Always In: The Shore Series Book 2 Read online

  "Yes, I did tell you that and I meant every word. I still do."

  "Then I...I remembered, oh God, Cruz, I can't. I can't tell you what else."

  And I can't. I’m just too embarrassed. The memory of us on the dock that night is too much because sitting at that bar tonight, I could actually feel his hands on me, his lips, him inside my body, making me feel things, that right now, as I sit here and he looks at me with his raging sea of blue eyes that make me stir and my heart race, I’m so confused. I don't want to feel like this. Be confused. It's not fair.

  "Harlow, if you don't want to tell me, that's okay. Whatever it is, it’s obviously scaring you and when you're ready, tell me. It's okay. I can just imagine how scary it is to have a memory come back."

  His understanding is overwhelming and just an incredible gesture, but he deserves to know the truth. The whole truth.

  Bring on the big balls.

  "I remember us on the dock that night, what we did. How we had sex, the way we...made love." I pause for a second and look at his eyes that are suddenly so full of hope.

  "I remember it all. Every detail and yeah, Cruz, it's scaring me."

  Then he does something so unexpected, so unlike someone like him to do. The man who I knew as my friend, who fucked all the girls, the one that felt nothing for women except how they made him feel sexually. But this is a changed Cruz, a changed man who loved me, who felt so much for me.

  He rests his head on my knees and begins to cry. I’m not talking about sniffling back tears, but this man is actually shaking, sobbing, crying out. I don't know what to do. What do I do?

  Oh God, give me an answer, please.

  My tears fall into his hair as his head continues to make a home on my lap. He grips my skirt as he tries to speak, clinging to it, and I try and still my hands beside me but I can’t, and I place them on his head, through his hair and I touch him, to relax him, to calm him down, but it only makes matters worse.

  "Oh God, Turnip. You have no idea what that makes me feel. I waited so long for this, for you to remember what we had. I knew it would happen." He looks up at me, his face soaked with tears and a large smile on his face. I wipe the tears away and hold his face in my hands and smile at him but then my stomach drops and I know this is wrong. This is so wrong, even though this is something that feels so familiar. I’m not going to confuse familiarity with this. It's too much. Just because I remember about us doesn't mean there is an us. I still don't remember being in love, only that I felt something for him and the way his body made me feel. I can't decipher between love and sex right now. Sex is how we met in the first place.

  "Look at me." He laughs. "See what you created? A wimp. My God, I love you so much and now you're back. My Turnip is back."

  This is a mistake, one of great proportions. This is not us back together, this is me telling him I remember some things about us. It doesn't mean I’m in love with him again.

  I take my hands off his face and inch away from him, making my way away from him, rising up off the sofa.

  "Cruz, you don't understand—"

  He comes toward me—his body so close to mine—and he tries to take my face in his hands but I pull away. I’m so scared and he looks so happy.

  "Turnip, let me touch you. I need to touch you. It's been so long and a hug from you outside the hospital last week wasn’t enough for me. I need to really hold you."

  I have to stop this before it gets worse.

  "No, Cruz you need to listen to me. There are things I need to—"

  "No, babe, there's nothing else you need to say. All I’ve ever wanted was you to fall back in love with me, and to remember what we had. How explosive it was. I was barely able to live without you. I couldn't go a day without hearing your voice. I listened to voice messages that you left for me when we were together over and over again. Now you're back. I’ve my Turnip back.”

  I yell, something I’m not sure I’ve ever done. I actually scream so loud it hurts my throat. I know it's something I'll regret for the rest of my God-forsaken life.

  "STOP IT! You need to listen to me, damn it! Just because I remember doesn't mean I feel the same things for you that I felt back then. These were memories, Cruz, that's all. We are not what we were. You are taking all this the wrong way. You need to understand. I’m trying to figure this all out and I need to do it on my own."

  His face drops and becomes somber. The subtle creases around his eyes seem deeper. Darkness replaces his bright blue irises and he looks lost. Like he can’t find his way or the words. Confusion surrounds his beautiful face and his body looks limp and broken.

  "But you said—"

  "Cruz, it doesn't matter what I said. I just thought you deserved to know. That's all.”

  Cruz stands in front of me, tugging at his locks and looking out the window to the sky like there are answers inside the clouds. He shakes his head in disbelief, looking at me, then back out the window.

  "Why? I would have been better off not knowing, Harlow. See that's the problem. I'm the one who constantly has their heart shattered into a million pieces and no one is there to help me pick them the fuck up." He paces around the room running his hands through his hair wildly again.

  "I would have given my life for you. Don't you know I wish everyday I was the one who got into the accident and lost their memory?"

  I start to yell and cry harder feeling so hurt by those words.

  "How could you say something like that? This happened to me, Cruz. I can't remember things and you know what that's like? It fucking sucks. That's what."

  He grabs his keys off my end table and starts for the door.

  "I can't do this, Harlow. I thought I could. I thought I could be okay with being your friend, but it hurts too much. I want it all or nothing and I know I can't have it. You can't force something that isn't there." His hand goes to the doorknob and he begins to turn it but stops suddenly, deliberating whether or not to turn to me but then he does. And when he does, he stalks toward me.

  "Or is there something there and you're afraid to admit it?" His lips linger close to mine. He traces my lower lip with his thumb and I feel my belly grow tight and shut my eyes. His touch is powerful and it makes my mind spiral. But it's just a touch. A soft, whispering touch that fills me with all kinds of confusing emotions.

  Strength has never been one of my best attributes, I’m a weak soul, but I muster up some kind of backbone and tell him the truth.

  "You're wrong, Cruz. I’m sorry. You need to know there's someone else."

  He drops his hand and backs away from me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Now I’ve done it. He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels back and forth. His face looks as though he could fall apart at any second and I know I broke him. If I didn't fully a few moments ago, telling him there's someone else, well...that just did it.

  I hate myself for hurting someone I loved once, someone I still care about.

  "This doesn't surprise me, Har. I just wasn't prepared for it. I can't sit here and blame you. I was just looking for another shot. I was just hoping we could give it another shot." His face stays blank and he moves toward the door again, opening it slowly, he hangs his head down. I know he doesn't want to step over that threshold, I can see it in his body language. But he's broken and I can't fix that. He turns to me over his shoulder.

  "Want to know why I wish it was me who lost their memory?"

  "Why?” I say through my tears, swiping at my nose.

  "Because that way it would have been a hell of a lot easier to forget you."

  He steps over the threshold, walks out, and shuts the door.

  As for me, I hang my head in shame and disgust. I can't repair this and just when I think it's all going to be okay, that I’m going to be okay, I’m not so sure anymore.

  CHAPTER 12

  There's All a Consequence Where Truth Is Concerned

  Cruz~

  You know when you think it can't get any worse? It can. Life can be a
total shit storm of fiction, truth, lies, and hurt. All that can make you throw in the towel and say “fuck it”. I’ve been through it all but you know something? The worst thing in the world can motivate you to fight harder. Fight for your beliefs, fight for what you want. You can hold something in your arms and keep it so close to your heart only to have that break you, but you're not really broken because when you've reached the point of broken, you can come back from that. You just have to know how to not let it fully break you.

  Did her words break me? Absolutely. Down to my sorry-ass core. I mean when you have the love of your life tell you there's someone else in her life, Christ Almighty, it's the proverbial knife being twisted again and again in your heart. But it only fuels my fire, my hunger to get back the one thing in my life that made me a whole person. She's the reason I was born, the reason I’ve changed from that stupid punk into someone who needs that one person to even fucking breathe. Without her, I’m just a man made up of flesh and bone. My heart, well she owns that, and there's no way in fucking hell anyone else will ever do that, and there's no way anyone else will ever hold hers.

  This is my truth and it is my consequence.

  As I lay here on this stupid air mattress tossing and turning because sleep tonight is not my friend, I have a revelation.

  If she didn't feel anything for me after that memory, she would not have reacted the way she did toward me. She didn't have to tell me shit about her dreams or her memories coming back. She may not realize what her feelings for me are, but she now knows she did love me before. She remembered our first night. The night I took her on that dock, how she rode me, slowly, beautifully, perfectly. To this day, I can recall the way she felt, her soft skin, her taste. I could spend my life inside her. I could get lost in the rush of her skin, bury my face between her sweet thighs and never come up for air. Her taste could stay on my tongue and nothing in my life would ever taste so sweet.

  My passion used to be surviving. Whether it was in Iraq, or Afghanistan, or trying to survive life with my drug-addicted mother, I learned how to survive. I accomplished that and I can learn to survive without Harlow, but I don't want to, and I’m not going to. I’m not going to sit back and let someone else be with her. I’m not crazy. I refuse to stand still and move backward and let someone step in. No. Fucking. Way.

  After I convinced myself to let everything happen naturally turns out it did. The triggers. I'll have to remind myself to kiss Max when I see him. I had no idea the song that they sang that night I found her and told her I wanted her was even playing. That night, I had focused my concentration on her. Bombs could have been going off all around me but all I cared about was kissing my girl and finally making her mine.

  Forever.

  ***

  I’m working tonight and it should be fun on forty minutes or so of sleep, but it was worth it, because I spent the time remembering of our times together. Craw knocks at my door and I tell him to come in. He stands there looking like hammered shit but holds out a cup of coffee for me. I take it and he sits on the floor next to my mattress.

  "Rumor has it you had a bad night."

  I sit up and take a sip of my coffee. I rub my eyes and scratch at the stubble on my face and see he is clearly hung-over as hell.

  "You could say that."

  "I talked to my sister this morning. I’m sorry, dude. I had no idea about any of this. I knew about the guy, but didn't think it was anything to get all worked up over."

  I stretch my arms up over my head and yawn. "Yeah, well, that's not going to be a problem for me. I’m not going to let it. Harlow can go and have her fun but it won't amount to much."

  He looks at me confused and I’m not surprised.

  "What the hell are you talking about, man? She told you she remembers stuff but doesn't feel the same way still."

  "It's simple, Craw. She loves me, she just doesn't know it yet."

  He shakes his head and chuckles and I could care less if he doesn't believe me. I know the truth, she may not even know it at this point, but I’m not backing down.

  "She loves you? Cruz she doesn't know enough to love you. She knows you as obnoxious guy who turned into a good friend. Not the love of her fucking life. When are you going to give it up? You're turning into one of those movie star-loving super fans that stand in front of movie premiers and shit just to get a glimpse of their crush. It's downright stalkerish."

  I get up and hand him the empty cup and grab my shit for a shower.

  "I could possibly be categorized as that, sure, but the fact still remains, my friend, she loves me. There's no way around it. She'll keep remembering stuff and eventually she'll come back to me."

  Craw looks to me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind, and yes, maybe I have. But Harlow's mind is what is at stake here. Her memories I should say. They have to come back and I'll bide my time. I'll sit back and watch how it all unfolds. She probably thought last night once I walked out her door that I was giving up but she was sorely mistaken. True, she doesn't know enough about me, or doesn't remember enough about me to know that I don't give up. I'll use that to my full advantage. It's not a cruel thing. The natural slow progression of her memory is what is cruel.

  "What if she remembers it all? Everything, Cruz. But it doesn't make a difference? What if she never comes around?"

  I turn and look at him as I fling my bath towel over my shoulder. I shrug because I don't believe that. What he says I just don't believe.

  "She will because someday she'll be my wife."

  CHAPTER 13

  Underwear

  Harlow~

  I have enough baggage under my eyes to get me to Europe. Of course I didn't sleep. Once Cruz left all I could do was cry. Cry for him. Cry for me. Cry for what I don't know about us. I cry because I don't feel what he does. I care so much about him. He never gave up on me when he could have just walked away but he loved me...loves me.

  Craw called first thing this morning to check up on me. I told him how it went down. He didn't really know what to say. I think he feels sorry for both of us.

  I make my way to my bathroom and survey the damage as I look in the mirror. I never washed my face so now I look like Courtney Love from Hole. Thick, black lines are displayed horizontally. My lips look white and dry. I fell asleep in my clothes from last night, never even making it to my room to change and sleep in my bed. I think mental exhaustion must have taken over. I look at the clock.

  Son of a bitch! Ten in the morning! Daniel is picking me up in two hours. I limp over to my refrigerator and retrieve a cucumber. I slice two, thick pieces and stick them on my eyes so maybe it will help with the swelling. I lean against my kitchen counter and breathe out because the coldness feels so good on my eyes.

  I hear someone enter my house. Voices carry throughout the living room and I realize it's Willow and Thea. They had my car from last night so they must be dropping it off. I stay still. The longer these slices are on my eyes, the better. I can't go out with Daniel looking like I just got sucker punched in both my eyes.

  "Har? You sleeping? If so, get the fuck up."

  I roll my eyes under my cucumbers at Willow's bluntness.

  "I’m in the kitchen." I hear them walk in and gasp.

  "What is going on here?" Thea asks.

  I whip the slices off my eyes.

  Screw it. I'll use lots of makeup. When I look at them, they look like they've been awake for hours. Each has bags from the mall in their hands.

  "My eyes hurt from crying, and please don't ask. I'll tell you later what happened, but I’m not taking the chance of getting upset again. I have two hours until Daniel picks me up."

  "Fair enough," Willow answers.

  She flings the bags in her hands onto the kitchen table and I’m surprised she doesn’t hammer me for answers, but I’m sure she will hound me about it later.

  "Precisely why we are here. Thea, please display the contents of our bags to our friend here."

  Thea nods and starts emptying about
four or five bags onto my table. I shake my head in disbelief.

  It's underwear.

  I’m not talking about my cotton granny panties but tiny pieces of lace, silk, and satin. Bras, garters, tiny nighties, and a pair of the highest heels I’ve ever seen in my life. I pick one up and dangle it in front of their faces.

  "Okay, so I get the lingerie but what's with the hooker heels?"

  Willow grabs it from me and looks it over, tracing her hand over every intricate detail of the patent leather, and then she smells it.

  Yes, she smells it.

  "Harlow, my dear, darling friend." She swings her arm around my shoulder. "These are not hooker heels. These are what we call fuck-me pumps and you are going to need them."

  I look at her like she's got three heads.

  "If you think for one second I’m wearing these," I pick up a pair of the new panties, "or any of these, then you are crazier than I thought you were."

  Willow makes silly doe eyes and places her hand over her heart.

  "Moi? Crazy? Sister, I just want you to get some and these little items will help with all that."

  My eyes widen and yeah, she's crazy. I’ve never worn anything like this is my whole life. I mean I have my share of silky panties with cute little bows on them but some of these items are just damn obscene.

  "I have no plans of 'getting some' and I have no plans of wearing any of these. I have no idea what you are trying to accomplish by buying all these, but I’m not wearing any of it."

  Willow's expression becomes angry, like Superman with heat vision, and she throws one of the shoes across the room.

  "You know what, fuck this shit!" She grabs her purse and starts for the door. Thea calls out for her to wait. She looks to me and I shrug and start to stuff all the underwear into the bags on the table. Thea grabs my wrist gently.

  "Harlow, stop and listen."

  So I do, crossing my arms over my chest and letting a rush of air from my lungs.

  "Willow is only trying to help. This is what she knows. It's her personality. She has her own way of dealing with things."