He chuckled and rolled his eyes.
"There are a ton of reasons I love these woods, but one of the biggest is that one. It puts me in my place."
"And it smells good," he winked.
"Yes, and it smells incredible."
"You just geeked out over air and trees," he said with a grin.
"Yes, and?"
"It was fucking adorable."
"Just wait until you hear me talk about waterfalls. I love waterfalls … oh, and streams!" He laughed.
We continued down the path, talking the entire way as I pointed out my favorite spots and even shared a few memories.
"You kissed me there once," I said, pointing to a tree along the path that had a large hole in the trunk. It was a favorite of the tourists for pictures and usually had a line, but luckily due to our slow pace, we'd missed the huge rush of people and it was just us as we arrived.
"Right here?" he asked, pushing me against the tree.
"Yes," I answered, gulping audibly as our eyes met.
"Like this?" His hand cupped my jaw as his lips slowly grazed my own. The heat from his breath rushed along my neck and sent shivers down my spine.
"Happy Birthday, Everly," he whispered as his mouth captured mine. Butterflies fluttered in my belly as I clung to him, wishing I was suddenly anywhere but this very public setting. The only thing I wanted for my birthday was him. Alone.
Now.
When he pulled away, his smirk was nearly heartstopping. I saw a few young tourists skirt by us, the blushes on their faces apparent. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with embarrassment. He just laughed it off and held up his camera, showing me the images he'd just caught without my knowledge.
Hell, with that man's lips on mine, a semitruck could have come crashing through the woods and I probably wouldn't have noticed.
"I wanted to get this new kiss on record," he explained as I looked down at our very indecent public scene.
"Those poor teenagers are probably scarred for life," I said.
"Those poor teenagers probably have done that and more," he corrected.
"You're probably right. When I was their age-"
"Stop! Don't need to know." He held up his hands in protest as we roamed back to the welcome center.
"What do you mean, you don't want to know? I know all about your previous escapades."
"Yes-but I don't. And, honestly-I really don't want to know about that aspect of my life. There's you now, and that's all that matters."
"So, the same goes for me?"
He nodded. "Yes. As far as I'm concerned-you had amnesia as well, forgot all other lovers but me, and now we're even."
"That's ridiculous, you know that."
"I'm a ridiculous kind of guy," he shrugged. "And you love me for it."
The air changed swiftly as we both froze.
The look of surprise sweeping across his face lead me to believe he hadn't meant to say it, but it had been said.
The "L" word.
Turning to him, my heart beating like a jackhammer, I replied, "Yes. I do."
"I can't take credit for this next trick. Well, at least not all of it," he said quickly as we pulled up to the darkened street corner.
"Okay," I answered, looking around for some sort of clue. "Are you going to buy me some cocaine? Take me clubbing or get me a tattoo?" I asked, glancing at some of the unsavory establishments in the neighborhood.
I wasn't quite scared-I'd lived in an area much like this before. Granted, I'd been slightly harder around the edges back in those days, but I'm sure if it came down to it, I could still throw a punch. Or stand behind August and give him moral support.
That sounded like a better option.
"That would definitely make it a memorable day, but no. Not today; sorry. This is just where we're going to grab lunch."
"Really-you shouldn't have." I laughed, wondering where in the world we could possibly eat around here. I didn't see any restaurants, unless you counted the convenience store on the street.
I wasn't a high-maintenance girl by any means, but I was averse to food poisoning and those nasty hot dogs in the window of the run down store looked like they'd been there since Bush was in office.
The first time.
"Come on, oh ye of little faith," he said, opening his car door with a grin that basically told me I was a big chickenshit. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my own door open and waltzed out with my head held high. We met on the curb.
"Where to?" I asked, acting far more confident than I felt. We'd gone from my version of the happiest place on earth to the ghetto and I was trying to figure out how this worked into my best day ever.
But I took his hand and followed. Because I trusted him. Finally.
We walked to a little apartment complex a block down. It reminded me a lot of the shoebox hole in the wall I'd rented the year I met August. The one I'd been too afraid to show him. The one he'd never judged me for.
The place I fell in love with him.
There were no curtains in the windows here. Just bars. Rows and rows of bars. It reminded me of a prison-a real one, and I wondered if the people who lived there felt the same way. Jails weren't the only forms of imprisonment. Sometimes life could feel just as cold and endless as those cold metal bars.
I remember staring out through my ratty curtain windows, way back when, wondering if I'd ever find a home of my own-someplace worth wanting. I'd worked a dead end job with no way out and all I saw were barricades and closed doors ahead of me. August had shown me there was more to life than a pile of no's. He'd taught me there could be kindness in the eyes of others and if I wanted to make more of myself-I could.
Even if it was just as a barista at a coffee shop.
He'd always been happy with me the way I was … until money had driven him to want more. More from life and more from me. Now he was different, and all I saw were pieces of the old August finding their way back again-when life had just been him and me and nothing else.
It gave me hope for the future.
Hope for our future.
I held his hand as we climbed the steps to the third floor. There was no elevator, which made me wonder how they managed to get away with such out-of-date construction. But looking around at the leaky ceilings and the worn carpeting, I remembered what it was like to live in a place like this.
The forgotten zone.
No one cared whether your water worked or if roaches scattered along your floor at night. This was where the poor lived-where they were lost in the system and left to their own devices.
I remembered it well.
It made my heart bleed.
Four doors down, August finally came to a stop. My palm felt wet in his hand as I nervously pulled it away to wipe against my jeans. I waited as he knocked on the door, standing slightly behind him but to the side, as if that made some sort of difference in my pride factor.
It didn't.
I was still practically cowering.
A former street rat. Cowering.
How far I'd come.
A large old man opened the door. His gray hair and long wiry mustache looked strangely familiar to me. As I gazed into his dark brown eyes, trying to pinpoint where I'd seen his face before, I heard his gruff Brooklyn accent. "You August?"
"Yes sir," August answered.
"Come on in," the man replied, stepping aside to let us through the stripped – down, ugly door. As soon as I passed over the threshold and my nose came in contact with the smells wafting through that apartment, I knew exactly where I'd met the man before.
My eyes flew over to August.
"How?" I managed to say, as I turned back to the old line cook who'd once owned my favorite burger spot.
It had closed down years ago and was never heard of again.
"Sarah," August said. "When she was over the other day for dinner, I happened to show her some of the pictures of you at the burger place and she recognized it, too. Only-unlike you, she knew the owner's name. Once I had a name, he wasn't too hard to track down."
"Strangest call I've ever got," the old man said, shaking his head as he turned over a burger on the large electric skillet he was using.
"I'm Everly." I walked over and held out my hand. I watched as he did the same, wiping off the grease on a towel that he'd slung over his shoulder first.
"Joey," he replied. "I remember you. The little redhead who used to come in every month. Twice if it was your birthday," he said with a grin. "I remember Mr. Moneybags over there as well. Don't forget what we agreed on," he warned, which felt a little less threatening with the smile still plastered on his weathered face.
"No sir," August replied. "I intend on paying you every last dime."
"I don't doubt that. Now what do you two want on your burgers?" he asked, making me grin back at him like a damn fool.
"You're cooking for us?" I asked.
"Well, what do you think you're doing here, sweetheart? Did you think you were coming to this part of town just for the scenery? Your man said you wanted my burgers for your birthday. He's paying me a hefty sum, so that's what I'm doing."