Forgetting August (Lost & Found #1)(43)

"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.