffee between his hands, he sat at the small dining room table, fully dressed for work at six in the morning.
He usually only got up this early when he went to the gym, or when he followed me to work for a free cup of coffee. Neither of which were happening this morning.
"How long have you been up?" I asked, gently setting my purse down on the counter.
"Since you left," he answered, not bothering to look up from his empty cup.
I busied myself in the kitchen, grabbing my favorite mug then pouring a cup of coffee for myself and refreshing his. When that was done, I had nothing else to do but join him at the table.
Taking a hesitant seat next to him, I took an audible breath before wrapping my hands around the large warm mug.
"We're not getting married this weekend, are we?" he asked, the tone of his voice defeated and shallow.
"No," I answered quietly, taking a slow sip of coffee.
He started to get up, clearly upset, but I stopped him, reaching for his hand.
"Please, let me explain."
Finally, his eyes met mine. Hurt, pain, and distrust met me, and as much as it tore me up inside to know I'd once again caused all of those emotions, I knew I couldn't marry him.
Not right now.
Not just to make things better between us.
Marriage wasn't about fixing a problem-it was about creating a beginning. And I wasn't about to start ours this way.
I watched as he slipped back down in his chair, and I took a moment to collect my thoughts. "I want to marry you, Ryan."
He shook his head in disbelief, but I gripped his hand and pressed on. "I do. Please believe me. There is nothing I want more. But running off to get married this weekend is wrong, and you know it."