No more shy smiles and coffee-flavored kisses. The memory of her skin would be nothing more than a ghost I wrestled with in my sleep. She would be gone. Forever.
How would I go on? How would I survive?
"Why do you think he did it? Locked me in here? Was it out of cruelty or some twisted fascination-"
"I think maybe he did it out of love," I said, softly interrupting her, as I stepped forward and took her hand. I watched as she flinched but didn't step out of my grasp. "I don't think he ever stopped-how could anyone ever stop loving you?"
"Loving me destroyed you," she sobbed, a salty trail running down her cheek.
"Loving you brought me back to life," I corrected.
"But not for long enough." Her eyes met mine as she tried to pull back.
"Love me one more time," I begged, "Please." I took a hesitant step forward as my thumb slowly skimmed her damp cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breath faltered. It was exactly what I needed to know-she wanted this as much as I did.
I might be letting her go, but first I would drown in this love … this promise of so much more, for one more night.
Before reality set in and I lost her forever.
Pushing back fiery strands of her hair, I cupped her chin and kissed away her tears, which only made her lips quiver and fresh tears appear.
"I want to hate you. I want to push you away and scream and yell. I shouldn't want this-I shouldn't. But I do-God, I do. If this is my last few hours with you-this is how I want to spend them with you. What is wrong with me? We aren't right, August. This isn't right," she cried, her face burrowing into my chest. "I'm so angry," she sobbed.
"I know. I'm so sorry," I said over and over, meaning it more than she could ever know.
"Take it away-take the pain away," she begged, her gaze lifting to mine in a desperate plea for escape.
As my fingers dug their way through her hair, our foreheads touched and I found myself taking a deep breath as I silently asked whoever might be listening for strength. Strength to make it through the night with her body wrapped around mine, knowing it would be the last time. And courage to let her walk away the next morning, knowing she was walking away with my heart in her hands.
This wasn't how this was supposed to end.
My lips met hers as I took my time kissing her, trying to memorize every single moment. Every moan, the color of her lips, the way she arched her neck when I pressed my body against hers-it soon would be all I had.
My life had been a never-ending quest into the past, and now it seemed, I would have only that.
Nothing but a handful of memories.
As my hands slid around her waist, I lifted her, feeling her strong legs wrap around me. Carrying her to the bed, I paused, remembering the photos scattered about. Knowing they'd only cause us pain later, I carefully sat Everly on the edge of the bed and began the task of making room. The photos I'd carefully exposed and printed fell to the floor in a heap, along with their custom-made frames.
They didn't matter anymore.
None of it mattered.
All I had was this one night.
I ignored the fluttering sound as the photos fell and the frames clattered to the ground. My focus was solely on Everly. It had always been Everly.
Kneeling before her, my hands trembled as I drew her blouse above her head, letting it fall to the floor with the forgotten pictures. Her baby blue eyes met mine as she slowly undid the buttons of my shirt, one at a time, letting the tips of her fingers brush against my bare skin.
"I'll always remember how this feels," I whispered.
"Don't." She shook her head. "Don't make promises. You never keep them."
I didn't say anything more, but I knew that it was one promise I'd never break. She'd branded me permanently. I may not have had specific memories of her when I awoke in that hospital room, but my soul and my body had known her instantly.
She might not be mine after tonight, but every piece of me would always belong to her.
Clothes were shed and as I joined her on the bed, I tried to commit to memory every single inch of her body. The soft curve of her hip, the scattering of freckles over her collarbone that reminded me of confetti, and even the winding tree branch that disappeared over her right shoulder.
My fingers instinctively traced the intricate tattoo, following it toward her back, where the birdcage hung. She turned, letting my hands lightly explore her skin.
"It's time for this bird to fly, Everly," I said softly. "It's time for her to dream and explore and find her own path."
Resting her head against the pillow with her eyes trained ahead, she asked, "But what if she's too scared?"
"She'll find her way. She's stronger than you think."
"I don't know if you're right about that. I once said I'd never shed another tear over you," she whispered, her voice breaking as I held her in my arms for the last time. "I guess I don't keep my promises either."
She turned toward me, her eyes wide with doubt as I bent down and kissed away the tears, until our mouths fused together and no more words were spoken for the rest of the night. We lost ourselves in one another over and over, stoking the fire that would no doubt burn for each another until the end of time.
But sometimes love and passion isn't enough.
When I awoke the next day, she was gone.
And I was left with a pile of pictures and a lifeless house of memories.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Everly
They say time heals all wounds.
But can it forgive?
It was the one question running through my head over and over again as I climbed the steps to Ryan's apartment that fateful day. After my world had crumbled around me, I'd spent weeks in hiding. Refusing to leave Sarah's house for days at a time, I'd nursed myself back to health after walking away from August for good this time. I should have seen it coming. I should have known.
No one ever changes.
Not that much.
Not for good.
Sarah had taken her role as best friend seriously, never uttering an "I told you so" or blaming me for my own heartbreak. She did, however, threaten bodily harm to various parts of August's anatomy, an offer I'd turned down.
This was as much my fault as his.
At least he had lack of memory as an excuse. I remembered everything and yet I'd still gone back begging for more.
August had always managed to bring out the senseless side of me.
But in those quiet weeks, as I cried myself to sleep in her tiny apartment, remembering the feel of his body against mine, the words and promises he'd spoken, I realized things about life and about myself. Loving August had been easy. Falling for him had been one of the simplest things I'd ever done. But when it came down to a fight, he always walked away.
There was always something better, bolder or brighter waiting for him on the other side, and I was never enough. Even after he'd changed-became someone else, he'd chosen wealth, power, and prestige over love. He'd chosen Trent.
And I'd been left with nothing.
Again.
When would I ever learn?
Ryan had once told me loving someone should be simple-as easy as breathing.
I'd had that. Now I wanted someone who would fight for me. And Ryan had been quietly fighting for me all along … waiting for me as I came to the conclusion he'd known all along.
I finally took the last step, my heart running like a bullet train in my chest, on the short walk to the front door. The little purple door decoration I'd made with acrylic paint and a wood cutout from the craft store was still attached. It had been my first attempt at painting and I had pretty much failed at it. The poor little flower looked like something from the kindergarten junk pile, but Ryan had loved it so much he'd proudly stuck it on the door and never allowed me to take it down.
He'd always loved me. Even when it hurt.
Even when it had been nearly impossible to do so.
Holding my hand up, I knocked several times and waited as my heart threatened to catapult out of my body at any second. The door opened and there he was. Gentle brown eyes and a warm curious smile.
"Took you long enough," he said.
"Yeah." I smiled as I fell into his loving arms, finally feeling like I'd come home, safely in his embrace.
It seemed time really was the cure to healing even the deepest of wounds. With each passing day, the damage August had done seemed a distant memory and I felt myself falling more deeply in love with Ryan.
Time moved on.
Love grew once again.
But there were still dark days when I couldn't help but pick at that scar, like a disobedient child picking at a scab. Sometimes I just needed to remember.
To mourn.
On days like this I would disappear and take the long drive to the other side of the city, and submerge myself in the memory of him. The little spot under the bridge was no longer mine. No longer private. When I came here, all I could see, all I could feel was him. The memory of the smooth cadence of his voice haunted me; thoughts of his lingering touch gave me chills.