by J. L. Berg
Chapter One
Everly
Secrets.
They had the ability to destroy lives, obliterate relationships, and sabotage even the strongest partnerships. Big or small…it didn’t matter. Even the tiniest white lie had the power to corrode—to shatter and dismantle everything you loved.
I’d carried a secret so big, for so long, that sometimes I felt physically weak from its weight. I had thought I could carry its burden to my grave—that eventually its truth would die along with me.
But, secrets never die.
They live on far longer than we do, and they always find their way to the surface.
Mine certainly did.
Sitting alone in the apartment I shared with my fiancé, I gently rolled the smooth green stone between my thumb and forefinger, over and over, remembering the day it was returned to me.
In all our years together, I’d never seen August so cold. So lifeless.
It had frightened me to my core.
But I still hadn’t told anyone. It had been three days and I had yet to tell Ryan or Sarah about what had taken place in the bridal shop. As far as they knew, August had rudely interrupted my bridal appointment to tell me he had his memories back—that was all.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Why hadn’t I elaborated? I didn’t want to admit my shame. I couldn’t share this secret, my darkest lie. What would they think of me? I was the reason August had been in that hospital bed for two years. And the worst part? I’d lied about it—to everyone.
Even to those closest to me. Even August.
I was the worst kind of human.
I knew Ryan would tell me the opposite. He would comfort me as I told him the truth, holding me as I shared my story about the awful truth from that night.
There was no mugger.
There was only me.
* * *
“911 Dispatch. What is your emergency?” The words rang clear through the speaker of my cell phone as I held it with both hands, looking down through blurry, tear-soaked eyes at August’s lifeless body sprawled out on the ground.
Oh God, what had I done?
“Is anyone there?” The woman asked again.
“Yes,” I managed to say. “Please send help. My boyfriend has been injured.” My voice cracked as the words fell from my lips, becoming reality.
“What happened? Was there an accident? Were you attacked?”
Glancing around the dark alley, I felt my head nodding in agreement before I even said the words. “Yes, we were attacked. Please, come quickly.”
It had all been so easy. No one ever doubted me. And I never gave them reason to. I was a broken, sobbing mess as they took August away in the ambulance, and then stood by him for days until they broke the news that he might never wake from his coma.
The coma I’d put him in. I’d sat with him in that lonely white room, watching him become so frail as the days seemed to pass without end. His doctor mistook my guilt for grief and suggested I try to move on with my life. I was young. August would want me to carry on without him.
I remembered the doctor rubbing my back as he delivered the ultimate truth.
“It would take a miracle for him to wake up at this point,” he’d said with utmost care. I’d nodded, thanking him for his candor. I’d looked down at August, wondering whether I wanted a miracle.
Would he be the same? Or different?
I’d decided in that moment, I couldn’t wait around to find out—it hurt too much. So I’d taken the doctor’s advice and moved on, finding my own apartment and job. And eventually—Ryan.
Gentle Ryan.
He would tell me that horrible night was just an accident and I’d panicked—an intense moment of weakness. He’d soothe my tears and insist none of it was my fault. Everything would be forgotten and swept under the rug and we would move on. Life would go on as usual.
But I didn’t want it to. I didn’t deserve his kindness or empathy. I needed someone to scream and yell at me for the all the suffering I’d caused. I needed to pay for the life I’d stolen.
Because when it came down to it, I’d taken a life.
And I’d walked away, allowing everyone to believe I was the victim of this story when in actuality, I was the criminal. The perpetrator.
The real monster.
“Hey, I was wondering where you were,” Ryan’s warm familiar voice filtered through the room as I closed my hand over the stone and slowly sunk it beneath the blankets, meeting his friendly gaze.
“Hey,” I answered, feigning sleepiness. I stretched my neck back and forth, making an elaborate show of my yawn for effect as the tiny green stone burned hot and bright in my hand. “I was just trying to take a nap.”
“No luck?” he asked, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossing his broad chest as he took me in.
“No. I don’t know why I bothered. I can never sleep during the day. But I haven’t been sleeping well since—” I stopped myself, regretting the words instantly.
“Since the bridal shop. I know. I feel you tossing and turning in the night,” he said as his eyes lingered on me.
Nodding, I felt the silence settle between us. I wasn’t sure what to say next.
He pushed off from the door frame and stalked toward me, taking the empty spot on the bed beside me. I felt the mattress dip as his large body crawled on top. It felt comforting, having his weight next to mine.
Safe and real.
He took his time gathering his thoughts, and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he chose each word carefully.
“Do you regret your decision? Choosing me? Now that he has his memories…does it change your answer?”
And there it was.
The seed of doubt that had sprouted and blossomed buds and blooms since I was away with August. He’d walked away—sent me into the arms of another man, and even though I’d come back willingly, he didn’t always feel confident in my choice. Would I ever be able to uproot its existence or had the damage already been done?
Were we doomed from the start?
“No—God no,” I answered, backpedaling. “That is not what I’m thinking at all,” I explained, sitting up further in bed to face him fully. “It startled me, yes. I’m still processing it—still trying to figure out what it means to us. But it doesn’t change anything. I chose you. I chose this life. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”
I’m really quite surprised at how quickly Ryan welcomed you back with such open arms, considering how quickly you ran from them when given the chance to fall into mine.
My voice quivered as I spoke, betrayed my raw emotions. Ryan saw this and mistook my still overwhelming feelings for passion. His lips met mine, a tender whisper of a kiss with a dangling question mark at the end, begging for more. Knowing he needed the reassurance only I could give, I answered with a kiss of my own, returning his tenderness with passion and fire as we fell back onto the mattress and forgot all about memories and choices, and only thought about one thing.
Each other.
* * *
“Two months?” Sarah squeaked loudly in response to my surprising answer. “Two months?” she repeated as I just nodded, keeping my eyes straight ahead as I followed the signs to the first place on the list.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” she asked, and then before I had a chance to answer, lowered her voice and said, “Oh my god, you’re not pregnant with…August’s child, are you?”
“What kind of person do you take me for?” I questioned as I switched lanes, taking the exit the brochure had instructed. “I know my life seems like a soap opera lately, but damn…it hasn’t gotten that bad!” I laughed, feeling a little wounded that my best friend really had to ask that question. I mean, I knew my life had been a little turbulent, but I still knew how to prevent pregnancy.
“You haven’t answered the question,” she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest.
“For fuck’s sake! I’m not pregnan
t! With anyone’s child! I just want to get married!” I hollered over the radio, nearly laughing.
“In two months? Why so soon?” she asked, still pestering, as she began looking around at the well-established neighborhood. We came to a red light. Mature old trees and meticulous landscaping stretched out as far as the eye could see. It was the kind of place where you could picture yourself raising a family—someday.
“Why not so soon?” I said, shaking the picket fence dream from my mind. I had a wedding to plan. “I’ve made my decision—and yes, I made of mess of it all, but now it’s made and I want to start living my life so I don’t see any reason to wait.”
Her eyes met mine a moment before I hit the gas to pass through the green light, and I saw her smirk and give a quick nod.
“Okay then. Let’s get this thing planned. Good thing I had you shopping off the sales rack last week at the bridal shop,” she giggled.
“You knew this would happen?”
“I figured you would either drag your heels or race to the altar. I was really hoping for some sprinting—it’s a hell of a lot more fun.”
I let out a gentle laugh as we pulled into the small parking lot of the first venue option, killing the engine and turning to her with a smile. Looking up at the beautiful white church, I smiled.
“Well, let’s get this thing started.”
* * *
“I need caffeine!” I whined, nearly falling into the quaint coffee shop that had served as my employer for nearly three years. The familiar scent that greeted me felt like a warm, snug blanket was being wrapped around my senses. This place was tiring at times, and the hours sometimes sucked, but it had always felt like home.
“I need new legs!” Sarah cried out. “You’re a slave driver!” She staggered into the nearest chair, her head falling to the table with a thud. “So tired,” she mumbled against the hard wood.
“I didn’t mention we were planning everything today?” I said with a wink as I walked up to the counter to greet my coworker Trudy.
“No—you definitely did not. And if you had, I would have worn different shoes.” To make her point, she held out her foot, displaying her very adorable, incredibly high-heeled, wedged sandals. They were tan, with accents of lime green that perfectly matched the bright hues of her sundress.
And she’d bought them on sale—a fact she’d told me with great pride this morning on the way to our first appointment.
But thanks to me and my ambitious schedule, she now hated them—with a passion.
Everything in the world was currently my fault, according to Sarah. But, I’d had a plan when we’d left the house today, and I didn’t want it ruined by her overachiever brain. So, I’d left a few key items out of the agenda. Like the florist appointment…and the bakery appointment…and every other bridal-type duty you would need to handle before a wedding.
I’d finally decided to pick a wedding date—to get married and start my life. I’d been a runner for as long as I could remember, darting as soon as life got rough. When Ryan and I fought, I needed air. When things got too real with August, I made excuses and fled. It was why my own fiancé had been the one to help me come to terms with my feelings for August.
It was wrong. So wrong. And it needed to stop.
From now on, I would have my feet firmly planted on the ground. No more running, starting with this wedding, and to make sure I stayed where I was supposed to be—I’d plan the entire thing from start to finish, so help me God.
However, I wasn’t stupid. I realized I would eventually need Sarah’s assistance and expertise. There’s a reason I work in a coffee shop. The work attire only requires jeans and t-shirts every day of the year, and I barely have to wear makeup. I am a low-maintenance girl. But usually, when I asked for Sarah’s assistance, it came in overwhelming waves. So, I’d fibbed a little and told her we were meeting up today to look at one or two venue options.
Okay, I lied a lot.
Did I feel bad? I looked at her hunched over the table, mumbling about her pretty, pretty shoes.
Maybe a little.
“Two of the usual?” Trudy asked, with a wink in Sarah’s direction.
“Yeah, that’d be great. Maybe a small brownie, too,” I added, biting my lip in indecision. Sweets were always a risk when Sarah was moody. With the strict stage diet she always followed when she was performing, and her lingering issues due to years of eating disorders, I always knew to tread lightly when it came to food. But I decided that for today, the chocolate was definitely needed, and today, I needed all the help I could get.
With coffee and chocolate in hand, I walked back and placed the cups down on the table. The aroma immediately brought her face skyward, as she eyed the coffee first and then the brownie with a frown.
“That whole thing is mine. You don’t get a single bite,” she snarled, kicking loose her sandals underneath the table.
I grinned, nodding. “Deal.”
“So, why didn’t you tell me we were planning your entire wedding in a day?”
I shrugged, “I guess I wanted to be in charge of it.”
“And you thought I wouldn’t let you if I knew?” she asked, taking a long sip of coffee before breaking off a piece of the decadent brownie.
“I don’t know. Part of me feels bad for the way I acted before. I never got involved—never played the happy bride.”
“And so now you’re overcompensating? Are you sure this isn’t compensation for something else?” Her eyes met mine as our conversation took a turn toward the serious.
“What do you mean?” I asked, clutching my favorite ceramic coffee cup for warmth. It was the same cup I used on all my shifts. It had a cheesy one liner that said “Meh”. My customers loved it.
“Look, I know you are firm in this decision and I see you’re happy, but no one is forcing you into marriage. You don’t have to marry Ryan to prove you’re over August.”
“I know that,” I answered defensively.
“I just want to make sure you’re getting married for the right reasons.”
Looking down at my coffee, I watched the steam rise from the cup, like a memory caught in time.
* * *
The last bit of coffee brewed, gurgling and steaming until the last drop was done. I quickly turned to grab the sugar and milk and returned ready to fix everything up.
Only to realize I had no idea how he took his coffee anymore.
Looking up at him, I opened my mouth to ask, but saw him smiling. “Just black,” he answered.
I only nodded as I pivoted back toward the refrigerator to return the milk. I’d grabbed everything on impulse, ready to dump two spoonfuls of sugar and a slash of milk into a cup of coffee just like I always had.
How easily I’d fallen back into such an old routine.
“I take it that’s different?” He spoke up.
“Yes,” I answered, “but a good one. Now you’re a purist like me.”
“It’s for the right reasons,” I answered quickly with an encouraging smile.
“As long as you’re happy. You know that’s all I ever want for you.”
“I am. I really am.”
“Good. Now about those flower arrangements…”
Oh God, here we go.
Acknowledgments
Like most authors, I tend to spend a large chunk of my life in the clouds…my imaginary world, as I like to call it.
In this place, I plan and plot, dream and fantasize about the lives I’ve created and the ones I’m about to. It’s always such a rewarding experience to see this daydreaming come to fruition when I type “The End”, and suddenly my imaginary world becomes almost real within the pages of my book.
Each novel I write truly is a labor of love and with every word I type, I have a small army backing me up—cheering me on and waving victory flags at the finish line.
I wouldn’t be sane (or somewhat so) without the rock that is my husband. He feeds me when I forget to eat, cleans when I can’t, and does just
about everything in between. Being married to a writer is a tough job and he makes it look easy. Thank you, babe, for loving me.
I’m lucky enough to have two beautiful girls who fortunately love books. Because of this, they tend to understand why Mommy can’t play or take them to the pool even when the weather’s perfect (sorry!). Hannah and Emily—you are my greatest treasures. I’m ready for a swim now!
To the rest of my family—Thank you for teaching me to always be myself, no matter how dorky or weird that may be. Your love and support means the world to me and I promise to come visit more, Mom!
Authors tend to be hermit crabs, burying their heads in the sand when books are due. Luckily I have amazing friends who remember this and stick around until I come up for air. Leslie, I love you for being you. I don’t need to elaborate. Doing so would be unladylike. Melissa, thank you for being my soundboard. Jill, you’re both a friend and my PA—that makes you irreplaceable. Seriously, never leave me.
Tara and everyone at InkSlingers PR—Thank you for promoting me and my work. You keep me calm and that is priceless!
This book would never have made it this far if it weren’t for the expert eyes of my amazing agent, Jill Marsal, and my talented editor at Grand Central, Lauren Plude. Thank you, ladies, for believing in August and Everly. I hope I’ve done them justice.
Lastly, thank you to my readers. You always manage to astound me with your kindness. Thank you for loving my characters, and never stop believing in second chances!
About the Author
J.L. Berg is the USA Today-bestselling author of the Ready Series. She is a California native living in the beautiful, historic state of Virginia. Married to her high school sweetheart, she has two beautiful girls that drive both of them batty on a daily basis. When she’s not writing, you will find her with her nose stuck in a romance novel, in a yoga studio, or devouring anything chocolate.
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