Remembering Everly (Lost & Found #2) (28 page)

“Hey, it’s still early; do you want to order a pizza?” Ryan yelled from the shower as I took a long breath and snuggled deeper into the covers on our bed.

“Does it require me to get out of this bed?” I whined, moving my legs back and forth against the smooth sheets. Ryan always said it looked like I was swimming in bed when I did this.

Growing up, I never had nice sheets. Hell, sometimes there were foster homes that didn’t even give me sheets—just a blanket and a dirty bare mattress.

Luxuries like Egyptian cotton sheets were things I would never grow accustomed to, no matter how many times my legs touched them. Every night, I’d sink into bed and run my legs back and forth against the smoothness, loving the way it felt against my skin.

Like Ryan, it brought me peace and made me feel safe—two things I’d struggled with the majority of my life.

“Please, babe. I’m hungry. So very, very hungry,” he said, sticking his head out the door of the bathroom. His lips turned downward, making him look years younger. I laughed, unable to resist his boyish charm.

“Okay, okay,” I said, stretching one last time before I rose to grab my robe.

“On second thought, I might need to work off a few more calories first,” he said, stepping out of the bathroom in just a towel. His tanned skin was slick and wet from the shower, and I couldn’t help but lick my lips as I watched a tiny drop of water skate down his chiseled chest.

Who knew nerds could be so hot?

His gaze turned heated as he stalked forward and I watched the towel drop to the floor. I stepped backward, feeling the edge of the bed hit the backs of my knees.

Our bodies met once more as his hand cupped the back of my head, tilting it upward. “I love you, Everly. I love you so much,” he whispered, touching his lips to mine. I moaned into the kiss, feeling every hard inch of him press into me.

Always aware of my needs, he was gentle as he lowered me to the bed. As my head touched the pillow, I heard the sounds of a cell phone ringing throughout the apartment.

Ryan’s head dipped forward, shaking back and forth.

“Just ignore it,” he said.

I was already pushing at his shoulders, begging him to let me answer it.

“It can’t be that important, Ev,” he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I’m right here.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my robe as I raced to the living room.

“It could be Sarah,” I said. “She had her first rehearsal tonight.”

I picked up the phone, not recognizing the number, and paused.

“Babe,” Ryan said, standing in the doorway of our room. “Come back to bed. Whatever it is can wait.”

I didn’t listen. Instead, I answered and heard the words I had begged God to never allow to come true.

“Miss Adams?” a woman said on the other end.

“Yes,” I answered.

“This is Doctor Lawrence from St. Marcus Hospital.”

My heart began to beat frantically as my hand sought out something solid to hold me up. I knew it was coming. Like a freight train in the middle of the night, I could see the light off in the distance…I knew what was coming.

Who was coming.

“He’s awake.”

The phone hit the floor seconds before I did, and then the world went black.

Writing a book is like releasing little pieces of your soul to the world. You do so knowing not everyone will understand or appreciate what you’ve created, but you hope that maybe…just maybe somewhere out there, another soul will connect with those tiny slivers of theirs and make magic.

Making magic isn’t a singular job, and in my life, it often takes a village. I don’t know how I’d ever make it through from one novel to the next without the help of my family, friends and support team.

Although there have been many fictional men in my life, there has only been one real life man, giving me enough memories in the last twenty-three years to make an endless supply of gallant, amazing book boyfriends. Chris, thank you for being my soul mate and best friend. You are the reason I’m able to write amazing love stories over and over.

My children manage to keep me balanced. When life gets crazy, a hug from an eight-year-old never gets old. Thank you to my two beautiful daughters for constantly amazing me with their love, strength, and kindness.

Obviously I wouldn’t be who I am today without a great set of parents. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for everything you gave us growing up. I hope we made you proud.

The world of publishing and writing requires a thick skin and a great group of friends. Luckily I have both. A huge thank you to Leslie Jingluski, Melissa Collins, Ami Deason, and Tanya Turner for having my back every step of the way. I love you ladies.

There are days when I can barely remember how to spell my own name. On days like these, I am incredibly thankful for an amazing support team. To my amazing editor Dana Hamilton at Grand Central, thank you for everything you do to make sure my books are amazing. Jill Marsal, thank you for being agent extraordinaire! You always have my back, and to Jill Sava, the world’s best personal assistant, I have no words. You are my rock. Tara and the rest of my InkSlingers family, thank you for everything you do to keep my publicity rolling so I don’t have to worry about it. Ever. It helps me sleep at night.

Lastly, I’d like to thank my readers. Thank you for giving this lifelong dream of writing wings to fly.

Forgetting August

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