by Kahlen Aymes
Mad Mad Love
The Complete Remembrance Trilogy Box Set
Kahlen Aymes
Telemachus Press, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Remembrance Trilogy Box Set
Prequel & Outtake
Copyright © 2012-16 Kahlen Aymes. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Cover Designed by Kahlen Aymes
Cover Art:
Copyright © Deposit Photos #3407270
Published by Telemachus Press, LLC
http://www.telemachuspress.com
Visit the author blog site:
http://www.kahlen-aymes.blogspot.com
ISBN: 9781310246111 (eBook)
Version 2017.12.18
Created with Vellum
Contents
Before Ryan Was Mine - PREQUEL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
The Future of Our Past
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Don’t Forget to Remember Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
A Love Like This
Chapter 14
~From The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Outtake Extra
Every Time
Also by Kahlen Aymes
Upcoming Titles
Connect With Kahlen
About the Author
Before Ryan Was Mine - PREQUEL
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Before Ryan Was Mine: The Remembrance Trilogy—Prequel
Copyright © 2014 Kahlen Aymes. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Cover Designed by Telemachus Press, LLC
Cover Art:
Copyright © Strawberry Mood/130041314/Shutterstock.com
Published by Telemachus Press, LLC
http://www.telemachuspress.com
Visit the author blog site:
http://www.kahlen-aymes.blogspot.com
ISBN: 978-1-941536-93-3 (eBook)
ISBN: 978-1-941536-94-0 (paperback)
Version 2014.12.13
Created with Vellum
Chapter 1
The Beginning
RYAN~
The biggest moment of my life found me unexpectedly. It crept up softly, and settled around me like a fuzzy blanket. A mere whisper; it hit me like a sledgehammer. At the time, I knew it was significant, but I didn’t realize just how those few seconds would change absolutely everything. How could one brief glance leave such an indelible stamp on the remainder of my life? It would become a contradiction; an unstoppable force that would send me reeling out of my control, churning and shredding my emotions, but creating the most incredible contentment I’d ever feel. Contentment that could wrap me up in a warm, safe place or devastate me to the core and leave my heart in shambles. It would become years of want and pain, lust and love… It would hurt like the deepest hell but become the most euphoric and precious ecstasy I’d ever know.
It would wreck me. It would make me.
I’d never forget that day, that moment; that glance. The auditorium was huge, like a massive theater, with throngs of young bodies milling around trying to find seats; bustling with activity. Only, it wasn’t the premier of Harry Potter or one of those damn Twilight movies. It was Stanford University and Psychology 101, required curricula for practically every undergraduate student.
Ugh, my brain protested. No matter what your major, whether you were pre-med or planning a future on Wall Street, you had to take some dumbass form of psychology for your liberal arts requirement. Boring as hell to me, but whatever. I had plans to attend med school, and this course was the most basic psych class. Normally, I had no interest in basic anything, but it was the next best thing to skipping it, which I’d choose if I could. I’d heard it was super easy, which explained why so many students enrolled. Community Health Psychology—even the title was vague.
Aaron had taken it the semester before and whined the whole time because he wasn’t lucky enough to take it with the most preferred professor in the department; Dr. Gerrity. We’d heard to make the course tolerable, he was the only choice for instructor. I would have taken it with my brother, but the class was closed by the time I’d gotten around to the scheduling session. I didn’t make the same mistake this time, but my enthusiasm was at an all-time low, despite landing one of Gerrity’s classes.
I scanned for a seat toward the back, near the main entrance. The hell if I want
ed to participate, anyway. I just wanted to show up, sign in, take the tests, and ace the fucker. That was my plan. Cha’ching! That’s what was expected; by my parents and myself; so that’s what I did— ace shit. School was always easy and, good or bad, the knowledge made me slightly arrogant about it.
I fully expected the first two years of undergrad to be fluff and loaded up on credit hours so that later, when I had lab, my ass wouldn’t be dragging. I’d even gotten special permission from the dean to take three hours beyond the max class load. My father and I discussed it and decided it was better to have more out of the way, early on, so I could take more difficult courses that would secure my future plans—Harvard Medical School—after I’d declared my major sophomore year. We’d shared the same goal for as long as I could remember. You didn’t get there by taking the bare minimums in anything and if Dad had done one thing, he’d drilled that into me; work your ass off and never expect success to be handed to you. So far, I hadn’t had to work that hard, if I were being honest. But, I knew it was only a matter of time. He’d gone to Harvard years earlier and while that would help, neither of us expected an easy in. Anyway, I wouldn’t want it that way. I’d earn every piece of it or it wouldn’t mean shit.
My parents offered the same opportunities to my adopted brother, Aaron. When we were ten his parents were killed in a car accident, he moved in with us, and we grew up together. He was the best friend I’d ever had.
Aaron struggled and had to work harder than I did; always had. I felt bad that it was more difficult for him and tried to help whenever I could; especially with math. So far, we’d only had to take first semester calculus, which to me was just a repeat of my senior year in high school. This semester was trigonometry and I wasn’t looking forward to that at all. It was the most boring part of my requirements, other than this liberal arts crap, but whatever, it was necessary.
“I hear Dr. Gerrity is hot. Let’s sit more toward the front so we can get a good look,” a girl with short, black hair and a red mini-skirt giggled as she moved past me.
Apparently, she had her own reasons for taking this class. I rolled my eyes. For fuck’s sake!
I was a red-blooded male and as such, I wasn’t immune to the opposite sex. I’d had it easy in that arena with no shortage of girlfriends or willing partners. Sometimes they were too willing… to the point of annoying. Mini-skirt girl was pretty, but my eyes landed on the back of another young woman walking behind the one who was hot for the professor. She had long, flowing dark hair that looked like a shiny, slick river of dark chocolate as she moved. It was smooth and looked very soft, dropping almost to the middle of her back. My eyes moved lower toward her denim-encased ass. Her waist was small and the curve of her hips flowed deliciously out to place emphasis on the bedazzled pockets I was staring at. There was an “M” embroidered on one side. My lips twitched in the start of a grin as it struck me; “M” was for Matthews. It had to be a sign. I needed to talk to this girl or I’d regret it. Regardless, if it meant something or not, didn’t matter. It was a sign, my subconscious argued as I talked myself into it. I grinned because I couldn’t fucking help myself.
I picked up the backpack I’d just placed in one of the seats near the aisle and followed the two women further down. For all I knew, she could be a troll and I should rein in my eagerness until I knew for sure. How fucking disappointing would that be? A troll with a stellar ass, maybe, but I hadn’t seen her face. Then she spoke, her voice soft, almost musical, but adamant. I knew I had to meet her.
“Ellie, he’s old, and I don’t wanna sit in the front. This class is gonna suck as it is. We’ll have to join discussions up there, and you know how much I hate this shit.”
“Please?” her friend lamented.
“No! I can’t put up with you and the others batting their eyelashes at Dr. Gerrity. It’s embarrassing!”
Even though her words might come off as whining, somehow, it didn’t seem way. The same words from someone else would have, but with this girl it was more like a statement of fact: a verbal bitch-slap; to the point and without drama. I loved it.
She stopped and half-turned and I got the first glimpse of her profile. My heart paused for a beat. She was stunning: high cheekbones, delicate features with a slight blush to her cheeks and dusky pink lips. Her skin seemed flawless—creamy perfection. If it weren’t for her casual dress, I’d have placed her from some highbrow, rich-bitch, old money crowd. Her breasts were full, but not overly large for her frame. I sucked in my breath to start breathing again. Yep. I definitely needed to find out who she was. Good thing I wasn’t the shy type.
“Look, if you want to go ogle the dude, go ahead, but I’m staying up here.”
I smiled, stifling a laugh. Definitely not highbrow. I was elated. She moved into a row about six ahead of me and I searched the surrounding seats. There was one open just behind her to her right. It would give me the prefect vantage point to observe, undetected. There was something about her that intrigued me. I could almost see her intelligence as if it were written like a sign on her shirt. “Mouth breathers and bottom feeders to the left.” Damn. I could not stop smiling.
People brushed by me, and I was knocked in the shoulder as a larger guy passed. I barely noticed, my focus still on the girl as she moved into the row of seats I’d targeted.
“Sorry, dude,” he mumbled.
“No problem,” I said and casually waved him away as I moved toward my objective.
The red-skirt girl stopped and visibly stamped her foot. “Julia!”
Her name flew around in my brain with the speed of a hummingbird around a tree full of orange blossoms. It suited her to a T. Beautiful, but without the need or desire to shorten it into something less dignified; like how Grandma Matthews had reduced my Aunt Elizabeth’s name to Betty. I never understood how the hell Betty came from Elizabeth anyway.
“What?” The girl with the pretty name simply looked at her friend—perplexed—and stopped, flopping down her book bag and taking her seat. She patted the one next to her with a teasing smile. “You’ll have plenty of time to get into the professor’s pants later. Just think of all the opportunities to discuss this bullshit in his office. Of course, it might be difficult trying to convince him why you’re so passionate, since psych has nothing to do with your major.”
“Jeesh, Julia! Fine!” Her friend relented and threw her body down in the seat next to Julia, as I moved into the one behind them and sat down. Leaving my backpack between my feet, I opened it and pulled out a notebook and a pen. Afterward, I was free to observe the girls the last few minutes before class began.
My hand went to my mouth as I leaned on my elbow to watch and listen.
“Just look around.” Julia motioned with her hand. “There are plenty of hot guys who aren’t geriatric.” She shrugged. “Choose,” she said with a small giggle, digging out her notebook and a pen. “Besides, what about Jason?”
“Nope. He’s your boyfriend.”
“Ugh,” Julia groaned, “I know. Tasty, that one,” she said, tongue-in-cheek. The two of them burst out laughing, and I found myself wondering about this poor bastard, Jason. Julia’s laugh was infectious. I saw how the people around her noticed her, most of the men doing a double take. I didn’t bother trying to hide my admiration and watched her openly. “Not bad looking if he could just keep his mouth shut.”
A pretty blonde next to me was staring wide-eyed at me as I listened to Julia and her friend’s conversation. I glanced at her briefly, preoccupied, when she began speaking. “I’m really looking forward to this class. I took a college credit course online from UCLA in sociology and I just loved it.”
I huffed inwardly, trying to concentrate on Julia’s words. “I’m pretty sure psychology and sociology are on two different planets,” I answered, dismissing her.
“Well, it’s an ology.” She shrugged carelessly. “So, I’m sure I’ll love this, too!” the blonde said. “I’m Rita.”
Okay, this chick was way too enth
usiastic; making my brain hurt and the nasal quality to her voice was irritating. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Did she just fucking say what I thought she said? It’s an ology? My eyes widened against my will. Okay.
“Ryan,” I mumbled. I pulled the text out of my backpack and feigned interest in it as if it were Gray’s Anatomy. Now, that was interesting. I’d spent hours as a child, pouring over the pictures and pages of the copy my father kept in his study, memorizing the structures and systems of the body. It was then we knew med school was in my future. Like father, like son.
I glanced at Julia as a guy on the other side of her made a move toward her. Something in my gut didn’t feel right, and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The guy was standing there, grinning and openly gaping at her foolishly, asking her name and stammering like an idiot when she told him. What a douche.