Worth Repeating (Worth It All Book 1)

by Elizabeth Perry

  The doctors don’t understand why my memory is gone the way that it is. I’ve been told too many times to count, that I’m a walking mystery. I can do math, I can read, and I even know how to drive a car, even though, I’m not allowed to at this point.

  But if I got into a vehicle, I wouldn’t even know where to go. I don’t remember any of the places that I used to frequent.

  The realization that this might just be the way that I am forever is fucking scary. Feeling nothing has got to be the very worst way to live, and I can hardly stand it anymore.

  That’s why when I discovered Liam’s letter, I was so anxious to meet him. I lied to my parents, and I lied to my fiancé. I’m currently supposed to be at yet another brain camp, instead of being just forty minutes from my hometown, trying to get some information from the only person who seems able to give it to me.

  I suppose I just didn’t plan on him being so unwilling.

  Even still, I’m determined.

  Today, I caught him off guard. Showing up at his gym unannounced wasn’t fair, especially since I truly have no idea how we ended in the first place. Did I break his heart? Did I leave him for someone else? Or, did he break mine?

  Really, the ending doesn’t matter as much to me. I’m more curious to find out the in between, and of course, the start. I already know the ending. At least, I know that we didn’t end up together.

  But the part about Liam Worth that I can’t seem to get out of my mind, is the way that I felt today when his hand brushed mine. The only thing I can relate it to, would be touching a live wire. The second our skin brushed, a current raced through me, causing my head to spin and all of the air to leave my lungs.

  I haven’t felt anything close to that in the last six months.

  A part of me feels guilty that I’m feeling this way over an old boyfriend. I mean, after all, I technically have a fiancé. The only problem with that is, I’ve touched Max since my accident. Not sexually or anything, but I’ve held his hand a few times, trying desperately to feel something.

  Touching Max made me feel nothing. Nothing.

  It makes me wonder if I ever actually did.

  How can I feel so much about a man that I haven’t seen in years, and yet, feel not a damn thing about the one who put a rock on my finger?

  None of it makes any sense to me. The only person who can shine some light on the subject is Liam Worth. And come hell or high water, I’m getting the answers that I deserve, dammit. I’m willing to sell my soul to the devil himself in order to get exactly what I came here for.

  I spin the glass in my hand, staring at the television over the bar, not really paying attention to what’s going on the screen, but trying to seem oblivious to the way that the man sitting next to me at the bar keeps staring.

  Maybe he knows me too, but I highly doubt it. I can’t imagine that at eighteen years old I frequented this place, especially since I have no record of ever being in downtown Indy. I grew up in the hills, in a beautiful brick mansion, similar to a fortress. I’m guessing that I had a pretty decent childhood, judging from the pictures that flank the mantle in the great room of that house. Each one of those photos is picture perfect; my mom, dad and I all looking at the camera dressed in our fine clothes with huge smiles on our faces.

  There are pictures of me on prom night, pictures of me driving away to school in Chicago in a shiny Range Rover… Each and every picture showcasing a childhood of privilege, love, and happiness. So, odds are, I never hung out in this bar.

  The man next to me moves his body so that he’s facing me, but he keeps his eyes directly over my head, on the TV. I feel him look down at me when I’m not watching, and then, when I turn my attention back to him, his eyes flick away.

  “Good game, huh?” I point to the television screen, even though I have absolutely no idea what’s actually going on. It’s a sporting event, that much I’m sure of. If I’m a sports fan, I’ll never know. New me has no fucking idea what I like and what I don’t like, but I’m pretty sure that sports aren’t my jam.

  He just nods his head slowly, stares at me for a beat, and then glances back up at the screen.

  I spin the vodka and cranberry in my hands, my go-to drink of choice (thanks again, Facebook), and then, scan my surroundings. It’s the middle of the day, so this bar isn’t very busy. It’s mostly filled with retired guys, the man next to me who looks slightly on the shady side, and then, my memoryless self. I don’t know if it’s my usual to hang out in the bar on a random Tuesday afternoon, but I’m guessing that it’s not.

  Most of the weekday pictures that I posted on my social media accounts were that of delicious looking baked goods. I obviously enjoyed what I did for a living and must have been pretty good at it. I had a lot of followers on my bakery business page with a lot of likes. My bank account is also in a pretty decent place too, so I must have done alright for myself.

  When I feel his eyes on me again, this time, I balls up. My head snaps in his direction, and my mouth opens.

  “I can feel you staring at me when I’m not looking. My memory is pretty bad,” as in, nonexistent. “Do we know each other?”

  One corner of his mouth turns up. “No. But we could get to know each other, if you’re offering.”

  I’m only confused for a moment. Even me, with my good old head injury can pick up on a man trying to get into my pants. I’m just about to kindly turn the man down, when I feel him.

  Not the man next to me, of course. He’s already up and moving far away from me, because he feels it too.

  “She’s not offering shit to you, Fletcher.” His voice falls over me, causing every hair on my body to stand at attention, and my heart to beat a little bit faster in my chest. “Finish your drink, Abby, and let’s go.”

  I inhale deeply, trying to store the way that Liam smells into my memory. I want to take in every piece of this moment, so that instead of blank space, I can have something good to fill it with. Something amazing. Something delicious…something that is Liam Worth.

  The tension between us is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

  Each of us has a coffee sitting in front of us, and I have an éclair. I didn’t ask for the éclair, but Liam set it in front of me. I’m assuming it’s because I used to like them. Maybe I still do. I honestly can’t be sure. But my stomach is in too many knots right now to even think about eating.

  My vodka and cranberry at the bar tasted a hell of a lot better than the coffee, and another drink would have surely calmed my nerves.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I finally ask, glancing around the small coffee shop, which is located a few doors down from the bar. “Why didn’t you want to talk to me in that bar?”

  “You don’t belong in a bar like that, Abby, and you sure as hell shouldn’t be in a bar by yourself. That’s a pretty stupid fucking move.” Liam’s voice is gruff, and his eyes are dark as they brush over mine. He looks as tense as I feel and seems like he would rather be anywhere right now; far away from here and far away from me.

  I guess I can’t blame the guy. It must be crazy to be in his shoes and have his ex-girlfriend suddenly show back up in his life, demanding answers. But I had no other choice. No one else is willing to hit me with the hard truths. Liam strikes me as the kind of guy who doesn’t beat around the bush. He is my key to my past.

  That much, I’m sure of.

  “Do I usually make stupid moves like that?” I’m asking the question, because I want an honest answer. Liam just snorts and turns his head to the side, shaking it once, before snorting again.

  “Ok, so I guess I’ll take that as a yes.” I feel my eyes narrowing, his attitude starting to rub off on me, and frankly, piss me off. The tone of his voice and the little sounds that he makes are condescending at best.

  The man does not seem pleased to be here with me right now, and he’s making no effort to hide that. It’s more than a tad bit irritating.

  “Take it however you want.” Liam shrugs, and then leans back in
his chair. He studies me for a moment, and then leans forward. “I want some answers, Abby. I want to know how you found me and why you’re here. I want the truth.” His eyes lock with mine. “No stories, no bullshit. I want you to start from the very beginning, and then end with what’s happening right now.”

  He’s very demanding. He’s definitely not the warm and fuzzy type of man that I was expecting after reading his letter. It makes me wonder what I saw in the guy in the first place.

  Obviously, I liked what I saw on the outside. Who wouldn’t? The man is sexy as hell. His eyes are dark and brooding. His smile is cocky, and his body is sculpted to perfection. He screams bad boy. His entire demeanor utters heartbreak. It’s the perfect combination of delectable sin. It’s even more enticing, knowing that buried underneath all of the muscles, is a heart that at one time, loved me fiercely.

  It’s either that, or he played me hard. That’s the part that I need to figure out. But he wants his answers first, before I get mine. It’s selfish, yes. But I’m the one who showed up here and barged into his life. It’s the least that I can do, so instead of arguing about it, I simply lean back in my chair, and lock eyes with the man sitting across from me.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you my story.”

  He nods.

  “But it’s going to be on my terms.”

  Liam’s face hardens. “Abby, listen…”

  “I don’t want to do it here.” I motion around the crowded coffee shop, where people are rushing past us, either coming in search of their coffee, or leaving with their delicious goodness. “There’s too many people around, and honestly, I don’t want coffee to do it. I’ll spill it all, Liam, but I want a drink in my hand and a little privacy. I’m sure you can understand that. You seem like a pretty private guy.”

  He holds my stare for just a second before finally sighing and shoving his chair back. Right before he walks away from the table, and away from me, he snatches my phone out of my hand, types an address into my maps, and then hands me back my phone.

  “Seven o’clock. At that address. I’ll bring the drinks, and you bring your story.” His quick departure catches me off guard. I stare at him as he stomps away, but right before he shoves the door open, he glances over his shoulder at me.

  “And stay the fuck out of the bars, Abby.”

  “Thanks for the tip, but I’m more of a do what I want type of gal,” I call out to him, to which, he just shakes his head.

  But my words cause me to still. They flew out of my mouth so easily, that it almost seemed like I meant them. Did I mean them? Is that something that the old me would have said?

  Excitement bubbles inside of me at the realization that I just may have cracked the code. Meeting Liam tonight just might be more beneficial than I originally thought. Maybe instead of him just telling me about myself, and about who we were, I just might discover a bit of it on my own.

  I shouldn’t be nervous. I don’t even understand why I am. It’s just the anticipation, I guess. The feeling in the pit of my stomach that after tonight, I just may figure out who I really am.

  I twist the ring on my finger nervously, debating for a split second whether to remove it or not, but then, I remember the promise that I made to Max.

  Good lord, that man must be a saint. I don’t have a single bad thing to say about him because he has been nothing short of a true gentleman about everything that’s happened to me.

  When all of the smoke started to fade, and my anxiety began to subside down to just a small rumbling in the back of my mind, I made the man a promise. I told him that I would keep the ring on, no matter what, until I either remembered my past, or developed a new future that didn’t include him.

  In a way, it makes me sad that I feel so little for him. He’s spent so much of his time showing me pictures of the two of us together, taking me to restaurants that we used to frequent often, and walking me around the city that I used to call home. He adored my baking skills, assuring me that I was the best baker to ever have lived, and even gave me a failed attempt at showing me how to bake again.

  He’s showed me videos of myself that he’d taken on his phone, even going as far as to show me the video of the day that he proposed to me. He’s done so many things, to try to help me, and the only thing that I’ve been able to give him is the uncertainty of where we stand.

  By all accounts, the man treated me like a queen, and was just about to give me the kind of life that most women dream about. He’s gorgeous, wildly successful, with a solid last name, and obviously loves me dearly. And still, despite all of that, I feel nothing for him.

  Yet here I am, about to arrive at the home of my ex, who managed with one single swipe of his hand against mine, to make me feel alive again.

  It feels so wrong, and yet, at the same time, so damn right. Either way, though, I’m determined to keep my promise to Max. So, without another thought about it, I leave the ring on my finger, ignoring the fact that while it sits on my hand, nothing about it feels right.

  My Uber pulls up in front of a small cape cod on the outskirts of town. I’m forty five minutes from my parents’ house, and fifteen minutes from the gym where I found Liam just this morning.

  The neighborhood itself looks a bit transitional, but Liam’s house is newly sided with a clean front porch and a thick front door. Two pillar lights flank the sidewalk that leads to his house, and with the fresh layer of snow falling all around me, it almost feels magical.

  I really enjoy the snow. That’s something that I’ve learned about myself. I love staring out of the window and watching it fall. I like the way that it feels as it lands on my nose and how quiet the world seems as it falls.

  Maybe it’s because inside of my head, it’s so loud, so fucking noisy, that I can hardly stand it. Watching the snow fall gives me the sense of peace that I so desperately need.

  I pay my driver and then collect myself, taking a deep breath before making my trek towards Liam’s front porch. The door opens before my feet even hit the front steps, and the breath that I was trying to exhale gets caught in my throat.

  He looks far different than he did this morning when I saw him. He was sweaty and wearing workout clothes, looking every bit of the boxer that he is. But now, he’s got on a pair of jeans that hang low on his hips and a light blue sweater that contrasts perfectly with his dark skin and dark blue eyes. He stares out at me, watching me closely, without any readable emotion on his strikingly beautiful face.

  Since I can hardly breathe as it is, I don’t try to make any conversation with him. I simply take his invitation to come inside, stepping past him through the front door, and finally, let my eyes adjust to my new surroundings.

  His fireplace is turned on, casting a soft glow across his living room. His home smells like leather, fire, and his cologne. The scent alone is intoxicating, surrounding me like a cocoon, making me feel safe for the first time in as long as I can remember. It’s in this moment, that suddenly, everything feels right in the world, even though, it’s so far from that.

  My world couldn’t be any more upside down, and yet, here I am, at the home of a complete stranger to the new me and feeling totally at ease. Before I can even begin to absorb the sheer fuckery of this, Liam breaks the silence, clearing his throat loudly, and glancing at me briefly.

  “Did you find it ok?”

  I nod.

  The air is thick with unspoken words. I feel myself drawn to him, and it feels so wrong to not be moving towards him, and into those thick arms. They look like home. Like the home that I’ve been searching for, for such a long time. The ring on my finger from another man burns my skin, but nothing can compare to the way that my skin scorches underneath Liam’s gaze. I can’t even describe this feeling, but honestly, I don’t want to. I just want to remember it. To store it in my memory, along with the way that he looks, standing at ease in this room, with the snow falling softly outside, the crackling of the fireplace behind him the only sound in the room.

  It’s perfectio
n, at best, and I don’t ever want this moment to end.

  “I made dinner.” He clears his throat again, pulling his eyes away from me, and glancing towards the kitchen. “I figured that maybe we could talk over some food.”

  As he moves towards the kitchen, I instinctively follow. It’s like he’s a piece of metal, and I’m a magnet. I’m drawn directly toward him, toward his every movement, unable to stop my feet from moving along with him. He pulls out a chair for me, and as I sit, our skin brushes. That familiar feeling ripples through my body, every nerve ending firing from the feeling of his skin on mine. I’m satisfied when I see the same look in his eyes.

  Earlier today, he was hard. Cold, even. But deep down, I think that it was a front. I don’t think that Liam played me, I think that at one time, he did actually love me. And honestly, I cannot wait to hear our love story. I’m betting that it was epic.

  “I hope this works for you. I mean, I didn’t know if you turned vegan or something, but I’m short on protein today so…”

  “It’s fine.” I cut him off, staring down that the piece of chicken on my plate with the mound of veggies. “I have no idea what I am, Liam, and this looks delicious. I will definitely eat it.”

  He nods slowly, not even making a move towards his fork. We’re both just sitting here with a thick silence hanging over us. There is an open bottle of wine on the table, so I pour myself a tall glass, and then sip it slowly, trying to ease my nerves a bit. After a few more sips, I set down my glass and lean forward in my chair.

  “Are you ready to hear my story?” There’s no sense in beating around the bush. That’s why I’m here, after all. He promised me a drink, and I promised to tell him what happened to me. Abby Daron, the new Abby Daron, that is, is a woman of her word. Hence, the giant rock still burning a hole through my finger.