Page 15 of Don't Forget Me
NICK
The sunlight was blinding.
It was the first thing Nick noticed when he opened his eyes. Too much sun.
But it had been night.
He tried to remember the last thing he did. Dancing. He’d danced with Sherrie at the charity gala in Gulf City where they were the guests of honor, but they’d argued.
About what?
He couldn’t remember. That was where the night ended in his mind.
He rolled over, expecting his entire body to ache from sleeping on the ground—he wasn’t twenty anymore—but it didn’t.
Had he drank too much and fallen asleep somewhere? He waited for the flash of a camera, the voices of paparazzi closing in, but all he heard was a bird chirping nearby and the faint rustling of leaves.
Lifting his head, he surveyed his surroundings, but it took him a moment to realize where he was.
This wasn’t possible.
Last night, he’d been in Florida. How did he get to Virginia? Using the edge of a familiar hot tub as leverage, he pushed himself up off the deck and stared out at the lake he thought he’d never see again.
Little Mountain Lake.
Morning dew clung to the grass between the deck and the small dock, leaving its familiar scent in the air. How was he here?
None of this made sense. Turning slowly, he stared up at the wall of glass making up the back of the house he’d bought with his brother fifteen years ago. They’d been nothing more than kids who thought the world was open before them.
Buying a house like this felt surreal.
Stephen had loved it, and Nick only wanted to make him happy. But that was a long time ago, and Nick hadn’t come in years. So, why now?
Taking the steps two at a time, he ran from the deck to the sliding glass door at the back, fishing in his pocket for a key. If he’d made the decision to drive here, he’d have brought the key.
But it wasn’t there.
Some urge made him grip the handle and pull. Surprise struck him when it opened without a problem. Stepping through the door was like stepping back in time.
“Hello?” he called. If the door was open, someone had to be here. Maybe his business manager had come out to check on the property. “Jasper?”
No one answered.
Maybe there were renters this week, and they were still sleeping.
His steps echoed off the white tile floor stretching from the door to the state-of-the-art kitchen. When he’d purchased the house, it was for the giant windows overlooking the lake, but it had needed some serious updating. First, it had been the kitchen.
That was for Stephen. He’d been a heck of a cook.
Nick lifted his eyes to the open beams crisscrossing overhead, looking just as they had fifteen years ago. He could almost picture Stephen’s head poking out from behind the doorway to the study he’d spent so much time in, a stupid grin on his face.
The house had three bedrooms, and Nick went from door to door looking for anyone who could explain what he was doing here.
But he didn’t see another soul.
Each room looked frozen in time. When he got to the one he’d designed himself, he stood in the doorway, peering in at the dark blue walls and checkered blue and brown bed spread. He’d never been one for extravagant, preferring simple designs, simple colors.
Even his clothing… glancing down, he noticed the rumpled black suit he wore to the gala. His tie was missing over the dark button down, but there was no mistaking it.
