Page 95 of Forgetting You, Forgetting Me

One snippet of information which happened to make it past the Saxon barriers was that Sam was ready to give it his all. Sophia said his standoffish behavior was all part of the grieving process because in a way, the person he knew was dead. Once he worked through the five stages of grief, he was ready to move forward and accept his situation—it makes sense. It appears Sophia is smartandbeautiful—doesn’t seem fair.

But now that Samuel was ready to accept and move forward,Iwas the one stuck in the past—a past where Saxon and I were still friends. I can’t stop thinking about him and what transpired between us when he had his hands all over me. I can still feel his touch—I crave it. And I hate myself for it.

But looking at him, I know I’ll never feel his hands on me again. He made it clear that what we had, whatever that was, is now over. His comment, however, still eats away at me. He said he wasn’t interested in watching Sam and I play happy family because he’s seen it all before. What does that mean? Was he jealous of our relationship? And if so, why?

I have more questions than answers, but with the state Saxon is in, I know I won’t be getting any clarification any time soon.

“You look awful.” I sigh, his shabby appearance hinting that he’s been doing it rough.

“So do you,” he replies, swaying. “Have you been crying?” His concern has me hopeful that maybe he’s come around. Maybe he’s needed some time away to clear his head.

I know the time apart has made things clearer for me. There is no denying that I have feelings for both brothers. And it kills me to confess that I don’t know who I feel stronger for. I do love Sam, but I don’t love this Sam as much as I did. And Saxon…I don’t know what I feel for Saxon. It’s an indescribable feeling that I’ve never felt before.

“I’m fine,” I reply, heavily. “Let me help you to your room.” I wrap my arm around his waist, ignoring the way my body responds to being within five feet of him. I’m thankful when he doesn’t push me away and sags against me.

We begin a slow, unsteady journey through the living room where Saxon manages to bump into every piece of furniture I own. He’s absolutely wasted, and if I didn’t know better, I’d dare say he’s been on a bender for two days. He certainly smells and looks like he has been.

As we turn the corner and stagger down the hall, he bends low and takes a big whiff of my hair. I’ve showered, even remembered deodorant, so I wonder what he’s smelling. “You smell like butterscotch,” he mumbles, sniffing the top of my head.

“It’s my new shampoo,” I explain, securing my hold around him so he doesn’t fall.

“I like it. It smells nice. Makes you even more edible.” Now I’m the one in fear of falling, as his comment catches me off guard. “You always smell nice, though. And I like your hair. It reminds me of roses and sunshine.”

“Roses?” I know this is merely drunken talk, but they do say one reveals all their secrets while under the influence.

“Yes, you’ve never seen or smelled an ugly rose. They’re classic, timeless, and beautiful—just like you.”

I don’t know what to say.

As we pass my bedroom, I hear his jaw clench. “But you’re not my rose.”

All talk ceases as we stumble to his bedroom, unscathed. I steer him to his bed, where he flops onto it, face first. With unsteady fingers, I slip off his dirty boots. There is no way I’m going to be able to move him, so I find a blanket in the closet and drape it over him.

A contented sigh fills the room as he rolls over, snuggling into the pillow. I take a moment to look at him and appreciate all that he’s done for me. I can only hope when dawn breaks, he too gives me the chance at a new day.

Taking one last look at his peaceful form, I tread softly towards the doorway. However, I stop dead in my tracks when he mumbles something under his breath. These words are my dawn.

“You may not be my rose, but you’ll always be my sunshine.”

* * * * *

After Sam’s failed attempt at getting me naked, he’s decided to walk Thunder and probably blow off some steam. The thought of him touching me makes me physically ill. I know it’s all psychological, but I need to sort out my head before I even think about going down that road with him again.

It’s nine a.m., and I’m not so patiently waiting for Saxon to arise. I know he’ll be incredibly hung over, but he doesn’t have to do the talking. All I ask is that he listens to what I have to say. I don’t have a speech planned, but I want to tell him what I should have told him nights ago. That I feel something for him that has no labels, and I’m pretty certain he feels the same way about me.

Needing someone’s advice, I quickly dial my mom.

Before she even has a chance to say hello, I blurt out, “Mom, I think I’ve fallen in love with…Saxon.”

“I know, honey.”

“You…what? How?” My mouth hangs open. Am I that obvious?

She sighs. “Lucy, baby, I think it would be unnatural if you didn’t feel something for him. He’s been your savior, your rock.”

“What am I supposed to do about it, though? He’s Samuel’s brother. It’s wrong.”

“No, it’s not. The only thing that’s wrong is you lying to yourself. Be honest. Be honest with yourself. Be honest with Saxon. You both deserve that.”

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