by Winters, W.
My heart skips one beat and then another as a rough laugh rises above the background noise of the small bar.
“Yeah, I’ll take an ale, something local,” I hear Daniel say before he slips into view. I know it’s him. That voice haunted me for years. His strides are confident and strong, just like I remember them. And as he passes me to take a seat by the bar, I can’t take my eyes off of him.
He’s taller and he looks older, but the slight resemblance to Tyler is still there. As my heart learns its rhythm again, I notice his sharp cheekbones and my gaze drifts to his hard jaw, covered with a five o’clock shadow. I’d always thought of him as tall and handsome, albeit in a dark and brooding way. And that’s still true.
He could fool you with his charm, but there’s a darkness that never leaves his eyes.
His fingers spear through his hair as he checks out the beer options written in chalk on the board behind the bar. His hair’s longer on top than it is on the sides, and I can’t help but to imagine what it would feel like to grab on to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had.
The timbre in his voice makes my body shudder.
And then heat.
I watch his throat as he talks, I notice the little movements as he pulls out a chair in the corner of the bar across from me. If only he would look my way, he’d see me.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips and I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t.
I can’t do a damn thing but wait for him to notice me.
I almost whisper the command, look at me. I think it so loud I’m sure it can be heard by every soul in this bar.
And finally, as if hearing the silent plea, he looks my way. His knuckles rap the table as he waits for his beer, but they stop mid-motion when his gaze reaches mine.
There’s a heat, a spark of recognition. So intense and so raw that my body lights, every nerve ending alive with awareness.
And then it vanishes. Replaced with a bitter chill as he turns away. Casually. As if there was nothing there. As if he doesn’t even recognize me.
I used to think it was all in my mind back then. Five years ago when we’d share a glance and that same feeling would ignite within me.
But this just happened. I know it did.
And I know he knows who I am.
With anger beginning to rise, my lips part to say his name, but it’s caught in my throat. It smothers the sadness that’s rising just as quickly. Slowly my fingers curl, forming a fist until my nails dig into my skin.
I don’t stop staring at him, willing him to look at me and at least give me the courtesy of acknowledging me.
I know he can feel my eyes on him. He’s stopped rapping his knuckles on the table and the smile on his face has faded.
Maybe the crushing feeling in my chest is shared by both of us.
Maybe I’m only a reminder to him. A reminder he ran away from too.
I don’t know what I expected. I’ve dreamed of running into Daniel so many nights. Brushing shoulders on the way into a coffee shop. Meeting each other again through new friends. Every time I wound up back home, if you can even call it that, I always checked out every person passing me by, secretly wishing one would be him. Just so I’d have a reason to say his name.
Winding up at the same bar on a lonely Tuesday night hours away from the town we grew up in … that was one of those daydreams too. But it didn’t go like this in my head.
“Daniel.” I say his name before I can stop myself. It comes out like a croak and he reluctantly turns his head as the bartender sets down the beer on the wooden table.
I swear it’s so quiet, I can hear the foam fizzing as it settles in the glass.
His lips part just slightly, as if he’s about to speak. And then he visibly inhales. It’s a sharp breath and matches the gaze he gives me. First it’s one of confusion, then anger … and then nothing.
I have to remind my lungs to do their job as I clear my throat to correct myself, but both efforts are in vain.
He looks past me as if it wasn’t me who was trying to get his attention.
“Jake,” he speaks up, licking his lips and stretching his back. “I actually can’t stay,” he bellows from his spot to where the bartender, apparently named Jake, is chucking ice into a large glass. The music seems to get louder as the crushing weight of being so obviously dismissed and rejected settles in me.
I’m struck by how cold he is as he gets up. I can’t stand to look at him as he readies to leave, but his name leaves me again. This time with bite.
His back stiffens as he shrugs his thin jacket around his shoulders and slowly turns to look at me.
I can feel his eyes on me, commanding me to look back at him and I do. I dare to look him in the eyes and say, “It’s good to see you.” It’s surprising how even the words come out. How I can appear to be so calm when inside I’m burning with both anger and … something else I don’t care to admit. What a lie those words are.
I hate how he gets to me. How I never had a choice.
With a hint of a nod, Daniel barely acknowledges me. His smile is tight, practically nonexistent, and then he’s gone.
Click here to keep reading Possessive!
Sneak Peek of Forget Me Not
I fell in love with a boy a long time ago.
I was only a small girl. Scared and frightened, I was taken from my home and held against my will. His father hurt me, but he protected me and kept me safe as best he could.
Until I left him.
I ran the first chance I got and even though I knew he wasn’t behind me, I didn’t stop. The branches lashed out at me, punishing me for leaving him in the hands of a monster.
I’ve never felt such guilt in my life.
Although I survived, the boy was never found. I prayed for him to be safe. I dreamed he’d be alright and come back to me. Even as a young girl I knew I loved him, but I betrayed him.
Twenty years later, all my wishes came true.
But the boy came back a man. With a grip strong enough to keep me close and a look in his eyes that warned me to never dare leave him again. I was his to keep after all.
Twenty years after leaving one hell, I entered another. Our tale was only just getting started.
It’s dark and twisted.
But that doesn’t make it any less of what it is.
A love story. Our love story.
Prologue
Robin
I can wait here longer than he can stand to stay away. I know that much.
A small grin pulls at my lips as I pick at the thread on the comforter. Always picking and waiting. There’s nothing else to do in this room.
My head lifts at the thought, drawing my eyes to the blinking red light. And he’s always watching. The sight of the camera makes my stomach churn, but only for a moment.
The sound of heavy boot steps walking down the stairs outside the closed door makes my heart race. I stare at the doorknob, willing it to turn and bring him to me.
I’ve waited too long for him.
The sound of the door opening is foreboding. If anyone other than me was waiting for him, I’d assume they’d have terror in their hearts. But I know him. I understand it all. The pain, the guilt. I know firsthand what it’s like when the monster is gone and you only have your own thoughts to fight. Your memories and regrets. It’s all-consuming.
And there’s no one who can understand you. No one you trust, whose words you can believe are genuine and not just disguised pity.
But he knows me, and I know him. Far too well; our pain is shared.
His broad shoulders fill the doorway and his dark eyes meet mine instantly. He barely touches the door and it closes behind him with a loud click that’s only a hair softer than my wildly beating heart.
It’s hard to swallow, but I do. And I ignore the heat, the quickened breath. I push it all down as he walks toward me, closing the space with one heavy step at a time.
He stops in front of me, but d
oesn’t hesitate to cup my chin in his large hand and I lean into his comforting touch. I know to keep my own hands down though and I grip the comforter instead of him.
It’s a violent pain that rips through me, knowing how scarred he is. So much so, that I have to hold back everything. I’m afraid of my words, my touch. He’s so close to being broken beyond repair and I only want to save him, but I don’t know how.
We’re both damaged, but the tortured soul in front of me makes me feel everything. He makes me want to live and heal his tormented soul. But how can I, when I’m the one who broke him by running away?
“My little bird,” he whispers and it reminds me of when we were children. When we were trapped together.
He’s not the boy who protected me.
He’s not the boy whose eyes were filled with a darkness barely tempered with guilt.
He’s not the boy I betrayed the moment I had a chance.
He’s a man who’s taking what he wants.
And that’s me.
Chapter 1
Robin
One week before
“Doctor Everly?” a soft voice calls out, breaking me from my distant thoughts as another early spring chill whips through my thin jacket and sends goosebumps down my body. I slowly turn my head to Karen. Her cheeks are a little too pink from a combination of the harsh wind and a heavy-handed application of blush, and the tip of her nose is a bright red.
I grip my thin jacket closer, huddling in it as if it can protect me from the brutal weather. It’s too damn cold for spring, but I suppose I’d rather be cold and uncomfortable out here. Today especially.
I give Karen a tight smile, although I don’t know why. It’s not polite to smile out here, or is it? “How are you doing?” I ask her as she walks closer to me.
She nods her head, taking in a breath and looking past me at the pile of freshly upturned dirt. “It hurts still. It’s just so sad.” Karen’s only twenty-three, fresh out of college and new to this. I’m new to it too. Marie was the first patient I’ve had who killed herself.
Sad isn’t the right word for it. Devastating doesn’t even begin to describe what it feels like when a young girl in your care decides her life is no longer worth living.
I clear my throat and turn on the grass to face her. The thin heels of my shoes sink into the soft ground, and I have to balance myself carefully just to stand upright.
“It is,” I tell Karen, not sure what else to say.
“How do you handle…” her voice drifts off.
I don’t know how to answer her. My lips part and I shake my head, but no words come out.
“I’m so sorry, Robin,” she says and Karen’s voice is strong and genuine. She knows how much Marie meant to me. But it wasn’t enough.
I try to give her an appreciative smile, but I can’t. Instead, I clear my tight throat and nod once, looking back to where Marie’s buried.
“Are you okay?” she asks me cautiously, resting a hand on my arm, trying to comfort me. And I do what I shouldn’t. I lie.
“I’m okay,” I tell her softly, reaching up to squeeze her hand.
As I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a gust of wind flies by us and a bolt of lightning splits the sky into pieces, followed a few seconds later with the hard crack of thunder.
Karen looks up, and in an instant the light gray clouds darken and cue the storm to set in. It’s only the two of us left here and it looks like the weather won’t have us here any longer, leaving Marie all alone. I think deep inside that’s how she wanted it all along. She didn’t want a shrink to give her advice.
Who was I to help her? The guilt washes through me and the back of my eyes prick with unshed tears as I take in a shuddering breath, shoving my hands in my pockets and turning back to her grave.
As much as I’d like to believe I’ll let her rest now, I know I’ll be back. It’s selfish of me. She just wanted to be left alone. She needed that so her past could fade into the background. I know that now; I wish I knew it then.
“She’s in a better place,” Karen whispers and my gaze whips up to hers. She doesn’t have the decency to look me in the eyes and I have to wonder if she just said the words because she thinks they’re appropriate. Like it’s something meant to be said when talking of the dead, or maybe she really believes it.
Karen turns to walk toward her car as the sprinkling of rain starts to fall onto us. She looks back over her shoulder, waiting for me and I relent, joining her.
I’m sorry, Marie.
As the cold drops of rain turn to sheets and my hair dampens, my pace picks up. It doesn’t take long until we’re both jogging through the grass and then onto the pavement of the parking lot, our heels clicking and clacking on the pavement with the sound of the rain.
I barely hear her say goodbye and manage a wave behind me as I open my car door and sink into the driver seat.
I just wanted to help Marie. I could see so much of myself in her. We were almost the same age. She had the same look in her eyes. The same helplessness and lack of self-worth. I wanted to save her like my psychiatrist saved me.
But how could I? I’m not over my past. I should have known better. I should have referred her to someone more capable. Someone who had less emotional investment. I pushed too hard. It’s my fault.
The pattering of rain on the car roof is eerily rhythmic as I dig through my purse, shivering and shoving the wet hair out of my face. The keys jingle as I shove them into the ignition, turning on the car and filling the cabin with the sounds of the radio.
I’m not sure what song’s on but I don’t care because I’m quick to turn the radio off. To get back to the silence and the peace of the rainfall. I slump in my seat, staring at the temperature gauge. When I look up, I see Karen drive away in the rearview mirror. Watching her car drive out of sight, my eyes travel to my reflection.
I scoff at myself and wipe under my eyes. I look dreadful. My dirty blonde hair’s damp and disheveled, my makeup’s running. I lift the console and grab a few tissues to clean myself up before sluggishly removing my soaked jacket and tossing it in the backseat. The heater finally kicks on, and I still can’t bring myself to leave.
I look back into the mirror and see that I’m somewhat pulled together, but I can’t hide the bags under my eyes. I can’t force a false sense of contentment onto my face.
I close my eyes and take in another deep breath, filling my lungs and letting it out slowly. I need sleep. I need to eat. It’s been almost a week since I found out about Marie. A week of her no longer being here to call and check in on. Tears stream freely down my cheeks. I tried so hard not to cry; I learned a long time ago that crying doesn’t help, but being forced to leave her is making me helpless to my emotions.
That first night I almost cried, but instead I resorted to sleeping pills. A wave of nausea churns in my stomach at the thought of what I did. It was so easy to just take one after the other. Each one telling me it’d be over soon. After downing half the bottle, I knew what I was doing. But the entire bottle was too much and it all came back up before I could finish it. Thank God for that. I’m not well, and I’m sure as hell not in a position to help others.
My hand rests against my forehead as I try to calm down, as I try to rid myself of the vision of Marie in my office, but other memories of my past persist there, waiting for this weakness.
I can’t linger any longer. Putting the car into reverse, I back out of my spot, turning and seeing Marie’s plot in the distance as I back up.
Grief is a process, but guilt is something entirely different. It’s becoming harder and harder to separate the two, and I know why.
She reminds me of him.
Of a boy, I knew long ago. The turn signal seems louder than ever as I wait at the exit to turn onto the highway. Click, click, click.
Each is a second of time that I’m here and they’re not. Click, click, click.
The cabin warms as I drive away, merging onto the highway.
Maybe all this has nothing to do with Marie.
Maybe it’s just the guilt that summons the vision of his light gray eyes from the depths of my memory.
Maybe it’s because I’m to blame for both of their deaths.
Click here to keep reading Forget Me Not.
About W Winters
Thank you so much for reading my romances. I’m just a stay at home mom and avid reader turned author and I couldn’t be happier.
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