More Than Memories: A Second Chance Standalone Romance

by N. E. Henderson

  So that’s what he was looking for—recognition. He obviously didn’t get it. Neither did I, brother. It’s the same thing I keep hoping for. Every day this week I’ve woken up begging for her to have remembered . . . something. Anything.

  “No. Sorry.” She shrugs, but her eyes are sad, telling me she wants to remember. At least that’s something, I guess.

  Chance keeps looking down at her.

  “I’m fucking tired of losing friends,” he says. He’s not angry, just defeated. “Find your fuckin’ memory, would ya?” He turns, steps to the recliner positioned between the couch and the loveseat and drops into it.

  Whitney looks at me briefly before excusing herself to put the girls to bed in my spare bedroom.

  If I lose her again, it’ll destroy me this time around.

  I scrub my palm down my face, trying to rid those thoughts from my head. Luckily, I’m saved by a knock on the door.

  I don’t think it can’t be Kylie yet, though.

  When I open the door, Roxanne says, “Hi,” making me inwardly cringe. This isn’t what I need right now.

  “Whatcha need?” I ask, getting it over with.

  “You want me to sit this on your patio?”

  I maneuver myself and the large pot I’m carrying for Roxanne inside her apartment door without denting the doorframe or chipping the clay.

  “Ugh.” She shakes her head as I enter. “I haven’t decided if I want it out there or inside here somewhere,” she says, pointing to the sliding glass door that leads out to the small patio. “I guess you can just sit it in the corner, over there.” She points to the wall her TV is on. Our apartments are mostly identical, except hers is a one bedroom whereas mine has two.

  “Here, right?” I ask before sitting it down on the carpet.

  “Yep.”

  Squatting, I gently place it down. It’s not that heavy, but I don’t want it to slip out of my hands.

  I’ve been over here longer than I originally thought I would when she asked me to help her. Kylie should be here soon, so I need to hurry up. I don’t want to leave Whitney alone with Eve too long. There’s no telling what she’ll start to do in an attempt to help Whitney remember herself and the rest of us.

  She sent me a text when she landed in Atlanta not to worry about picking her up from the airport, saying she’d grab a cab. And knowing Kylie, there was no point in telling her differently, even though it wouldn’t have been a bother to pick her up.

  “If that’s all I’m going to head back across the hall.” Three beers in me, and I’m already itching for something strong, even though I have no business wanting it. I have a full shift tomorrow, plus things I need to make sure get scheduled before my three days off. I’ve already let too much pile up. I’ll be lucky to make it home tomorrow night before Everly goes to bed.

  “Actually . . .” She grabs my arm, halting me before I’m all the way out the door. I pause, one foot inside her apartment and the other out in the hallway. “Can’t you stay for a few minutes? Have a beer maybe?”

  Ah hell.

  “I—”

  “Shane, if you don’t get inside here right now, I will personally bite your junk off.” I turn my head to see Eve leaning against my opened apartment door with her arms crossed. She smiles, giving me one of her, don’t fuck with me smiles, yet her eyes are daring me.

  A moment later, she cuts her eyes to Roxanne. “Hi.” Eve’s smile widens. “Yeah . . . he’s not emotionally available right now—or ever.” A chuckle breaks through her lips as Eve stalks toward me. “Bye-bye,” she says to Roxanne as she grasps onto the material of the scrub top I’m still wearing, pulling me across the hall and into my apartment.

  “I’m sorry,” I mouth in Roxanne’s direction, letting Eve control my movements. But I’m grateful she came out here, saving me from being rude. I knew even before I stepped out she was just asking for my help to get near me. “Night,” I say closing the door.

  “Did you just fucking pinch my ass?” Eve whips around, facing me.

  “I’m going to pinch more than that if you don’t reel yourself in.” I grab her arm gently, pulling her into my chest with one hand, and picking her up, underneath her legs with my other.

  “What the hell, Shane?” I walk toward Chance with Eve cradled in my arms. I catch Whitney’s eyes on mine as I near. They’re wide with shock at first, then she pulls a deep breath of air into her mouth as her eyes change, darkening. She doesn’t like me carrying Eve.

  Well, would you look at that. She’s jealous, and I bet she doesn’t even realize it.

  “You know, if I’d known you were into kinky shit, I’d have gone after you back in the day instead of letting Whit have you.” She wraps her arms around my neck, but she slips away when I dump her into Chance’s lap. He’s still sitting in the lone chair between my couch and loveseat.

  “Handle her, would ya?”

  “She isn’t tamable,” he mumbles as his palm starts glides up her bare legs until he reaches the top of her thighs—where he pulls her closer into his body. “Chill your ass out.” Then he smacks her inked skin just below the bottom of her butt cheek. The way she’s sitting, her shorts have rode high up her legs, gaining his attention.

  I’d laugh, but I don’t find it as funny as I used to. Chance uses any opportunity to touch his best friend intimately, but won’t tell her how he really feels about her. And Eve? She’s clueless. That, or she’s as stupid as he is about admitting there’s something more between them than a friendship.

  He’d shit a brick if she even thought about letting someone else tattoo her. She’s his personal canvas. The man signs his initials onto her skin next to every single one like a painter would. And she lets him tattoo whatever he wants on her. It’s a bit weird, but that’s them. Does she even realize who the mermaid tattoo represents? Better yet, does she realize who the merman inked on her right side really is? How could she not? It looks just like the fucker.

  I hope they figure their shit out one of these days, but I can’t worry about my friends when I don’t have life mastered myself.

  The door opens, causing all of us to stop speaking as Kylie bursts through. I stand up, placing my beer down on the end table as she drops her purse down on the floor next to the door before meeting me halfway.

  Without words, she wraps her arms around my middle, squeezing so tight I wonder if she’s purposely trying to cause me pain. She’s not. I’ve been numb to physical pain so long I don’t know if the feeling will ever return.

  “Bitch, you can’t knock?” Eve chimes. “You two don’t live together anymore. It’s rude to bust up into someone’s apartment, you know.”

  “Kiss off,” Kylie mumbles through the material of my shirt that her face is smashed into. “Stop being mad at me. I can’t take it, Shane.”

  “Not this right now.”

  “Yes this,” she demands. “We deal with this first. I’m not moving, so you need to get that through your thick skull and get over it already. I miss my bestie.” Wetness leaks through my shirt and I’m not sure if she’s upset at me or overwhelmed that Whitney is really here. They were as thick as thieves, the same as Trent and I.

  I look down at her, squeezing Kylie tighter. Even though I’m not happy with her, I have missed her. We lived together for a long time. And since Trent left us, we’ve become closer.

  Her eyes are open, glistening with tears, but it’s Whitney she’s looking at. And Whitney is looking at me. When our eyes lock, my skin burns as if I’ve done something wrong. Instincts tell me she’s not enjoying watching me hold Kylie in my arms just like she didn’t like me carrying Eve moments ago.

  My heart flutters with emotions, but I press them back like I’ve been doing for days. I don’t know if I have the strength to keep doing it much longer. The thread that’s holding me back continues getting thinner and thinner every single time she looks at me that way.

  When I go to step back, releasing Kylie, she takes a step with me, not letting go.


  “I mean it, Shane. Tell me you aren’t angry anymore and that you aren’t going to ignore any of my calls ever again.”

  “Ky,” I warn.

  “Goddammit,” she hisses. I see Whitney’s eyes flare. “You will stop this shit.” She releases me, then steps back.

  “PMSing much?” Eve comments, earning her a glare from Kylie.

  Kylie turns her heating dark brown eyes back on me, reminding me of her mother. Mrs. Morgan is a tremendous force in a tiny body. You do not want to get on her bad side.

  “I said not now. We’ll deal with our shit later.” I walk around with the intention of grabbing my beer as I contemplate something strong.

  “Trent wouldn’t be happy with you right now.”

  I turn around so fast I almost knock her down. Grabbing onto her wrist and pulling her into me is the only reason she doesn’t fall on her ass.

  “Don’t you dare bring him into this. You think he’d be okay with you living there when someone was killed next door? Huh?” I ask but don’t wait for an answer. She had to know this would be my reaction before she opened her mouth. “What if the person that killed that girl comes back to kill you?”

  “That’s highly unlikely.”

  “And you know this how?” I roar.

  “Enough,” Chance calls out. “Both of you stop. Neither one of you are accomplishing anything. Let it go, Ky.”

  “Why are y’all even here?” she barks out instead of addressing what he’s told us. “Y’all weren’t supposed to come until tomorrow.” She sounds like a whining brat.

  “Yeah, well, we changed our plans,” Eve tells her. “Get over it. He doesn’t belong to you, you know.” She points at me.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Kylie gets defensive, real quick at Eve’s comment.

  “You think Shane belongs to you now. Instead of dealing with your Fiancé’s—” I cut her off. The last thing that needs to be brought up at this moment is Kylie’s lack of dealing with her emotions since Trent was killed.

  “Knock it off, Eve. We aren’t going there. Chance is right. We all need to stop and chill. And you,” I force Kylie to look at me by pulling her chin up so she’s facing me. “You need to say hello to Whit.”

  Kylie steps back, nodding as she does, and then slowly her eyes trail until they land on Whitney.

  “You look . . . too clean. Even I look dirtier than you. And that’s saying something.”

  “Look, pom-poms . . .” Both Kylie and Eve gasps, taking in a quick breath of air, making Whitney stop speaking. Kylie’s mouth drops about the same time I glower in Whitney’s direction. “What?”

  Kylie’s lips tip, just before she rushes away from me, bouncing in Whitney’s direction. Within seconds, she’s kneeling and has Whitney wrapped in a tight hug.

  “Bitch, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Someone want to explain, please?”

  It’s me that sighs out a long breath before I tell her. “You called her pom-poms. It’s what you always called her. Especially if you were irritated at something she said or did, or if you just wanted to get under her skin. That was your ‘go-to word’ for her.” I rack my fingers through my hair. “You remembered something.” Just not something about me.

  I shouldn’t be upset. Logically I know this, but when is she going to remember anything about me—us? What if she never does? It’s the question that keeps pounding inside my head.

  “Shane,” Kylie calls out. “Whit remembering anything is a good thing.” She gives me her best fake smile, knowing exactly why it is I’m frowning.

  Instead of replying, I turn, escaping into the kitchen.

  I don’t want to be hurt. It’s stupid, and I know it. But I am. Logic goes right out the window when it comes to her.

  I pull the Bourbon down from the cabinet over the stove, needing something stronger than beer in my gut.

  “Love,” I call out as I take a small glass out, placing it next to the whiskey.

  “How’d you know it was me?” I fill two fingers of liquid into my glass.

  “Your skin ever heat when I walk in a room you’re in?” I’ve always been able to feel her presence. The earliest I remember it happening was first grade. I hated it too. Back then I didn’t understand why it would happen. I knew she was the cause, but I didn’t know how to make it stop. It was embarrassing. I’d stop anything I was doing to stare at her. My friends eventually caught me and teased me for it. So in turn, I teased her as often as I could.

  “No.” My stomach plummets. “I get lightheaded, though. And my belly feels like it’s full of butterflies.”

  Her admission makes a smile ghost my lips.

  “Hey,” Kylie’s voice soothes as she walks up behind us. “Let me talk to him, okay?”

  “We’re good. Thanks.”

  Whitney’s curt with her, but Kylie places her hand between my shoulder and neck, squeezing anyway. I know she means well, but what she’s doing is going to piss Whiney off. In her defense, she and I have had to lean on each other for comfort and support these past months. Not in a sexual way, but we have a deep friendship.

  “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind.”

  “I got this.” Whitney’s firm, border-lining on rudeness, but it makes me feel a little better that she isn’t backing down. She’s inside herself . . . somewhere. I can’t imagine Blake Lane would have allowed her to be bold, assertive, or strong like this.

  “Okay, jeez.” Kylie retracts her hand. “I’m just trying to help. I’m not the enemy, Whitney.”

  The sound of her shoes stomping on the floor tells me she stormed out.

  “Bet she’s regretting coming in here now.” I turn, resting my hip against the counter. “You said she lives in Florida, right?”

  “Orlando,” I confirm. “But she’s fine. Don’t sweat it. That was no big deal.”

  I grip the glass, about to lift it when Whitney places her hand on my wrist, halting me.

  “Do you really need that?” She tilts her head toward the amber liquid. “It’s already late, and you’ve got a long day tomorrow. You’ll only feel like shit if you drink that.”

  I look down at the glass, realizing the heaviness of my chest isn’t unbearable anymore. The pressure is still there, but it’s nothing I haven’t lived with for years.

  I take my fingers off the glass.

  “No, I don’t need it.” My head shakes as Whitney’s hand slips off me. “Do you love him?” The question falls from my lips, and I instantly regret it. It’s not something I want to know. But yet, I need to know.

  “Who, Blake?”

  I nod, but she doesn’t respond.

  “You can tell me, you know.”

  “No, it’s just . . .” She trails off, not finishing.

  “Just what?” I ask.

  “I’ve never thought about it. Not . . . really.” Her eyebrows crease together.

  “You’re married to a man, and you’ve never thought about whether you love him or not?”

  Her eyes cut to mine, annoyance present in them. “You put it that way, and it sounds bad.” She releases a puff of air. “Blake is an asshole. I stayed because I thought he was the father of my child. But loving him—it’s never crossed my mind. I’ve never felt it, so I guess to answer your question, I don’t.”

  “But you had another child.” God, I’m a dick. I had to go there.

  “Emersyn was an accident.” Her eyes go wide. “Shit, that sounds worse. I meant she wasn’t planned. Failed birth control.”

  I raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything. Maybe she doesn’t take them as regularly as she should. Then again, it’s not unheard of for the pill to fail with some women.

  “You’re right. It is late.” I look at the clock on the microwave, confirming it’s almost midnight. “Let’s go kick the others out and get some sleep. You look tired.”

  “I am, and maybe a little overwhelmed. They are . . .”

  “A lot,” I finish.

  “Yeah, they’re a lot. All
three of them seem like great people, though.”

  “They are. Come on.” She follows me out of the kitchen. When we enter the living room, Kylie is walking toward us from the hallway. “Where’d Chance and Eve go?”

  “Left,” Kylie tells us as she squeezes the water out of her hair with a towel. I didn’t realize Whitney and I were talking long enough for my friends to leave, or for Kylie to have time to shower. She has another towel wrapped around her body. “They’re staying at the Marriott two blocks over.”

  “Good,” I nod. “I’m beat and ready to crash out.”

  “So am I,” she stresses, tossing the wet towel she was using on her hair onto my carpeted floor. I raise an eyebrow at her then the towel, before glaring at her. “Oh my God! Really?”

  “Since when did you become a slob?”

  “Since I’ve been awake since three this morning, lost a patient today too, and then had my luggage misplaced by the airport. I’m ready for this day to be over.” She bends down, grabbing the towel. “I’m sleeping with you, right?”

  “What?” Whitney comes from behind me, looking between us both.

  “Nah. Whitney’s going to sleep with the girls while you’re here, so you get my bed all to yourself. I’m fine on the couch.”

  “Shane, that’s stupid. We’ve slept in the same bed doooozens of times.” I cringe at her choice of words, peeking at Whitney out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, her mouth drops and her eyes fall on me in an accusatory manner.

  Obviously, I have nothing to feel guilty about. Kylie will always be my best friend’s girl. And sure, Kylie’s beautiful; I’m not blind. I’ve just never had any feelings for her other than friendship. I see her no differently than I see Chance, Eve, or how I saw Trent.

  “I’m fine on the couch, Kylie.” I hope she lets it go.

  “Whatever, I’m not arguing with you. I am, however, raiding your closet.”

  “Have at it.” I laugh.

  “I have clothes.” We both look at Whitney. “What?” She looks are me. “We’re about the same size. I’m sure I have something that’ll fit her. You said we were best friends, right?”