I tenderly touched my lips to his. "I know. Believe me, I know."
And as I surrendered back into his embrace, the taste of his kiss was the only thing racing through my mind that night.
He was my future-and soon my past would be nothing more than a distant memory.
Chapter Sixteen
August
Fifteen minutes had passed, and I was still looking down at my phone in awe.
She'd called me. By choice.
When her name had appeared on my phone I'd thought it was a cruel joke.
Why-especially after she'd walked away that night, making it clear it would most likely be the last time I saw her, would she ever try to reestablish contact with me?
Simple-Brick.
Probably violating every rule in whatever code of ethics he was supposed to follow, Brick had gone out of his way to make sure he broke every damn promise he'd made to me by seeking out Everly and doing the exact opposite of what I'd asked of him.
I'd just wanted her to have the life she deserved, and now here she was-right back where she'd started.
She said Brick thought it would bring us both closure-talking about the past as a way to seek out separate futures. I wasn't sure I agreed. Every path I saw led to her, which was exactly why I needed her so far away.
But I'd been a selfish man for far too long … and sometimes I thought some of those traits had remained when I awoke. If she was willing to see me, I would always come running.
I'd figured we'd meet for coffee, maybe have lunch or do something traditional and public. I had no lofty beliefs that she wanted to be anywhere with me, but I'd sincerely doubted it would be someplace remote.
Now I had no idea why I was meeting her in a trashy part of town, where the only form of art was newspaper flying in the breeze and random gang tags painted on the storefront walls.
Maybe she was hoping I'd get mugged on my way here. Ultimate revenge?
Guy recovers from two year coma and gets mugged. Again.
After I'd had all the repairs done to that crazy looking sports car I'd bought on a whim, I'd decided to trade it in for something a bit more sensible after my embarrassing accident. It had been fun for a night, but like so many other things, I'd discovered flashy just wasn't my style. So I'd downgraded to a domestic SUV. It was a lot less strain on the purse strings, and it drank gas like it was Kool-Aid, but it felt like me the second I got inside.
It also had a rack on the top for camping gear, and just the thought of that made me happy somehow as I tried to imagine the old August in his crisp suit driving out to the forest and pitching a tent.
A tap at my window had my nearly jumping out of my seat.
Nearly-I still kept my cool.
Everly tried to hide the grin on her face for catching me off guard as I opened the door and hopped out.
"Another new car?" she asked, taking a long look at the shiny red paint.
"Yeah, traded the other one in."
She nodded but didn't say anything until she noticed what was in my hand. "What do you have there?"
"Oh, I found it when I was emptying out a closet. Thought it looked interesting," I said, holding up the SLR camera. It had been hidden away on a shelf high up in the master closet. I'd done some research on the particular model and it was worth a fortune-basically top of the line, or it had been several years ago.
I'd considered selling it, or donating it to the local high school, but as soon as my fingers touched it, I knew it was mine.
"You used to love taking photos. That's why there are so many boxes of them," she said, looking down at the camera with soulful eyes.
"Why'd I stop?"
"Why did you stop loving so many things?" she asked, then began walking away.
I quickly followed her down the street, noticing her eyes taking in the dilapidated, tiny apartment buildings. "Why are we here?" I asked, unable to stop myself from clicking a few pictures here and there as we walked.
"You aren't the only one with a therapist, August," she informed me. "And when I spoke to mine, this is some of the advice she gave me."
"To drop me off in the ghetto and hope I never find my way back?"
Again, she tried to cover up the small smirk that threatened to tug at the corner of her mouth. The fact that she didn't want to share any joy with me stung, but I understood.
I was still the enemy.
She had done so much for me already, considering what little I had come to understand about our relationship, and it showed what a kind heart she had. I just hoped whatever she hoped to get out of this little experiment worked.
"No," she continued. "She said I should start at beginning. If you and I both need closure, maybe we'll find it along the way."
I nodded, looking around at the unfamiliar area. "So our story begins here?"
"Yes, but it looked much different a decade ago. As did we, I guess."
"I've seen pictures of you from ten years ago. You don't look that different," I said, remembering the one I had found in my wallet at the hospital.
Same coppery red hair, same intense blue eyes. If she smiled now, I was sure I'd find the same beautiful girl standing before me.
But she wouldn't smile-not for me.
Not anymore.
"In 2005, this was a great area for clubbing. I guess there are some nightclubs around here still but it's not quite the same. Back then, this was the place to be and I spent every weekend sneaking into the best clubs with friends."
"And me?" I asked with a questioning gaze.
"You and your coworkers liked to come here after work-something about blowing off steam. I think you just liked to be part of the team. The loud noise and the dancing never really appealed to you."
"But it brought me to you," I stated. She flinched. "Sorry," I apologized, realizing what I'd said.
"It's okay. Brick reminded me that had I not met you, I wouldn't have eventually found Ryan. And Ryan is my everything," she said firmly, each word cutting me like a knife.
"Right," I managed to say.
She abruptly stopped walking and I nearly smacked into her side as she stood looking at a small apartment building to our left.
"This is where I lived." She pointed to the second story, where a tattered old sheet fluttered in the wind, serving as a makeshift curtain. Trash lined the streets and what little paint was left on the building was cracked and flaking. It was the type of place you see when you accidentally take the wrong turn off the interstate, and try not to stare as you quickly wait for your GPS to reroute you to safety. Knowing she'd lived here caused permanent damage to my soul; knowing she'd been so close to poverty-so close to danger.
"How long?" I asked softly.
"Since the day I turned eighteen and wasn't worth anything to my foster parents anymore."
I hadn't known she was a foster kid. I guess there was a lot I didn't know about her.
"What about school? What about a job?"
She shook her head. "This particular couple only cared about the cash-nothing else. They kicked me out and replaced me the same day with someone younger. There are people who do it for the right reasons, but it's far from a perfect system."
"Everly-"
"Please don't talk," she begged, before saying, "I remember being embarrassed to take you here. For the first several weeks we dated, you'd ask to see where I lived, and I'd always make lame excuses-like my roommate had a guy over, or I hadn't had time to clean. But finally you figured it out. Snuck a peak at my license and instead of going to your place, we ended up here."
She took a deep breath as I watched her nearly relive the memory as it played out through her words.
"I was terrified. I thought you'd leave the moment you saw the place. You were four years older than me. For an eighteen-year-girl from the foster system, you seemed like something out of a fairy tale."
"What happened?" I asked, turning toward her as she watched the sheet flutter from the second story window.
"You took my hand, walked me to my apartment, and held out your hand."
"My hand?"
"Yep, you placed it in yours and shook it and then did the craziest thing."
"Hi, I'm August Kincaid."
"Everly Adams."
"Good. Now that we have that out of the day, won't you invite me into your lovely home?"
"I thought you were crazy at first, but just that small act of kindness gave me the courage to open that door and let you in-both literally and emotionally. We spent the entire night talking-about life, past and present, and where we saw ourselves ten years from then."
"And where did you see yourself ten years from that night?" I asked. Her eyes suddenly turned away from the apartment building.
"It doesn't matter now," she snapped. "Plans change-for better, for worse. We adapt. And all that matters is what's in front of us."
"And you have Ryan now," I concluded.
"Yes."
Silence followed us as we moved down the street past the old clubs and the dingy storefronts.