The Forget Me Not Pact
Their love could never die.
M. J. PADGETT
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Forget Me Not Pact (The Secret Author Series, #1.4)
The Forget Me Not Pact
Day 1
Day 1
Day 92
Day 92
Day 365
Day 365
Day 665
Day 665
Day 710
Day 710
Day 1520
Day 1520
Day 1700
Day 1700
Day 2090
Day 2090
Day 2915
Day 2915
Day 3825
Day 3825
Day 4072
Day 4075
Day 4225
Day 4225
Day 5720
Day 5720
Day 7630
Day 7630
Day 13,705
Day 13,705
Day 14,580
Day 14,580
Day 30,000
Day 30,00
Day 30,003 | Epilogue
© 2020 Melissa Padgett (M. J. Padgett)
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This work may not be translated except by permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The names, occupations, events, incidents, and businesses are products of the author’s imagination. Certain cities, states, countries, and institutions are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Certain creative liberties have been taken with regard to procedure and function of some occupations, agencies, locations, and events to suit the purpose of this work of fiction. None are intended to represent actual agencies, agency procedures, persons, or events, and any factuality is purely coincidental.
First Edition 2020
Printed in the United States of America
Cover Design by: Melissa Padgett (M. J. Padgett)
Artwork obtained from: upsplash
The Forget Me Not Pact
Day 1
Dana
I WAS SIXTEEN WHEN I first met him. There were two types of kids in our school—those who had after school jobs, and those rich jerks who didn’t. I was neither. Technically, I fell into the second category since my parents had money for days, but they made me work. It didn’t matter to me, though. I liked working. I liked getting away from my parents for a while, so I worked part-time at a local grocery store that employed teenagers for cheap pay. It was hot, just a few days into the school year, and he was sitting in the freezer in the stockroom eating strawberry ice cream right out of the carton.
“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.
“Eating ice cream,” he replied with a shrug.
His response annoyed me. Obviously, he was eating ice cream. That much I could see. It was that he was eating ice cream in the freezer while hiding away from our manager that concerned me.
“You’re gonna get fired. What the heck are you thinking?” I asked, peering over my shoulder lest the devil manager herself be conjured.
He shuffled around a bit, and I thought he was getting up to get back to work. However, he merely shifted to the right and patted the space beside him. I couldn’t tell you why, to this day, I sat down beside that boy and ate ice cream in the freezer of Wilkins Market, but I did. And it changed my life.
“Good, isn’t it?” he asked, grinning.
“I prefer chocolate, but I guess it’s okay. Where’s your nametag?”
With a sigh, he dug around in his pocket. “You’re a stickler for rule-following, aren’t you?”
“Not really. I just don’t want to get fired. I need a car,” I admitted.
“Cars are overrated. Get a bike or a skateboard,” he said, handing me the spoon. It was then I realized I was eating after him without so much as a moment’s hesitation that he might have cooties. What was done was done, so I took the spoon and carved out another bite.
He pinned his name tag to his shirt. Jordan.
“Jordan who?” I asked, pointing to his skewed name tag. I couldn’t stand it. I pulled it off and adjusted it while he stared at me.
“Clark,” he replied, then ripped my name tag from my shirt. “Dana who?”
“Franklin,” I replied while he reattached my nametag, skewed, of course.
“You’re not much for following rules, are you?” I asked.
“I’m a rebel without a cause, Dana. And rebels without causes don’t wear their name tags properly.” He took his off and skewed it again with a little smirk on his face.
“Such a troublemaker,” I taunted, taking the carton of ice cream from him. He didn’t fight much, but he did steal the spoon. “Hey!” I shouted.
“It was my ice cream!” He stole the carton, his fingers brushing against mine, and dug the spoon into the ice cream again. He scooped out a giant mouthful with a gleeful sparkle in his eyes. “Come to me, strawberry goodness.”
“You’re gonna get a brain freeze if you—”
“Ahh, dang it!” he yelled, just as I had suspected he would after stuffing the entire bite in his mouth.
He squinted his eyes shut tight and gritted his teeth as he rode out the pain. “Shoot, son of a booger, that hurt.”
I sat beside him, watching him writhe in the pain of his brain freeze for about forty-five seconds, then hopped off the table. I placed the carton beside him with the spoon stuck deep in the pink ice cream. I was two steps out of the freezer when he called after me.
“Dana!”
I paused, waiting for him to continue. He stepped out of the freezer and closed the door, catching the time on the clock hanging over it as he did.
“Shoot, my break ended two minutes ago. Come on!” He grasped my hand and pulled me behind him. My shift was over, so I was in no hurry, but the boy wouldn’t let my hand go. Rather than stop at the employee lounge to clock back in, he ran right past it and toward the front door as customers watched us.
“You’re gonna get me in trouble! Stop running!” I begged.
My pleas were useless as he dragged me out the front door, down the sidewalk, and around the corner. Jordan stopped once we were out of sight, a place all employees frequently hid from our devil manager. She could smell fear, I tell you, and she could find you just about anywhere in the store. She didn’t care if you were on break or not, if she found you idle, she’d make you scrub shopping carts with a toothbrush until they sparkled.
“What are you doing?” I panted.
“Running. You?”
“You’re such a pain in the butt. Who hired you?” I asked, trying my best to catch my breath.
“Maybe you’re asking the wrong questions?” he said. “You ask a lot of them, but they never seem to be the right ones, the smart ones.”
“Screw you,” I fussed, still panting a bit after our run.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now. I’m not that kind of guy, Dana,” he said, but his smirk said something altogether different, which was why two seconds later, I found myself back against the wall, face deep in a make-out session with him.
I wasn’t expecting it, but I also wasn’t bothered by it. He gave me ample opportunity to decline, but each time he pul
led away, I found myself pulling him back. And each time that darn smirk played on his lips and his blonde hair fell in his eyes. Green eyes. For the rest of my life, whenever I saw the color green, I’d think of him and his rare eye color.
“We’re going to get caught,” I said, pushing him away long enough to breathe.
“Do you care?” he asked, those green eyes trained on me.
“I need a car, remember?” I said the words, but I never did let go of the handful of his shirt I clutched tightly. His lips began to curve again, and I could feel my defenses crumbling. “But...”
“But?”
“I know somewhere else we could go,” I said, pushing off the wall.
“But I’m on shift!” he called after me.
“Do you care?” I asked, heading toward the high school.
He watched me for about ten seconds, looked back toward the store, then back to me with a shrug. “Eh, I’m probably gonna get fired anyway.” He jogged toward me, his eyes sparkling. “Where to, princess?”
“Please don’t call me that. It’s weird,” I said, finding myself way too comfortable with him after having just met him.
“Weirder than what we just did. Seriously, who are you?” Jordan stopped short to get me to pay closer attention to him. His hands were slack at his sides. I wanted those arms around me again, but I didn’t know why.
“What do you mean?” I questioned.
“Why do I suddenly have to know everything about you? Why does the thought of letting you walk away right now make me want to throw up? Why is every part of my brain screaming your name in my skull to the point I think it might split open if I don’t kiss you again?” he asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion.
My lips parted, but only a small gasp escaped. Sixteen. I was sixteen years old the first time I fell in love with him—almost at first sight—standing in the dingy parking lot of a crummy grocery store.
Day 1
Jordan
I WAS ALMOST SEVENTEEN when I first met her. I’d seen her exactly one time before, walking out the front door of Wilkin’s at the end of her shift, just as I was walking in. We passed each other without so much as a nod the other existed. Yet there we were, half an hour after officially meeting, and I couldn’t stop saying stupid things. I spoke to her feet, staring at a wad of gum smashed onto the asphalt, mortified.
The words that fell unapproved from my mouth were horrendous. I wanted to throw my hands over my lips to stop the flow before I said things that would make her think I was crazy, but I couldn’t. And when I saw her face, I decided I didn’t want to. No one had ever looked at me like that before.
Her lips parted, and she gasped. In the history of teenagers, I was sure none had gone about this the way we were, but it felt oddly normal in the most abnormal sense of the word. Dana turned her head away, I thought to distract from the moment, but I was wrong.
“I-I feel that, too,” she admitted shyly.
It was adorable in a way; the snarky comebacks were gone and in their place was a certain softness about her that hooked me deep in the chest. I liked her both ways—snarky and sweet.
“Where was it you wanted to take me?” I asked, probably pushing my luck. Instead of chastising me, she offered her hand with the faintest of smiles. I covered the distance between us in three long strides, but it felt like an eternity. I slid my hand into hers, the perfect fit. Absolutely perfect.
Dana tugged me along, and as I followed, I pondered how we’d suddenly gotten there. I finished unloading the delivery truck, and it was hot. So hot, I couldn’t stand it, so I walked into the freezer to cool off. The next thing I knew I was sitting beside her eating ice cream.
“What school do you go to?” I suddenly asked.
“Parkridge, you?” Even her tone of voice had changed, nervous where it was confident before. Parkridge... the rich kid school.
“Eastside. I guess that’s why we’ve never met outside of work,” I said. I sighed to myself. Come on, Jordan, you can do better than small talk.
“I guess. Did you just start working at Wilkins? I don’t remember seeing you around,” she asked, her palm starting to sweat in my hand. I hated how we were suddenly tense and nervous with one another. I liked the banter and ease of conversation we had before... before that amazing kiss.
I stopped and tugged on her hand. We were well away from the grocery store, and I needed to know. I had to know if it was the thrill of getting caught that made the kiss so great, or if it was her. She fell back slightly, catching herself before looking at me with a confused expression on her face.
“What? Did say something wrong?” she asked.
I was debating with myself—kiss her, or don’t kiss her? I shouldn’t have taken so long to figure out what to do, because it made her nervous.
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I did. I just haven’t seen you around, so I assumed you were new or—”
Screw it. I pulled her closer and took her face in my hands. Her eyes were wide for a fraction of a second, then softened into acceptance. Blue. So blue. When she nodded, I pressed my lips against hers again. It was her. It wasn’t the thrill of running from our crazy manager, it was all her. I couldn’t imagine kissing anyone else would be that... what was the word? It sent a course of electricity through my veins, but I wouldn’t call it electrifying. It was more than that. I felt the heat in my chest, the adrenaline rush that hit me hard, but I wouldn’t say there were fireworks. It wasn’t that cheesy. It was... comforting. Warm and soft, and so much like a place I wanted to stay in forever.
I almost forgot we were standing on a sidewalk on the side of the road until a car honked. She jumped away, her cheeks flushed pink, and her lips slick.
“What is this? What are we doing right now?” I asked those gorgeous icy eyes. They searched mine. Looking for a trick or a lie, I couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t find that, not even close.
“I don’t know. Is it okay?” she asked
How was I supposed to know what was happening, let alone if it was okay? She couldn’t be more than sixteen, and I was a week away from my seventeenth birthday. How would I know if what we felt was normal? Heck, I wasn’t even sure what it was I felt.
“What is it, exactly?” I wondered aloud.
She shrugged and threw her hands up in the air. “Beats me. I was going to get my things from my locker, and I saw you in the walk-in freezer. Now here we are, and I don’t know what to say or do. I have no clue what this is,” she admitted. “But I’m not sure I really care about defining it if that makes any sense.”
I nodded slowly. “I’m not sure I know how to define it anyway.”
“The place I wanted to go, it’s just over the hill if you still want to go,” she offered.
It felt a lot like she doubted I’d want to. Like the feeling of charged energy and fire and comfort between us scared me in some way. Normally, it would. Normally a rule-breaker like me would run far away from any sign of commitment or attachment but running away from her felt like running away from life.
“Of course, I want to go.” I took her hand again, and she smiled, bigger and happier this time.
It made me feel good. Nothing much made me feel good, nothing but skateboarding and... well, her.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Dana asked, swinging our hands between us as we walked to our destination.
I glanced up to see if she was kidding, but she was not. Her face was serious as a heart attack, and I had a feeling I should come up with a good answer. At least, one I’d put more than ten seconds of thought into. Definitely one better than, “Beats the heck out of me,” but it’s what I said, accidentally.
“That’s probably okay. We still have time. I want to be a doctor, but my parents want me to be a lawyer.”
“You say that like one is worse than the other,” I said, chuckling
“It is. I don’t want to be a lawyer. I want to be a doctor. Simple as that, but I think my parents might die if I go to med schoo
l instead of some stuffy law school,” she said, turning her nose up at the very idea.
I chuckled again. “So, your parents want you to be just like them?”
“No! That’s the crazy thing! My mother is a third-grade teacher, and my father is a mechanic! I mean, we have money that my grandfather left us but still,” she said, squeezing my hand and coming to a stop so she could speak frustratedly about it. “I have no idea why they decided one was better than the other, and it drives me crazy because they did what they wanted with their lives, so why can’t I? I mean, my family comes from old money, so they both had giant trust funds and did what they wanted with their lives. What’s the deal? Why are they so hypocritical when it comes to me?”
“No idea,” I said, trying not to smile at the way she flailed her free hand around as if, somehow, if she waved enough, the entire situation would just fly away.
She sighed loudly, and her shoulders slumped. It clearly weighed on her a lot, and she needed someone to listen to her rant about it.
“I’m all ears. Keep going,” I offered, but Dana shook it off.
“It’s okay. We’re here anyway,” she said, and I looked around. I hadn’t noticed, but we were in a grove of trees behind her school. It was off the road a bit, and we were well-shielded from passing cars. When I looked back at her, she was smiling.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know she just brought me to a secluded place so we could pick up where we left off behind the grocery store.
“Oh... um... I-I just... I thought... I’m sorry, I was under the impression—”
“I was kidding, Dana. Come here,” I said, tugging on her hand. She grinned and bit her lip, her ultra-blue eyes focused on mine. “You’re so beautiful,” I said, then pressed my lips to hers again.
There was no way I would ever get tired of the feeling that came over me when I kissed her. For the rest of my life, the color blue would bring about feelings I never knew a guy could feel at sixteen. Standing in a secluded grove of oak trees, I fell in love with her for the first time, setting myself up for a lifetime of amazing moments.
The Forget Me Not Pact (The Secret Author Series, #1.4) Page 1
