Remembering Everly (Lost & Found #2) (3 page)

Hours dragged on as I went through pages of web searches until I finally stumbled upon something worth looking into.

“Magnolia,” I whispered softly. My eyes fell on a magazine article regarding her father and his multi-billion-dollar success story. A small picture had been included of his family, with the beautiful, leggy blonde I’d briefly dated a few months earlier when I’d convinced myself a life with Everly was hopeless and I’d be better off without her.

“Bingo,” I said to myself, knowing exactly what I had to do. I picked up my phone to make the phone call that I knew would push me even further into the dark side.

No going back now.

I
inwardly groaned as I read the letter a second time.

“Why so serious?” Ryan asked, doing his best Joker impersonation. It came off sounding more like he had a horrible cold, rather than anything remotely close to Heath Ledger’s iconic character, and I couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at the corner of my lip.

“We got a letter from your mom,” I answered, my head already falling in defeat.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, snatching up the personalized stationary from my fingers as he swooped past me on his way to the kitchen.

“This is a long list,” he commented, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl I desperately needed to replenish. Ryan was a fruit maniac, eating several bananas and apples a day. It was impossible to keep the bowl full.

“No kidding,” I replied, moving like a zombie toward the coffee pot at the sheer thought of it all. Me? I didn’t need much food as long as there was coffee around.

“Calligraphy? Is she mad?”

“She’s your mother, and that was just a
suggestion
,” I said, filling my cup as the long list of requirements came rushing back to me. Ryan was an only child. After several miscarriages, his parents had given up on the idea of children altogether and settled into the idea of living out the rest of their days as a family of two. At the ripe old age of thirty-nine, at an annual visit to her doctor, Ms. Sparrow found herself with child. The couple was delighted but it meant Ryan was blessed with parents from an era long since gone, where calligraphy was considered the norm and sending out electronic invitations for an event was definitely frowned upon.

Mr. Sparrow had passed away several years ago from a heart attack, and I’d only met Ryan’s mother once. After her husband died, she’d chosen to move to Pennsylvania with her sister, who was now her primary caregiver. Ryan, being the faithful, loving son that he is, had offered to move back into his child home and tend to her, but she’d known better. Even though I was currently frustrated with the woman for the outrageous list of wedding duties she’d sent, I was grateful she’d denied his offer. Had he moved in with his mother, I don’t think I would have ever found him visiting my coffee shop that day, patiently waiting for me to say yes to a date. Even though I’d only met her once, she struck me as a demanding little thing. He probably wouldn’t have had time for coffee, stalking, or dating.

And then we might never have ended up here.

“How the hell are we going to get all of this done in time?” he remarked, chomping on a granny smith as he held out his own cup for me to fill with coffee. I took it from him and began to give it the same treatment I’d done to mine—filling it to the brim and handing it back to him.

He looked down and frowned. “You didn’t leave any room for cream,” he said.

Now you’re a purist like me.

I realized my error almost immediately and took it back, taking a quick sip to make an inch or two for his cream and sugar. “I’m so sorry. I’m frazzled,” I replied quickly as I stepped over to the kitchen table and took a seat, looking down at the worn wood as my heart beat frantically.

“No problem,” he answered brightly, not seeming to notice my anxiety as I averted his gaze.

It wasn’t the first time I’d slipped up since seeing August last week. Ryan hadn’t said a thing. I didn’t know if that was on purpose or just general lack of knowledge.

He didn’t know how August took his coffee, or what side of the bed he preferred.

I’d told myself over and over, this was just guilt: deeply buried guilt making its way back up to the surface in waves. It had been so long since I’d allowed myself to think about that night—so long since I’d even allowed myself to acknowledge that I’d been the cause of it, that of course—
of course
—I would have an overwhelming amount of emotions boiling to the surface now that I’d opened up that part of me again.

But part of me knew it was just another secret I was keeping from myself.

Because deep down, I knew that there was one thing far worse than the guilt and the pain of knowing I’d caused so much pain to a man I’d once loved so completely.

It was knowing that August now knew the truth.

And hated me for it.

“Is this really your idea of fun on a Saturday afternoon?” I asked, looking around the upscale shopping mall in apprehension. It was a place I’d visited several times in my previous life with August. We’d dined at nearly every restaurant, shopped at almost every store, buying gifts and treasures that had long since lost their meaning and sentiment.

“My mother demanded we register somewhere,” Ryan shrugged, taking my arm as he pulled me in the direction of a high-end department store.

I begrudgingly passed through the double doors. The sharp smell of expensive perfume hit my nose immediately, taking me back to black tie galas and formal dinner parties. Ryan always asked why I never wore a single ounce of perfume. This was why. Standing in those rooms night after night, smelling them all converge as I waited for August to return to my side, only to stagger to a lonely corner in silence while he wined and dined every person in the room but me, had been like a punch in the gut.

Now here was a sensory reminder of the life I’d left behind.

And the man I could never be enough for.

“Look, they have china and crystal. Both, according to mommy dearest, are the cornerstones to a perfect marriage.”

“Right.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Barely.

His laughter filled the air. “Right? That’s all the response I’m going to get? Come on, Ev, I need a comeback better than that.”

We’d crossed through the men’s section into the world of kitchen needs and I was fondly eyeing a stainless mixer I’d secretly had my eye on for years.

“I’m holding my tongue. Your mother will soon be mine, and well—I’ve never had a mom, so who am I to judge what does and does not count as motherly wisdom? Maybe she’s right. Maybe expensive china and sparkly crystal will one day be important to our daily lives and we’ll look back and thank her for the batshit crazy list she threw at us at the last moment before our wedding.”

“Exactly,” he grinned.

I tried not to join him as I schooled my expression. “All I know is that it’s nice that you have a mother who cares so deeply for you. For us. And I don’t want to upset her. I don’t want to disappoint her. I’m sure I’ve already done a decent job of that, with everything before—”

“She knows nothing,” he assured me. “I told her it was my decision to call it off. All she knows is we had some issues we needed to work out, and we have.”

“Well, that’s very gallant of you, but you shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was me who walked away,” he reminded me.

“Only because I wasn’t brave enough to do so,” I added, feeling slightly odd talking about our breakup in the middle of the store, especially as we prepared to register for gifts for our wedding.

“We made it back to each other eventually.” His fingers brushed against my chin, tilted it upward as he lips gently touched mine.

“Yes,” I smiled. “We did.”

“And now, we need to find some wedding gifts.”

“Lead the way.”

“That was actually kind of fun,” Ryan said as we stepped out into the fresh California breeze. We’d just spent two long hours covering every inch of the store, scanning everything from the fancy Irish crystal Ryan’s mother had suggested to the stainless mixer I really wanted. I couldn’t imagine anyone attending our wedding actually buying such an extravagant gift, but I couldn’t help but add it anyway. There were so many things on that registry added for the sake of tradition, I couldn’t help but add in a touch of myself. Ryan had thankfully pulled me away before I embarrassed myself and started petting the polished steel and shiny blue exterior.

“You just liked using the scanners,” I commented as we went in search of sustenance. It had been a long two hours, and I was starving.

He grinned in agreement. “Yeah, those were awesome. They made me feel so powerful. They should really advertise that little tidbit as a perk. It would get the men more involved.”

“And then every bride-to-be could have three different grills on her list.”

“Hey—I just wanted to give our guests an option,” he challenged, holding up his free hand in surrender.

“We don’t have a balcony!” I giggled.

“We could. One day. And when we do, we’ll be prepared—with our three amazing grills. Did I mention one did charcoal and gas? At the same time?”

I rolled my eyes, the laughter warming my belly as we strolled down the crowded path.

“Where do you want to eat?” I asked, looking around at several options. It was a beautiful day, and there were a few places that offered outside dining. The smell from one of my favorite Italian bistros wafted over, luring me in that direction.

“I think you’ve already decided,” he replied. My feet were already moving toward the heavenly scents of garlic and freshly baked bread.

“I’m just looking,” I stated, taking a few paces closer so I could peek at the menu. It had been a while since I’d been here, and I wanted to make sure they still had one of my favorite items—eggplant parmesan.

A deep laugh halted me in my tracks.

My eyes darted to the left and there he was, tucked into a corner table with a gorgeous blonde. Even from this angle, I could see the designer labels I’d once become so familiar with adorning her from head to toe. She was everything I was not.

Everything he’d wanted me to be.

Manicured, primped to perfection without a hair out of place, she was every man’s fantasy. Sitting there together, they truly made the perfect couple. He’d cut his hair short again, matching the razor edge precision of his tailored suit. He screamed money and class, and with her by his side, it looked like the missing piece of the puzzle had finally been found.

It shouldn’t matter.

I shouldn’t care.

But God, I did.

Look away, Everly. Look away.

As if he heard the silent mantra screaming inside my head, his attention turned and his eyes widened slightly, his gaze colliding with mine.

Time froze. The world melted away and there was only him, me, and the swirling sea of emotions swimming between us. His jaw twitched as my heart leapt into high gear. And as quickly as he found me again, his eyes slid away as if I’d never existed.

Like I’d never meant anything.

His focus returned to his date and I was left shaking like a leaf.

Forgotten. Again.

“Did you decide?” Ryan asked, his hand sliding around my waist as I blew out a breath and looked up with a fake, strained smile.

“Yes. Yes, I’ve decided,” I answered, wrapping my arms around him tightly. “Let’s go home to eat. It’s too crowded here.”

We walked away arm in arm as I forced myself to never ever look behind me.

There was nothing waiting for me back there anyway.

S
o, why am I here, August?” Magnolia asked, leaning forward in her seat. I watched as she slid one silky smooth leg slowly over the other and rested her chin casually on her upturned palm.

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?” I answered, trying not to notice each and every detail that differentiated her from Everly. From the diamond tennis bracelet that adorned her dainty wrist to the platinum blonde extensions she’d added to her hair since we’d last seen each other, she was a vast contrast to the flip-flop wearing, tree-hugging girl I’d let walk away.

Not to say Magnolia didn’t come with her own set of charms.

Like a father worth billions.

“Maybe,” she answered. “But, considering our last encounter and the way you left me high and dry without a single word since, I’m finding that hard to believe.” There was no hurt feeling in her tone, but I could see it in the way she turned away, not wanting to meet my gaze. She was playing it cool, trying to appear confident and self-assured, but I knew better. I’d wounded this woman—maybe only a little, but it showed.

I was starting to realize I’d hurt a lot of people over the years.

“I needed time to get myself straightened out,” I lied, each word coming out easier than the last. When had it become so easy? “I realized I wasn’t the type of man you needed. Hell—I wasn’t any type of man at that point and before I took that crucial step with anyone, I needed to figure out who I was.”

More lies. More bullshit. When would it stop?

A small smile played across her painted red lips. “And did you?” she asked, looking appreciatively at my new, polished appearance. Magnolia might have approached the casual-looking amateur photographer that night in the bar, but this man sitting before her would always be her top preference. The power-hungry, dominant type who could sweep her off her feet and give her the world.

The guy with the camera, she’d dated for just a fun run and nothing to get too upset over. A bruised ego and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and she’d probably thrown me into the “What was I thinking?” category. Looking at me now, she saw something worth keeping.

Something worth fighting for, and that made me nervous.

Because there was nothing left of me to give. I was an empty, broken shell.

“Well, I’m interested in discovering the man you’ve become,” she said with a note of seduction in her voice.

I smiled darkly, hiding the pain in my voice and answered with a playful laugh. “I bet you are.” As her gaze met mine, a wisp of fiery red hair caught my attention and I turned.

Everly.

Her eyes crashed into mine, and she froze mid-step.

In fear? Disgust? Remorse?

God, she looked beautiful.

Look away, August, look away.

It caused me physical pain to turn away from her. To cast her aside as if she were nothing more than a momentary distraction, but I had to. To do anything else would ruin everything.

Run, Everly,
I silently pleaded.

As I saw her walk away in the arms of her fiancé—the man she would safely spend the rest of her life with, I knew I’d made the right decision. No good could come from me. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, and unfortunately, so was I.

“So, you’ll give me a second chance?” I asked, forcing a smile to my lips as I focused all my attention on Magnolia and the road again.

I had a goal and there was no looking backward.

Only forward.

I was in a foul mood when I entered the office the following Monday. The tie around my neck felt too tight, too restrictive…too everything. The expensive Italian leather shoes I wore felt heavy and uncomfortable. Every step I took brought me closer and closer to that small, confined space of a prison that reminded me of the person I had become.

Again
.

Recovering my memories was something I’d thought would never happen. The doctors at the hospital had warned me that with each day that passed since my reawakening, the likelihood of retrieving them became slimmer.

So what did I do with the rest of my life?

I moved on; that’s exactly what I’d done. But in the opposite direction. I’d become a different person altogether, and with Everly back in my life, I hadn’t missed the memories. I hadn’t needed them because I was making new ones with her.

A new start.

But now, as the memories tumbled back and my old life threatened to take over, I felt as if I was being torn in two very different directions.

The life I had once led was vastly different than the one I’d begun to make for myself. How did I navigate? How did I find a path when my memories showed me one person and I wanted another?

I didn’t.

As soon as Trent reentered my life, I’d lost the capability of choice and everything had come down to one driving force.

Keeping Everly safe.

I’d taken a turn…gone down a dark path with my lunch date intended to rekindle things with Magnolia.

Was that really the man I wanted to be? Using someone to save my own ass? I’d sat across from her for two hours, and it made me remember what had drawn me to her in the first place. Once you got past the obvious beauty and flawless package, she really was fun to be around. Because I knew she’d been raised around that much affluence, I would have thought she’d be more of a demanding brat than a sweet girl next door.

After we’d said our good-byes, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. Keeping Everly out of Trent’s reach was my main goal. No one else needed to suffer at my expense.

If there was anything I’d learned over the last few months, it was that Trent was a crazy, manipulating asshole and would do anything to get his way. He’d had entire an entire waitstaff fired last week because his steak wasn’t rare enough. He treated women like they were disposable—breaking them one at a time. He never used his real name and he kept the drama far from the office, but I’d caught on swiftly when our late night meetings got too boring for him and he’d order entertainment.

God only knows what he did when I wasn’t around, when he didn’t need to hold up appearances and pretend to have a sliver of humanity left in that lifeless body of his. He wanted my penitence for the last two years I’d left him hanging, and right now I believed he’d do anything to keep me on that hook he’d left dangling out in front of him.

Including getting rid of any and all distractions I may have in my life, which was why I decided to let go of them myself. Better for him to think Everly had left me of her own accord than to assume she still had feelings for me. It was safer this way.

Seeing her arms wrapped around Ryan, though? Knowing his arms, his hands, and his body would always be what she reached for in the middle of the night?

It was the worst kind of pain imaginable.

I staggered to my desk, keeping my head low and my emotions in check. The last thing I needed was Trent on my ass at this crazy hour. It was too damn early in the morning for that. I just wanted to drown myself in a cup of coffee and the stack of papers on my desk and not talk to a single soul.

“Good morning, Mr. Kincaid.” A friendly voice brought my attention forward. Next to the little desk outside my office stood my elderly secretary, Cheryl.

She looked more like a cheery librarian, ready to help you figure out the Dewey decimal system, than a woman working for one of the most successful financial firms in San Francisco. But then, I was beginning to wonder if that was Trent’s strategy all along—keep the supporting staff small and stupid.

My secretary had been with us since the beginning and was old enough to be my grandmother. Her gray, stringy hair and wool pant suits reminded me of old sitcoms, where the only place women worked were either in the home or at a desk much like the one she sat at.

Cheryl didn’t ask many questions and she kept to herself—qualities she probably carried forward from another generation. In this office it was, no doubt, a good skill to have.

“Good morning, Cheryl. Have a good week with the grandkids?” I asked, remembering today was the day she was returning from her week-long vacation. With Trent breathing down my neck, I’d barely noticed she had been gone. At least someone would be around now to field my calls again. If only she could keep Trent from darkening my door like a creepy stalker every fucking hour.

“I did.” She smiled sweetly, a hint of sadness touching the corners of her wrinkled eyes. “They grow so much when I’m not around. Makes my heart ache, but I understand. Jobs are important.”

I nodded in agreement. I’d gotten to re-know several things about my charming secretary over the last couple of months in the few conversations we’d had. When I’d first met her, my immediate thought was to wonder what the hell she was doing still working. She had to be pushing seventy-five and was still the first person to show up to work. While most people her age were long since retired, making quilts and traveling to Florida or Europe, she was still working forty plus hours a week along with the rest of us who were less than half her age.

I’d then learned, as she’d rambled on over a cup of coffee, that her only son Brogan had moved away several years earlier, due to a job transfer in the software industry. His move left her alone in a large family house she was unwilling to part with, with no one to look after her since her husband had passed away ten years prior. The work she did here, I think, gave her something to do—someone to care for.

I guess I was that someone for her.

This poor woman.

“I’m going to head in and work on some things,” I said, effectively ending our morning chatter as I took the last remaining steps toward the door that separated my little circle of hell from everywhere else.

“Okay, sure,” she answered, turning away in disappointment. I knew she was hoping to talk more—to catch up and tell me more about her vacation, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t have it in me today—to be happy for others when my life was the exact opposite. Not so closely after seeing Everly in the arms of another, knowing soon she would be his…forever.

I just needed time. Time to heal and process. Time to refocus my priorities and shove away the sight of her body wrapped around his. Time to remember what I was doing and why I was doing it.

But today, I just wanted to sulk and loathe the life fate had given me.

“Mr. Kincaid?” Cheryl’s timid voice stopped me from taking the last step into my office.

“Yes?” I turned around.

“Before you go, I forgot to mention…there was a message for you on the voicemail over the weekend. Someone named Roger from an art gallery downtown? He said he sold one of your—”

“Thank you,” I said, quickly cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. I didn’t need her to say anymore. God knows Trent had ears everywhere.

How Roger had managed to get my work number was beyond me. It was something I needed to change, and quickly. Having him call here was not wise.

Walking back to her desk, I gave her a confident smile as I snatched the pink message slip from her hands and swiftly walked into my office, shutting the door behind me. Leaning against it, I took a deep breath and felt my back slowly melt into the solid grain.

Looking over the message, I felt my eyes widen in surprise. I read it over and over in disbelief.

One of my photographs had sold.

Mine.

It was a day I’d been waiting for for months. I looked around the room, the excitement bubbling up inside of me like a newly opened bottle of champagne. My heart beat loudly in my chest.

Pulling out my phone, I touched the keypad and paused, the harsh reality stopping me cold.

I had no one to celebrate this with. There was no one in my life I could call and tell this news to. There would be no celebratory night out. No happy phone calls or excited shouts of congratulations.

Because I had no one, and I could blame it all on one single person.

Trent.

Ambling across the floor I slumped into my desk chair, the perky pink note tumbling from my fingers as it fell to the desk—a reminder of everything my life could have been if Trent had just left me the hell alone.

I could have had everything.

Everly, a new career, and my memories.

I stared down at that single piece of paper, the rage and anger building inside of me, and felt it:

The all-too-familiar feeling of my past resurfacing.

My eyes started to blur, and the world tilted on its axis. Suddenly I was falling.

The music boomed as the bass vibrated down to my very bones, shaking nearly everything that wasn’t nailed down in the small house. Haphazard streamers and pink flamingos littered the walls and floor, as half-naked girls danced around carrying red solo cups in their hands, while guys tried to decide which ones looked hottest in a bikini.

My first college party.

It was fucking awesome.

Having been raised by two scholarly bookworms, the idea of a Friday night out in high school had mostly consisted of making my way to a football game or two—assuming all of my homework for the following week had been completed. I’d never complained, though. I understood the value of an education, and all that hard work and dedication had paid off in the end, earning me a full ride scholarship to Stanford, but damn if I didn’t finally deserve a break.

“Hey man, aren’t you in my economics class?” I turned to my left to find a tall, familiar=looking guy walking up to me. He held out a red cup filled to the top with frothy golden
liquid and I took it with thanks, as he continued to shout over the popular music that roared through the sound system and people continued to dance around us.

“Did you make it through that last quiz? I’m pretty sure I left with my balls shoved firmly up my ass.”

Nearly choking on my beer, I laughed at his vivid analogy of our recent pop quiz. I had no idea what he was talking about. I’d walked out of there in record time, barely breaking a sweat, but I nodded, chuckling in agreement like I completely understood his pain.