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Forgetting August(83)

By:J. L. Berg


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.”