Forgetting August (Lost & Found #1)(32)

"Everly, please," Ryan said, touching my shoulder as I made my way to the door.

"So you can speak after all?" I nearly spat, making my way toward the  door. I slammed it shut before I could hear another word. They didn't  run after me. They knew my routine. I always ran, always fled.

I'd come back, I always did.





I should not be here.

I should not be here.

I'd driven all over the city, letting my thoughts wander and wander as I  tried to cool my heated temper, but nothing had worked and bit by  bit-mile by mile, I'd edged closer and closer to the dark blue sea.

Until I found myself at the cliffs, pulling up to the last place in the world I should be.

Why, when I felt the most alone, did I turn to the person I trusted the least?

I shut off the engine and dimmed the headlights, then I sat in the surrounding darkness, deciding upon my next move.

If I were smart I'd start up the car, back up into the street, and go home.         

     



 

But tonight-after seeing my best friend and my fiancé gang up against me  like some adolescent troublemaker, I was feeling less on the brainy  side and bordering on something a bit riskier. Which was probably why I  was currently sitting in August's driveway … contemplating whether I was  ever going to get out of my car.

The decision was made for me when a small tapping at my window nearly  had me jumping out of my skin. I turned to see August bent over, his  hands in his pockets as he took a step back, waiting for me to respond.

I pressed the button to lower the window before realizing I'd already  pulled the keys out of the ignition. Taking a steadying breath, I pushed  open the door and stepped out, ready to face the decision I'd made by  driving here.

"Hi," I said hesitantly, unable to meet his firm gaze. I instead found a  new fascination with the brickwork on the driveway, studying the  intricate herringbone pattern that wove beneath my feet.

"Hi," he replied, mimicking my tone. He didn't ask why I was there, or  expect anything-just stood there, patiently waiting as I moved gravel  beneath me. It was then that I noticed his shoes. They were nice-fancier  than I'd seen him wear during our excursions around the city-black,  shiny … much more reminiscent of the old August-and in stark contrast to  the flip-flops I'd thrown on when I'd run out of my own house. Glancing  up, I realized he was dressed up as well-but not like he'd once been,  with thousand-dollar suits and designer ties. Tonight he was more  understated, in a pair of sleek gray trousers that hugged his trim  waist. The dusty green shirt he wore matched his eyes perfectly and I  had a hard time pulling my own from his gaze.

"You have plans," I blurted out. "I'm so sorry-I've interrupted something."

Feeling extremely embarrassed, I turned and nearly stumbled into the  door of my car. With lightning quick reflexes he caught me, grabbing my  waist and righting me before stepping back. His hand had only touched me  for a brief moment but I could still feel the heat of it, grazing the  bare skin between my jeans and t-shirt.

"Everly, stop-please," he pleaded. "Why are you here?"

I turned, my hands nearly trembling as I stood before him. "I don't know," I answered honestly.

His eyes rounded as he took in my appearance. "Come on. Why don't you  come inside for a while? Maybe you can make coffee for the both of us?"  he suggested.

I nodded, but then asked, "What about your plans?" I looked down at the keys in his hands that he quickly stuffed in his pocket.

"Don't worry about it. It wasn't a big deal."

"Okay," I relented.

I followed him up to the door that still had the brass knocker with our  initials on it. I tried to ignore the guilt I felt as I passed through  the entryway, but it seared a path through my belly nonetheless.

I was not doing anything wrong. This was just another one of our meetings.

An impromptu meeting between August and me-nothing more.

Tonight, I'd become a grand master at lying to myself.

"Why don't you start the coffee while I make a quick call?" he  suggested, as he shrugged off the light jacket he had on. I stood there  watching him tug his shirt from his pants, until I realized I was  staring and quickly scurried into the kitchen.

Nothing had changed since the last time I'd been in here, which made me  smile. The kitchen had always been my domain, and it felt good to be  able to roam around in here without having to think at all. I pulled out  cups while the coffee brewed. I didn't bother listening to August's  conversation. He obviously wanted privacy since he'd walked into the  other room, and if he was talking to another women-which I highly  suspected he was-I honestly didn't know if I wanted to hear it.

Knowing I was the cause of a possibly botched date was already weighing heavy on my mind.

I was supposed to be helping him move on … not tread backward. And I had enough guilt when it concerned that man.

"Almost ready?" he asked, stepping into the large space, dominating it  instantly. The kitchen could have been a football field wide and it  still wouldn't have been big enough in that instant. His presence had  always seemed larger than life, and that was one thing that hadn't  changed-past or present. He could change his clothing style, the way he  wore his hair, and even the build of his body, but his invading presence  never changed. It always affected me. Invaded me. Took over my senses.

"Just about," I replied, tapping my fingers against the cold marble  countertop in a rhythmic motion. The last bit of coffee brewed, gurgling  and steaming until the last drop fell. I quickly turned to grab the  sugar and milk and returned ready to fix everything up.         

     



 

Only to realize I had no idea how he took his coffee anymore.

Looking up at him, I opened my mouth to ask, but he smiled. "Just black," he answered.

I only nodded as I pivoted back toward the refrigerator to return the  milk. I'd grabbed everything on impulse, ready to dump two spoonfuls of  sugar and a slash of milk into his cup like I always had.

How easily I'd fallen back into an old routine.

"I take it that's different?" he spoke up.

"Yes," I answered, "but good. Now you're a purist like me." I gave him  the slightest hint of a grin. His eyes narrowed in on my lips, noticing  the tiny change in my expression. I quickly wiped it away with a fake  cough, using my hand to cover it.

Coward.

I don't know why I continued to treat him so poorly. After the amount of  time we'd spent together, I finally understood the difference. He might  carry the same facial features, wear similar clothing and hairstyle,  but beyond his physical attributes, August had changed.

For the better.

And yet, I was still hell bent on punishing him for who he'd been before.

Maybe it was left over resentment for the last few years of our  relationship-left over feeling seeping through my psyche. Or perhaps I  was too afraid to get attached then suddenly discover one day I'd grown  close to a man who'd disappeared yet again because his memories had  returned.

All great questions to bring up with Tabitha … if only I had the guts.

Admitting them to myself was one thing. Saying them out loud to someone  else seemed drastic … like I was actually owning them-acknowledging August  as an important person in my life, rather than just contemplating the  possibilities in my convoluted, messed-up head.

Picking up my cup of steaming hot coffee, I glanced up at him as he did the same.

"Do you want to sit in the living room?" he offered. I nodded and  followed him into the large, inviting space. I'd designed this room for  comfort, going against the stuffy professional designer's idea of style  for a more laid-back atmosphere. She'd chosen sleek leather and hard  lines. All I'd envisioned were legs sticking to furniture in the summer  and backaches year round. I'd told her to try again, and when she'd come  back, clearly peeved, she presented a much less formal idea with soft  suedes and plenty of places to kick up your feet and relax.

I wondered, as I took a seat in what used to be my favorite spot-an  oversized chair that basically swallowed me whole-if August enjoyed this  room now as much as we used to. Before work had become his life, and  I'd still had pieces of him to myself, this had been the center of the  house for the two of us. Board games, movie nights, and many nights of  drinking and debauchery had occurred right here. Where the bedroom had  once felt like the beating heart, this room had been our own little  slice of heaven right in the middle of our home. With grand views of the  Pacific that rivaled those from the master bedroom, you could watch the  sun set over the water while listening to the crashing waves below.

But even a view like that could feel like prison when you weren't allowed to leave.

"Was she upset?" I finally asked, deciding to jump off the tightrope I'd  been walking, between wanting to know and not wanting to know what he'd  had planned for the evening.

"What-" he began to ask as he looked up at me. My eyebrow cocked in amusement, and a small smirk played across his lips.