"Okay," I whispered, feeling defeated once again. "I'll stay."
And I did.
I always did.
I don't know why I never left. I could have. So easily.
It's not difficult to pick a lock or break open a door. God knows the things you can learn on the Internet. If I'd had the drive … the true need, I could have found a way. I could have left-if I'd wanted to. I'd always told Ryan and Tabitha … even August himself, that he'd held me prisoner in that room. But really? I think the only person who had truly held me prisoner was me.
Even if I hadn't realized it then, I'd chosen to stay. I'd chosen to remain with a man I said I'd once hated until everything boiled over.
I'd since learned it's better to fight than to hold it all in.
Good things never come from bottling everything inside. But as I turned the doorknob and stepped inside the house, I felt the trepidations of the past following alongside me.
What type of August would greet me?
Would this new August be like the one I'd left behind? Firm and frightening-unwilling to budge a single inch? Or would he be more like the August I remembered, who'd fought as my equal-working through each problem as a partner rather than a ruler?
I seriously hoped the latter, because I was no longer someone's helpless pawn to be played.
"August?" I called out, peering down the hall for any sign of him.
What if he wasn't here?
"In here," he answered. I followed the sound of his voice to the living room, where I found him lighting several candles around the room. The entire space was aglow in a soft light, the light from the wicks of the candles dancing along the walls and ceiling. It was beautiful and romantic-the complete opposite of what I'd expected when I walked through that door.
Our eyes met from across the room and I saw the apology before it touched his lips.
"I will never walk away from you in the middle of a fight again," he promised, walking toward me. "I'm so sorry."
I shook my head. "It's me who should apologize. You deserve an explanation and I did a terrible job of it today."
"No," he stopped me. "I understand I threw your life into chaos. I know it will take some time to adjust."
"You did," I smiled, "throw my life into chaos. But I was reminded today that sometimes chaos is exactly what our lives need. Ever since I left you in that hospital, I was hell bent on living the most simple, safe life I could. I think that's why I gravitated toward Ryan. He was gentle-natured and I knew he'd never hurt me. But love is so much more than that, and unfortunately he realized that sooner than me."
"Do you think you would have figured it out sooner or later?" he asked.
I blew out a deep sigh, "I don't know. I tend to avoid the obvious, if you didn't notice."
He grinned, chuckling under his breath. "No, I never actually noticed that."
I nudged his shoulder, as he brushed a stray piece of hair out of my face. "Even if you're the most stubborn woman on the planet, I'm glad you're mine. Besides, I don't mind kissing the sense into you every now and then," he said with a wicked grin.
"That was unfair and you know it."
"All's fair in love and war, babe," he said with a laugh. "And in that moment, I couldn't resist you for another second. You were so angry-so full of passion and fire. Deadly combination."
"I'm pretty sure I bit you," I smirked, remembering that first night. "And possibly drew blood? Hey-do I smell French fries?" I asked, getting a sudden whiff of fried food.
His deep laugh filled the room as he kissed my forehead.
"Food never gets by you, does it?"
"Definitely not French fries."
"I'd hoped to have everything set up by the time you got home, but you beat me to it … so everything is still in bags," he explained, turning to point to the several bags on the coffee table.
"Oh, good. You didn't cook," I said, making a grand display of wiping my brow in jest. He rolled his eyes as we walked to the brown bags and I took my first peek inside.
"No. I did not cook. I wanted you alive afterward."
Rubbing his back, I soothed his battered ego. "Don't worry. One of these days, I'll teach you to cook-something, I'm sure."
"Thanks. Grilled cheese, maybe?"
"Ooh, I don't know. That involves the stove. Are you sure you're up to that?"
"Smartass. Why don't you grab some of the food? I know it's your favorite. Or at least, I think it is."
I looked at him in surprise, my eyes darting back to the coffee table with curiosity. "Cheeseburgers and fries? It is one of my favorite meals. How did you know?"
He pointed to the cardboard box by the TV as we grabbed food and sat down on the couch. "When I got home today, I was pretty angry," he said. I bit my lip in regret. "I didn't understand why you would want to keep us-me-secret. And then the more I thought, the more I realized how often since I left the hospital I'd just wished someone … anyone … could understand what it was like to be me. To know what it was like to walk a day in my shoes-to feel what it was like to have all of their memories ripped away from them. I mean, shit-I don't even remember losing my own virginity. No memory at all."
"Sharla Newman. You were sixteen," I interrupted with a wry grin.
He turned to me mid-fry and chucked it at me. "Not the point, but thanks. I'll be sure to look her up on Facebook."
I snorted, taking a bite of my burger as he continued.
"Anyway, as I was saying-so many times I wished someone was there to get me. But had I ever stopped to truly understand anyone else? I was so angry with you, but had I taken the time to figure out why you might have omitted what was going on in your life with your coworker's? I'd been sitting around silently screaming for someone to walk a day in my shoes, but hell if I was willing to do the same."
"So, you went through the box of pictures?"
"Yeah," he answered. "Brick brought them back and I figured if I wanted to understand you better, it was a good place to start."
I smiled, looking over at the box. "And what did you discover?"
"You love the redwoods. And hamburgers. Every birthday picture for several years was taken at the same burger joint. I sat there for hours, trying to see if I could figure out what place it was, but I couldn't decipher it."
"It closed down a few years ago," I said sadly. "We stopped going there when you-the old you-decided birthdays should be celebrated more extravagantly."
Silence followed as he looked down at his greasy burger.
"Well, he's not here anymore-so I say we make new memories."
"I'd like that," I smiled widely, remembering the days when birthdays had been celebrated over fries and milkshakes rather than champagne and caviar.
"There's just one problem," he said.
"What?"
"I don't know when your birthday is," he smiled.
Loud laughter burst from my lungs as I clutched his shoulder, resting my head there as I caught my breath.
"June fifteenth!" I squealed between breaths.
"June fifteenth," he repeated. "Got it. I'm on it."
"So what else did you learn about me in that box?" I asked, picking the pickles off my burger as he watched.
"Apparently not enough," he grinned. "Not a pickle fan?"
"Not on my burgers."
"Duly noted."
"Come on! Tell me more-stop stalling!" I demanded, as he snagged my pickle slices off my paper wrapper and tossed them in his mouth.
"Well," he said, "I noticed that you're extremely photogenic. After an entire box full of photos of your face, I'm itching to get you behind the lens."
Finishing up my food, I threw all of our trash into the brown bag and leaned back into the couch, facing him.
"That sounds kind of sexy," I said, running my fingers down the buttons of his shirt.
His eyes caught mine and I saw just a hint of movement as a tiny smirk pulled at the seam of his mouth. "It could be."
"Would you photograph this?" I asked, slowly unbuttoning the first four buttons of my blouse, until the sheer lace of my bra began to peak through.
"Yes," he answered, his voice dropping an entire octave.
"What about this?" My fingers went to the fly of my jeans.
"Wait. Just one second. Let me get a camera," he said eagerly, running to the other room. He reappeared in record time, with his vintage black and white. He'd also removed his shirt, which gave me a nice view of his lean abs and muscular arms.
"Take off your pants. I want a few in just your shirt and panties." His breath was uneven, as if he'd just been for a jog. Looking up at him caused my legs to squeeze together in need.
Just the mere thought of capturing my image with his lens seemed to be making him nearly wild. I slipped off my jeans and lay back on the couch, dangling my feet off the edge in a flirty position I knew would send him off the deep end.