Forget You Not (Reclusive #2)

by Harloe Rae

  My right arm bands around my middle while I attempt to fight him off with my left. This shifty-eye guy would normally be no match for me but he fucking blindsided me. When I aim for his nose with my palm, the movement is sluggish so he dodges before sinking his jagged knife into my exposed shoulder and twisting aggressively. A tormented roar tears up my throat as everything gets fuzzy. I drop to my knees when my legs can no longer support my weight. Weakness vibrates throughout me as I begin fading faster. I collapse to the ground and groan as my injuries split wider. The front of my shirt is sopping and plastered to my battered body.

  Shouting echoes into the silence but quickly fades around me, sounding very far away. Maybe it’s not even real. My mind is getting foggy as the sweltering pain rakes over each piece of me. The crunch of footsteps get closer and hope for survival blooms.

  Lincoln better catch this fucking guy.

  As I’m drifting into unconsciousness, images of my little vixen waiting for me flicker before my fluttering eyelids. I picture Lark cursing up a storm for standing her up, which has me fighting to stay awake in spite of all this shit. She’s going to be so disappointed when I don’t show up.

  I’m still coming for you, Sweetheart.

  My last thought before blackness consumes me is of Lark finding the ring in my pocket.

  Lark

  “So, you really think it’s going to happen tonight?” Willow asks again for the fifth time in an hour.

  An aggravated groan bubbles out. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m afraid of jinxing it,” I grumble from my spot along the gymnasium wall.

  Willow huffs and rolls her eyes. “Says the woman who didn’t believe in fate or destiny two months ago. Just tell me why you have that gut feeling?”

  “Rowen has been more secretive than usual. Making calls out of the room and brushing me off when I ask about it. That’s not like him, at all. He always tells me whatever I want to know.” Frustration prickles my scalp just thinking about it. “Plus, Rowen’s been planning something for this evening but won’t give me any details. Other than he’ll pick me up and I need to wear the red dress from your engagement party. He was very specific about that.” We share a laugh because that outfit has only ever been worn with a very certain goal in mind.

  As if suddenly realizing we’re in the gym alone, Willow screws up her face while spinning around in place. “Where the heck did everyone go?”

  There was a decent team of us still at work but Cindy snagged the others to help with a parent concern. I’d much rather pick up balls and bases on a Friday afternoon close to quitting time.

  Heh, balls.

  “They left a while ago. How did you just notice?” I shoot her a funny look.

  She gestures wildly between us. “We were talking about you and Rowen getting married. I was rightfully distracted.”

  I point at her accusingly. “You were trying to bring it up, and not so subtly. I never said we’re getting married.”

  Willow scoffs. “Whatever. It was implied by your womanly intuition and Rowen’s wacky behavior. Plus, that man is crazy about you and will most definitely be getting down on one knee.”

  I’d never admit it but her reassurance has excitement rushing through me. Nothing would be greater than Rowen proposing but I refuse to get my hopes up. Someday he will, for sure, but I won’t assume it’s happening this quickly. No matter how many times he asks me in that casual way of his.

  Rowen texted earlier about being done with work soon and my heart almost burst with anxiety. He’s going to be picking me up in a few short hours. My palms get clammy imaging what lies ahead. What if he really plans on . . .

  A sudden hip check bumps me out of my reverie.

  “You’re picturing it right now, aren’t you? I can tell. Totally spaced out.” Willow waves a hand in front of me before I bat her away.

  “Shouldn’t you be on a honeymoon or something?” I snap impatiently while crossing my arms.

  My friend sighs wistfully. “Every day is like a vacation with Xander. We don’t need to jet off somewhere tropical to celebrate our love.”

  “Wow, that’s actually really sweet,” I tell her honestly.

  “You wouldn’t have said that a few months ago,” Willow snickers.

  My gaze drops with the reminder of my shitty attitude. “I was such a bitch. For defensive and protective reasons, but still. How did you handle me?”

  “Very carefully. And with a lot of booze. I also stayed out of your way, but you were always working so it wasn’t that hard.”

  “Oh my God, I wasn’t that horrible!” My voice rises in offense.

  Willow snorts. “Jeez, just teasing. But Rowen has been the best thing to ever happen to you. For real.”

  The mention of his name brings a surge of heat to my lower belly as a smirk tilts my lips. “He certainly is. I’m not afraid to admit it.”

  “Thank goodness for that, chica. You needed a swift kick in the butt to reset that backwards thinking. Love is grand.” She snips when my snarky eyebrow arcs up, “Don’t look at me that way. I’m being ridiculous on purpose.”

  “Uh huh. Well, this discussion has been super enlightening but I have a date to get ready for. What are you two doing tonight?” I ask as we start walking back to our offices.

  Willow’s grin lights up her face. “Xander wants to see a movie at the discount theater. They’re playing something we saw together in high school.”

  “That’s way too cute.”

  “I know, right? And it’s never going to wear off.”

  “Oh, I believe it. You guys will still be sucking face in the old folks’ home like horny teenagers.” We giggle at the thought and pause outside my door.

  Her hands grip my shoulders after she turns toward me, a watery glint reflects in her emerald eyes. “It’s going to happen. You know it and so do I. Will you call me? Right away?” Willow sniffs lightly while wiping under her eyes, her voice wobbling a bit. “I love you like a sister and am truly happy Rowen came back into your life. I’m emotionally invested in what happens because you’re both close to me.” She blubbers in near hysterics.

  My arms wrap around her waist in a tight hug, making sure to pour some extra sugar into the embrace.

  “I love you too, Willow. Thank you for always being here for me and calling me on my crap. I really appreciate it.” I tilt my head and assess her tears. “Pretty sure you’ll be more upset than me when he doesn’t ask,” I joke.

  “Is that sarcasm? Not the time, Lark . . .” She sticks her tongue out before turning to her office. “All right, no more emotion overload.” Willow glances over her shoulder and gives me the weakest case of puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. “Lark, will you really call me?”

  I roll my eyes playfully. “Of course. When Rowen actually proposes, you’ll be one of the first to know.”

  She winks and waves before strolling away. Our goofy conversation distracts me temporarily but then I’m alone and the nerves wash back over me like a cold shower. My skin prickles with goosebumps as a shiver ripples through me.

  I might get engaged tonight.

  Those words continue to ping around my brain as I drive home. That statement keeps me company in the shower. The potential derails my concentration as I’m getting ready and it takes three tries before my hair is plaited in a perfect fishtail braid. My fingers tremble as I apply my bright ruby shade to my lips. The zipper of my dress snags when I image Rowen dragging it down later. My mind whirls with endless possibilities until I’m finally ready—just in time—at exactly eight o’clock.

  But my boyfriend isn’t here.

  I expect Rowen to be waiting like usual, since he’s always early, but his sexy smirk is nowhere in sight. Figures the one time I’m punctual, he’s running late. I laugh at the irony after shooting him a quick text, then browse social media while leaning against the kitchen counter.

  After fifteen minutes, Rowen still hasn’t shown up or responded to my messages. I’m sure there’s
a very good reason he’s not here but worry creeps up my spine regardless. Pouring a tall glass of red wine calms my fraying nerves and the first hearty gulp gives me a reality check. Sometimes Rowen will be behind schedule, it’s totally acceptable and doesn’t mean anything other than he has a busy day at work.

  As another stream of time trickles by without word from him, and my intentions of remaining level headed begin crumbling. My glass has been drained and my entire body seems to be covered in edgy jitters. The toxic insecurity that once plagued me tries seeping into the cracks but I shove the desire to withdraw away.

  Rowen wouldn’t do that to me.

  My stilettos clack on the floor when my legs refuse to remain still anymore. I begin aimlessly wandering around my apartment imagining the worst but wishing for something stupidly simple. Rowen will be here soon with a perfect explanation of what held him up even though I won’t ask. All I really need is for him to storm in and wrap me in his protective embrace.

  One hour morphs into two and my anxiety ratchets up, practically strangling me. I’ve been trying to stay calm without overreacting or shutting down but it’s difficult when that’s my automatic defense. I’ve called Rowen at least ten times and left just as many messages when his voicemail was the one to pick up. A slew of unanswered texts have been sent but I fire off another just in case he answers this time.

  Me: Casper, it’s been over two hours and I’m seriously freaking out. Just let me know what’s going on.

  Tremors attack my hands, even after I shake them out vigorously. The pacing resumes, back and forth then back again. Painful cramps attack my stomach, clenching brutally before releasing; the sensation feels like I’m being stabbed. My mind is spinning faster than I can keep up with as a wicked spell of dizziness threatens to clobber me.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  My heels stomp with each explicative. I grab my phone and call Willow but she doesn’t answer either. The panic shaking my voice is obvious as I leave her a near-hysteric message. My skin is crawling with suspicion so my nails drag along any exposed flesh to distract me from the eerie feeling. Fear pierces my scalp and slowly slithers down my entire form before settling in my tingling toes.

  My vision swims and my chest seems to be caving in under the weight of the unknown. I can’t give up though, not again. Never again. The anxiety zaps through me like lightning as my heart rate skyrockets. Suddenly the signs of a panic attack are looming and threatening to steal the air from my lungs.

  What’s happening?

  I didn’t push him into anything. Exactly the opposite. Rowen was always the aggressor when it came to our future, which is why confidence beats like a bass drum inside of my brain. The booming noise is almost powerful enough to silence the familiar pang of rejection but a few nasty thoughts barrel through.

  Did I cling too hard?

  Hope too much?

  Did he realize we’ve been moving too fast?

  Shit. Fucking shit.

  My inner strength screams louder in response, effectively muting the taunting destruction.

  No! No, dammit.

  Rowen wouldn’t do that. He loves me and I feel his genuine devotion within the furthest depths of my being, cuddling around my soul like the softest blanket. Something else must have happened, and those possibilities terrify me even more.

  Who the hell can I call?!

  When my cell begins vibrating, I almost drop it in desperation to answer as my chest squeezes brutally in anticipation.

  I raise the phone to my ear before nearing screaming, “Hello?!”

  An unknown woman’s voice calmly responds. “Hello ma’am. Is this Lark Somers?”

  My trembling hand causes the device to wobble. “Yes. Yes, this is she. Who’s this?”

  She ignores my questions but gives truth to my worst fear. “You’re listed as Rowen Sworr’s emergency contact and he was emitted to Percy Hospital earlier this evening. He just got out of surgery—”

  Before she says more, the phone clatters to the ground as I run to my car.

  Rowen

  Beep.

  Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

  That’s what wakes me during these short stints of semi-lucidness. I don’t know where I am or what that noise indicates, but it jolts me out of the silent darkness.

  The bout of awareness starts with floating.

  My body is warm and tingling everywhere but I can’t move. It’s like I’m suspended above the ground without explanation, as though I’m trapped between this life and the next. I know I’m not dead because pain begins filtering in.

  The sensation is dull at first, like an pinch in my chest I can’t rub away or a clench in my gut that won’t ease. Without warning, it’s like the fog is lifted as my body becomes engulfed in flames. Everything burns but I can’t escape the fire. Hours pass where is seems I’m baking beneath the sun after being deserted in Death Valley.

  Suddenly I’m doused in ice cold water and trapped in a freezer. My teeth seem to be chattering as my fingers and toes go numb. That paralyzing insensitivity must mean the end is near and panic seeps into my frozen form. I’m losing any feeling in my detached body and freaking the fuck out. My bones throb from the effort of trying to flee but getting nowhere. My muscles trained for combat strain and pull but nothing happens.

  I try screaming but no sound comes out. My throat is parched from thirst but I can’t move to drink anything. Metallic sawdust coats my mouth and my lips sting from being so dry. My eyelids seem sewn shut and I can’t break the seal. They won’t lift so I’m trapped in endless black as my hope wanes.

  The noises become more insistent and frequent, like alarm bells blaring. The beeping is faster and a low buzz pulses in my ears. Piercing light swoops into my vision, sending sharp pain into my skull and ending the vast nothingness. My lungs must be working as I manage to suck in gasps of air while shooting agony hammers into me.

  During these brutal moments, I try picturing Lark and the pure joy she always injects into me. Her form is distorted and blurry but she eases the suffering slightly. Once I think of her, I need her close. My body radiates distress for an entirely different reason. I would gladly accept this type of misery if it meant she’s nearby. I’m desperate to grasp onto the fuzzy images of Lark.

  My lifeline.

  My reason for existing.

  My everything.

  These thoughts cause my heart to jackknife as the desire to have her with me becomes frantic. In my mind, I’m thrashing violently in reckless determination to reach her. I can’t be sure what’s actually happening and that causes my hysteria to intensify. The pressure in my head is like an unyielding vice but I can’t stop fighting when Lark might be close. Maybe if I keep pushing myself, I can reach her. If only my hand could lift and cup her silky cheek, peace would flow through my fiery veins.

  When a soothing sensation sails through me, my racing pulse immediately slows. A pleasantly warm blast of bliss starts at my fingertips and zips up my arm before settling into my pounding chest. These are the moments I imagine Lark is beside me, clutching my hand. Unexpected exhaustion slams into me once my body is calm. My thoughts turn spotty and sluggish, like I’m being dragged under water and away from the surface. Just as suddenly as all these sensations appear, they melt into a pool of nothingness with a few sporadic sounds.

  Beep.

  Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

  Before I can contemplate any of this bizarre shit, the weight gets too heavy and yanks me back under.

  Lark

  Rowen is hurt.

  He’s in the hospital.

  He needs me.

  These truths play on a continuous loop as I approach the emergency room parking ramp after a seriously questionable journey since my focus is scattering with the passing wind. The drive flies by as I whizz down the empty streets, thankful beyond belief that my apartment is so close. I barely remember getting to my car before having to run back upstairs for my keys and phone which I carelessly lef
t behind. The nurse I’d spoken to couldn’t tell me much, other than Rowen had been seriously injured, and just got out of surgery. I will know the rest soon enough.

  My blurry eyes keep leaking as I stumble into the bustling lobby but luckily the information desk isn’t hard to find. When the receptionist tells me only immediate family are allowed to visit, the lie about being Rowen’s wife easily rolls off my tongue. She raises a skeptical brow as she takes in my distraught appearance but must decide I look the part. Her pursed lips tell me the way before she points in his general direction.

  At least I was smart enough to ditch the heels because these slippery floors are a serious hazard. My flats allow me to run without any further issues other than the constant stream of tears pouring down my face.

  After finding the room, I pause for a single breath and gather my courage, even though I want to be a weepy puddle on the floor. When I open the door, my knees threaten to buckle at the sight of Rowen’s unconscious form lying on the bed. A sob breaks free before I can stop it, but I clasp a trembling palm over my mouth to mute the broken whimper.

  My feet shuffle silently as I quietly edge toward him, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber. The closer I get to his side, the more obvious it becomes that he’s knocked out. Rowen’s facial features are completely relaxed, his forehead smooth and jaw slack. He’s mostly covered by a thin white sheet but the bandages wrapped around his upper body are still apparent. My vision swims as I continue staring and picturing what’s hidden underneath. The gentle rise and fall of Rowen’s torso locks me in a trance as I settle into a chair near his bed.