Forgetting You, Forgetting Me (Memories from Yesterday Book 1)

by Monica James

  Ripping out the sheet, I use the front of the leather-bound journal as my support and draw my knees to my chest.

  Here’s to new beginnings.

  * * * * *

  June 14th 2014

  Dear diary,

  I’ve done a bad, bad thing. I’ve fallen for the wrong man.

  Yes, call me every scandalous name that there is—it can’t be any worse than what I’ve already called myself.

  My life was perfect, or so I thought. But now I know there is no such thing. Life isn’t about perfection; it’s about experiencing imperfection, to appreciate every imperfect breath you take.

  Saxon Stone is my fiancé’s identical twin brother and I think…I’m in love with him. I don’t know how it happened, it just did. It certainly wasn’t planned and if I could take it back…I wouldn’t.

  The Samuel I once knew is no longer, but if today, right this second, he “woke” up and remembered who he was, who I was, would I be happy? Would I want to go back to the way things were? I don’t know.

  I’ve swam in rough waters. I’ve treaded high tides. And I’ve survived. I’ve found myself in unpolluted recklessness, but I’ve never felt more alive. I am who I am because of this god awful nightmare, but sometimes we have to experience loss to appreciate what we have.

  I have Saxon, or had, but now—I don’t know what I’ve got. Samuel seems to want to try, but is it too late? Has that ship sailed?

  There are so many questions, ones I don’t have the answers for. But there is one answer which is clearer than any others, and that is, I can’t let Saxon go.

  * * * * *

  For the next four hours, I sit in front of the bay window, searching for any sign of Saxon. I’ve looked high and low, but he doesn’t want to be found.

  Samuel drove Piper home, sensing that I needed space. And he’s right. I need space from everyone but Saxon. I need to talk to him. I need to find out what this all means.

  I’m biting my nails anxiously, watching the yard for any movement, hopeful that Saxon will come back. He does.

  The moment I see his tall figure crossing the yard, I leap up from my seat and run through the house and out the back door. Saxon sees me running towards him, but he turns up his lip and continues walking with no intention of stopping.

  “Saxon! We need to talk!” I don’t keep the panic from my tone; I want him to know that I’m afraid—afraid of losing him.

  “I’ve got nothing to say,” he bites back, his eyes hard.

  “Cut the bullshit!” I cry, running after him as he stalks past me. “You’re angry at me for having sex with Sam. Why? You had no qualms sleeping with Piper, so why am I the bad guy?”

  “I don’t care, Lucy. You can fuck whoever you want.” His venomous words are contradictory to his claims.

  “And you call me a liar. I think you need a long, hard look in the mirror. I’m sorry if me sleeping with Sam hurt your feelings. For the record, it wasn’t any good. Terrible, in fact. The whole time I was thinking, why am I doing this?” I confess, not caring that I’m sharing it all.

  “Why did you do it then?” he screams, finally stopping and turning to look at me.

  “I don’t know!” I cry, pulling at my hair.

  “Liar,” he counters, shaking his head. “I thought you were different, but you’re not.”

  “Please, don’t go. Stay here with me.”

  He scoffs, his face contorted. “Stay here and watch you play happy family with Sam? No thank you. Been there, done that.” He closes his eyes the moment his confession passes his lips.

  “What?” I gasp. “What are you talking about?”

  “Forget it. Forget I said anything.” He storms off, but I refuse to let this be.

  “Saxon! What does that mean? You were what…into me when we were kids?” I ask, hating how conceited I sound, but what else does this all mean?

  “Get over yourself, Lucy,” he sniggers, yanking the door open and stomping through the house. I follow in hot pursuit.

  “Talk to me, you stubborn asshole!” I grab his forearm, forcing him to look at me, but he’s stronger than I am. Before I can retreat, he’s got me pinned up against the wall.

  His chest is pressed to mine, our breaths are ragged and rough, and his darkened eyes reveal he’s about to pounce. “When you look at me—” he growls “—do you see him?” He doesn’t need to clarify who he’s referring to. “What about when I kissed you? Did you think about him?”

  My mouth opens and closes, gasping for air, as Saxon’s heated words are robbing me of breath. However, as he reaches between us and cups my mound, I choke, almost certain I’m seconds away from passing out.

  “What about if I fucked you, Lucy? Do you think you’d compare who the better fuck was?”

  My cheeks heat, my body trembles, and I get so incredibly turned on by his sexual aggression, I know he can feel it through the thin cotton of my shorts. I want him to kiss me. To tear off my clothes and take me right here, but I know that won’t happen because he’s waiting for me to answer him.

  “I d-did at first,” I confess, my voice small. “But not anymore.”

  “What do you see now?” He begins boldly massaging his fingers over me, into me, the pressure shooting straight up to my core.

  I can’t speak. His hands are the only things I can focus on. This is so terribly wrong, Samuel will be back any moment, but I can’t stop. “I see…you,” I whimper, biting my lip.

  “Good,” he hums, increasing the speed of his fingers between my legs. “You better hold onto those memories, because that’s all you’ll ever have.”

  He rubs over my center with two fingers in a wide circle before kissing me dismissively on the lips. The kiss is short, a mere peck, but I read it loud and clear. This is goodbye. He drops his hand and cruelly pulls away.

  Tears prick my eyes, my high long gone. “Saxon,” I plead, “I don’t know what this is, but…”

  “This…is over,” he interrupts, not giving me a chance to finish. Not giving me a chance to confess that I have feelings for him.

  He backs away from me, his eyes deadpanned. “I’ll catch ya later.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask, unsure if I want to hear the answer.

  “I’m going out.”

  “Are you coming back?” I sadly say, following him as he strolls to his room.

  “Not sure yet.” He hunts through the drawers, looking for a clean t-shirt.

  The doorbell sounds, giving me a reason to leave the room because I wouldn’t go away otherwise. As I walk down the hall, I squint to ensure the person I think I’m seeing at my door is really there.

  “Sophia?” I can’t hide my surprise.

  She looks beyond stunning in a maroon dress which hugs all the right places. Her hair is out, her makeup is heavy but tasteful, and she smells lovely. She looks, smells, and is dressed for a date—a date with Saxon.

  “Hi, Lucy. Nice to see you. I missed you last night.” I’m staring at her, unable to speak. She clears her throat. “Is Saxon home? He told me to come at five. I’m a little early,” she says, looking at her silver watch. She’s always early. Always eager. But in this circumstance, I wish she was neither.

  I’m standing in the doorway, blocking her entry as I don’t want her inside. I don’t want her anywhere near Saxon.

  “Hi, Sophia.” Saxon’s energized voice is like nails running down a chalkboard, and I recoil, inching the door shut. But it’s pulled wide open as he welcomes Sophia into my home. She steps in, but I don’t move an inch, a barrier between her and Saxon. She looks over my shoulder, grinning flirtatiously.

  When did Saxon arrange this date? Was it before or after he slept with my best friend?

  “Don’t wait up,” he jeers, pushing past me and guiding Sophia out the door as he places his hand on her lower back.

  I stand, watching speechlessly as they get into her Honda. I’m feeling so much—anger, regret, sadness, confusion, but most of all, I want a do-over.


  Nineteen

  I wake with a start, as it sounds like an elephant is tiptoeing through my living room. Reaching for the lamp on the side table, the darkness is replaced with light, highlighting a very drunken Saxon attempting to be quiet. He’s frozen to the spot, his arms and legs mid-stride. If it wasn’t two in the morning, and if two days hadn’t passed since I saw him last, then I might be able to see the humor in it. But now, I’m just mad.

  “Where have you been?” I whisper heatedly, not wanting to wake Sam.

  “I told you not to wait up,” he slurs, pointing to a spot on the wall behind me where he most likely thinks I am.

  “That was two days ago!”

  “Oh.” He chuckles, slapping his leg.

  “Saxon, this isn’t funny.” I jump up, irritated that he’s taking this so lightly.

  Two days ago, Saxon walked out the door with Sophia and never came back. I tried calling his cell, her cell, Greg and Kellie’s cell, I even called the hospitals, almost certain he was lying in the ER. But no one knew where he was. Sophia offered to help look as she hasn’t seen him since their “date,” but I politely declined.

  Sam had his weekly session and just like always, Sophia gave me a rundown on how things were going. But this time, instead of listening to a word she had to say, all I wanted to know was how her date with Saxon went.

  One snippet of information which happened to make it past the Saxon barriers was that Sam was ready to give it his all. Sophia said his standoffish behavior was all part of the grieving process because in a way, the person he knew was dead. Once he worked through the five stages of grief, he was ready to move forward and accept his situation—it makes sense. It appears Sophia is smart and beautiful—doesn’t seem fair.

  But now that Samuel was ready to accept and move forward, I was the one stuck in the past—a past where Saxon and I were still friends. I can’t stop thinking about him and what transpired between us when he had his hands all over me. I can still feel his touch—I crave it. And I hate myself for it.

  But looking at him, I know I’ll never feel his hands on me again. He made it clear that what we had, whatever that was, is now over. His comment, however, still eats away at me. He said he wasn’t interested in watching Sam and I play happy family because he’s seen it all before. What does that mean? Was he jealous of our relationship? And if so, why?

  I have more questions than answers, but with the state Saxon is in, I know I won’t be getting any clarification any time soon.

  “You look awful.” I sigh, his shabby appearance hinting that he’s been doing it rough.

  “So do you,” he replies, swaying. “Have you been crying?” His concern has me hopeful that maybe he’s come around. Maybe he’s needed some time away to clear his head.

  I know the time apart has made things clearer for me. There is no denying that I have feelings for both brothers. And it kills me to confess that I don’t know who I feel stronger for. I do love Sam, but I don’t love this Sam as much as I did. And Saxon…I don’t know what I feel for Saxon. It’s an indescribable feeling that I’ve never felt before.

  “I’m fine,” I reply, heavily. “Let me help you to your room.” I wrap my arm around his waist, ignoring the way my body responds to being within five feet of him. I’m thankful when he doesn’t push me away and sags against me.

  We begin a slow, unsteady journey through the living room where Saxon manages to bump into every piece of furniture I own. He’s absolutely wasted, and if I didn’t know better, I’d dare say he’s been on a bender for two days. He certainly smells and looks like he has been.

  As we turn the corner and stagger down the hall, he bends low and takes a big whiff of my hair. I’ve showered, even remembered deodorant, so I wonder what he’s smelling. “You smell like butterscotch,” he mumbles, sniffing the top of my head.

  “It’s my new shampoo,” I explain, securing my hold around him so he doesn’t fall.

  “I like it. It smells nice. Makes you even more edible.” Now I’m the one in fear of falling, as his comment catches me off guard. “You always smell nice, though. And I like your hair. It reminds me of roses and sunshine.”

  “Roses?” I know this is merely drunken talk, but they do say one reveals all their secrets while under the influence.

  “Yes, you’ve never seen or smelled an ugly rose. They’re classic, timeless, and beautiful—just like you.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  As we pass my bedroom, I hear his jaw clench. “But you’re not my rose.”

  All talk ceases as we stumble to his bedroom, unscathed. I steer him to his bed, where he flops onto it, face first. With unsteady fingers, I slip off his dirty boots. There is no way I’m going to be able to move him, so I find a blanket in the closet and drape it over him.

  A contented sigh fills the room as he rolls over, snuggling into the pillow. I take a moment to look at him and appreciate all that he’s done for me. I can only hope when dawn breaks, he too gives me the chance at a new day.

  Taking one last look at his peaceful form, I tread softly towards the doorway. However, I stop dead in my tracks when he mumbles something under his breath. These words are my dawn.

  “You may not be my rose, but you’ll always be my sunshine.”

  * * * * *

  After Sam’s failed attempt at getting me naked, he’s decided to walk Thunder and probably blow off some steam. The thought of him touching me makes me physically ill. I know it’s all psychological, but I need to sort out my head before I even think about going down that road with him again.

  It’s nine a.m., and I’m not so patiently waiting for Saxon to arise. I know he’ll be incredibly hung over, but he doesn’t have to do the talking. All I ask is that he listens to what I have to say. I don’t have a speech planned, but I want to tell him what I should have told him nights ago. That I feel something for him that has no labels, and I’m pretty certain he feels the same way about me.

  Needing someone’s advice, I quickly dial my mom.

  Before she even has a chance to say hello, I blurt out, “Mom, I think I’ve fallen in love with…Saxon.”

  “I know, honey.”

  “You…what? How?” My mouth hangs open. Am I that obvious?

  She sighs. “Lucy, baby, I think it would be unnatural if you didn’t feel something for him. He’s been your savior, your rock.”

  “What am I supposed to do about it, though? He’s Samuel’s brother. It’s wrong.”

  “No, it’s not. The only thing that’s wrong is you lying to yourself. Be honest. Be honest with yourself. Be honest with Saxon. You both deserve that.”

  She’s right. “What if he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say?” I’m frightened he’ll throw it back in my face, punish me for finally revealing my feelings.

  “Honey, listen to your heart. Tell him.”

  Sniffing, I wipe my eyes. “Thanks, Mom. I hope you’re not disappointed in me.”

  I can feel her gentle touch through the phone. “You could never disappoint me. You’re my miracle. You’re everyone’s miracle. Don’t forget that.”

  Heavy footsteps thumping down the hallway have me quickly saying goodbye. I nervously sip my coffee as I stand behind the kitchen counter, using it as a shield. I don’t know what mood Saxon will be in, and I don’t fail to see the irony of that. Sam’s asshole role has now been filled by Saxon. When he stomps into the kitchen, I know he hasn’t had a hard time filling his shoes.

  He doesn’t bother acknowledging me as he heads straight for the pot of coffee. He pours himself a cup before walking past me, and out the room, just as quickly as he entered.

  Hell no.

  “Saxon!” I cry out, chasing after him. When he doesn’t slow down, I sprint ahead of him and turn, placing a hand against his chest to stop him from taking another step. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” he asks, blankly.

  “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”


  “Lucy, if there is a point to this story, please get to it, otherwise, I’m going back to bed.” His vacant stare hurts more than his words.

  “I thought we could talk. You’ve been gone for two days.”

  “I’m sure Sam was more than happy to keep you company,” he barks, challenging me to dispute his claims.

  “This isn’t about Sam, it’s about…”

  He sniggers, shaking his head incredulously. “This is about Sam. It’s always been about Sam.”

  When he attempts to push past me, I stand my ground. Listening to my mom’s advice, I plead, “Talk to me, please. What does that mean?” I grip his t-shirt in a desperate fist, begging him to stop with the attitude and talk to me like an adult.

  He slaps my hand away. “I’m done talking.”

  I refuse to cry as I confess, “Saxon, I don’t want to lose you.”

  I’m openly begging he at least listen to what I have to say. But I may as well be talking to a brick wall. “You can’t lose what you’ve never had.”

  “Why are you being so cruel?” I whisper, my lower lip trembling.

  He shrugs, the detachment complementing his words. “It seemed to work for Sam.” I turn my cheek, his contempt an invisible slap.

  He doesn’t console me, or even look back as he walks to his room.

  * * * * *

  I’m working alongside Sam, but it’s not by choice.

  After Saxon’s brush off, I decided to occupy my time with something other than him. Before Sam’s accident, we would spend hours outdoors, tending to life on the ranch. It was cathartic as well as rewarding, and I could do with both right now.

  Sam is prepping, oiling, and checking the haying equipment to ensure it’s in good working order. Our first cut of hay will happen in the next couple of weeks, so he wants to be prepared. I’m checking over what seeding we have, as I want to begin leveling the ground.

  We work in silence, but every so often, Sam looks over and smiles. I know he wants to make conversation, but after this morning, I think he’s nervous to initiate first contact. Weeks ago, I would have given anything for him to do so, but now, I just wish he would go away.