His eyes met mine, and we held gazes-deadlocked until he finally nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I was reacting to the situation last night. I don't know how to handle him in our lives," he admitted.
"I don't either," I said. "And it's something I need to figure out."
He nodded in agreement, but I could see the disappointment-the fear that he would lose me.
"Just promise me you won't let him get to you," he begged. "I know he's different-changed, but he's still the same man who hurt you."
Standing, I took his cup and placed it on the table, stepping into his grasp. His hands instinctively wrapped around my thighs as I settled into his lap, wrapping my legs around his torso.
"I promise, Ryan," I said softly, pressing my body tightly against his. "I choose you. Always you."
No more secrets.
No more lies.
It was time to say good-bye to my past.
Chapter Fourteen
August
It seemed like wherever I went in this life, I always found myself surrounded by boxes.
No matter what I did to hide from them, put them out of my mind … I'd find myself in the recesses of a forgotten closet or the darkest spot in the attic, searching … hunting for something.
Anything.
Ever since that late night with Everly, I'd been on a mission-a sick, twisted manhunt to find anything that would bring me closer to her. Those few precious seconds she'd been in my arms had been the first time since I woke up that I'd truly felt grounded-rooted to the earth.
And now I was searching out anything and everything that could possibly give me the same response.
Today I was in the bedroom, surrounding by a box of pictures I'd collected. Happy memories of the two of them over the years. I still couldn't say "us."
Even though it was me in those pictures smiling back at the world, it wasn't my memory.
It wasn't my life.
It was like having a twin brother. We looked the same but that was where the similarities ended. The guy in the picture looked like he'd had everything, while I'd been left with nothing but confusion and frustration. Could I really look at all these happy memories and claim them as my own? Claim the woman and the love she'd given as my own?
What about her hatred? And her fear?
I'd have to take that as well.
"Are you aware your front door is unlocked?" a familiar voice called out from behind me. I turned to see Brick, the friendly psychotherapist, standing in the doorway of my bedroom. Holding a pile of mail.
"No, I wasn't," I answered, giving him a curious look as he stepped forward and handed me my mail.
"You missed your appointment. I figured I'd find you here."
"House calls a regular thing for you now?" I asked, placing the mail aside in exchange for something less dismal. He ignored my question and instead pointed at the half-empty bottle of vodka I was now clutching.
"Thought you'd put that particular liquor firmly in the ‘no' category," he remarked.
"Well, I might have been a bit hasty with my decision," I answered, pulling the bottle to my lips. The clear, fiery liquid burned all the way down, but it helped numb my thoughts and settle my mind. "So I'm giving it another chance."
"At ten in the morning?"
I shrugged, feeling my body relax a little as the alcohol did its work. "I'm an overachiever. Or at least that's what my report cards say."
He pulled a seat up to mine and grabbed the bottle out of my hand. To my ultimate surprise, I watched as he took a long gulp before placing the bottle on the nightstand beside us. His eyes roamed around the room, zeroing in on the box beside me on the bed.
"The three-million-dollar woman, I presume?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the photo that rested on my knee. I glanced down at the single photo, picking it up and rubbing the crisp edges between my fingers.
"Do you think it's possible to be in love with a woman you don't remember, Brick?"
He took the picture from me, looking it over. I had no idea when it had been taken. No inscription was left as had been on the one in my wallet, but it was obviously several years old-before things had gotten bad between us.
They looked happy-laying in a field, with Everly's hair fanned out around them, making a goofy faces toward the camera above. The image was innocent and lighthearted, and probably captured a moment they had wished to remember for a lifetime.
When had it all gone wrong?
"I think the mind is capable of many things," he said, handing the picture back to me. "Why don't you let me help you with this stuff?" he offered.
I quickly nodded, and we both stood, taking a wide glance over the scattered boxes.
"I just don't understand what happened. How this … " I said, picking up another random happy moment from my long lost past, "became this." I held my hands out wide, encompassing the room, as if it symbolized everything that was wrong with my life.
And in a way, it did.
This house, this room-it was where it had all fallen apart.
Or at least, that's what she'd alluded to.
If life between Everly and me hadn't plunged into sadness-hadn't cascaded into the dark dismal existence she'd made it out to be, would I still be here? Or would I be living life like one of these photos? Making memories with the woman I'd loved …
I placed the single photo back in the box, and took a deep breath.
"Have you ever considered asking her? I don't know exactly what happened between the two of you but it's obvious you're hurting. It could be good for you-help you move on, August," Brick said gently, in a tone he very rarely used. I called it his clinical voice and usually the sound of it grated my nerves, making me feel weak and feeble. Right now, however, it just helped normalize me, filtering out the alcohol-like a level finding its center.
"I couldn't. After everything she's been through-everything he's done."
Looking across the room, I found myself instantly correcting my words. "I've done," I restated. "I can't put her through that again. She deserves a clean slate from me. A normal life-whatever she chooses that to be. I need to find a different way to sort through all this."
Taking one last glance at the assorted boxes, I only saw one option.
"Can you do me a favor, Brick?" I asked, the very idea of it making my fingers twitch. He nodded once, and I grabbed the nearest box.
"Get rid of it. All of it. I can't be around it-the memories of her. It's too painful, knowing I once had something so precious but wasted it away. I don't care what you do with it, but please-just take it from me."
The words felt like sandpaper against my throat as I spoke. Ever since she'd left that night I'd briefly held her in my arms, I'd spent hours in this room looking over these pictures, analyzing each smile-every laugh, the way my hands and fingers held her-trying to find that moment when things had begun to unravel.
Why? I don't know. Maybe because I just didn't understand why I would ever stop loving someone like her.
But maybe I hadn't.
She'd said I'd locked her away-made her a prisoner in her own home.
Why would I have done that?
Maybe sometimes love isn't pure. Maybe sometimes it's toxic-so toxic it consumes a person until they would do anything to have it.
Like a drug.
If I loved her now, would it be the same as before?
Would I consume her?
I awoke, the remote falling from my hand as I looked around the living room. The TV flickered, grabbing my attention, and I quickly bent down to grab the fallen remote and turn up the volume.
Another old movie was playing. Back to the Future.
Was I ever going to watch something from this century?
Marty looked down at a picture of his siblings, and watched it slowly fade as he was being erased from existence.
How fucking surreal.
I looked around and nearly jumped out of my skin.
Every damn box I'd given to Brick surrounded me, like a bunch of damned creepy stalkers, staring me down. I stood up, looking out over the tops of the boxes and saw nothing but more boxes.
More and more boxes.
The whole house was filled with them.
I dug my hand into the closest one, pulling out several pictures I recognized. Old, happy memories from a life I didn't remember. I didn't want these memories. I didn't want these reminders of a life I would never have again.
As if a wish had been granted, the color began to drain from the photo onto the floor. Our happy smiles smeared and distorted as the photo disappeared before my eyes. Colors mixed, created dark black streaks on my hands. Soon I was covered in it.
I picked up another photo, and another and they all vanished, like they were being erased from existence.
"Wait!" I yelled. "I want them back! I want them back!"
I'd wasted far too much time, sitting around waiting for my life to start.
No more taste tests or fast cars. No more dwelling on the past or pondering over old pictures or crazy dreams that haunted me. I'd been ignoring far too much, and spending the rest of the time feeling bad for myself. It was time to finally wake up from the perpetual fog I'd been in for the last couple of months and take charge of this life I'd been given.