Remembering Everly (Lost & Found #2) (2 page)

Only to realize I had no idea how he took his coffee anymore.

Looking up at him, I opened my mouth to ask, but saw him smiling. “Just black,” he answered.

I only nodded as I pivoted back toward the refrigerator to return the milk. I’d grabbed everything on impulse, ready to dump two spoonfuls of sugar and a slash of milk into a cup of coffee just like I always had.

How easily I’d fallen back into an old routine.

“I take it that’s different?” He spoke up.

“Yes,” I answered, “but a good difference. Now you’re a purist like me.”

“It’s for the right reasons,” I answered quickly with an encouraging smile.

“As long as you’re happy. You know that’s all I ever want for you.”

“I am. I really am.”

“Good. Now about those flower arrangements…”

Oh God, here we go.

Y
ou’re
not happy,” I said, not bothering to attach a question mark to the statement. I could see the disappointment in her eyes as we left the fifth in a string of shiny, upscale apartments we’d been touring.

“No, I’m fine—really.”

We’d just left a sweet apartment building—a step up for both of us, really. A mansion compared to the shack I’d found her in, and so much nicer than the bachelor pad I’d been living in since college. I wanted to give her someplace to call home—someplace for both of us to, really. But after compiling a list of some of the nicest places I could afford in the city, and setting up several visits, I knew I’d come up short.

Elevators and doormen—this wasn’t what she wanted.

Taking her hand as we walked toward the car, I stopped. The modern, sleek building had disappeared behind us.

“You’re anything but fine. Talk to me, please.”

Her eyes met mine for a single second and then lowered. Grasping her chin, I tilted her head back until her beautiful blue irises met mine.

“They’re just so shiny and new,” she said softly. “I’m afraid I might break something in there. Even the stove was shiny!”

A small puff of air escaped my lips as I tried to contain the laugh threatening to break through.

God, I loved this woman.

“Well, it’s a good thing I saved the best for last,” I exclaimed with a wolfish grin.

Her eyes widened with interest and surprise as I opened the passenger door and helped her in.

“I thought this was our last stop,” she questioned, settling herself inside.

I’d thought so, too. Luckily, I had scheduled something on the off chance that this all went downhill.

And downhill it had gone.

“Nope. I have one more up my sleeve.”

“Where?” she asked excitedly.

“Nope, not telling.”

It took a while to get there, but I enjoyed every second, watching her knees bob up and down in anticipation. She gazed out the window as the high-rise apartment buildings gave way to small neighborhoods. This part of town wasn’t nearly as trendy, and there were very few shops and restaurants within walking distance, but this last place had one thing the others didn’t.

I pulled off the road, parking at the curb, and turned off the engine.

“I don’t see an apartment building anywhere,” she said, looking around.

Smiling, I turned and answered, “That’s because this place is a house.”

Her eyes grew wide as she looked around. “A house? Which one?”

Leaning in so our heads were close, I pointed to the small house across the street. “There.”

I waited and watched for her response. She didn’t breathe for what seemed like an eternity. And then, the tears came.

“There are flower boxes in the windows,” she whispered as moisture fell from her eyes.

“Yeah,” I said as happiness overwhelmed me.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “You’re perfect.”

“We’re perfect. Together,” I agreed.

Lies. I was drowning in them.

I’d told so many, done so much, I felt like I was swimming in an ocean of my own undoing.

My head continued to spin as I came out of the memory. This was how it always happened. They came without warning—without notice. At any time of the day or night—sometimes even in the form of dreams. I couldn’t control them.

I’d told Everly I remembered everything.

Another lie.

Rising from the couch, I shook my head, hoping to disperse the remaining fog that lingered in my psyche. Looking down at my watch, I realized I’d lost an hour due to this latest travel down Memory Lane.

We’re perfect. Together.

The words seemed to echo through the silent house as I walked to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. Tossing a couple scoops of grounds into the pot, I leaned against the counter and waited for it to brew, thinking about the way her eyes had glistened with joy as she’d taken in that tiny shoebox of a house.

So happy, so alive. Why did it all have to end?

“I smell coffee.” A familiar voice came booming through the hallway.

I swear, one of these days I was going to remember to lock my damn door.

“I don’t remember inviting you over for any,” I said as Brick walked into the kitchen. He opened the cupboard door that housed the many coffee mugs.

“If I waited for an invitation from you, I’d never see you.”

“Maybe that’s a hint,” I replied gruffly. I watched him take the first cup as if he owned the place, then inhaled deeply as I followed his steps, taking in the smell as I poured my own cup, watching the dark liquid slowly fill the cup.

“Look, we are not carrying on this friendship through e-mail. If you want to talk to me—we’re doing it like this.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I turned to the fridge to pull out a pint of cream and stopped. The sudden onslaught of memories had me so completely confused and brain-fried that I couldn’t even remember how I took my coffee anymore. Memories mixed with reality, leaving me hazy and confused.

Always so confused.

“You’re having more blackouts, aren’t you?” Brick asked. I was still turned away toward the refrigerator.

“You already know the answer to that question.”

“Ah yes—the e-mail: ‘Hey Brick—Is it normal to feel dizzy during one of these things?’ Nothing else. No other information. Thanks for that.”

I was pretty sure I’d elaborated a tad more than he’d alluded to, and I didn’t recall using the word “thing.” I chose not to respond and stared at my untouched coffee cup instead.

“I have a Master’s degree in Psychology and a license to practice psychotherapy. I am not your damned doctor, August!” he boomed. “I’m not even your counselor anymore; otherwise I sure as hell would be reporting these
things
to your doctor. Someone certainly should.”

That got my attention.

“I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine,” I argued, turning sharply to stalk to the other side of the kitchen for air, a move I’d learned from Everly.

“No, of course not. It’s completely normal to black out for minutes on end without notice. In fact—keep driving, August. That sounds safe. Or take a jog on a busy road. Hell, why don’t you—”

“Stop!” I roared, swiveling back around, my fists tight, ready to fight. “I need them,” I gritted between my teeth. “It’s the only way I can…”

“Be close to her again?” he finished.

My head fell as the fight fled my body.

“You could have chosen a different path. You could have included her—trusted your love.” Brick insisted.

“No.”

“So, now you just live amongst the web of lies you’ve spun?”

“As long as it keeps her safe,” I answered with conviction, my gaze narrowed.

Everything I did. Every move—every lie and layer of deceit I cast was for one single purpose. To keep Everly as far away as possible from me and the fucked-up mess I’d created in my former life. So far I’d only gathered a handful of memories of the formidable partnership that had been August Kincaid and Trent Lyons, and they were terrifying. There was something about Trent that just wasn’t right. That feeling, coupled with what I’d learned in my dealings with him since he’d waltzed back into my life, made me realize my decision to push Everly away was completely justified. Trent was a sociopath, completely driven by power and money. Nothing ever got in his way and right now, I was a pawn in his game for achieving ultimate wealth.

There was no fucking way I was letting him anywhere near Everly. He might own me, but I wouldn’t let her life be ruined by my mistakes ever again.

“Well, count me out,” Brick said. “I can’t sit by and watch you ruin your life. I won’t lie for you again. I can’t do it, August—”

“Then don’t,” I answered expressionlessly.

“When I saw her—that night by the bridge—she knew Trent was behind this. If you could have just explained…told her everything that had happened rather than letting her walk away.”

“And what if he went after her for something I did wrong, Brick? I don’t have all the clues, but I remember that night, before I blanked out. I was panicked, full of fear. Because of him.”

He huffed out a frustrated breath.

“Exactly. I sent you there to find out how she felt about me. I got my answer.”

“And so you retaliated by making her believe what? That you hate her—that you’re this evil version of yourself? Why?” Brick asked.

“Because at least if she fears me, she’ll stay away.”

“You mean she’ll stay with Ryan,” he corrected, his hands running through his graying hair. Had his face always looked so aged? Or had I put those wrinkled, jagged creases in his forehead?

“Better there than here,” I responded curtly.

“Someday you’ll understand what you’ve given up. Someday, you’ll realize that love like that only comes around once in a lifetime, and rather than fighting for it, you let it slip away.” He put down his unfinished coffee.

“This is me fighting,” I argued, watching him walk to the entrance of the kitchen.

He stopped briefly and turned to catch my eyes before he disappeared. “Then I guess you weren’t the fighter I thought you were.”

“It’s showtime, jackass. Don’t mess this up. Remember, this isn’t one of those podunk clients you’re used to. This is the big leagues now. Do Daddy proud,” Trent growled under his breath as his white toothy grin lit up the room.

“Shut up,” I seethed as we both stepped forward to greet the unknowing bastards who’d just stepped into our web. The elderly couple held hands as they slowly walked through our doorway. I immediately stepped forward to help, offering a welcoming hand as I ushered them to our meeting room. I was, after all, the trustworthy face of the partnership—or at least that was how it had been explained to me.

I had that look, Trent had said—that wholesome, save-the-world, hero-type face that made people believe anything was possible. Like this elderly couple, who owned a string of bakeries up and down the California coast, finally trusting someone enough to invest all of their hard-earned money so that their legacy could survive generations.

Mine was the face that made them believe that was possible.

And Trent would take that money and do god knows what with it—probably buy himself all sorts of shit while he faked documents and account records that stated the opposite, all while the poor couple believed they were making a fortune.

It appeared to be a seamless system and Trent and I seemed to do it well—a thought that disturbed me more and more with each passing day. Was this the type of person I’d been in the past? Stealing money from little old ladies without a second thought? I’d considered asking Trent, but one glance in his direction and I knew no good would come from asking that spineless snake for the truth. He was never too forthcoming with the details of anything that went on around here, but I definitely had my suspicions, and they weren’t good. I wasn’t about to speak up, especially since he’d finally seemed to turn his attention away from Everly.

“What was her name? Everly?”
His bone-chilling question still haunted me and I had no doubt he’d do whatever it took to keep me here.

Ever if it meant hurting the ones I loved.

Within minutes, I’d captivated the ancient couple and had them signing on the dotted line, giving us complete access to all of their hard-earned money—to do with what we pleased. After quickly explaining the risks of investing and the many happy endings of our successes,
wham bam
—several million dollars had been made even before our Starbucks cups went cold. That’s how easy it all went down.

“That comes off my debt,” I said as I returned from escorting our new clients out the door.

“No,” Trent answered, his legs crossed casually in front of him.

“No?” I questioned.

“I found the Smiths,” he explained with an easy smile. He sat back in the chair, holding his cup of coffee bought with someone else’s money. “They are my clients—my commission, my money. You may have smiled and soothed their fears after they walked in the door, but I found them. So, no—you don’t get shit for them.”

I wasn’t looking at him, but I could feel the sneer from his smile scorching into my back. He knew he’d pissed me off and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see it.

“Fine,” I answered. “I’ll find someone else.”

“Of course you will. It’s going to take quite a few clients, though, to knock down fifty mil.”

He was goading me, but I didn’t bothering answering. It had become his favorite pastime since I’d returned—pushing my buttons to see how I’d react. So far, I’d held my own, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I blew. Pushing off the edge of the wall I’d been leaning against, I made my way to my office. It was thankfully a safe distance from Trent’s and right now, I needed all the space I could manage.

Fifty million dollars.

Arrogant prick. A part of me still didn’t believe him, but the fear and dread that came rushing back when I relived that last night before I lost everything—I knew he wasn’t lying.

I’d fucked up. I’d fucked up royally.

And Trent expected ultimate payback.

We’d just made a cool two million on the Smith couple. Even if he had handed them over to me toward the debt I owed him, I’d still be paying him back for this fucking mistake for the rest of eternity.

And he knew it.

He had his partner back and I was working for free.

He had the best of both worlds.

I hated him more now than I ever had, which was why I needed clients of my own. But every single lead I had, he’d manage to win over in the last second.

I needed to branch out on my own. Without his watchful, greedy eyes staring me down.

But how?

Moving around the mouse on my computer, I began to search the Internet—newspapers, gossip columns, business magazines. Hell, anything I could find. I needed leads. Asking people to manage their money was a subtle business, especially when you were dealing in the big leagues—which was where I needed to be if I ever planned on evening out the playing field with Trent. You couldn’t simply walk up to some billionaire and say, “Hey, I’d like to dick around in your money…sound good?” With the exception of a notable few, the uber-rich were wealthy because they were smart. Earning their trust was a game of give and take that took patience, and I was out of practice and majorly out of my league. I may have still possessed a few wining-and-dining skills Trent found valuable, but when it came to actual number crunching and facts, I was clueless. That was a part of my memory that was still lost, and so far, I was seriously faking it.