Forgetting August (Lost & Found #1)

by J. L. Berg

  “So simple,” I said, shaking my head and chuckling.

  “It’s okay,” she said with a warm smile.

  I glanced up to see Sarah watching our entire exchange. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of us, analyzing and dissecting our every move and interaction. She’s waiting for me to slip up—to do something she could call me out on. What? I didn’t know exactly, but I guessed she hadn’t come here with an open mind. Not that I’d expected any less of someone who loved Everly so fiercely.

  No. I actually respected her more because of it.

  But it didn’t make my job any easier.

  “So, have you spoken to Ryan lately?” she asked, her gaze briefly assessing my reaction before she turned to Everly.

  “What? No. Why would you ask that?” she said quickly, glancing up at me apologetically. I gave her a warm smile as she passed me a glass of red wine. I handed it over to Sarah as a gesture of good will, but she just set it on the counter as she plotted her next move.

  “Well, it’s just—he was such a big part of your life. I figured you’d at least care how he was doing after all of this.”

  The corkscrew clattered to the counter as Everly slammed her hands down in frustration. “Listen, I understand you’re mad. Things between us haven’t been the best. But I didn’t invite you here so you could instigate more fights, Sarah. I understand Ryan is probably hurting. Does that upset me? Yes. But let’s not forget who started this whole thing. It’s not like I left him high and dry.”

  “But you did leave him,” she bit back, her voice rising to match Everly’s. The anger in the room was palpable and I suddenly felt caught between them without any idea what to do. I’d heard breaking up a cat fight was a bad idea. I was pretty sure the same logic applied to women.

  “I did exactly what he told me to do, Sarah!” Everly yelled. “I gave August a chance, and damn if he wasn’t right. I know that hurts, and I know it messes up your precious wedding plans, but can you be a fucking best friend and be happy for me?”

  “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” she said softly.

  “That’s not your job! Can’t you just be there for me?”

  “Yes,” she answered, tears leaking down her chiseled pink cheeks.

  This was girl drama overload and I was in way over my head. They ran into each other’s arms, hugging and crying like weepy teenagers as I huddled in the corner with the bottles of wine, wondering when it would all be over.

  “I made you food—a lot of food,” Everly said between sniffles. Sarah looked around, her puffy eyes wide with surprise. She’d been so focused on her mission of destroying the evening she hadn’t noticed the piles of food stacked everywhere.

  “For my entire lifetime?” she asked with a laugh, as she grabbed a napkin and began blotting her eyes in that dainty way women do. Everly did the same, but much more quickly, and then started lifting tin foil off the trays and pulling out plates.

  “I was going to put everything on the dining table, but now I’m worried it will all be cold by then. So why don’t we just dish up in here and eat in the living room?” she suggested.

  “Sounds great,” I agreed, pouring myself a glass of white wine as Everly handed Sarah the first plate and instructed her to dig in. As I looked over everything Everly had made, I realized what a talent she had. I’d known that first night, when I watched her turn the few scraps of food in my kitchen into a five-star meal, that she had potential, but gazing out over the counter now, I saw what an amazing gift she had.

  “Have you ever thought about cooking professionally?” I asked as I took a plate from the counter and began dishing up chicken tetrazzini, homemade lasagna, and garlic knots.

  “Sometimes, but I have the coffee house,” she shrugged.

  “You’ll never get her to leave that coffee house,” Sarah said. “She loves it there.”

  “Well, as long as she’s doing something she enjoys.” Her eyes met mine and she smiled warmly.

  “But don’t you think she should be doing more?” Sarah asked as we took our plates out to the living room. Her inquisitive gaze followed me as I sat on the floor in front of the coffee table next to Everly.

  “She’s trying to bait you, August.”

  “Everly and I may have made amends, but that doesn’t mean I’m sold on you yet,” Sarah admitted.

  I shrugged, unfazed. “I get that. And honestly, it’s not really up to me what Everly does with her life. If the coffee house makes her happy—then she should do that until it doesn’t. I’m not that guy anymore. Hell, I’m not even employed. I have no right to tell anyone what to do with their life, when I’m not doing shit with my own. I won’t bully her—now or ever.”

  She didn’t respond, but her silence gave me a sliver of hope.

  Sarah and Everly spent dinner playing catch up. I listened as they spoke about their jobs, lives, and Tabitha. Sarah loved her life in the spotlight, but it was exhausting.

  “You don’t even want to see my feet,” she said in regard to the brutal schedule she was forced to keep.

  “I never want to see your feet,” Everly commented with a grin. “They’re nasty.”

  “Well, it’s a miracle I can walk some days.”

  “Don’t you have an understudy?” I asked. Both women looked at me like I’d said a bad word.

  “What?”

  “Sarah hates her understudy—with a passion, and has sworn she’ll never take the stage in her place.”

  “Is there a reason? Or is it beyond my realm of understanding as a dude?” I asked, pulling apart a garlic knot to gather up some of the incredible marinara sauce from the lasagna.

  “Yes, but it’s complicated. It’s an old rivalry. Just dance drama.” She shrugged as she pushed around a bit of leftover pasta on her plate.

  “Even I don’t understand it,” Everly chimed in.

  “But you support the hatred, because—”

  “That’s what best friends do,” they said in union.

  “Got it.” I held my hands up in surrender.

  “Whatever happened to the mystery man you were dating?” Everly asked as she began to gather plates from our feast.

  “He’s around,” Sarah answered vaguely, a smug smile pulling at her lips.

  “Why are you being so secretive?”

  “I just don’t want to screw it up,” she confessed. Her fingers played at the rim of her empty wine glass. “He’s kind of perfect and I’ve never felt like this.”

  “And you think by telling me, that it will end?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I just like having him to myself. When we start involving friends and”—she made a gagging sound, before continuing—“family, I want to know this is real. And good.”

  “Take it from me, Sarah. It will never be real until you stop hiding.”

  She looked up at us, taking a big breath, but just shook her head.

  “It’s different. I can’t explain how—it just is.”

  “Okay, well—I’ll be here for you—whenever you’re ready to show this man off. He is real, right? I mean, it is a real live person?” Everly joked, and laughter followed. Sarah stuck out her tongue, which only made the laughter boom louder.

  “Very funny,” Sarah said. “Yes, he’s real. Wait. Blow-up dolls count, right?” she giggled.

  I collected the plates for everyone and headed for the kitchen. The sound of their happy reunion followed me and I felt overwhelming joy for Everly.

  It was good to see her relaxed and carefree with her best friend. I never wanted her to feel apart from any aspect of her life because she’d chosen me.

  I never wanted her to regret me.

  Because I know I’d never regret her.

  “I’ve got a couple more dishes for you,” Sarah said as she entered the kitchen behind me.

  “Thanks. You can just put them there,” I said, pointing at the countertop next to the sink, “And I’ll take care of them in a minute.”

&nbs
p; “Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone, if you had a chance.”

  “Sure,” I answered, placing the empty wine glass I was washing in the sink to give her my full attention.

  “I came here tonight prepared to drag Everly out of here by my fists if needed.”

  “You know I’d fight you for her,” I smiled.

  “I realize that. I’m willing to give you a trial period,” she explained, her arms curved tightly across her chest.

  “A trial period?” I repeated. I shifted to one side and leaned against the counter, hoping to gauge where this conversation might take me. I understood her fierceness—her need to protect her friend. But I wouldn’t back down.

  “I’ve been Everly’s friend for two years. I was with her when she picked her life off the damned concrete and put it back together. To this day, there is still shit she won’t tell me about what went on in this house. All I know is you were one fucked up son of a bitch.”

  Flinching at her harsh words, I interrupted her. Each word could have been branded to my chest from the sincerity I put behind each one of them. “I’m not him.”

  “I’m beginning to see that. But I still don’t trust you completely.”

  “That’s fair,” I answered, appreciating her honesty.

  Taking her time, she slowly dried her hands on a kitchen towel before looking up at me, her expression resolute. “So, take this second chance, August. Make her happy. Give her the best damn life you can, because if anyone deserves it—Everly does. But I swear, if you hurt her—again, I will make sure you never see her again. Do you understand?”

  Nodding my head in understanding, I said, “If I hurt her again, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “Good,” she replied, tossing the towel onto the counter. “Now Everly sent me in here for cake. Point me in the direction of the chocolate.”

  I grinned, loving her ability to change directions with little to no fuss, and pointed her toward the massive refrigerator. Opening the refrigerator, she gasped. This was followed by a slew of expletives from the ballerina’s mouth.

  “I think my understudy may be paying her to destroy me,” she nearly cried as she pulled out a massive chocolate cake, nearly the size of Texas.

  “No, she just loves you,” I chuckled, eyeballing my portion as she set it down on the counter. It was probably the size of the entire gulf coast side of Texas.

  I wasn’t a ballerina.

  “And I love her. More than you could ever imagine. Never forget that.”

  “I won’t,” I vowed, looking at her with a steady gaze. “And Sarah, thank you for loving her when I couldn’t.”

  She didn’t say a word, but simply nodded.

  It wasn’t a slam-dunk but over the course of the evening, Sarah and I managed to see eye to eye and I realized we were both batting for the same team. Team Everly.

  And that was all that mattered to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Everly

  The crashing waves had once brought a kind of solace to me. The soothing, never ending back and forth cascade of sound was a sure thing—a solid dependable vibrato that lulled me to sleep when I couldn’t, eased my distress and cured my anxiety.

  But now, it just reminded me of where I was.

  As each wave crested, hitting the cliffs below, I was gently reminded of the house that had become my prison.

  He’d left me here again.

  Doing so had become so regular I didn’t even bother asking where he was going.

  As our eyes met seconds before he pulled the door shut, I swear I saw an ounce of remorse somewhere in those steely irises of his. But then he pulled back into the darkness and I was left alone.

  With no one but myself to blame.

  I’d once been a strong woman—someone worth loving. But now, I was nothing but a lifeless shell.

  The waves continued to crash outside, making the room feel as small as a sardine can. I wiped a trickle of sweat off my brow as I paced back and forth, trying to wish away the hours until he returned.

  Twenty-two.

  Number twenty-two. That was how many times he’d locked me in here.

  At first, I’d cried and screamed for him as he walked away, begging him to reconsider. What had I done? Why was he doing this?

  Now, I just let him go in silence. Nothing would change his mind. After twenty-two imprisonments, I’d learned my place.

  I still didn’t know why. I just didn’t care anymore.

  Looking around the room, I fiddled with the necklace that rested on my collarbone and studied the pictures on the walls, absently wondering if he even noticed them anymore.

  Did he remember when he’d proudly hung each black and white photo around the room? I’d been highly embarrassed to see myself everywhere, but he’d just held me from behind, his hands moving up my body as he studied each of his masterpieces.

  “I wanted my queen to be well represented,” he’d whispered.

  Did he remember how much he’d once loved me?

  “Rise and shine!” An annoying voice rang out through the foggy haze of sleep.

  “No,” I whined, shaking the tormented dream from my memory. August was no longer a ghost of my past. He was here. And he was mine.

  “It’s not morning,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, but it is,” August chuckled—a dark mischievous chuckle that made me want to punch him.

  Hard.

  “It is not. Mornings involve sunshine and bird calls—coffee and happiness.” Lifting my head half an inch off the pillow, I peeked out the corner of my eye, seeing nothing but blackness. “And none of those things are occurring right now. So, there will be no rising…and definitely no shining. Go away.”

  My head fell back onto the squishy pillow in victory.

  “You should know, early riser, as well as I do, that mornings do in fact frequently happen in the dark.”

  “But those are work mornings.” The more I spoke, the higher my voice got. Its current pitch was somewhere between that annoying girlfriend Chandler had dated on Friends and Miss Piggy. “Work mornings don’t count.”

  “Will this conversation be any shorter if I mention I have coffee?”

  “No you don’t,” I said, my voice growing grumpier by the second.

  “How would you know that?”

  “Because Einstein—I would smell it. I work in a coffee house and—Is that coffee?” I asked as the vibrant aroma of coffee beans filled the air. My eyes flew open to find a metal travel mug held out in front of me.

  “Sneaky,” I said, “Hiding it behind metal. But why is it in a travel mug and why are you waking me up at the ass crack of dawn…on my birthday, I might add?” I flipped the lip to the mug and took my first sip of the morning, preparing myself for black sludge, considering the man who had made it.

  “Wow, this is actually good!” I exclaimed. I looked down at the cup in awe.

  He laughed. “I’ll try not to be overly wounded by your shock.”

  “Sorry! It’s just really good! But it doesn’t explain why I’m not sleeping in right now.”

  “It’s your birthday,” he said, as if that were some sort of explanation.

  “And?”

  “I promised you the best day ever.”

  “And that day begins at six in the morning?” I said, glaring at the clock by the nightstand.

  “Yep! Now get your ass in the shower!” He swatted my ass and grinned. “We leave in an hour.”

  * * *

  “Damn it! Why are there already so many people here?” August asked as we made the last turn into the Muir Woods Redwood Forest parking lot.

  Which was completely full. At eight in the morning.

  “Because it’s Muir Woods,” I said, a small smile creeping across my face.

  “I know, but I thought by leaving at the ass crack of dawn—as you so elegantly put it—we’d avoid the tourists.”

  I shook my head, trying to keep from laughing. “Nope. You just joined the other craz
y ones who rushed up here at the ass crack of dawn.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “There’s more parking along the street if you keep heading down there.” I pointed along the long curvy street that we’d been on before turning into the lot.

  “Hope you don’t mind a walk,” he frowned.

  “Here? Absolutely not,” I smiled. He continued down the road, finding a small spot a ways down. He parallel parked with little effort and within minutes we were hand in hand on our way to the entrance, August’s trusty camera around his neck.

  “Thank you for this,” I said, taking in a deep cleansing breath.

  “I know you love it here, and I said it would be the best day ever,” he reminded me with a smug grin. It tugged tightly at the corners of his eyes, creating the tiny little creases I loved to stare at. Gazing at these, combined with his hazel irises and chiseled jaw, I was nearly walking into oncoming traffic before I righted myself and began walking in a straight line again.

  “You got a bit of drool…right there,” he laughed, commenting on my absentmindedness.

  “Shut up.”

  We made our way to the rustic little welcome center to buy tickets. I’d been here so many times with him, it seemed like our place.

  Like coming home.

  But to him, it was as if he was visiting for the first time.

  So many good memories lost.

  It hurt. The knowledge that in order to make new memories, he had to first lose every single memory from his past—a cleansing of sorts I guess. The guilt that he’d lost every single memory from his childhood—his parents, and family…it hurt. It all hurt.

  Had I known that this was the only way to bring him back to the man he once was, before money and power had corrupted him, would I have chosen this life for him? Would it be so selfish of me to wish this existence on someone—just to have the man I remembered?

  It was one of those questions I asked myself, but already knew the answer.

  I had once been hopelessly in love with a monster and yet I’d gladly become one to bring him back.

  Loving someone was easy. Life was the chaotic mess in between.

  “Tell me what you like about this place so much,” August asked, after we’d purchased our tickets from the elderly man behind the ticket window. August held on to the small map that plotted out the various trails and sights along the paths, while I just breathed it all in. I didn’t need a map to tell me where I was going.