Page 15 of Unforgettable

“Thanks. I’ll be up front in a minute. Get her something to drink while she waits,” Reed instructed and the manager left with a salute in his boss’s direction.

“I’m not sure now is the time to hash this out,” Reed said after the door shut.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Can we talk about it tonight? Are you working?”

“I may have to go in to do a few things.”

He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t want to drop the subject. After over a decade of friendship, it seemed like I knew Reed—and the rest of our group—better than I knew myself most of the time. He scrubbed a hand through his thick, dark hair and blew out a long breath but hesitated with his hand over the door handle.

Turning back, he opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He tried again, and when he still didn’t speak, I jumped in.

“Just say it, dude.”

He rolled his eyes. “I just think it’s important for you to know that I’m not going to back down from this. I want her, and I’ve wanted her for a really long time.”

I figured that much already, but to hear him say it out loud was nerve-racking—Reed always got the woman he wanted. Going up against him to try to win Amanda felt like a losing battle, but it would be worth it. She would be worth it because after being with her the night before, there was no way in hell I was going to just roll over.

I’d been hung up on her since freshman year, but until that July night, nothing had ever happened. Being with her felt more right than anything ever had, even if Reed was also there. And the second time solidified that our connection was deeper than friendship.

I just hoped that our friendship didn’t completely fall apart in the process of figuring it all out.

“Yeah, me too.”

SIX

Amanda

“Hello?”I called out as I walked into my parents’ house. The echo that reverberated back to me reminded me of my childhood. A shiver whipped through me.

“I’m here, as you requested,” I tried again.

With no answer, I closed the door behind me and took a deep, calming breath.

My parents’ house wasn’t huge by my standards. I’d been to both Hazel’s parents’ ten-bedroom house and spent plenty of time in Reed’s parents’ two homes, which combined were likely over twenty-thousand square feet. I considered those homes huge. My parents’ house was on the larger side, but the polished floor and lack of comfortable furniture or rugs meant it echoed like a house twice its size.

The click of my boots against the marble floor was uncomfortably loud as I made my way through the entry and peeked into the dining room on the right. The six-person table was set how it always was for family dinners with four place settings—one at the head of the table for my father, two closer to the door on the opposite side for Adam and me, as well as one for my mother.

Still finding no signs of life, I continued past the dining room and into the living room. Just as my mother liked it, not one item, pillow or decoration was out of place. The gray-and-white room was as immaculate as the day they delivered the furniture set. I remembered the day well because my mother scolded me for sitting on the couch with outside clothes.

She didn’t think it was funny when the next day I proceeded to take off my clothes outside of the back door and walked into the house wearing only my strawberry-pink underwear and camisole. She was speechless at my near nakedness, so I told her that I thought outside clothes should stay outside. I was eight at the time, and it was the first time I clearly remember her calling me “uncontrollable and dramatic.” Those were some of her favorites, although there were several she liked to use.

I made a sharp right and continued past the living room. Once I passed through the doorway to the kitchen, I finally heard hushed, whispered voices.

The clicking of my heels gave me away long before I entered the room, but even so, both of my parents, who were huddled by the sink on the opposite side of the open white space, immediately stopped talking once I stepped inside. They plastered fake smiles on their faces, and my mother navigated around the island toward me.

“Oh, you’re here and only five minutes late!” she said, gripping my arms and kissing my cheek.

I decided to let the comment slide because, as was the case with every dinner, I knew there would be something more important to argue about later.

“Of course, I’m here. You invited me for dinner,” I said as my dad took her place in front of me and kissed my other cheek.

“Well, the food is all ready, but I think your brother is still upstairs. Do you want to go grab him?” Mom hurried around the kitchen, grabbing the platters of food. Although the food was neatly arranged and placed in her white porcelain serving ware, I knew immediately that she hadn’t cooked it. I couldn’t remember the last time either of them cooked. The plates of food looked and smelled wonderful, but they were from a local place around the corner.

The smell was familiar because it was what my parents ordered at least twice a week for us or what they would pick up when we had guests. It could easily be made to look like one of them had slaved over a stove to prepare it.

Rather than walk all the way upstairs, I stood at the bottom and yelled my brother’s name.

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