Page 54 of Forget Me Not

“Oh, no.” She smiles but it’s an empty attempt at trying to ease my nerves. “It’s perfect, thank you.” She takes a hearty bite to prove it but I’m still not buying it.

I drop my chopsticks into my half-eaten sushi. “Cooper, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” Suddenly, she’s starving, taking one ravenous bite after another.

“Please, don’t lie to me. I can tell something is bothering you.” I nudge her softly with my elbow and she begrudgingly abandons the sandwich I’m fairly certain she had no desire to eat anyway.

“Gun came by. We had a fight. Sort of. Anyway, it’s done. Our friendship, it’s definitely done.” She musters another smile, this one I almost believe. “I’m okay, I swear. I actually think it’s a good thing. We’ve been so close for so long, I think maybe I forgot who I was without him. What I’m capable of without him. And that’s not something a girl should forget, you know?”

I nod. “I get it.” Then I catch myself, an involuntary laugh escaping. “No, you know, I really don’t. But I want to. And, I do see why this would take time to sort through.” I lean in closer to her until I can wrap my arm over her shoulders and guide her head to rest along my chest. “Tell me about him. About your friendship.”

“Really?”

I hesitate to answer. Do I really want to know? Am I prepared to hear about the years of building familiarity that led to a relationship too blurred with comfort and history for either of them to know the difference between friends and more? No. The answer is no. But, she needs me to know. She needs me to be able to hear this, to see this part of her. So I will.

“Yes, really. This thing with you and Gun, it’s part of your story, which makes it part of our story. And I’m tired of missing out on half of the chapters.” I do my best to sound confident and light, though truth be told, I’m feeling anything but.

Her head drops back, sending her long red hair farther down her back until it reaches my other arm, tickling my wrist. Her eyes are clear and glossy and the blue around her pupils reminds me of a sapphire pendant my grandmother used to wear.

“You know what? Sometimes it’s okay to skim the boring parts,” she whispers. Her hand moves up to cradle my cheek. “Having you here, asking me about it, wanting to know, it’s enough.”

I bend down until our lips touch. Her hand moves back around my neck and up into my hairline, the sensation of her fingers against my scalp, combing through my hair combined with the feel of her tongue moving into my mouth, dancing with my own, it’s enough to make me crazy. I want her. But I can wait.

“Are you sure? Because I’m here to listen.”

I can feel her mouth stretch into a smile beneath my own. “I know you are. And I love you for that.” Then her lips reach for mine and I’m ready to accept that some things in the past are safest right where they are.

Cooper

I’ve wondered over the years, if Reed was really the man I believed him to be all this time. If he was really the kind and wonderful prince charming I made him out to be in my mind in the years we spent apart or if the real boy, the real Reed had been more flawed than my heart could bear to face on top of losing him. I had nothing to fear. Reed in all his gentle understanding and unwavering love for me is as close to perfect as any human being could ever strive to be. Why he chose me, loves me, when I’m so effectively broken in so many ways, I’ll never be able to comprehend. But that doesn’t matter. All I need to do is accept it. And I do.

Chapter Fifteen

Gun

7Years Earlier

They’ve moved my trial date again. The public defender they’ve appointed me is a joke. Mostly, my life is going exactly as expected.

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Reed

Present Day

“You ready?” I call, poking my head back into the bedroom. Cooper’s run back and forth between her closet and the front door at least three times. Something about her shoes not working with her pants, her belt not working with her shirt and her shirt not working with her shorts. I don’t know. I lost track somewhere in the middle. I couldn’t really follow what the problem was, she looked perfectly fine to me the first time I saw her.

“Hold on,” she says, out of breath as she hurries past me, a pair of ankle high cowgirl boots in her hand, “I need socks.” She scurries on through the kitchen and disappears around the corner in the laundry room. Two minutes later she comes back out, heels clacking on the hardwood as she goes.

“Boots and shorts, huh?” Considering all the upheaval when she started in her sneakers and jeans, I can’t help but find this to be the more unconventional option. I’m not knocking it, it’s just not a pairing I would have figured on. Sam always wore strappy sandals with shorts. Heels when the occasion called for it. Not that I’m comparing the two. Just observing.

“I wear these nearly every day,” she counters, “have you not noticed?”

I shrug. “Guess I don’t look at your feet all that often. Can’t blame a guy when there’s so much above the ankles to get distracted by,” I tease.

“You better be talking about my brain,” she mutters sternly. We both know I’m not.

Her palm slides into mine, fingers twining as we walk toward the door. Together. My favorite part about life these days. We’re living ittogether.

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