Remember Me: A Suspenseful Contemporary Romance (Where There's Love Book 1)

by Wolf, Bree

  Remember Me

  A Suspenseful Contemporary Romance

  (#1 Where There's Love Series)

  by Bree Wolf

  Remember Me

  by Bree Wolf

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image (top): Ales Utouka © 123RF.com

  Cover Image (bottom): subbotina © 123RF.com

  Copyright © 2016 Sabrina Wolf

  www.breewolf.com

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To Those who don’t Leave Our Side

  No Matter What

  About the Book

  Can we ever forget someone we love?

  She does not remember who he is.

  And yet, her heart recognizes him.

  By all means, Jenna leads an average, ordinary life.

  Working as a waitress, she shares an apartment with Abby, her best friend from college, dreams of being a columnist and spends many waking hours arguing with her brother.

  Until one day, when a stranger walks into the restaurant looking for her.

  Seemingly desperate to talk to her, he always disappears before Jena can find out who he is and what he wants. However, their paths cross again and again, and soon, Jena feels certain that she once knew the man who is desperately trying to remind her of something she seems to have forgotten.

  Their love.

  Table of Contents

  Book One

  Chapter One – A Bump on the Head

  Chapter Two – Deja-Vu

  Chapter Three – Opposites

  Chapter Four – The Guy

  Book Two

  Chapter Five – A Good Night's Sleep

  Chapter Six – Freaky

  Chapter Seven – Time-Traveler Extraordinaire

  Chapter Eight – Unreasonable Reason

  Chapter Nine – Into Thin Air

  Book Three

  Chapter Ten – Book-Learning

  Chapter Eleven – Family

  Chapter Twelve – Peaceful

  Book Four

  Chapter Thirteen – Again

  Chapter Fourteen – Belonging

  Chapter Fifteen – Should or Shouldn't?

  Book Five

  Chapter Sixteen – Remembering

  Chapter Seventeen – A Name with the Face

  Chapter Eighteen – Knowing

  Chapter Nineteen – Leap of Faith

  The Book Mark

  Chapter Twenty – Today & Tomorrow

  Epilogue

  About Bree

  Also By Bree

  Dear Reader,

  Read a Sneak-peek of 'The Wrong Brother'

  Prologue

  Chapter One − A Brother's Return

  Chapter Two − A Perfect Match

  Chapter Three − Vows Spoken

  Book One

  Chapter One – A Bump on the Head

  Okay, that hurt! I wasn’t really sure what had happened but it couldn’t have been good considering that my head felt like it had been repeatedly pounded with a meat mallet.

  “Jena!” The voice sounded hysterical and much too shrill to be considered pleasant. “Wake up!”

  Was I sleeping? Definitely not! Sleep usually felt a lot nicer. But apparently, I was in a horizontal position. The mattress, however, did not feel soft at all; what I felt against my cheek was hard and cold. Probably because I wasn’t lying on a mattress at all, but on the floor. How did I get here?

  “Maybe we should call 911?” the voice continued, sounding worried…and somewhat familiar. A little farther off, there was a lot of running about and more voices although I couldn’t really make out what they were saying.

  Carefully, I tried to open my eyes. No need to upset people even more. But that was easier said…or thought than done. Only after what seemed like minutes dragging on did I finally feel my eyelids flicker, then open.

  “Jena?” A face hovered over me, and it, too, looked familiar. “Are you all right?”

  Slowly, everything moved into focus. I saw soft, clear-cut features, brown eyes holding concern as well as the weirdest looking hairdo I had ever seen on a human being before, like a bird’s nest torn to bits by a badger. I frowned, but then suddenly from one second to the next, something clicked. Everything fell into place, and I found myself looking up at my best friend’s face.

  “Abby?” I tried to raise my head but the sudden pain made me lie back down. “What happened?”

  “I don’t really know,” she said as she took an ice pack from Don, the sous-chef, and placed it on my head. “You went to check on the order for table five, and then there was a big ruckus, and when I came to check, I found you stretched out on the floor.”

  Trying to look around without actually moving my head–which was a bit of a challenge–I noticed that I had apparently passed out in the small hallway connecting the restaurant to the kitchen and a number of storage rooms. Apart from a few broken dishes, everything looked normal. Except that it was much too crowded in here since obviously every employee of City Gardens had nothing better to do than stare at me.

  “Help me sit up,” I said and reached out my hand, casting uneasy glances at my audience.

  Being the intuitive one of us, Abby instantly caught what was bothering me. Helping me up with one hand, she waved the other dismissively at the crowd around us. “Move along! Nothing to see here!”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when the gathering finally broke up and everyone turned back to work.

  “So?” Abby asked, eyebrows raised.

  “So what?”

  “What happened?” she clarified, rolling her eyes the way she always did when I upset her by being vague. “You were out for a couple of minutes. Did you just bang your head or is this worse than your usual clumsiness?”

  I tried to remember, but there was nothing. Honestly, I didn’t even remember the order from table five, let alone how I ended up on the floor.

  Abby was eyeing me critically, like a scientist analyzing a contradicting sample. “You don’t remember,” she concluded. It wasn’t a question.

  I just shrugged. What was I supposed to say? Of course, she had me figured out. Abby had that incredibly annoying ability to read people. Even if you didn’t want her to know, she somehow always did. In the beginning of our friendship, that had really bothered me. However, as annoying as she could be, she was still my best friend. What was I supposed to do about that? Of course, that didn’t mean that we didn’t butt heads about this at almost every occasion.

  “Maybe you should see a doctor?” Abby suggested.

  “What? No! I’m fine,” I replied, trying to at least sound convincing, but of course, I couldn’t deceive her. Honestly, it would have been easier to deceive myself.

  “Fine. But you’ll take it easy.”

  For a second, I thought seeing a doctor would probably be a good idea. After all, Abby couldn’t possibly have said what I just heard her say. She had never just given in before. Ergo, a head trauma was the most logical explanation.

  I didn’t have time to think this through though because in the next instant she dragged me to the employees’ lounge, pushed me on the scratchy, twen
ty-year old couch and ordered me to “Sit!” Then she hastened out of the room, returning only seconds later with a glass of water in one hand and another ice pack in the other. “Do not get up!” Another order. Great! “I’ll be back to check on you.”

  And then she was gone.

  For a while, I just sat there. My mind still seemed to suffer the aftereffects of…whatever had happened, and it wasn’t up to its normal speed yet. So I put the ice pack to my head, cringing slightly at the cold, and sipped my water.

  After some time, the world finally stopped spinning and the throbbing pain in my forehead seemed to be on the retreat. Rising from the couch, I took a tentative step forward, and when that didn’t prove fatal and I actually remained in an upright position, I slowly walked back through the narrow hallway to the restaurant. However, as soon as I pushed open the door, I regretted my decision. The sudden noise suddenly assaulting my ears instantly convinced the throbbing pain in my head to take up its post once more.

  The room was packed. Not as packed as it would be on the weekends but still enough to keep the ten waiters busy as they constantly ran back and forth between the seating area and the kitchen, taking orders and bringing food while doing their best to look relaxed. Plus, with me out of the picture, they were down to nine. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it.

  One hand on the wall for support, I inched forward, catching Sam’s eye for a second when he hurried by on his way to the kitchen, both hands covered with numerous plates. The look on his face told me that I looked worse than I felt.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Abby’s English accent grew thicker when she was angry.

  Busted! I slowly turned around but couldn’t keep from swaying, which instantly changed the look on Abby’s face from mad to worried. She grabbed my arm and pushed me onto the nearest chair, which happened to be a barstool. With no backrest, I had to hold on to the counter in front of me to keep from falling off.

  Reaching for the phone under the bar, she informed me, “You’re going home.”

  “I’m fine,” I tried to protest, but she ignored me completely.

  Dialing, Abby cast me a disapproving look, the kind you get from your parents when they find you, age five, sitting on the floor, covered in crumbs after having munched all the cookies from the cookie jar, denying that you had anything to do with their disappearance despite the evidence at hand.

  Receiver clutched between head and shoulder, Abby continued to prepare drinks, wash glasses and bark orders while calling me a cab at the same time. She was a true multi-tasker.

  Ten minutes later, the cab showed up and I was shoved inside. The driver got an earful from Abby about not driving too recklessly–for if there was anything Abby was scared of, it was cars. Beat me why, but she only got into one if she really had to and, of course, never even thought about getting her own license.

  Another ten minutes later, I found myself climbing the stairs to our apartment. Yeah, we didn’t only work together, we were also roomies. There was no getting away from her. Ever since we’d met in freshmen year about five years ago, we were thick as thieves. Life didn’t seem to care about how different we were; it obviously intended to make us walk through it side by side.

  With my hands still a little shaky, it took me a while to fit the key in the lock and open the door. Once inside, I didn’t really bother taking off my jacket and shoes. I walked past the kitchen, through the living room, squinting at the bright light shining in through the windows, and into my bedroom. The only thing I could bring myself to do before collapsing on the bed was to close the drapes.

  As soon as darkness spread over me like a blanket, my eyes started to close. I vaguely remembered that sleeping was not a good idea when having a concussion. I felt so exhausted though, I couldn’t have cared less.

  I slept like a stone for what seemed like hours in the same position I’d initially landed on the bed. However, something made me feel restless. I had weird dreams, though I didn’t remember much of them once I woke up. There was a strange beeping sound I knew I’d heard before but couldn’t place. And a voice. A voice that sounded familiar. But I had no idea what it was saying or who it belonged to.

  When I finally woke up, it was because the bed was shaking.

  Startled, I jumped up.

  “Wow, you’re really out of it!” Abby commented, seeing my wild-eyed expression.

  “What…?” I croaked, realizing that it hadn’t been the bed, which had been shaking. It had been me or rather Abby, trying to wake me. “I guess you’re right.”

  “You’re agreeing with me? Something must be very wrong!” Shaking her head at me, she arranged the pillows on my bed and made me sit back, handing me a plastic container, which smelled suspiciously of chicken soup.

  “What’s this?” I asked, taking off the lid. “Chicken soup? You’re bringing me chicken soup? I don’t have a cold.”

  “So?” Abby looked at me like I’d finally gone mad.

  “So? Chicken soup is for people fighting a cold. I don’t have a cold. I’m not even really sick. I just…hit my head or something.” Okay, granted my argumentation was a little flawed, but I really hated being sick, or rather, being treated like I was.

  “Okay, seriously that’s splitting hairs. Honestly, you really look sick, ergo, you are. I’d give you a mirror if I wasn’t afraid you’d faint on me again when seeing how ghastly you look.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I snapped, starting to eat my soup. “And I didn’t faint.”

  “Fine. You passed out. Big diff!” She sounded really displeased with my inability to accept her version of the truth.

  Clearing off my nightstand and placing a glass of water and another filled with orange juice on it–like fluids were the solution to everything–she sat down beside me and began flipping through Little Women, one of my all-time favorites.

  We sat like this for a while, me eating my soup and her pretending to read and pouting. When I couldn’t bear the silence any longer, I finally hoisted the flag of truce. “Soup tastes good.”

  “Glad you like it.” She put down the book immediately and turned to me, grinning from ear to ear. “I got something to tell you.” You could say a lot of things about Abby, but she didn’t bear grudges long.

  “What’s up? Anyone else faint today?”

  “I thought you didn’t faint,” she said, eyes lighting up with challenge.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do, and no, no one did.” She sat up, seemingly eager to tell her story but equally determined to draw it out and make me ask to hear it.

  “So, what happened?” It was like a starting signal.

  “A guy asked about you.” And she stopped.

  “A guy? What guy?”

  “Tall, quite handsome if you ask me,” which didn’t really mean anything because as different as we were as different was our taste in men, “blue jeans, black button-up shirt and blazer, brown hair…”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell. Did he look familiar to you?”

  “No, not at all,” she said. “I’m actually quite certain I’ve never seen him before. Him, I definitely would have remembered.” A frown appeared on her face. “Though he seemed kind of…”

  “Kind of what?”

  “I don’t know. He seemed almost desperate to find you. However, when I told him you weren’t there, he turned around and left. Didn’t even ask for your number.”

  “Huh-uh.” I couldn’t imagine who that might have been. “He didn’t say who he was?”

  “No. I meant to ask but he was already out the door. Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled.

  “Maybe he’ll come back,” Abby suggested, sounding hopeful. She rarely let an opportunity for match-making pass her by.

  “Well, if he does, I’ll at least be able to tell you if I know him.”

  Her face took on a concerned expression. “You really feel up to going into work tomorrow?”

  “I t
hink so. I mean nothing really happened,” she rolled her eyes again, “and I feel practically fine right now.” Okay, I felt a little nauseous but that was probably the soup, right?

  “All right, but then you should really catch some sleep now,” she said, rising from the bed.

  Glancing at my alarm clock, I realized I’d already caught quite a lot of sleep. About ten hours, which would explain why it was dark outside. I still felt tired though.

  Abby grabbed the empty soup carton and left the room, reminding me to go to sleep. For once thinking that she might be right, I quickly–or at least as quickly as possible, since the world was still a little unstable around me–changed into my pajamas and went to bed.

  Seeing Little Women on my nightstand made me think of my mother, who had been a literature professor before she’d died in a car accident about twenty years ago. From her, I had inherited my passion for books. In fact, many of the books on my shelves used to be hers.

  Flipping through it, I felt myself relax. My eyelids started to close again, however, before they gave up work altogether, my eyes were drawn to a metallic book clip I had never seen before. It shone in clear silver, pure and simple, with an engraving that looked just as unfamiliar as the clip itself. It read Today & Tomorrow.

  My mind was still wondering where it had come from when I felt myself drifting off to sleep. Somewhere in the deep, I heard a voice calling to me.

  Chapter Two – Deja-Vu

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” The look on Abby’s face clearly stated that she thought it wasn’t.

  “I’m fine,” I said probably for the millionth time that day.

  Abby just snorted in disbelief and returned to table eight, taking their order. Every now and then, I noticed her looking up, though, making sure I was still standing and not back on the floor. The way she was concerned about me was really sweet, but it also drove me insane. I felt like a piece of glass that would break if you looked at it the wrong way.