The One You Can't Forget Read online

  Rebecca took a gulp of her drink, letting the sweet fizziness soothe her, and nodded. “I think the dog is going to be okay. This guy came to help me, and we took the dog to a vet. I called to check on him yesterday, and I’m going to stop by the clinic this afternoon. But the guys who robbed me got away—one with a pretty nasty dog bite.”

  “Well, I hope the wound festers and goes septic, the sick sonofabitch,” Kincaid said before tucking a big bite of pancakes in her mouth, the thought of septic wounds and revenge clearly not impacting her appetite.

  “Amen,” Taryn agreed. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Bec.”

  “Are you okay?” Liv asked, her gaze meeting Rebecca’s. “That sounds traumatizing in its own right, but…”

  For us, it’s more. It’s always more. Liv didn’t have to finish that sentence for Rebecca to know what she meant. Rebecca rubbed the spot between her brows. “I think I’m okay. I haven’t slept much. Friday night, I had to call all my credit card companies and the bank to get my cards canceled. And even though I had a locksmith come out that same night, I haven’t been able to stop picturing people lurking outside my house. Then I go from scared to pissed, and that keeps me awake, too.”

  “You know you can always stay with me and Finn for a few days if you don’t want to be at your house,” Liv said. “I know it’s a bit of a commute, but you wouldn’t be alone. And Finn wouldn’t mind.”

  “Thanks. But I think I’ll be okay.” Rebecca appreciated the offer and knew it was coming from a genuine place. Finn was an FBI agent, so she’d definitely feel safe there. Plus, Liv and Finn’s place by the lake was in Wilder, far outside the city and away from any potential attackers. But the option didn’t hold much appeal.

  Even though she was happy Liv and Finn had found each other again, being around them still held some awkwardness. Finn had been the one Rebecca had loved in high school, her best friend, the one her hopelessly romantic self had been convinced was for her. But all along, Finn had secretly loved Liv. And since all the ladies at the table had opened their high-school time capsule letters about their hopes and dreams a few months ago after the documentary filming, everyone knew how ridiculously head over heels Rebecca’s crush on Finn had been. She was still trying to figure out how to be around Liv and Finn without feeling like the uncomfortable teen she used to be.

  “Were you able to get all of your credit cards squared away?” Taryn asked, kindly steering the conversation back to a safer topic.

  The waiter dropped off Rebecca’s pancakes and provided refills all around before leaving them to it again. Rebecca poured syrup over her stack. “Yeah. I got a new debit card yesterday and a phone this morning. So I think I’ve got everything taken care of. All I have left to do is go check on my rescuer.”

  “Did the dog belong to the guy who intervened?” Kincaid asked.

  “No, he’s a stray,” Rebecca said between bites. “I’d fed him some of my dinner earlier on my walk, and he must’ve followed me. He was really sweet when he first came up to me, but he turned into a beast with the muggers. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if he hadn’t attacked the one with the gun. I completely froze.”

  And accepted my fate.

  She shook off the chilling thought.

  “Damn, sounds like a badass stray dog,” Taryn said, adjusting the colorful headband she was using to keep her halo of black curly hair away from her face.

  “Right?” Rebecca’s lips curved at the memory of the dog’s fluffy face while he tried to con her out of her bread. “He really was kind of amazing. The vet said he has to heal, and they have to make sure he’s not aggressive or rabid or something. But if he’s okay, I might…give him a place to stay.”

  The words came out before she could evaluate them, but she realized they were true. A dog was not part of her plans. She worked too much, and her house wasn’t set up for one. But there was no damn way she was letting that dog go to the pound.

  “You’re going to adopt him?” Liv asked.

  “Maybe…foster him,” Rebecca said carefully. “Like, until he has a family to go to.”

  Kincaid gasped and then did a fast clap with her hands like a happy child. “Yay, she’s doing the thing!”

  “The thing?” Liv asked, her flat tone channeling her former emo self.

  “The letter,” Kincaid declared like it was the most obvious conclusion in the world.

  “Oh Lordy.” Taryn rolled her eyes. She held up a piece of bacon and swirled it in the air like a wand. “Here we go. She’s going to break out the spirit fingers. You’ve been warned.”

  “Kincaid—” Rebecca began.

  “No, it’s Bartholomew,” Kincaid declared. “Your time capsule letter said you would get a dog and name him Bartholomew.”

  “My time capsule also said I would stay a virgin and marry Finn in Paris,” Rebecca said. “I don’t think we should take these things literally.”

  “No, ’cause then we’d have to fight,” Liv teased. “The boy’s mine.”

  Rebecca laughed and raised her palms. “He’s all yours. And as for the dog, he’s definitely not a Bartholomew.”

  “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t fulfill something in your letter,” Kincaid insisted. “A few months ago, you said you didn’t have time for a dog. Now you might adopt one. Progress, Bec.”

  “I still don’t have the time. Work is crazy, and I’m helping my dad with his campaign and this charity thing he needs me to do. All I said was foster the dog until he has a home. I’m not on some mission to fulfill something I declared when I was seventeen. I’m just not going to walk away from a dog who saved me if he doesn’t have a home to go to.”

  That was all it was because she could remember that letter word for word, and it was not her life plan.

  On this day, August first, I, Rebecca Lindt, promise the Class of 2005 that I will not waste the second chance that I have been given, that I will honor all the people we lost by living my life to the fullest. Professional goals: I will get a law degree and graduate at the top of my class. After practicing law for a few years, I will run for political office and will fight for better gun-control laws and more mental-health interventions for teens. I will make a difference in the world. Personal goals: I will stay a virgin until I’m married. And I will marry Finn Dorsey in a Paris wedding. We’ll have two kids, preferably one boy and one girl, and a dog named Bartholomew, after my grandpa. I will be a good friend, wife, and mom. I will be happy.

  The words had been the ramblings of a girl who was terrified, hurting, and racked with guilt. A girl who thought she could maybe repay her debt to the universe by living a life dedicated to important causes and who could will herself into happiness through some good-girl, TV-sitcom life.

  Seventeen-year-old Rebecca had thought if she tried hard enough, she could go on with her life like she hadn’t been damaged by what had happened. As if she hadn’t been irreparably altered by it. Thirty-one-year-old Rebecca knew better.

  “So some Good Samaritan helped you and the dog?” Liv asked, pulling Rebecca from her ruminating.

  Rebecca shifted her attention to her food, trying to beat back the embarrassment that automatically appeared with thoughts of Wes. “Yeah. He ran over to help when he saw the dog attack. Turns out his brother’s a vet, so he was able to call him for help. I rode to the clinic with them.”

  “Wow, that was really nice of them,” Taryn said.

  Rebecca shrugged. “It was. Unfortunately, the guy who helped happened to be a former client’s ex-husband—one who I took down pretty hard in court. He didn’t realize who I was, but it was kind of awkward.”

  “Ouch,” Taryn replied. “That’s bad luck.”

  “Yeah. Luckily, he left my house none the wiser.”

  “Your house?” Kincaid asked. “What was he doing at your house?”

  Making me laugh. Driving me insane with want
. Kissing me back. Rebecca waved her fork dismissively but didn’t look her friends in the eye. “He gave me a ride, and I was kind of freaked out that the guys who robbed me could be in my house, so he came inside with me to check it out. And we’d picked up food, so I figured I should let him eat it there. But then he kind of asked me out, and I obviously couldn’t say yes and—”

  “Hold up,” Kincaid said. “Honey, you knew who this guy was, but you got dinner with him and let him into your house?”

  Rebecca pursed her lips. “It wasn’t… He offered, and I didn’t have a way home otherwise.”

  “You could’ve called one of us,” Liv said. “You know you always can.”

  “Y’all live an hour outside the city, and it was late. It just made sense, and he was being genuinely helpful. He was actually really nice and funny and…charming, if I didn’t think about the fact that he was a cheater. I kind of got swept up in it and then didn’t know how to get out of it gracefully. I ended up telling him he wasn’t my type.”

  “Harsh,” Liv said, laughing.

  “I didn’t know what to say. It just…came out.” And then I kissed him.

  “Would you have said yes if you hadn’t known who he was?” Taryn asked, head cocked, eyes curious.

  Rebecca shrugged and poked at her food. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how much we’d have in common. He’s kind of got that tattooed bad-boy thing going.”

  Kincaid’s eyebrows arched high. “Oh. So he was cute.”

  Rebecca straightened, her face warming. “I… That’s not what I said.”

  “But he was,” Kincaid pushed.

  Dammit, she was blushing. Indignation filled her. “Which is totally irrelevant because he was a cheater and that means he’s a jerk. And if he’d realized who I was, I’m sure he would’ve shown that lovely side of himself.”

  Kincaid eyed her and sipped her mimosa. “Hmm.”

  “Don’t hmm me, lady,” Rebecca said. “There’s no intrigue here. Yes, he’s hot. Fine. I can admit that.”

  “Ooh, not cute but hot. Better.” Kincaid grinned wickedly.

  Rebecca groaned. “I also know he stepped out on his wife and had anger issues in court. So, I’m thankful he helped me out last night, but I’ll never see him again so none of this matters anyway.”

  Kincaid shrugged. “Probably not, but all I’m saying is that not everything has to be so black and white all the time. I’ve never seen you get all red-faced and evasive talking about a guy before. You should take those opportunities when they present themselves.”

  “Opportunities?” Rebecca said sardonically. “You mean when strange men who cheat are at my house?”

  Kincaid gave her a patient look. “Honey, I know you’re always working and are probably more of a date-with-an-eye-to-the-future kind of girl. I get it. We’re in our thirties now, clock’s ticking, all that bullshit the world likes to remind us of. But sometimes it’s fun to just, you know, find a hot guy to hook up with, especially one who’s outside your normal dating zone.”

  Rebecca stared at her. “He’s. A. Cheater.”

  “Which doesn’t really matter if you’re just going to take him to bed once or twice,” Kincaid said. “That doesn’t mean he’s not going to be any fun. A guy can be terrible relationship material but a fantastic lay.”

  Liv laughed. “I hate to say it, but she speaks the truth.”

  Rebecca turned to Liv, lips parted. “Et tu, Brute?”

  Liv’s mouth curved wryly. “Hey, I’m all about the committed relationship now, but before Finn… Well, you know. I wasn’t out to put a ring on anybody.”

  Taryn shook her head and dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Clearly, I’m doing this single thing all wrong. I can report that these random hot men are not hanging out in Long Acre or at the university research library.”

  “No, apparently, they’re hanging out on the streets of downtown Austin waiting to save a damsel in distress and her trusty doggy companion,” Kincaid said.

  “I am no damsel,” Rebecca announced. “And believe it or not, I’m not holding out for The One. I don’t believe in that concept. I’m not even looking for long-term.”

  “Really?” Liv asked, surprise in her voice. “But your letter…”

  “Was written by a lonely, infatuated teenage girl who didn’t know any better. I’m a divorce attorney. What I see at work every day doesn’t exactly boost my confidence in the institution of marriage. I don’t want any part of that, but hookups are complicated.”

  “Complicated?” Kincaid cocked her head. “Then you’re doing it wrong. By their very definition, they’re supposed to be the opposite.”

  “Not for me,” Rebecca said. “The last true hookup I had was in college. The guy was someone I met at a bar my friends dragged me out to. I went with him to his place, and the minute things got R-rated and he took off my pants, I had to deal with all the questions.”

  “Your scars?” Taryn asked.

  “Yeah. There’s no way to hide them in that situation, and there’s no way someone’s not going to ask questions. So if the scars don’t turn them off at first sight, the answers to those questions are just about the number one mood-killer for a hot night.” She stabbed her fork into her pancakes. “The guy couldn’t…perform after that. I had no idea if it was because of my story or the scars themselves. So, yeah, fun night. I’d like to avoid a repeat. I’m better just casually seeing someone who’s already a friend or colleague and knows my background. The friends-with-benefits kind of thing.”

  Though she didn’t have that many friends, and it’d been far too long since she’d had any benefits.

  Liv frowned. “I’m sorry, Bec. That sucks.”

  “But that was one guy,” Kincaid said gently. “Not all guys are going to react that way. If you don’t want to get into the whole story, just make up something.”

  “You want me to lie to a guy to get him in bed?”

  “You’re not doing it to get him into bed,” Kincaid clarified. “He’s already in your bed at this point. Just tell him you were in a car accident. Something simple that doesn’t bring up all those questions. You shouldn’t have to relive that night every damn time you just want to get laid. That’s not fair.”

  Rebecca chewed her pancakes, absorbing Kincaid’s words but shaking her head. “I don’t know. I think I’m incapable of something that spontaneous anyway. I overthink everything.”

  Kincaid shrugged. “All I’m saying is that not every guy has to get all A’s on your report card. For a long-term partner, sure. Make someone meet all the standards. But for a good time, it’s okay to find a hot C student.”

  Rebecca sniffed and tipped her chin up in mock haughtiness. “Valedictorians do not date C students.”

  Kincaid grinned. “I didn’t say date one, sugar. Just screw one.”

  Rebecca burst into a laugh, her friends joining in, and people at other tables turned their way to send them dirty looks. Rebecca pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to staunch the guffaw, but she didn’t really care if she was being obnoxious at the moment.

  She needed this.

  She didn’t know if her friends gave good advice, but they certainly knew how to get her mind off her horrible night and its awkward ending.

  She leaned back in her seat, trying to catch her breath. “I heart you people.”

  Liv and Taryn grinned back at her, and Kincaid patted her leg. “Back at ya, Becs. Now let’s finish up these pancakes and drag your ass to the pet store because we know Bartholomew is going home with you soon, and Aunt Kincaid needs to buy him a sparkly collar.”

  “He’s a boy.”

  “This matters how?”

  Rebecca shook her head and ate her pancakes.

  chapter

  EIGHT

  Wes carried armfuls of grocery bags up Marco’s stairs and was about to bang on his b
rother’s door with his elbow when he saw the sticky note with Marco’s atrocious doctor’s handwriting over the peephole. Downstairs at clinic.

  Wes grunted. “Things you could’ve texted me before I went up two flights of stairs.”

  He shifted the bags in his arms—not wanting to leave them on the doorstep since some of the stuff needed to be refrigerated—and traipsed back down to the clinic. The place wasn’t open on Sundays, but Marco was probably checking on patients who’d stayed the night. Marco paid techs to do that, but his brother had a hard time not poking his head in since he lived right upstairs.

  Wes pushed his way through the back door, where he was assaulted by animal smells and barking. He poked his head into the kennel area. “Marco, you in here?”

  The only answer was a chorus of yapping, yipping, woofing canines and intermittent meowing from the cats.

  “Dammit.” Wes glanced toward the front, seeing the lights on in the lobby, and headed that way. At least there he’d have somewhere clean to finally set down the groceries. He pushed through the door. “Dude, you could’ve fucking told me that you were going to be—”

  But as soon as Wes looked up, his words cut off. His brother was at the front desk with raised brows, and he wasn’t alone. Two sets of female eyes turned Wes’s way. One of which belonged to the woman he’d never expected to see again. A woman who’d promptly shut him down after he’d stupidly made things awkward and then had given him the hottest goodbye kiss he’d ever had, leaving him reeling and half-hard by the time he’d gotten home that night.

  Rebecca had done the right thing, sending him away. He’d been ready to continue that kiss, preferably in the horizontal position. It’d been so damn long since he’d felt that blinding, full-bodied urge to be with someone that it’d been like the rush of a drug. But Rebecca had been drinking, and she’d already told him he wasn’t her type. Plus, he’d been playing a role, acting like someone he wasn’t capable of being. Some light-hearted guy who made jokes and flirted and had no rattling skeletons in his closet. The whole thing had been a mistake, but he also wasn’t immune to the dent in his ego her comment had left. Mainly because it hadn’t just been “not my type” for dating, but for friendship in general. Even his best, fake version of himself wasn’t up to par for her.