by J. L. Berg
“What is normal with any of this?” he asked. “Would anyone even know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Today, I had a memory of you. Or about you, I guess. It made me realize how much I’ve given up because of Trent. Because of my need to protect you.”
“Tell me—about the memory.” I pulled my knees up to my chin and watched him take a hesitant seat on the bed beside to me.
“I was going to propose,” he said, stealing the breath from my lungs.
“What?” Our eyes met and he nodded, a sad smile on his face.
“Yeah. I don’t know the exact day or time, but I remember being so excited to give you the ring. I was going to leave early from work and propose on a weekend trip to Big Sur. I had it all planned.”
My eyes closed as I remembered the exact day.
“Why are you canceling?” I asked, confused and furious.
“It’s just not a good weekend,” he explained, grabbing the back of his neck. He always did that when he was nervous. Or lying. “I have a ton of work and Trent needs me to—”
“Trent needs you,” I said, nearly spitting the words. “Then you better go,” I said, my voice not much louder than a whisper.
I’d been so bitter. So angry.
We’d planned that trip for weeks, and that morning he’d nearly jumped out of bed, singing in the shower and strutting around the bedroom, talking about how excited he was.
It was supposed to have been our perfect weekend. An escape.
And obviously a beginning we’d never gotten.
“What happened?” I asked, looking up at him as I grieved.
“I went to tell Trent I was leaving early for the day and saw him paying someone off. I think up until that moment I’d only had inklings, maybe a notion or two about some sort of wrongdoings, but this was proof. It was hard to ignore. It spun everything I knew on its axis and suddenly the idea of asking you to marry me seemed like the scariest thing in the world.”
“You started locking me up shortly after that,” I whispered.
Nodding, he reached for me but stopped himself, as if he wasn’t sure how I’d react. If only he knew my body wasn’t whole without his tender touch.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, each word on a slow, steady breath.
My heart fell as I looked up at him, knowing it would never beat after this moment if he walked away.
“I can’t keep letting him ruin my future. I may have made mistakes and taken wrong turns in the past, but I will not let that govern how the rest of my life unfolds. You were right when you said we don’t work when we’re apart. It’s true. We’ve tried and failed over and over and each time, both of us end up hurt and even more broken than before. I need you, Everly. I need you now, and forever. I’ll always want to protect you, but life—whether it’s this one or another—it’s not worth living without you.”
Without thinking I lunged for him, needing to touch him more than I needed air in my lungs, gravity beneath my feet, or blood in my veins. He was the other half of me—the missing piece I’d been trying to replace for so many years.
But how can you replace something so irreplaceable?
Loving him had always been as easy as breathing. Hating him—that had always been difficult.
I was done being angry with this man.
I would love him for everything he was, everything he wasn’t, and everything we could be together.
Our lips met, as months of separation and a tidal wave of emotions broke forth. Surprise turned to lust, transferring into desire and need.
I needed him, and as his mouth covered mine, I could feel his growing need for me.
“Everly,” he murmured, scattering a scorching path of tender kisses along my collarbone. “We need to talk,” he said, the strain in his voice evident as he tried to push away.
My eyes met his and where I expected turmoil for rushing into bed too quickly, or something else equally dumb, I saw pain.
And regret.
“What is it?” I asked, my heart still racing from our kiss.
“I told you I started seeing Magnolia,” he began, the confession written so clearly in his mournful eyes that I could almost make out the words hidden there behind his dark green irises.
“Don’t,” I said, pressing a finger to his lips as I shook my head. I couldn’t bear to hear the words, to know the details.
“We weren’t together, August. I can’t expect anything of you. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I explained.
“Then why does it feel so wrong?” he asked.
I thought about all the times I’d gone to bed with Ryan after my breakup with August. I remembered how it felt—the difference in my heart as I’d made love to another man.
As hard as I’d tried, there was always a part of me missing—something that always separated Ryan and me in those intimate moments. It could have been our drifting…the eventual shift from lovers to friends, but the more I looked back—the deeper I dwelled on those moments, the clearer it became.
I hadn’t been making love to Ryan, because my heart was still here with August.
Where it belonged.
“Because nothing will ever feel right except this,” I said as his mouth covered mine once again.
We tumbled back onto the bed, our hands and limbs intertwined like vines. Even with my fingers dancing along his skin as I frantically pulled off his shirt, I still couldn’t get enough. He was my sweetest addiction and I’d gone far too long without a taste.
“I never thought I’d feel this again…have you in my arms again,” he said as his lips melted against mine, each word breathing hot air against my skin. “I’m never going to let you go, Everly. Never again,” he vowed.
His fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up until the fabric brushed against the back of my head and fell to the floor in a fluttery cloud of purple cotton.
Green eyes drifted over every bare inch of me, capturing the subtle slope of my hips and the sprinkling of freckles along my shoulders. “I would dream of you, of this right here,” he said, moving his fingertips along my hipbone as he bent down to place a tender kiss along my skin.
“The way your skin felt against mine,” he whispered, as his hands roamed along my flesh. “The smell of your hair as the soft tendrils skimmed my chest when we made love. I remembered it all.”
The strap of my bra fell away as he planted hot kisses along my shoulder, moving his fingers toward the clasp in the back. With a flick and a twist, the lace fell freely from my body, leaving nothing but me from the waist up.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his large hands skimming over the sensitive tips of my nipples. I shuddered, my skin pebbling in response to his delicate touch. He bent his head and I immediately felt my toes curl as his mouth closed around my tight rosy bud. Digging my fingers into his hair, I held on as he sucked and licked the taut peak.
“August,” I pleaded, writhing against him in need. “Please,” I begged.
“Please what?” he asked, his tongue moving out to flick my nipple one last time.
“I need you. Now.”
“I’ll give you everything you need. Everything,” he said. “Right here. Right now.” His voice was strong and full of promise as he smoothed my hair back, pushing me against the pillows. “Always.”
He rose then, and I took the moment to appreciate his body. Spring, when he had awakened, had long since passed and winter was now upon us. The decline in his body due to his prolonged coma had been nearly erased, and his hard lean muscles, thanks to his love of running, nearly made me blush.
“You’re staring,” he smirked as he reached for the fly of his jeans. “See anything you like?” His cheesy one-liner caused me to giggle, rising up on the bed to meet him. On my knees, I reached for his jeans, pulling him forward until he stumbled slightly.
All playfulness died as his gaze fell, watching my fingers gingerly brush against the rough fabric. The intensity of his gaze never wavered
as I slowly undid the loop from the single button. The only sounds in the room were our heavy breaths and the tight grit of the zipper as I slowly worked it down.
August hissed in a mixture of pain and pleasure as my fingers brushed him intimately, working his jeans loose. He was on edge, pulsating with need as he reached for me, pushing me back once again.
Towering over me he readied himself, reaching into his wallet and grabbing protection. I hated that this barrier was needed between us, but time had moved on while we’d been apart. Lives had shifted.
For now, we would come together like this, knowing soon this necessary barrier would be a thing of the past.
Because I knew now that there was no one else in my future but August. No matter how messed up we were together, we were a hundred times worse when we were apart. A single tree in a meadow wasn’t any match for Mother Nature’s wrath, but give that tree a mate, and together they could wind their branches, combine their roots, and survive even the darkest of storms.
The rest of our clothes drifted to the floor in a cluttered heap, as our bodies slowly came together. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head as I felt his heavy body atop mine, and he deliberately pushed himself into me inch by inch until I was trembling with need.
Our eyes met then, and I gently lifted a hand to caress his cheek.
He winced slightly as my fingers brushed his fresh bruises and I immediately stopped, pulling my hand back.
“Please don’t,” he said, “Don’t ever stop touching me. Even if it hurts. I’ve had too many wasted memories in the past. From now on, I just want this. Memories of this,” he whispered, then bent down to kiss me.
“Yes,” I echoed as we lost ourselves in each other. Every thrust he gave, I took. Every moan I uttered, he echoed. We worked together in tandem, bringing pleasure, overwhelming emotions and passion, making love for the first time in what felt like centuries.
This was how it felt to find a soul mate.
My thighs trembled as he continued to bury himself inside me over and over, and I dug my fingernails into his shoulders and pulled my knees to my chest, feeling him sink deeper.
“August!” I cried, beads of sweat dripping between my breasts as I felt my butterflies twisting and coiling deep within my belly. Every breath I took brought me closer to climax and soon I was nearly panting, chasing that invisible finish line.
Through my lust-filled haze, I could see the strain on his face as he raced toward the same finale. His thrusts became more frantic and wild as he bent down, taking my mouth in his as our tongues met in a twisted dance of their own.
I cried out, feeling my core tighten just he stiffened. A low guttural moan reverberated from his lungs as we came together, falling off the edge together into sated bliss.
* * *
Years could have passed as I lay against his dewy smooth skin, waiting for my breathing to return to normal. He’d collapsed next to me and I found myself curling up into his warm body, even though I felt like my own was on fire.
I could hear his heart racing against my ear, and I smiled knowing I’d made it race with such urgency. I saw his hand move a split second before I felt it brush against my hair, slowly moving between the tiny tendrils as he smoothed them between his fingertips.
“We didn’t even close your door,” he said. My eyes suddenly went wide. Looking over my shoulder, I realized he was right. The door was wide open, with a clear view into the living room. We were on full display.
“Thank god Sarah has a show tonight,” I remarked with a slight giggle, covering my mouth as I did.
“I don’t think even that would have stopped us,” he commented, rising up on his elbows to gaze down at me.
“I think you might be right,” I agreed, loving the sight of him above me. Beside me. With me.
He excused himself to freshen up in the bathroom, taking care of those pesky after-sex things that shall not be spoken of. As soon as he left, I felt the loss immediately. The room became colder; it wasn’t as bright and I felt alone.
So very alone.
When he returned, he smiled and snuggled up against me, his heat seeping into my body once again. Closing my eyes, I realized he really was my addiction.
And I was completely dependent.
Sitting up, I took a deep breath and spoke. “There have been so many times we’ve failed at this, August. I can’t bear to go through another round of up and down with you. This time—we need to do this the right way, from the beginning.”
“I agree,” he nodded. Tiny creases appeared in his forehead as he looked at me with concern.
“I’m not changing my mind, or overthinking anything. Well, maybe overthinking a little, but that’s what I do. Or at least, that’s what I’m trying to do now.”
“Now?” he asked, watching my expression for clues.
“When I walked away from Ryan…from a life I thought I’d wanted, I realized I was living a cookie-cutter existence. I’m thirty years old and I’ve barely been on my own, or thought for myself.”
He turned away, ashamed.
“I’m not blaming this on you, August. I stayed. No matter what went on between us in those years before the coma, I stayed. And it wasn’t because I feared what would happen if I stayed. It was because I feared what would happen if I left. I’d thought you’d forgotten about me—that you’d lost interest. What if I left and you truly did forget about me—permanently. What if I was replaced?”
“I could never forget about you,” he vowed.
“I know that now, but I was scared. Even then I knew you and I were meant to be. I was just too scared to know how to reach you. I’d lost you,” I said, my voice breaking with the memories of our sad decline.
“You did,” he confirmed. “I remember some of it, and even though I told you nothing, you saw so much, Everly. You knew I was headed toward a disastrous path with Trent. You saw the way I changed when money was dangled in front of me, how I’d do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant locking you away from the outside world. I truly was a monster.”
“We both have skeletons in our closet, August,” I consoled, taking his hand in mine as we faced each other, nestled in the soft sheets of the bed. “And it’s time we battle them, together.”
“Together,” he agreed.
No other words were spoken as he pulled the sheet over our heads and pulled me closer, making me forget everything but him and the million ways he could make me fly.
* * *
Eventually, we had enough presence of mind to close the door.
And order food.
As we sipped on red wine and ate pepperoni pizza, we talked. About everything.
August told me about work and how much he hated it. I asked if he still took photographs.
“Of what?” he asked, adding, “My muse had flown away.”
“Promise me you’ll pick it back up again,” I said as my fingers grasped the heavy wine glass and I leaned over to snag a piece of pepperoni from the slice he’d just started.
“I promise. As long as you stop stealing my food, and promise to be my muse again,” he said with a wicked smirk, taking the largest bite of pizza possible.
Men really were pigs.
“Absolutely not to the first thing. I will always and forever steal your food, and your coffee. And yes to the second. I will be happy to be your muse, for as long as you’ll have me.”
His eyes rounded as he looked at me with affection and devotion. “You’ll always be my muse,” he said. “Because I love you. And that will never change. Not in any memory or lifetime will it ever waver.”
Even though we’d already spent hours wrapped up in one another, I felt it again—that undeniable pull toward him. The need to reach out for him, and never let go.
It was intoxicating.
“And I love you,” I said, savoring each word as I tilted my head toward his. He tasted like spicy red wine, heat, and passion all rolled in one. I was falling once again under his spell when he pulled ba
ck, cocking his head to the side.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Am I boring you?” I laughed, looking over to see what he’d noticed.
“No, quite the opposite, actually. I was about to push the pizza to the floor when these brochures caught my eye. Are you applying to cooking school?” His eyes turned to mine, alive with fire and wonder.
“Yes,” I answered, feeling suddenly very shy and awkward, my gaze darting anywhere but toward him.
“Why the face?” he asked, tugging at my chin to capture my attention. “Why do you look so embarrassed?”
Shrugging, I answered, “I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone yet. I guess I still feel like it’s kind of a ridiculous idea.”
He shook his head adamantly. “No. Not ridiculous. In fact, I think it makes total sense.”
“Really?” My eyes met his.
“Absolutely. You can’t cook for me forever,” he grinned. Sticking my tongue out at him, I watched as he laughed and continued. “You have an amazing gift, Everly. Don’t waste it just because you’re scared. I’ve told you before that I’d be perfectly happy if you spent the rest of your life in that coffee house—if that was what you wanted to do, and truly enjoyed it. But if there’s something else—something you feel in your gut you must do, then you have to do it.”
Giving him a lopsided smile, I remarked, “Sounds like someone is speaking from experience?”
His features fell and I suddenly felt the mood shift. “It’s different for me,” he answered.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“It does. For now,” he replied. “Besides, now I have you in my life. I can’t be taking risks when it comes to Trent.”
“But I can’t allow you to sacrifice your happiness,” I said, reaching out for him. My finger brushed his shoulder as his eyes tracked its path.
“This is my happiness,” he said softly.
“But what if we could have it all? Freedom from Trent, happiness…”
“It’s tempting,” he admitted with reluctance, as his jaw ticked. “I hate that Trent is involved in any way in our lives, especially when it concerns you. But you’ve seen what he can do—the way he can manipulate. But that’s not all. He’s so much worse.”
