by J. L. Berg
“I love you, too.” I smiled back, smoothing away the moisture from her eyelids, knowing there weren’t any truer words that had ever been said.
* * *
I’d planned on meeting Magnolia about thirty minutes prior to her father showing up. She deserved answers, and it was definitely past time I gave them.
Arriving at the restaurant a few minutes early, I sat watching people converse and mingle at other tables. Families, business associates, lovers—everyone had an agenda for the day.
What was on mine?
Hopefully, a step toward something brighter.
As if she’d heard my silent plea, Magnolia appeared. Ushered by the host, she walked toward me from across the room and smiled politely.
That was a good sign, at least. Our conversation yesterday had been a little less than cordial. “Frozen and brief” would have more aptly described it. I was surprised she’d even agreed to this meeting in the first place. I blamed it on sheer curiosity, but now I was hoping—begging the heavens above—that it might be more.
I’d always been afraid of and intimidated by Magnolia’s affection toward me. It was heavily one-sided and made me feel inadequate because I wasn’t able to reciprocate feelings for someone so deserving. In a perfect life, the wealthy August Kincaid would have loved someone like Magnolia Yorke. They would have fallen madly in love, with the vast approval of her parents, and driven off into the sunset. It would have been a beautiful, photo-worthy ending.
But life wasn’t always what it appeared to be, and sometimes what we saw on the surface was only a false representation of what really lay hidden underneath.
I was not the wealthy, power-hungry man everyone assumed I was. Or at least I wasn’t anymore. And this empire I’d helped build was teetering, and I was afraid under the right scrutiny, it would crumble.
Which was why I needed out.
Fast.
And Magnolia just might be my savior.
“August,” she greeted me, offering her hand as I stood to take it.
“Magnolia,” I replied, taking her hand in mine as I leaned forward to kiss her cheek. It was an intimate greeting, one we’d done many times before. The fact that she was still allowing it gave me hope.
“Long time, no see,” I said, suddenly searching for words. I’d had this all planned out in my head, what I was going to say—how I was going to say it—but all the words seemed trivial and contrived now that she was here in front of me.
“Yes, it has,” she replied, taking the seat across from me. Our eyes met in awkward silence, as I searched for the right thing to say.
“Look—I just wanted to—”
“Stop,” she interrupted, holding her manicured hand up in the air. “Let me talk first.”
“Okay,” I relented.
“I know what you’re going to say. I can see it in your eyes—the apology, the remorse. Let me say, it’s not needed. I knew what I was getting myself into when I started seeing you. I knew you were…challenging,” she said with a sly grin that seemed to elevate the mood slightly. “And I knew there were no guarantees. When you said there had been someone else, I pretty much knew my efforts were wasted.”
“But then why—?”
“Did I sleep with you?” she asked, finishing my sentence. “Because you’re not the only one who gets lonely, August. And you’re not the only one with issues. I know, after meeting my family, it’s hard to believe I could be anything but the rosy, bubbly woman I personify, but we all have baggage.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m sorry I never took the time to know you better.”
She shrugged, tapping her fingers on the table. “You saw what I wanted you to see. And that’s my fault. Maybe if I learned to let my guard down…let someone in, then perhaps I’d find the right person.”
“You deserve that.”
“So do you,” she replied. “And I have a feeling that’s why you’re here.”
Our eyes met and I nodded. “Yes, and I need your help.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Everly
Meet me at the Cliffs.
That’s all the text message had said. August had been gone for hours, and as the minutes slowly ticked by, I’d never wished for the relentless monotony of work more. Of course it had to be my day off, because nothing fostered creativity more than boredom, and right now my brain was being very creative indeed.
It was idiotic. Moronic and stupid.
After all the nights I’d spent screaming and crying at him for his jealous, domineering ways—for locking me up when I thought he was just being cruel, or the way he’d corner me in a room if a man looked at me the wrong way.
Now who was crazy?
I’d told myself a hundred times it was a business meeting. It was nothing more than a business meeting. He was going to ask her for help, and that was it. But that didn’t stop my mind from reeling and my brain from going haywire at the thought of her anywhere near him.
Parking near the curb, I got out of my beat-up car, noticing how it stood out among the formidable houses that spread down the long street. Thinking about the message again, I looked up at the house August and I had once shared, and decided to walk toward the back, taking his message literally.
The salty smell of the waves crashing below filled me with a flood of memories.
Happy memories, sad memories…but memories just the same.
As I walked along the pathway then opened the gate that led to the backyard, I saw him…standing along the cliffs with his back turned to me. His black t-shirt flapped around in the wind, giving me glimpses of the tanned skin I’d worshipped just hours earlier.
The roaring thunder of the waves filled my ears, making my footsteps seem nearly silent as I approached. As I wrapped myself around him, I felt him tighten and then relax back into my arms. He felt solid, safe, and real.
And mine, finally mine.
“How’d it go?” I asked, having to raise my voice over the sound of the surf.
He turned in my arms, gripping my waist with his firm grasp. “Good,” he smiled. “Better than I could have expected.”
I swallowed the lump of jealousy that I felt blossoming as he began speaking of his meeting with Magnolia. Seeing his eyes light up as he spoke about her—I knew he was excited about our possibility, our future, but I just wished it didn’t have to include her.
“Hey,” he said, stopping suddenly. His eyes rounded and focused on me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I answered casually, trying to cover my doubt with a hopeful smile.
“Everly,” he warned. “I can see something is bothering you. Please don’t shut me out.”
Feeling frustrated, I tore my gaze from his. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s Magnolia again, isn’t it?” Waves crashed below us as he waited for me to answer.
“Yes.”
“This can’t just be jealousy. You’ve never been the overly jealous type.”
He was right. That had always been him. Never me. Even in the years when our relationship was rocky, I’d never doubted his faith in us.
There’d never been any other women in his life. It had always been money, and that’s what this was about.
“She intimidates me,” I confessed.
“Why?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down my shoulders as the wind rushed around us.
“Because she’s everything I tried to be and failed. I guess I just wonder if you picked her because she wasn’t me—because she was different.”
His arms tightened around me, protecting me from the cold. “I know your fears. I remember the man I once was, and I can see the insecurities in your eyes. But please believe me when I say that this man—past, present, and future—will always want you, as you are. No matter what.”
Feeling his protective warmth, I asked, “Is it strange? Remembering the person you were? Is it difficult? I always feared when your memories returned, you’d change…become something different.”<
br />
His chest rose against mine before he spoke. “I honestly did, too. It was my biggest fear as I quickly discovered just how downhill I’d gone in those last few years. I never wanted to return to that, and maybe that’s what kept me from doing so.” He shrugged slightly. “Whatever the reason, I’ve been able to balance it all. I remember, I process, and then I move on. But parts of me still struggle. The old me still wants to protect you from everything, and I’m having a hard time battling that need to keep you from harm.”
“What we’re doing is right,” I said as the wind howled and the waves broke below.
“I know. I just hope we don’t fail.”
“Me too,” I agreed, pressing my face into his chest. “Me too.”
* * *
“Are you sure you want me to be here?” I asked as he settled down on the sofa, his posture relaxing as he tried to find a comfortable position.
“Yes,” he answered with absolute certainty. “It will help me focus.”
I gave a hesitant glance to Brick, who smiled and nodded, giving me a bit more confidence as I sat back into the plush chair and waited for things to begin.
After our talk outside by the cliffs, we’d walked back inside, cold from the wind and salty air, and retreated to the kitchen. After I made us a strong pot of coffee, we discussed the details of August’s lunch date with Magnolia and her very wealthy father.
“He’s agreed to what I asked,” August stated as we huddled in the kitchen, clutching our warm mugs.
“Really? Just like that?” I questioned, wondering what kind of man would simply hand over that kind of cash without any guarantee it would come back to him.
“He trusts me,” he shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Not that I deserve it.”
“You said Magnolia didn’t blame you,” I said, grasping his arm in comfort.
“No, she doesn’t, and I’m grateful. But the fact of the matter is I used her.”
“Maybe you needed each other, for a short period of time. She did say she had baggage of her own. Isn’t that why she never walked away?”
He nodded in agreement, but I knew he was still feeling remorse for everything. He always would. It was a change I’d seen since he’d awoken, how the weight of the world always seemed to fall so heavily on him. Years ago, when life was all about success and power, August had rarely given a second glance to problems that arose as long as they were taken care of. Now, everything seemed to be the result of something he’d done.
I understood his plight. But I also understood what it meant to forgive yourself and move on. I’d spent countless hours lying awake, dealing with my feelings over the way I’d handled August’s coma—how I’d lied to police and made up a faulty story. It was guilt I’d held on to for years.
Guilt, over time, can ruin you, leaving you in an endless revolving pit of shame.
Life didn’t run backward. He needed to remember this. I only hoped my presence here reminded him.
As the calming music played on, I settled into the chair and watched as Brick began working with August, talking in soothing tones, barely over a whisper, to lull him into a hypnotic state.
I’d never witnessed anyone being hypnotized. I’d always assumed it was something akin to a comedy hour where the poor moron would fall immediately asleep and begin clucking like a chicken, completely under the spell of the person who’d hypnotized them.
But it was thankfully nothing like that. August seemed to be fully in control as he fell deeper and deeper into a trancelike sleep. I watched as his breathing evened out, becoming slower. The entire room seemed to mellow as he did and I found myself sinking further into my favorite chair, wrapping my arms around myself as I watched the two men work.
The entire process fascinated me—the idea that August could walk through his subconscious and pick out memories still locked up tight and try to reveal them. I knew, if given the opportunity, he’d ask Brick to put him under this process as much as possible. The temptation to retrieve as many memories as possible was plausible. I could see it in his eyes the moment Brick arrived at his doorstep, ready to begin. But the process was lengthy and, according to Brick, risky.
Risky.
That word scared me.
None of us knew what we were doing, really. With August’s brain injuries so foreign and with the addition of his flashbacks, we all knew we were walking on shaky ground.
What if it was too much? What if his brain couldn’t handle it?
Suddenly, my false sense of security was shaken and nothing in the room could put it back in place. I sat up straighter, zeroed in on August, and just hoped wherever his mind was, he was safe.
Now, completely immersed in a memory, he was eerily still. Only slight movements in his face indicated he wasn’t actually asleep.
“He doesn’t talk them out,” Brick whispered, turning slightly toward me, as we both still focused on August.
“So, you just watch him lay there for however long it takes?” I asked, the worry in my voice growing with each word.
“Yes. He knows I’m here if he needs me, but it’s his journey. He takes it alone.”
“I wish I could be there for him,” I said, my eyes narrowed in on his vulnerable frame. Awake—hell, even sleeping next to him—he always looked so formidable, a force to be reckoned with. But now, seeing him like this, with his mind in flux as he fought for the memories he’d lost, I realized how much he’d been through.
How fragile life really was.
I could have lost him.
I still could.
“You are,” Brick said softly, his warm gaze filled with heavy emotion. “You always have been.”
Just then, August began thrashing violently. His eyes were still locked tightly closed, his back bowed as he fought against some inner demon in his mind.
“Brick!” I cried, rising from my spot across the room to rush to August’s side, but stopping short as Brick took command of the situation.
“August,” Brick said calmly. “It’s just a memory. Remember where you are. Who you’re with,” he said. I began to pace, not sure what else to do.
I felt completely useless. I wanted to touch him, to mold myself into his body and erase the turmoil it was suddenly experiencing. But what if I did more harm than good? What if my touch caused him pain…brought him out of the memory too quickly?
“Go to him, Everly. My voice isn’t getting through to him. Whatever he’s experiencing, it’s pulled him in deep and he needs help.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. In what seemed like a nanosecond, I was at his side, my hand palming his in a soft, rhythmic motion as I watched his face for any signs of change.
Slowly, I saw the pain in his face ease. Each muscle in his body began to relax back into the cushions of the couch as my fingers brushed over his skin. His breathing evened out and soon I found myself staring into the depths of his bewitching hazel eyes.
“I felt your touch,” he said, his voice rough, as if he’d just awakened from a long night of slumber.
“I’m glad,” I answered. “You had us both worried.”
He lifted his head, glancing in Brick’s direction. Nothing was said between the two men, but I could feel a silent conversation pass between them. Like a father checking on his son, Brick silently asked if August was okay and he answered with a slight nod of the head.
Other things must have been discussed in that non-verbal conversation as well, because moments later Brick announced his departure.
“I’m going to let you rest for the evening,” he said, rising from the couch and grabbing his coat. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I followed him out, curiosity peaking as I watched him reach for the door handle.
“Don’t leave him alone tonight,” Brick said softly. “He may want to talk about it…he may not. Just be there for him. Whatever he remembered was difficult and I can see he’s still processing. We just need to give him time.”
Nodding in understanding, I re
ached forward and gave the man a hug. “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”
His arms squeezed me gently and then he was gone, disappearing into the night. I turned back toward the living room.
August was still in the same position, lying with his back flat against the couch and his head turned away from me. I thought it might be frightening, approaching him after such a turbulent event. Would he be erratic or different? Would he remember things that might change him?
But I slowly realized as I took this journey back to him that none of it mattered. I’d spent so much time trying to hate this man, and all it had done was cause us pain.
The simple fact of the matter was I’d always love him. Despite his flaws and failings. Maybe I loved him more because of them. Without them, he was just another man and I was just another woman. Our flaws defined us in a way, bringing out the very best and worst in us all.
I’d seen all of August. The highs, the lows. And I loved every single moment in between.
“It’s all my fault,” he said softly as I entered the room. I sat by his side on the floor.
“What do you mean?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t pushing too hard.
“That night—the night I ended up in the hospital, in the coma. It was all my fault. I remember why I was so frantic—so worried. God, I was so stupid, Everly.”
I could hear the rising panic in his voice, as if he were reliving the memory once again. Moving up, I pushed him over slightly on the couch, making a tiny spot for my body. He immediately shifted, opening his arms as I snuggled in, facing him.
“I never knew what Trent was doing. Not at first, at least. I don’t know how blind and stupid I could have been to not see it. All the signs were there, but it’s like I chose to ignore them.”
“You became greedy,” I said, hating myself for the honesty, but knowing I couldn’t sugarcoat the truth.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I did. I wanted so badly to give us everything and beyond. That was how it started, and then I just became obsessed. It wasn’t enough. I needed more—everything. The clout, the status…Everything that went with the money, I had to have. It’s a sickening reality to come to terms with.”
