My Almost Ex Page 9

  “Sure. Tell Frank to make me an omelet though.”

  “You’ll get a soufflé like everyone else,” she says and walks away.

  Adam rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late. We had a group of teenagers who thought it was a good idea to grow pot in the woods.”

  “Ekk,” I say.

  “You like that?” He eyes my dish.

  I stare at the mouthwatering soufflé on my plate. “I do.”

  “Huh,” he says, and his forehead wrinkles a bit.

  “What?”

  “You never liked eggs before.”

  “Really? I’ve been eating them for as long as I remember.” What I said repeats in my mind and I chuckle. “Well, I guess for the last three months.”

  He frowns. “You wouldn’t even make me an omelet.”

  “Oh.” Why wouldn’t I make my husband an omelet just because I didn’t like them?

  “I usually made breakfast.” He shrugs.

  “And what would I eat?”

  “You were a yogurt-and-granola girl.”

  “Huh. That’s odd.”

  He flags down a waiter and orders a coffee. “So, I haven’t been by the cabin since the last renters left, but I had a cleaning crew go in early this morning. If we eat breakfast, they should be done by the time we get there. I’ll drop you off and head home to shower.”

  I put my fork down and tilt my head. “What do you mean head home?”

  “I live back at my dad’s with my brothers, remember?” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “I didn’t think we should… live together.”

  I guess I thought we would live together. But he’s right. It’s not like we discussed it or anything. “Oh, right, of course not.”

  Mandi brings over his soufflé and places it in front of him. “Francois made it special for you.” She keeps on walking.

  “Tell Frank I said thanks.”

  Her red ponytail swings back and forth as she shakes her head, stopping at a table and asking if they’re enjoying their breakfast.

  “You love to razz her, huh?”

  He takes such a huge bite, he can only nod as his response.

  We eat in silence and look at the bay. Lucky for both of us, Adam eats as fast as a sixteen-year-old boy. Mandi waves off the bill and Adam picks up my bag on the way out, then deposits it in the back of the truck.

  While he’s pulling out of the lot, my stomach erupts in a fit of emerging butterflies, hoping that physically being in our house, the place where we were husband and wife, will spur something out of the darkness.

  I suspected we had lived closer to where he works, so when he takes the roads farther up the other side of the bay, I’m not surprised. But the farther we drive, I find myself growing a little uneasy about sleeping here by myself.

  He pulls up in front of a gorgeous little house that resembles a log cabin.

  “When did we buy it?” I ask.

  “Right after the wedding. It’s not huge, but it’s… was ours.”

  I hate those stuttering pauses when he talks about our past.

  I open the car door and he takes my bag before climbing the steps up to the front door. He unlocks the door and pushes it open for me to go in first. I step in, soaking in the entryway and walking into the great room that has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay far below. The kitchen is on the right, modern enough that I think maybe we renovated it. There’s the couch that was in the flashback I had about his head in my lap and the fire going. I smile that I put those together.

  I hear him come in behind me and drop the key on the kitchen counter. “This is yours now.”

  I glance back, too mesmerized by the view to give the rest of the cabin my full attention. “I see why we loved it.”

  “Yeah, the view sells the shitty shape it’s in. Although I’ve tried to make some improvements.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “We were in the middle of the kitchen redo when things ended, so I finished that.”

  I look closer at the kitchen. It’s pretty with white cabinets, marble-looking counters, and stainless appliances. “It looks really nice.”

  “Thanks.” He runs his hands through his dark hair. Then he points down the hall. “The master bedroom is that way, and there are two more bedrooms upstairs.”

  Walking down the hall, I see there aren’t any pictures of us anywhere, which I guess makes sense since he’s been renting the place out, but it doesn’t make it feel very warm or inviting.

  Just like the rest of the house, the bedroom is plain but nice with a queen-size bed and nightstands and dressers. No personal items that speak to the people who live here. It’s like four walls and a roof instead of a home.

  I return to where he is in the kitchen. “I have some money. Would you like me to pay you for the rent you’ll be missing out on?”

  He shakes his head and sits on a breakfast stool. “No.”

  I want to ask him what he did with all of our stuff, but he’s back to being closed off. Being here is probably different for him than me. I feel as if I’m in someone else’s life, and he’s probably remembering when we had sex on every surface because we couldn’t get enough of each other.

  He stands. “Let me give you something before I go.” He heads out the door and returns a minute later, heading straight into the living room. I can’t see what he has in his hand but he puts it on the side table by the couch then turns to me. “I need to go. You have my cell if you need to call me. I put a gun in there in case you have a run-in with a bear. And for fuck’s sake, don’t go running out there alone. Got it?”

  “Okay—than—”

  He doesn’t wait for me to finish. The door slams and his truck roars to life a minute later, then his tires screech out of the driveway.

  I sit on the couch and stare out at the view. What the hell am I doing? So far nothing is coming to me. I thought this was going to be the big reveal. Like I’d walk in and magically all my memories would flood back.

  The hardest part about this memory thing is that it’s like I’m in someone else’s life. Strike that—it’s like my life ended right after graduation and everything I knew to be true isn’t.

  I walk around the house, opening up closets and looking under the beds. There has to be something personal here. I just need to find the right trigger to jar this part of my memory free.

  The garage has some four-wheelers inside, but that’s it. As I’m walking back down the hall, I notice a closet I didn’t check. I turn the knob and nothing. There’s a deadbolt lock on the door, but I pull again as though I’m expecting a fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and unlock it.

  My next mission is getting into that closet. A small part of me is happy there’s a chance what I’ve been searching for is behind that door. If so, then it means that Adam didn’t throw our entire relationship away, even if I did. It may end up only being pictures, but at least he didn’t destroy them forever.

  I expect to find an empty house when I pull up at my childhood home, but the driveway is lined with trucks. Great. I quickly debate if I want to reverse and get the hell out of here, but my dad steps out of the house and waves as though he was expecting me.

  I park the truck in a spot that should stay clear for me to make an exit should I need to.

  “Adam, how are things?” my dad asks, leaning along the railing of the porch.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, Marla felt you guys live in filth, so she decided today is spring cleaning day.”

  I turn around to go back to my truck. Last time it was spring cleaning day, I ended up sorer than when I hike five miles. The woman doesn’t stop until every dust bunny is dead. I’m not even sure why she goes to so much effort. We’re all bachelors here, no one cares.

  Rylan, my eleven-year-old half brother, comes outside, doing that damn Karate Kid soccer ball bouncing on his knees thing.

  “Hey, Ry guy,” I say, stealing the ball from him.

  “What’s up, Ad
am?”

  “You have soccer today?”

  “Tomorrow. You gonna come?”

  I ruffle his hair. I can’t believe he’s almost my height. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You should. He’s playing Calista’s team.” My dad puts that inflection in his voice to suggest Rylan likes Calista.

  Rylan rolls his eyes and continues bouncing the ball. “We’re not even friends.”

  “You should talk to your brother about finding love young. He found his.”

  I clasp Rylan on the shoulder. “Trust me, stay clear.”

  He scowls. “I don’t even like her. She thinks she’s better than me.”

  Rylan and Calista have been rivals since they were young, when the coach made them practice together because the two of them are the best competition they have in this area. I hate to break it to him, but he probably does like her. But unlike the rest of my family who razzes the kid every chance they get, I try not to bug him about it too much.

  “Is it safe?” I point toward the door.

  “She’s in the kitchen. Fisher’s taking a shower,” Rylan says.

  I groan and open the screen door.

  Jed’s carrying a laundry basket full of crap and drops it on the couch. “Cade got off easy when he moved out. He doesn’t have to do these spring cleaning days anymore.”

  “No, but he does have Presley to nag him to death,” I say.

  Jed laughs and sits on the couch to sort through the stuff.

  “Marla, I’m in the shower!” Fisher screams from the bathroom.

  We laugh.

  “Just stay behind the curtain,” my stepmom hollers back. “I can’t hear myself think with this music playing.”

  A minute later, Fisher’s music—which he blares during every shower—is turned off.

  “And I don’t want any excuses, you need to come and help your brothers.”

  “I could arrest you,” Fisher grumbles.

  The door opens and Dad and Rylan come back inside. I need to figure out an excuse to get out of here and I need to do it fast.

  “Is he playing the arresting card again?” my dad asks.

  “He is a sheriff,” Jed says.

  “He’s also my son.” My dad goes to the stairs and hollers up, “Get out of the bathroom, Marla.”

  She comes down, a bandana around her hair and wearing her cleaning jeans and sweatshirt that says Just the Tip. I don’t get it, but every time she wears it, Dad can’t keep his hands off her. It’s gross really. “I was just turning down the music. I couldn’t even think.”

  “It’s like when they were teenagers. Hard to believe we only have one who’s home right now.” My dad’s hands slide around her waist and he walks her through the opening that leads to the kitchen.

  All of us stare at one another and Rylan gags. “They’re like that all the time. Can I just move in here?”

  “You should be thankful there’s not going to be a little Rylan Junior.” Jed’s eyebrows raise. “Thank God Hank got fixed after you.”

  “Fixed?” Rylan looks confused.

  I sit on the couch, grinning, and wait for Jed to explain the vasectomy procedure to our younger half brother.

  “They cut off your balls,” Jed says simply.

  The soccer ball drops from Rylan’s hands and he squeezes his legs shut. “What?” His eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them.

  “Relax, they don’t cut them off,” I say, eyeing a laughing Jed. “They just cut off the route the semen takes so you can’t produce a kid.”

  Rylan’s forehead wrinkles. “Semen?”

  “Has Hank not given you the birds and the bees talk yet?” Jed asks.

  He scowls at Jed. “I know enough.”

  Jed nods. “Well, semen makes babies. Just remember that. And when you need condoms, go to Fisher.”

  “Come to me for what?” Fisher comes down in a pair of track pants, pulling a T-shirt on over his tatted chest. He gives me a nod when he sees me.

  “Never mind,” Rylan grumbles.

  Fisher shrugs, grabs his shoes from the front entrance, and sits down.

  “Where are you going? If I’m being tortured, your ass is too.” Jed abandons the laundry basket on the table and sits back comfortably into the couch.

  Rylan sits on the floor, bouncing that damn soccer ball everywhere.

  “Cam’s coming. I’ve got an appointment at Smokin’ Guns in Lake Starlight.”

  “Another tattoo?” I ask. Not that I’m against them, but it’s like Fisher can’t stop.

  “Yes, golden boy,” Fisher says, tying his shoes. “Another tattoo.”

  Just then, Cameron’s truck pulls up and parks behind mine.

  “Why do you call him golden boy?” Rylan asks.

  Fisher stands, running his hands through his longer dark strands. Seeing him in street clothes, no one would think he was a sheriff, more like the town delinquent. “Because Adam does everything right. He married the first girl who gave him some. He’s a forest ranger, because he loves rules so much—”

  “Says the sheriff.” There was a time I hated him calling me golden boy, but now that we’re older, I don’t really give a shit.

  “Speaking of, where is the lady love?” Jed asks.

  Marla laughs coming into the room, my dad’s hands on her sides as though he doesn’t want her to get away. Rylan groans and looks away. I can’t imagine living with those two. They’re like teenagers.

  “I heard you picked her up from the inn today?” Marla continues picking stuff up from around the room and putting it in the laundry basket.

  My dad sits on the edge of the couch Fisher just vacated. How does he get out of spring cleaning day?

  “She’s at the cabin,” I say.

  Marla stops and turns to look at me. “Alone?”

  All of them look at me, even Fisher at the door.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Adam.” My dad sounds disappointed in me.

  “She’s an adult.”

  “With memory loss. We swore to Susan that we would look after her,” he says.

  “I didn’t swear anything to Susan.” I stand, not needing a lecture on how to handle my soon-to-be ex-wife.

  “Put Susan aside for a moment,” Marla says. “Do we even know if Lucy remembers how to use a stove? I’m certain she probably doesn’t know what to do when she’s taking out the trash and a bear or some other animal approaches.”

  “I left her a gun in the side table in the living room.”

  “Adam!” Dad shouts.

  “What?”

  He looks at Marla and they have some private conversation with their eyes that results in Marla pulling out her cell phone and walking out the front door.

  “Hey, Greene fam.” Cam kisses Marla’s cheek and walks into the house. He stops cold and looks around. “Oh, what’s the drama?” He rubs his hands together.

  Cameron’s an only child, so he thrives on the drama of our large family.

  “Let’s go.” Fisher grabs his coat.

  “Where are you going?” my dad asks. “It’s spring cleaning day.”

  “I have an appointment,” Fisher says. “And Liam is booked for months.”

  “Sit your ass down.” My dad points at the couch. “Liam has a family. I’m sure he understands obligations.”

  “I’m twenty-fucking-nine, Dad. You don’t run my schedule,” he says.

  Dad looks outside, and when he sees she’s still on the phone, he turns back to us. “Marla asks nothing of you boys. Do you know how often the girls come over? All the time. You guys live here, never come by our place, act like you can barely make the Sunday dinners. She’s cleaning your whole house today. You damn well can help.”

  Fisher looks at Cam, who blows out a breath.

  “If I agree to go to Sunday dinner, can I leave today?” Fisher asks, desperate to get out of this.

  “No.”

  Cam pats Fisher on the shoulder. “Come on, Fish, it’ll be fun.”

&n
bsp; “And who cleans your house?” Fisher grumbles.

  “The housekeeper, of course. That’s why I like to be here. I get to roll up my sleeves,” Cam jokes, although he does have a housekeeper. That’s what happens when your family owns the majority of the fishing boats that come and go out of the port.

  “I gotta reschedule then.” Fisher disappears through the kitchen.

  Marla comes back in. “You should thank your sisters. They’re going to go over there tonight to spend time with Lucy, but, Adam, this is your responsibility.”

  “The hell it is,” I say.

  “Adam.” Dad uses his calm but authoritative voice.

  I raise my hands in front of me. “Is everyone forgetting she walked out on me?”

  “Did you or did you not take vows that said in sickness and in health? Did you or did you not tell her you would help her? She told Mandi that you were being so great in agreeing to show her places and things to try to help her regain her memory.”

  “I did.” I weave my hand through my hair.

  “Then it’s your responsibility. Why you thought you could just drop her off and let her fend for herself up there is beyond me.”

  “I can’t live there,” I say.

  Marla’s hand runs up my arm. “I know this is hard and we wish we could take away the pain you’re feeling, but there are three bedrooms. No one said you had to sleep with her.”

  Says the woman who can’t stop touching her husband. Does she know how hard it is to be around Lucy and stop myself from wanting to sleep with her? I might hate her, but my dick says I don’t. No matter how hard I try, with the way Lucy keeps looking at me, he’s gonna win eventually.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask in exasperation.

  “You move in there for the time being.” Dad stands.

  “This is insane,” I grumble.

  Jed, Fisher, and Cameron all stand around, not saying a word. Like they’re on her side too.

  “I thought I was the damn Greene. Shouldn’t you guys be on my side?” I yell.

  “Technically, she’s a Greene too,” Jed says.

  Fisher and Cameron snicker.

  I refrain from telling them to fuck off, and instead go upstairs to pack my shit, wishing I was an only child like Cam.