by J. L. Berg
Luxuries like Egyptian cotton sheets were things I would never grow accustomed to, no matter how many times my legs touched them. Every night, I’d sink into bed and run my legs back and forth against the smoothness, loving the way it felt against my skin.
Like Ryan, it brought me peace and made me feel safe—two things I’d struggled with the majority of my life.
“Please, babe. I’m hungry. So very, very hungry,” he said, sticking his head out the door of the bathroom. His lips turned downward, making him look years younger. I laughed, unable to resist his boyish charm.
“Okay, okay,” I said, stretching one last time, before I rose to grab my robe.
“On second thought, I might need to work off a few more calories first,” he said, stepping out of the bathroom in just a towel. His tanned skin was slick and wet from the shower, and I couldn’t help but lick my lips as I watched a tiny drop of water skate down his chiseled chest.
Who knew nerds could be so hot?
His gaze turned heated as he stalked forward and I watched the towel drop to the floor. I stepped backward, feeling the edge of the bed hit the backs of my knees.
Our bodies met once more as his hand cupped the back of my head, tilting it upward. “I love you, Everly. I love you so much,” he whispered, touching his lips to mine. I moaned into the kiss, feeling every hard inch of him press into me.
Always aware of my needs, he was gentle as he lowered me to the bed. As my head touched the pillow, I heard the sounds of a cell phone ringing throughout the apartment.
Ryan’s head dipped forward, shaking back and forth.
“Just ignore it,” he said.
I was already pushing at his shoulders, begging him to let me answer it.
“It can’t be that important, Ev,” he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I’m right here.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my robe as I raced to the living room.
“It could be Sarah,” I said. “She had her first rehearsal tonight.”
I picked up the phone, not recognizing the number, and paused.
“Babe,” Ryan said, standing in the doorway of our room. “Come back to bed. Whatever it is can wait.”
I didn’t listen. Instead, I answered and heard the words I had begged God to never allow to come true.
“Miss Adams?” a woman said on the other end.
“Yes,” I answered.
“This is Doctor Lawrence from St. Marcus Hospital.”
My heart began to beat frantically as my hand sought out something solid to hold me up. I knew it was coming. Like a freight train in the middle of the night, I could see the light off in the distance…I knew what was coming.
Who was coming.
“He’s awake.”
The phone hit the floor seconds before I did, and then the world went black.
Chapter Two
August
I need a doctor in here!” someone shouted. I felt my lungs expanding, gasping for air. “Breathe! Look at me!” she yelled once more. My eyes opened, as blinding white light burned my retinas, making the room blurry and distorted. Instinctively lifting my hand, I tried to block it out, but felt held back by cords and wires.
“I’m Nurse Amy. Do you know where you are?” the woman asked. “You haven’t spoken in a very long time—your throat will be hoarse. Please don’t try to speak.”
Long time? Nurse?
I blinked, looking around, as I waited for the spots and auras to dissipate. Fuzzy white walls came into focus as I looked down to see my own limp body below, covered in stiff bleached blankets. I flexed my hand and felt my bones cracking like ancient tree branches. I looked down at my arm, noticed the tape around the crook of my arm—for an IV, perhaps?
“Sir, are you all right? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I looked up to see Nurse Ally or Amy, a young blonde, staring at me with concern and perhaps what might have been a bit of shock. I nodded, narrowing my eyes as I tried to gauge her appearance. Did I know her?
“Do you know where you are?” she repeated. “Just shake your head for yes or no.”
I shook my head no, the muscles in my neck feeling tight and thin.
Just then an older man dressed in a white lab coat and scrubs appeared in the doorway.
“You called for his doctor,” he said absently, searching through a paper chart as he sauntered in. His eyes lifted and met mine.
“Good god,” he whispered, the clipboard falling to the floor with a clatter. Leaving the mess of papers where they fell, he stepped forward as his wide look of surprise and wonder stayed solely focused on me.
“I was doing chart updates and he suddenly took a large gasp of air. I thought he was flatlining, but then his eyes popped open and he was fully awake. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
The man just stared at me, eyes full of shock.
“Doctor, are you all right?” The nurse asked, glancing over at the aged man with concern. His gray eyebrows furrowed together as his frozen statue of a frame narrowed in on me.
“Yes. Yes, of course. We need to run vitals right away,” the old man said, still seeming to be stuck in some sort of trance.
“Amazing,” the doctor managed to say as I watched him and the young nurse hover over me like some crazy science experiment.
It made me suddenly wary of my situation.
The nurse scuttled away and I was suddenly left alone with the ancient doctor.
“Do you remember how you got here?” he asked, pushing a chair toward the bed. He took a seat, resting a clipboard on his lap as he calmly folded his legs and held a pen ready for notes.
“I—” That single word felt like sandpaper and sent me into a sudden coughing fit that had no end.
A hand pushed me forward and patted my back, attempting to calm me.
“Take your time,” he said, rising to walk toward the sink. He returned seconds later with a paper cup filled with water.
“Just small sips at first,” he directed, as I brought the cup to my lips. The process, although it should have been second nature to me, seemed clumsy and new. My hands shook, and my arms felt tired from the strain. I nearly missed my mouth and had to look down as the cup met my mouth, drops of water spilling all over my thin hospital gown.
I was like a child. A feeble, helpless child.
The cool water soothed my aching throat though, and provided much needed relief as I finally found the words I’d wanted to say since my eyes cracked open.
“I…remember…nothing,” I answered hoarsely, the truth hurting more than any pain or ache could.
* * *
Nothing.
My former life was an endless tunnel of oblivion, where there was no beginning or end. There were no ups or downs or signs to tell me of the twisty turns up ahead. There wasn’t a highlight reel—no cliff notes to remind me of what had occurred or transpired.
It all came crashing down to one singular word.
Nothing.
No matter how many questions they asked, my answer remained the same.
I remembered absolutely nothing.
What did I do with that?
The doctor—he called himself Lawrence—said the memories I’d lost might return with time. I asked the probability of that happening.
His response was that he honestly didn’t know.
“After a certain amount of time, the chances of a patient reawakening after a brain injury such as yours become slimmer and slimmer. We honestly didn’t know whether you would ever wake up, August. This is rare. We’re all treading on uncharted ground at this point.”
August.
That was my name—August Kincaid.
But a name couldn’t tell me what kind of man I was—what kind of life I’d led. I would have said I’d never felt so lost or alone in my life…but had I?
My eyesight now well-adjusted to the fluorescent lights above, I stared ahead, trying to figure out a way to make sense of my new reality. My focus drifted toward the
window, where the city spread out before me.
The nurses had explained to me I was in San Francisco. As I looked out onto the city below, it felt foreign and cold. Nothing stood out. Had I really lived here?
The door creaked open as Nurse Amy crept in once more.
“I brought you some food. Unfortunately it’s only applesauce and broth—but it’s a start,” she said with a subtle smile, setting the tray beside me. “I also managed to unearth your box of belongings if you’d like to look through them?”
“Belongings?” I asked, my attention now completely wrapped around the small cardboard box in her hands.
“Yes. When you arrived, you had some things with you. We saved them in case…well, I’ll just leave them right here.”
The doctor had mentioned I’d been in some sort of attack—a mugging, but hadn’t given me the details. He’d said it was best if we just started with the basics for now.
Placing the box on the bed next to my leg, she turned.
“Amy,” I said quietly, needing to know something…anything.
“Yes?” she asked, rotating back around. Her amber eyes brimmed with sympathy.
“Did anyone ever come to see me? Family, friends—anyone?”
Her lips pursed together as her face fell. “No, sir. Not since I’ve been here.”
“And how long has that been?”
“I’ve been working this wing for a little over a year and a half, sir.”
I swallowed the giant lump in my throat as I quickly thanked her. Listening to the door quietly click closed behind her, I glanced once more out the window to the thousands of streets and houses below.
Dr. Lawrence had told me I had been “asleep” for a little over two years—twenty-six months, to be exact. It was like falling asleep on a plane ride and waking up three hours later as the pilot announces your final descent—only you’re still stuck at the beginning, wondering where your complimentary beverage and peanuts are. Everything seemed to have happened in a blink of an eye because you were asleep during all the action.
I’d missed over two years of my life—a life I didn’t remember. A life no one wanted to be a part of.
I was already learning about the type of man I had been.
No family or friends—I was either a loner or an asshole. I didn’t know which was worse.
* * *
My hand shook as I pulled the box into my lap, preparing myself for what may lay hidden within. I felt nervous and sick with anticipation. I suddenly wanted to flee, but where would I go? And how would I get there? Moving my leg took more concentration than I was willing to admit and I was still attached to what looked to be a hundred monitoring devices.
The box stared back at me, waiting…wondering when I would crack its lip and finally divulge the secrets it had been keeping for so long.
What if I didn’t like what I found? What if I did?
Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the lip and pulled, knowing there was only one way to find out.
All neatly arranged inside, I found clothes, a wallet, and a scattering of other personal belongings. I immediately went for the wallet, knowing it would hold the most information. With everything else forgotten, my fingers traced the smooth edges of the soft leather as I bent it open.
There staring back at me was a picture of my own face. Because of the mirror across the room near the sink, I’d managed to catch a glimpse of my reflection a time or two since awaking here hours earlier.
The man looking up at me from the California driver’s license photo was a stark contrast to the person I was today.
Cold, empty green eyes looked through me, as if the world and everything in it were beneath him. The me in the photo wore a crisp white shirt and flawless green tie and jacket, but there was no smile permeating the lens—not even a hint of emotion showed. My now long, unkempt hair had been trimmed short and neat, matching the impeccable persona that could be seen even through the tiny picture.
My attention turned toward the address.
1023 Sea Cliff Lane, San Francisco.
I looked out the window, trying to see if anything beyond its paned glass brought back any hints or memories of a life I’d once led.
San Francisco.
Even though the driver’s license confirmed what the nurse had already told me, I still felt no connection with the city below. Nothing called out to me; nothing held my attention
Was there anyone down there that would remember my name?
I dug further through the wallet, finding a couple hundred dollars in cash, as well as several credit cards and a few membership cards to places I’d never heard of, but apparently belonged to.
Or had belonged to.
What happened to your life when you went into a coma? Did you disappear? Cease to exist, or did life carry on? I looked at the address on my driver’s license and wondered if I still had a home…a bank account? I wasn’t dead, but who had been paying my bills for the last two years?
Did I have money to pay the bills?
Fuck.
Suddenly, all I wanted was to slip back into that coma and never wake up again.
And then I saw her.
It was just a glimpse at first, the edge of a picture sticking out from inside the wallet—a wisp of hair that had me pulling at the picture to see it properly.
With the Golden Gate Bridge as our backdrop, a much younger, carefree version of myself held a girl in my arms and suddenly the world didn’t feel so lonely anymore. Copper red hair tumbled down her back like a fiery mane. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as if she held untold secrets waiting to be revealed. In my own eyes, I didn’t see harshness or the rigid void of nothingness. I saw her, reflecting back in spades, the love radiating between us.
I flipped the photo over, hoping for something…anything that would tell me who this girl was.
There was nothing but a date and a name.
August and Everly – 2005
Everly.
She had a name.
Now all I had to do was find her.
Chapter Three
Everly
A soothing hand caressed my forehead and my eyes fluttered open; that’s when reality came crashing back to the forefront of my mind.
August was awake.
Oh, God. Did he know?
Would he find me?
I bolted upright, nearly knocking Ryan out in the process. My heart kicked into high gear as my fight-or-flight response took over.
Too weak to fight. Must flee.
Need to leave.
Should never have stayed here.
I should have left. I should have moved far…far away like I’d always planned. But plans have a way of getting muddled and as my breath evened out and my eyes once again opened, I found the reason for my muddled plans staring back at me with nothing but concern and love written across his handsome face.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, gently pushing back a piece of my hair as he leaned in close. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay, Ev.”
Unshed tears stung my eyes and I fought to keep them in place. He pulled me into his arms and I willingly let him, gripping his shoulder as if it were an iron anchor. My body felt like someone had just dropped a hundred-ton lead weight into my arms, like I was carrying every single worry and panicked thought I’d stowed away over the last two years.
They all rose to the surface. All at once.
“Oh god, Ryan. I can’t do this,” I cried.
“You don’t have to do a thing. No one is making you do anything at all, Everly. He’s awake; that doesn’t have to mean anything to you.”
I knew he meant well, but he didn’t understand. He’d never understand.
“I can’t exist in a world where he does, Ryan,” I whispered, as the walls began to close in around me. Panic settled in my bones, had me pulling my knees close to my chest, rocking back and forth in Ryan’s strong arms. The tears continued to fall as I felt myself growing weaker, knowing August was mere
miles away, growing stronger by the minute.
How long until he came for me? How long until he found me and ruined the little life I’d created? What happened then?
“Yes, you can,” Ryan vowed, turning me in his arms as he pulled me from the darkness and growing fear in my head. “This changes nothing.”
I shook my head, not so easily convinced. The only reason I’d carried on in his absence was because I’d convinced myself he was gone. For good.
Denial really was a cold-hearted bitch.
“What happened…after…I mean—did you talk to the doctor more?”
I felt him nod. “I hung up to take care of you, but after I got you in bed, I did call him back.”
“What did he say?” I asked, my breath barely audible as I waited for his response.
He pulled back, our eyes locking as he smoothed away the crimson hair from around my face. Warmth and tenderness met me as he spoke. “He wants to see you.”
Fear flooded my system and I immediately tried to retract from his hold, needing space as the room once again began to shrink around me.
Flee. Must flee.
“I can’t,” I managed to choke out as I got up and paced the room. “I won’t.”
“No one is making you, Ev. I already told Dr. Lawrence no.”
My body tensed at his admission. I came to an abrupt standstill in the middle of the living room. “You had no right to do that!” I shouted, my hands flailing as anger coursed through my veins. Ryan looked at me as if I’d lost it, and maybe I had.
“What are you even saying?” Ryan yelled back at me. “Do you see yourself right now? How can you say that when you just know I’m right? You couldn’t in a million years visit that guy. He’s a monster!”
“It’s my decision, Ryan!” I spat. “I’ve already spent enough of my life with someone who felt the need to make decisions for me without consultation. I won’t do it again.”
His hands made a worried run through his hair. “I was just trying to protect you.”
Deep down I knew he was, but part of me—the profoundly damaged part that grimaced every time he uttered words like “mine” or jokingly said “don’t ever do that again”—hated being protected. I loved the safety I felt nestled in his arms, but it was it was another man’s love and overwhelming need to protect that had gotten me into the mess I was in now.
