Remembering Everly (Lost & Found #2)

by J. L. Berg

  What had I gotten myself into?

  “Calm down, August,” Brick’s voice came through as I struggled to find my way back. “Take a deep breath, control it, and when you’re ready, open your eyes.”

  My head was pounding as I fought for control. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead and my chest as I slowly relaxed and finally opened my eyes.

  “Was that okay? Did I do all right?” I asked as I wiped moisture from my brow. Brick, who was sitting on the coffee table directly in front on me, shrugged, handing me a cup of water.

  “I’d say it went pretty well, considering I’ve never done this type of thing before.”

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I tried not choke on the water he’d given me. “What? You used me as a guinea pig?”

  “Not completely—no. I guess I should have clarified. I’ve hypnotized hundreds of people, but for normal clinical things like weight loss, smoking, depression. I’ve never hypnotized someone to regain lost memories. It was unknown territory.”

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered.

  “But it worked,” he said with a smug grin.

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure the memory I had was worth it. I already knew I’d worked for Trent. I don’t know how much help that was,” I said, setting the glass aside as I shoved my hands through my hair.

  “Your subconscious brought up that memory for a reason, or at least we have to believe it did. Think, August. What about the memory stood out?”

  “I realized Trent was a slimeball,” I snorted, “but that’s old news.”

  “But it wasn’t then. So, what does that tell you?” Brick pushed, standing up to pace the room.

  The memory flashed quickly again through my mind. The toast, the internal thoughts I was having, Trent’s words.

  “I wasn’t working with Trent?” I guessed.

  “Good.” Brick nodded with enthusiasm. “I don’t think you always knew what Trent is so willing to tell you now. What if he brought you in blind? What if, like everyone else in that office, you were just brought in to do a job—another pawn on the chessboard?”

  “So are you saying I was an innocent bystander in all of this? Because I don’t think that’s how this story ends. I locked Everly up for a reason.”

  “There’s obviously more to it, but it’s a start.”

  “When can I go under again?” I asked, looking up at him with desperation and hunger.

  “Now you trust me again? Even though I turned you into a guinea pig?” he joked.

  “Cut the shit, Brick!” I roared, slamming my hand on the arm of the couch. “This is my life. I need it back.”

  He held up his hands defensively. “A few days, August. Your brain needs at least a few days to rest. Maybe a little longer. We’re in unchartered territory here. Doing hypnosis on you is probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. You should really see your doctor—”

  “Don’t,” I warned.

  “I hate the idea of you sabotaging your life. So this is what we’re left with.”

  “Thanks, Brick,” I said.

  He nodded. “I’ll be back. Don’t do anything stupid until then.”

  “No problem.”

  As I watched his car back out of the driveway, I silently wondered if he would consider my decision to confront Trent as stupid.

  Because that’s exactly what I planned on doing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Everly

  Dusk settled, lights flickered on and still I drove. No destination in mind, no interest in time.

  For months, he’d lied to me, avoided me and pushed me away.

  I’d almost married another man.

  Did he care for me at all?

  Sick of the swirling thoughts in my head, I found myself swerving to the side of the road. It was time I sought an outlet. She might never speak to me again for this breach of trust, but I needed to speak to someone and waiting until tomorrow wasn’t an option.

  Looking up the address in my phone, I merged back into traffic and headed to the east part of town. My eyes briefly darted to the clock, and I let out a quick breath of relief at the still-early hour. At least I wouldn’t be showing up out of the blue at her doorstep and waking her out of a deep sleep. Although I’d probably be interrupting a meal at the very least. I wondered what Tabitha was like in her private life. Did her house look like her office—with worn, comfortable furniture and cuddly pillows to worry over while you chatted?

  Pulling to the side of the road once I’d arrived, I looked around Tabitha’s quiet neighborhood, noticing the quintessential narrow houses San Francisco was known for. Several of them had been parceled up and sliced into apartments but it appeared the one Tabitha shared with her husband had remained intact. It was older, the blue stucco in desperate need of repair, but I could see Tabitha’s touch everywhere—from the beautiful flowered pathway to the whimsical wind chimes that danced in the evening breeze. It appeared the Tabitha I knew was the same wherever she was.

  Or so I thought.

  Taking the last few steps to her door, I took a deep breath and knocked. When the door opened I was greeted by the most unexpected person.

  Brick Abrams.

  Blinking once…twice, I looked around, first at the numbers on the door and then behind me, to reassure myself that the scenery hadn’t morphed into something different.

  Maybe I’d looked up the wrong address?

  But I didn’t have Brick’s address…

  “Tabitha!” Brick called from the front door. “I think you may need to come here, darling.”

  “‘Darling’?” I asked, my expression reflecting my extreme confusion.

  His warm smile faltered as he offered his hand. “Why don’t you come in and let us explain?”

  “‘Us’?” I muttered as he ushered me inside. Following him down a long hallway, I couldn’t help but notice the long line of photos that lined the corridor walls. Decades passed before my eyes as Tabitha and Brick’s life—together, it seemed revealed itself.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

  “It was never our intention to lie to you,” Tabitha said, as she entered the room, joining us in a small parlor. There were books stacked up on the coffee table and old newspapers forgotten underneath a half-eaten plate of cookies. Worn, lumpy couches, perfect for snuggling up on paired perfectly with antique bookshelves and scattered trinkets and treasures. The more I saw, the more I realized they really did live here.

  Together.

  “But you were both our clients and it put us in a situation we’d never been in,” Brick explained as he offered me a place to sit. I gladly took it, trying to digest everything I’d just seen and heard.

  “So, you two are married?”

  Sitting together on a sofa across from me, they looked at each other and smiled. It was a familiar smile, one that had obviously been developed over time. It was that type of smile couples and close friends have, where words are said but not spoken, and in that moment I could see it.

  Their love. The devotion it held.

  It all made sense.

  “Yes,” they responded in unison.

  “Did you always know? About August and me?” I asked.

  “No,” Tabitha explained, her expression warm and open as she held on to her husband’s hand. “It all came out by accident, really. I’ve had you as a client for quite some time and had never really mentioned you specifically to Brick.”

  She saw my look of alarm and jumped in to clarify. “Since we’re both counselors, we’ll sometimes converse with each other about specific clients—no names of course, but sometimes the extra voice helps. It’s no different than any other line of work. Sometimes you just need a second opinion.”

  “I would have thought my rather unusual case would have had you running home to tell Brick all about me,” I said, an uncomfortable laugh escaping my lips.

  Her head tilted to the side as she leaned forward. “Oh dear no. Don’t think that. You grew leaps and bounds i
n that first year and a half I saw you. It wasn’t until August awoke that I began to worry. You closed yourself off, began running from those that cared for you—that’s when I spoke to Brick. I needed advice.”

  I nodded, understanding it all now. “And that’s when you realized your clients were connected.”

  “Yes,” Brick confirmed. “It’s one of the reasons I stopped charging August and dropped him as an official client.”

  “But you never stopped caring for him,” I gave him a faint smile.

  “No,” he confirmed. “Someone has to take care of him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him then? He wasn’t your client anymore.”

  “No, but you were still mine,” Tabitha stated. “And honestly, there were so many moments I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know how. You’ve grown quite special to me over the years, Everly.”

  “And the same for you—for both of you. It’s still kind of awkward to be sitting here in your house, but at the same time, it feels right, you know?”

  They both laughed, “Yes, we know.”

  “So, how did a guy like you snatch himself a girl like Tabitha?” I asked, helping myself to one of the cookies off a plate on the coffee table.

  “Well, it’s pretty simple,” he answered. “She saved my life.”

  Cookie crumbs fell from my mouth as I tried to compose myself, looking back and forth from Tabitha to Brick.

  “She saved you?” I asked between leftover cookie bits.

  “In a manner of speaking,” she answered.

  “She saved me,” he answered with an air of finality. “She saved me from myself, which is exactly what you need to do with August.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Then let me explain,” he replied, reaching forward to steal the last cookie before I could. “Maybe August told you I was a spry young boy from the Midwest when I moved here, obsessed with the idea of surfing and not much else. I was naïve. So very naïve,” he said, shaking his head.

  “It’s amazing how quickly a young, naïve boy with little-to-no income can find himself with the wrong type of people. I’d come here for school, but after a week I dropped out. In less than a month, I was stealing cars, picking pockets and doing just about everything else you could think of just to make enough cash to feed myself. I’d come to California to surf, and not much else had gone through my mind—school had been nothing more than a means of getting here. I had no goals for employment, no idea where I’d live. When I got here, things weren’t nearly as rosy and hip as the movies I’d watched made them out to be.”

  “I can understand that mentality,” I replied. Memories of the Little Orphan Annie lifestyle I’d lived as a child rushed to the forefront of my mind.

  “But that’s the thing about hanging out with the wrong crowd; there are always worse things to do. And soon, I wasn’t just stealing to feed my belly, I was pocketing huge amounts of cash to feed my growing addiction.”

  “Oh, Brick,” I whispered as my face fell.

  “I did say I was naïve.” He shrugged. “I was living above a small restaurant in Santa Cruz with a few other surfers then, although we spent most of our time doing anything but surfing. I’d go downstairs and buy the same thing every day—”

  “A hot dog and a coke,” Tabitha said with a faraway smile. “I’d always tell you it was bad for you to eat the same thing every day.”

  “I said it built character,” Brick replied. “Somehow she saw through my bad habits and poor choices. Every day, little by little, she chipped away at my grimy exterior, finding the raw center of the boy I’d once been. I don’t know how but she saved me, showed me a life with purpose and meaning. I owe her everything.”

  “And I owe you everything in return,” Tabitha answered, grasping his chin as I watched the cherished love radiate between them.

  “How bad is it, Brick? How bad is he?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer but knowing I had no choice. I knew the truth now. There was no more running—that’s what the old Everly would have done: run away when things got intense and the air got heavy. But that wasn’t me anymore—or at least that wasn’t who I wanted to be.

  “I’m not going to lie, Everly—it’s bad. When I found him a few days ago, he’d nearly given up all hope. He thought he had Trent all figured out, but I think he’s slowly realizing he doesn’t know the half of it.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I confirmed, remembering the way that sleazeball had winked at me as he’d wrapped his arms around my best friend.

  “He’ll deny it until he’s blue in the face, but he needs you. I’m helping as much as I can with regaining his memories, but he needs yours as well. He’s fighting a battle he can’t win right now because he’s unprepared. He’s basically going in blind. Now that he knows Trent is going after you and Sarah, he might be irrational and in a rush to act.”

  “How so?” I asked, my panic rising with each word he spoke.

  “It’s August,” he said with hesitation. “He’s a swarming mess of emotions. Two different lives converging into one. But the one thing that remains constant is his love for you. He’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

  Memories of being locked behind my own bedroom door threatened to push into the forefront of my mind as I sat there pondering Brick’s words.

  What if he hadn’t been punishing me? What if he’d been protecting me in his own twisted way?

  Rising suddenly, I grabbed my purse and bolted for the door.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Brick asked as he and Tabitha followed me out.

  “No, just the opposite,” I answered and bit my bottom lip in worry.

  “Sweetheart, where are you headed in such a fright?” Tabitha asked as I briefly turned to bid them good night.

  “To find out what August has gotten himself into this time.”

  A broad smile swept across Brick’s face. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, but I think it’s him who’ll be needing luck by the time I’m done with him.”

  * * *

  “Oh my God, what did you do?” I gasped as soon as the door opened and I got a good look at his swollen face, bruised face.

  “You should see the other guy,” August responded, trying to smile, but failing miserably. Instead, he winced at the pain from moving his cut lip. The movement caused it to break open, bleeding bright red and angry.

  “Jesus,” I muttered, grabbing his hand as I pulled him inside with me. He followed with little resistance as I led him upstairs to the master bathroom, where the small first aid kit used to be stored.

  I pushed him down onto the covered toilet seat and checked out his face, turning it side to side to examine all the damage that had been inflicted.

  “Were you going to do anything about this?” I asked as I lifted his chin. There was blood on his collar. I tried not to groan as I came face to face with a black eye that was starting to turn purple and a large gash across his formerly gorgeous cheek.

  “Well, I was trying…but you interrupted me,” he said. I caught a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath as he tried to remain focused on me.

  He was drunk.

  He’d gone out, nearly gotten himself beaten to a pulp, and then come back and decided to finish himself off with booze? Brick had been right.

  August was in over his head—which was exactly why I was here.

  “Ouch! What the fuck?” he yelled as the sting of my slap across his face registered in his alcohol-infused brain.

  “Time to sober up, August. Get in the shower, wash off some of that blood. When you’re clean and a little more clearheaded, we’re going to bandage up what we can and then we’re going to talk. And by talk, I mean mostly me…and a lot,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I blocked the door. There was no escaping.

  “Since when have you become so bossy?” he asked as I watched his hands reach for the hem of his shirt.

  “Maybe I’ve always been this way and you just don’t remember,” I snapped,
my eyes following his every move. “Since you’ve forgotten so much.”

  “Not the important things,” he replied, his voice steady and clear as I watched his t-shirt fall to the floor. The sight of his naked chest had my heartbeat racing. I suddenly realized how confined we were in such a tight space.

  “I’ll just give you a few moments,” I said quickly, darting out of the bathroom before my heart galloped out of my throat.

  Had he always been so attractive? I nearly had to smack my own hands to keep from reaching out to pet him. Taking slow, small steps, I made it to the bed and sat, waiting for the shower to start. My eyes darted from the still open door to the dresser, back to the door and then down to the floor.

  Torture.

  This was torture.

  I’d come here to help August, not grope him.

  Chemistry—the physical connection between us—had never been an issue. It never would be. Every time I looked at him, I felt a spark spurring deep in my belly, telling me this was the man I was meant to be with. But chemistry wasn’t enough to keep the fires burning forever. There had to be more.

  Sarah had told me my life had become a soap opera, and she wasn’t far off in that regard. So much drama had been thrown at my doorstep in the last year, it felt like someone would surely yell “Cut!” and life would eventually return to normal.

  But sometimes in life, we don’t get to pick what’s normal and what’s not. We only get to choose how we define ourselves in the process. I would not become the heroine who ran back to her man just because the story was coming to an end. He needed me and I needed him, but there was still so much left for us to figure out.

  So for now I’d let the shower water run, and my heart gallop…knowing that hopefully someday I’d join him.

  But just not right now.

  * * *

  I’d talked myself off the ledge of temptation, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about every bead of water as it hit his rock hard body in that damn shower.

  How long did it take for a guy to shower anyway?

  Oh crap…