by C. R. Jane
It was almost like a golden thread stretched out between us as our vows sealed us together, connecting us in a way that no one would ever be able break apart.
“You can now kiss the bride,” he said, but it was unnecessary, because my lips were already on hers, right where I belonged.
“Congratulations,” he said quietly, amused, before I was faintly aware of him walking away.
But I didn’t separate from her, I couldn’t separate from her.
And eventually I made love to her again in that field, knowing that I’d never truly have any more dark days now that she was mine.
I visited his grave site every year. I would stand there in front of it and mourn the boy he’d been once upon a time. I would mourn the loss of the brother he was, and not the man he’d become.
Eventually there were no flowers waiting at his grave from insincere mourners, and eventually the grass covered the mound until his gravestone blended in with all the rest. I doubted my parents ever visited, too busy touring the world. I wanted to believe that they mourned the loss of their children, but I’d learned that sometimes, people were born broken. And there was nothing you could do about that.
Sometimes I swore I could feel him there, standing beside me. And all the darkness was gone. I still wasn’t sure that I believed in heaven or in hell, but wherever he was, I liked to believe that he was happy. Happy and whole.
Everly didn’t come with me on those visits, she’d said goodbye a long time ago. Sometimes I would catch her lost in thought, a wistful look on her face, and I knew she was remembering him as he’d once been.
I knew it would fade in time, this feeling of missing him, but it took its sweet time. Even in New York City where everything was different from how we’d grown up, I would feel him there. In the blue sky shining down on me in the middle of the stadium, in the roar of the crowds as I lived out the dream that we’d both had once upon a time, in the sight of Everly in the stands cheering me on.
It was years before I could wake up, and it not hurt. But pain is meant to be felt. It meant that what you’d lost, meant something. And Caiden’s death had meant everything.
I didn’t feel guilt when the bite of hurt quickly drifted into joy, because how could I not feel joy spending my days with her?
As I stood in the doorway, watching her humming to herself as she folded the tiny pink clothes we washed in preparation for the birth of our daughter, I wondered how I got this chance. She rubbed her stomach absentmindedly and I thought once again, for the millionth time, I’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
I’d silently vowed in that field to spend my days making sure she knew how grateful I was for this beautiful life she’d given me.
And what a beautiful life it was.
CAIDEN POV
It was raining. And when it rained, I always thought of her.
Although who was I kidding? I was always thinking about her.
The rain made me think of that night though, when everything had gotten so messed up.
I’d tried to control it better when I’d gotten this second chance. I’d tried to keep my distance, hoping that she’d come to me willingly. But eventually, I couldn’t wait anymore. I spent all of my free time, and most of my other time too, following her around, plotting for how to make her mine once again. I lived for the momentary glimpses I got of her.
And that was why I’d found myself out here in this rainstorm, walking towards her dorm, hoping I could see her, if just for a second.
I’d always believed we were connected, tied together by the fates in twin destinies that no one could change. And moments like this, where I saw her in front of me, her arms outstretched towards the sky as the rain fell in sheets around her…well it just seemed to confirm it.
I walked towards her, the mud sloshing under my feet and I could tell when she sensed me, because her whole body tensed up, all the carefree energy she’d had only moments ago, completely gone.
I hated that.
“Everly,” I murmured, unable to take my eyes away from the sight of her. Her clothes were drenched and sticking to her, outlining every dip and curve of her perfect form.
She slowly turned towards me, a resigned look on her face, like she’d been expecting me to be here all along.
I knew what she saw when she looked at me. Jackson had done his best to rearrange my face and I was a mess of bruises and cuts.
“What do you want from me, Caiden?” she whispered.
It bubbled up inside of me, that uncontrollable emotion I always got around her. I was desperate to break down the stone wall she kept between the two of us. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I don’t remember what I did. I don’t have a clue how I’m even capable of doing what Jackson told me I did. I can’t even comprehend it. But I’m so fucking sorry for it.” The lies slipped out, tears beginning to fall. They joined the trails of raindrops on my face. It was hard to tell reality from fantasy anymore. In my fantasies, that night had never happened. The lies came easily because just as much as there was a part of me that was desperate for her to be happy, there was another part of me that had to have her even if it made her hurt. And those parts were eternally at odds with each other.
“I’ll do anything to get you to forgive me. Anything. For almost my whole life, it’s been the three of us. And now you’re both gone, and I can’t even remember why.” I pulled at my shirt, trying to get ahold of the emotions swirling inside of me. I used to think that I was the strong twin, the sane one. But the longer time went on, the more I lost control. And she was the only cure.
I stepped towards her, my heart leaping when she didn’t move away like she always did. My steps sped up until I was standing right in front of her, memorizing her perfect features.
“Please, LyLy, please forgive me. Please know that I won’t ever hurt you again. I’ll live my life to make you happy. I’ll always be here for you. You’ll never be alone.” I didn’t know if I was telling the truth right now. I didn’t know if it was possible not to hurt her. Not until she was mine. Only mine. Sometimes pain was necessary when you were extracting the poison in your veins. And Jackson’s poison had always been in her veins.
She studied my face pensively. I wondered if beyond the bruises and the cuts, she could see the monster who was obsessed with her.
“I forgive you, Caiden,” she said, and something burst in my chest. Was it finally happening?
“Thank you,” I said, lifting up my hand to touch her face.
She stepped backwards before I could touch her and I frowned, confused.
“But we won’t ever be the same. We can’t ever be the same.” She sighed, and something broke inside of me at her words, maybe the only sane part of me I’d still possessed. “I’ll always be grateful to you for everything we had. But we turned into something so ugly that I’ll never be able to forget it.”
“I’ll do anything,” I pleaded, but she held up her hand to cut me off. It was everything I could do to not grab her right there, to force her somewhere with me. Keep her tied up until she changed her mind.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can do. It’s just been me these last few years. I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She laughed, but it sounded all wrong. “Did you know I used to visit you? Every week.”
I hadn’t known that. I’d asked the nurses after I woke up, hoping she had, and they’d never said anything.
“I fully own up to my part in what happened. I was weak. I let you and Jackson walk all over me, dictate every part of my life. I was so desperate for you that I didn’t listen to the blaring alarms inside of me that told me to run as far away as fast as I could. I would sit by your bedside, and I would tell you over and over again how sorry I was.”
She sobbed and I clenched my fists to prevent myself from reaching out to her. The monster inside of me loved her tears though. She cried so prettily.
“But I’ve realized now that I didn’t need you to forgive me, I needed to forgive
myself. And I’ve done that. And now I’ve realized that though I don’t want to live without you, I can live without you.”
“Everly, please,” I begged again, dropping down to my knees in the cold mud as I grasped onto my last chance to do this the right way. If she walked away, I wouldn’t be able to control it. I’d ruin her and I’d ruin me.
“Let me go,” she whispered, softly kissing my forehead in a way that should have felt soft, but instead felt like a hot brand against my skin.
As she walked away, I felt the last bits of my sanity slip away. I’d have to force her to love me again, even if it killed us both.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Sad, Beautiful, Tragic.
I hope the imagery of this book was as clear in your head as it was in mine. I didn’t start off knowing that Caiden would die. But then I was listening to Sad, Beautiful, Tragic…by Taylor Swift of course, and I saw it. I saw Everly kneeling by that grave. I saw the rain falling down. I saw Jackson and Everly mourning the boy they couldn’t save.
It gutted me.
I agonized and tossed and turned at night debating what to do.
And eventually I just knew this was the only way this book could end.
I love to write those moments that hurt the soul because they’re so beautiful and terrible at the same time.
This duet will haunt me for a long time.
I hope I made you feel…and that you don’t hate me too much.
A huge thank you to Summer E. for beta reading the hell out of this book. I had fun ending excerpts on the worst possible cliff hanger so she was constantly screaming at me. Summer, thank you for your insight, encouragement, and love for my book baby. You are incredible.
Another thank you to Caitlin, the best P.A. and friend a girl could ask for. You’re loyal, hard-working, and you let me vent. You’re basically perfect.
Thank you to Heather and Megan as usual. You meet my crazy deadlines and always support me. You make my books sparkle and shine and be the best they can be.
And as always…thank you to my Fates (my readers). You support me, you love me even when I do cliffhangers, and I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Love you guys.
Keep Reading for a Look at Remember Us This Way, Book 1 of the completed Sound of Us Series
Discover the rest of this COMPLETED series at
books2read.com/rememberusthisway
Remember Us This Way by C. R. Jane
Copyright © 2019 by C. R. Jane
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review, and except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
For permissions contact:
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
REMEMBER US THIS WAY
BLURB
They are idols to millions worldwide. I hear their names whispered in the hallways and blasted through the radio. Their faces are never far from the television screen, tormenting me with images of what I gave up.
To everyone else, they're unattainable rockstars, the music gods who make up The Sound of Us. But to me? They'll always be the boys I lost.
I broke all our hearts when I refused to follow them to L.A., convinced I would only bring them down. Years later, after I’ve succumbed to a monster, and my life has become something out of a nightmare, they are back.
I'm no longer the girl they left behind. But what if I’ve become the woman they can’t forget?
PROLOGUE
According to the Sounds of Us Wikipedia page, the band hit almost instant stardom as soon as they finished recording their first album. A small indie band that had gained only regional notoriety, Red Label had taken a huge risk by signing them. The good looks and the killer voices of the three band members combined with the chance at a larger platform ended up making Sounds of Us the Label’s most successful band in history. They released their first album, Death by Heartbreak, in 2013, and the first single, Follow You Into the Dark, made it to the Billboard Top 100 immediately.
It was their second single that propelled Sounds of Us to legend status though. Cold Heart was number one on the charts almost the second it was released. That led to four other songs ending up in the top ten. Three of them reached number one, with a fourth hitting number two on the charts. That album was torture in its finest form for me. Partly because I had lost them, but also partly because every one of those songs was about me. And that was just the hits. There were a lot more references in the songs that never got released as singles. It was a sharp stab in the chest to hear songs blaring from radios – songs whose lyrics contained exact words each of them had said to me, and that I had said to them.
And while some of the songs were wistful and pained, others were angry. Pissed-off. Occasionally enraged. It was uncomfortable. Actually, it was excruciating. At least for the first couple of months. I stopped listening to music eventually, something that had meant the world to me my entire life. I just couldn’t handle the reminder of them anymore. My heart couldn’t take it.
But every so often, a car would go by with its window down, or I’d walk past a motel room playing the radio, and I’d hear one of their voices and it would be an unexpected jolt of pain all over again.
After the release of their album, the band embarked on a short European tour, then followed it up with a much larger American tour. They started selling out stadiums. They appeared on every late-night show there was. Everyone wanted a piece of them. They were like this generation’s Beatles, probably even bigger. The next two albums certainly were bigger, although those were easier for me to listen to since the songs about me faded as time went on. They were the most celebrated band in the world and there was no sign of their success slowing down anytime soon. It was everything they had ever dreamed about and that I had dreamed about with them.
They lived up to the bad boy image their label wanted to sell. Rumors of drug use and rampant women kept the gossip sites busy. I tried to ignore the magazines in the store racks by the checkout stand, but some of the pictures of the guys stumbling out of clubs with five girls each were a little too damning to be completely unfounded. And of course, there were the rumors that Tanner had secretly been in and out of rehab for the last two years in between tours. Tanner had always struggled with addiction but had only dabbled in hard drugs when I knew him. It wasn’t hard for me to picture him struggling with them now that he probably had easy access to whatever he wanted from people desperate to please them all.
I often wondered if any part of the boys I knew were still around after I let myself give into my own addiction of catching up on any Sounds of Us news I could find. And then I would hear about them buying a house for someone who had lost everything in a natural disaster or hear of them participating in a charity drive to keep a no-kill shelter up and running, and I would know that a part of them was still there.
I’ve never made peace with letting them go. I never will.
CHAPTER 1
I hear the song come on from the living room. I had forgotten I had read that they were performing for New Year’s Eve tonight in New York City before they embarked on their North American tour for the rest of the year. I wanted to avoid the room the music was coming from, but not even my hate for its current occupant could keep my feet from wandering to where the song was playing.
As I took that first step into the living room, and I saw Tanner’s face up close, my heart clenched. As usual, he was singi
ng to the audience like he was making love to them. When the camera panned to the audience, girls were literally fainting in the first few rows if he so much as ran his eyes in their direction. He swept a lock of his black hair out of his face, and the girls screamed even louder. Tanner had always had the bad boy look down perfectly. Piercing silver eyes that demanded sex, and full pouty lips you couldn’t help but fantasize over, he was every mother’s worst nightmare and every girl’s naughty dream. I devoured his image like I was a crack addict desperate for one more hit. Usually I avoided them like the plague, but junkies always gave in eventually. I was not the exception.
“See something you like?” comes a cold, amused voice that never ceases to fill me with dread. I curse my weakness at allowing myself to even come in the room. I know better than this.
“Just coming to see if you need a refill of your beer,” I tell him nonchalantly, praying that he’ll believe me, but knowing he won’t.
My husband is sitting in his favorite armchair. He’s a good-looking man according to the world’s standards. Even I have to admit that despite the fact that the ugliness that lies inside his heart has long prevented me from finding him appealing in any way. His blonde hair is parted to the side perfectly, not a hair out of place. Sometimes I get the urge to mess it up, just so there can be an outward expression of the chaos that hides beneath his skin.
