Make Me Forget

  Make Me Forget

  It’s Kind Of Personal Series

  Anna Brooks

  Make Me Forget

  Copyright © 2014 Anna Brooks

  Published by: Anna Brooks

  Cover design by Cover to Cover Designs.

  Editing by Editing 4 Indies

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Dedication

  To my husband.

  For giving me the happily ever after.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Prologue – Six months ago.

  Even though I’m blindfolded, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my body to cooperate, while my mind screams at me in protest. Todd grunts as he picks up his pace, effectively slamming my head into the wall. I’m grateful for the pain, as it distracts me from what I’ve allowed myself to become.

  “I’m coming!” He never talks when he fucks me, except to tell me that he’s coming.

  I can’t say anything, can’t move, can’t see. I can do nothing but wait. He collapses on top of me for a few minutes before pulling out and sitting up. Then he unties my ankles and wrists. Next, he removes the blindfold, followed by the gag. I rub my wrists and take a deep breath.

  “Be right back.”

  He disappears out of my bedroom, returning a moment later with a wet cloth to clean between my legs. What I thought at one point was a sweet gesture turns into another moment I have to endure his touch.

  “That was amazing.” He runs a hand through his curly blond hair and smiles at me.

  Even with the gag removed, I still can’t speak to him right now. I fake a smile and crawl under the covers.

  “I have to go to that conference in Boston this weekend. Be a good girl when I’m gone?”

  I’m not sure if he’s asking or telling; either way, I nod and shut my eyes. If he thinks I’m tired, he’ll leave sooner. He’s never stayed the night, not once in three years. He always says he has to go back to work. He doesn’t know that I know the real reason.

  “Good girl.” He kisses my forehead and shuts off the light.

  I watch his tall, lean figure exit my bedroom and wait until his car pulls away before I hop out of bed. I run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time. Once I'm done losing the contents of my stomach, I quickly brush my teeth, but avoid looking in the mirror, because I know what will be looking back at me: sad blue eyes that used to be bright with excitement and hope, framed by blond hair that is dull and too long.

  I grab the packed bags I have hidden in my closet and set them by the front door. I can’t be here anymore. Not in this house, not in this city, and definitely not in the same state as him. I know his routine, and he won’t know I’m gone until next week. I have time, but I’m still paranoid. Running back upstairs, I grab anything and everything that is of value to me. Not that there’s much; my mom’s jewelry, some photo albums, paperwork, things like that. I shut all the lights off upstairs, do the same in the kitchen, and make my way out the front door. I have to make a couple trips to my car, but once I have everything packed, I drive away without looking back.

  1

  Charlotte

  Four years earlier...

  “Charlotte, get back here!”

  “No! I told Meara I would go. I’m seventeen years old, Dad.”

  “You’re still my daughter, and when I tell you no, you listen to me.”

  I halt my steps in the driveway and turn to look at my dad on the porch. My friends call him the ‘sexy professor’, and it grosses me out every time. He’s average in height with wavy black hair and wears those thick framed glasses. Attractive, sure. Sexy… ew.

  “I’m not her, Dad.”

  “I know that, but Caroline didn’t even make it to seventeen. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t worry?” He looks into the sky before blowing out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, okay. Go to the party. Be back by ten.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Fine, eleven, but not a minute later. You call me when you get there, and you call me when you’re leaving. That’s the only way you get to go.”

  “Thanks, Dad! Love you!” I run and give him a big hug before getting into the car and driving to the lake.

  My dad doesn't want me to go to the party. He doesn’t want me to do anything anymore. Since my sister passed away four years ago, my parents treat me like I’m breakable, and it drives me crazy. Hell, everyone treats me like I’m breakable. I want to be a normal teenager and have fun. Maybe do something daring and exciting.

  We moved from our home in Wisconsin to Texas four years ago when my dad got a job offer he couldn’t refuse. He had been waiting years to get a position as the Dean of Students. Every summer since we have moved, we come back to Wisconsin and my parents rent a house on Lake Michigan for us to stay in. We got in last night, and I haven’t seen any of my other family yet. My cousin, Meara, is having a high school graduation party with some friends down by the lake. She’s really more like a sister… at least she has been since Caroline died.

  I park and run my hands down the front of my jeans before pocketing the key. I call my dad to tell him that I’m here, and walk toward the party.

  There’s a bonfire, music playing, people throwing a football, and some are even in the water. I spot my cousin right away, jumping around, and I walk a little faster. She’s always been loud and outgoing – the opposite of my shy, quiet personality.

  “Ahh!” she yells when she sees me. “Char, you made it! I can’t believe Uncle Sean let you come.”

  I nod in agreement. “I’m so happy to see you again! It’s been way too freaking long.” We hug each other, and I look around for my other cousins, Meara’s brothers. “Where are Pierce and Declan?”

  “Oh, Pierce is around here somewhere, and Dec couldn’t get leave. Come on.” She yanks my hand and pulls me through a crowd of people.

  I recognize most of them immediately. Meara and I had a lot of the same friends before I moved, so I’m not surprised to see them here. Everyone looks so different, so grown-up –including myself. A lot can change in a year, especially when growing out of the awkward teenage stage of zits and braces.

  I spend the next hour catching up with old friends and telling stories about li
ving in Texas. Of course, the girls ask if everything is bigger there. I laugh along with them but really don’t know. I’ve kissed a couple boys but have been too scared to go any further. After a while, I decide to take a break and go for a walk to my favorite place in the world.

  “I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll be back in a bit,” I tell Meara. She nods and falls into her boyfriend Liam’s lap in front of the fire.

  I loved growing up by the lake. The sound of the waves crashing and the steady rhythm of the water always relaxed me and made me feel at peace. Aside from my family, it’s what I miss most about home.

  I find my usual place faraway, hop up, and sit down on the large flat rock that I’ve claimed as ‘my spot’. It’s where I’ve always been able to go and clear my head. It also makes me feel close to my sister because we came here a lot together as kids. I lean back on my hands and close my eyes, enjoying the smell of the water. A thud and swearing interrupt the quiet.

  I look over and see a guy stumbling back and forth. He finally plops down on the sand a few feet from me right before he lays down and throws his arm over his eyes. Tattoos peek out from the sleeve of his t-shirt on his right arm down to his wrist. Since the only light is from the full moon, I can't see the design clearly.

  “Umm, are you okay?” I ask as I sit up on the hard stone.

  He removes his arm and rolls his head to look at me. “Shit. Yeah. Didn’t see you sitting here, sorry.” He tries to get up, but after several failed attempts, he lies back down in defeat, cursing under his breath.

  “It’s okay. Stay there. Can I go get someone or something? Do you need help?”

  He laughs. “Sweetheart, I’m beyond help.”

  “Well, you can’t even stand. Are you sure you don’t want me to –”

  “No, I don’t want you to do anything. I’m fine, alright?” he snaps and turns his head to signify the end of the conversation.

  I don't say anything else or get up to leave. I can’t, in good conscience, leave this guy alone. The slight frown on his lips is so… sad. Besides, he can’t even stand, so there’s no way he could physically hurt me. I move closer to him, and we sit in silence for a while before he starts talking.

  “She’d be about three years old.” My heart cracks when I see his bottom lip quivering.

  “Who?”

  “The baby. My baby. I always imagined she would have been a girl.”

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” I reach out to comfort him, but pull my hand back, not sure how he would react.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I have no clue what I’m supposed to do right now. I don't know this guy from Adam, but I feel bad for him. I look toward the party and hope someone is coming for him, but there’s nobody in sight. I’m about to get up when I notice his shoulders are shaking. It appears that he’s crying, and I don’t think before I walk the couple of feet to him. The sand cushions my knees, and I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “My sister died four years ago.”

  He reaches up and grabs my hand with his. The gesture is strangely comforting.

  “We moved to Texas, and she was so excited to be somewhere warm. All her life, she’d complained about the weather here.” I laugh, remembering how she would look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in the winter. “She saved all of her money for years and had gotten a new convertible for her sixteenth birthday. It was cherry red with black leather seats. Her dream car. She went for a joyride with the top down to check out the town and never came home.”

  He’s quiet for a moment before he simply says, “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  We sit for a while longer, his hand still holding mine, looking at the waves. He suddenly stands up and takes off in a jog toward the lake. I try to catch up to him, but he’s already waist deep by the time I make it to the edge of the water.

  “What are you doing? Come back here!” I yell at him. He ignores me and continues to walk deeper into the lake.

  What is normally my solace, brings me nothing but fear right now. The lake can be beautiful, especially on a night like tonight. The moon is unbelievably bright shining on the water, giving off an almost eerie glow. But it can also be dangerous and deadly.

  Adrenaline kicks in. I toe off my sandals and start running after him, yelling, “Hey! Stop! Get back here!”

  He finally does and turns around, swaying as he talks. “What are you doing? Go back to the beach.”

  “No. Not until you come back with me. This is dangerous… and stupid.” I stand my ground and cross my arms, hoping I sound as confident as I look. This is not me. I don’t do confrontation. I walk away from drama, not directly into it.

  “Go. Back. To. The. Beach!” he screams at me.

  I’m about to yell back at him, but a wave comes out of nowhere, and his body disappears under the rough water. I grew up in this lake and have the advantage of not being drunk, so my feet that have sunk slightly in the cold sand stay firmly planted. The water has pushed him a little closer toward me, so I take a few steps and reach down for him as he surfaces. He swings his arms and yells at me to let him go as he tries to stand again. I maintain my grip on his shirt even as he tries to get away.

  I have no freaking idea what I’ve gotten myself into. He’s huge compared to me, and I’m quickly regretting my decision to help him. Another wave crashes in, and I panic as I’m pulled down by a combination of him and the waves.

  “Shit!” I cough up some water that splashed in my mouth and scramble to get my bearings. I’ve managed to keep my head above the water and can see him fighting to stand. We’ve miraculously gotten closer to shore as he stares me down.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he yells.

  “Me?” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “You’re the idiot who went into the lake when it’s pitch black out and you’re drunk as hell. I was helping you.”

  He crawls until he’s on dry sand and sits with his knees bent, resting his elbows on them. I should leave now. Call the cops or something. Go. A smart person would do that. But I only have a ‘C’ average, so I decide to sit down next to him. Our breathing starts to even out, and I look over at him a couple times. His eyes are shut, and his fingers are tapping uneven beats. I have no idea how long we’ve been here. I pull out my phone to check, even though I know it’ll be useless.

  “Dammit,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  “My phone.” I hold it up. Water drips out of the corner and lands with a silent plop on my jeans.

  “I’ll get you a new one.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do.” This time when he talks, he’s looking right at me, and I can see his eyes. Damn. They look like the water – perfectly clear and bright blue. Granted, they’re a little bloodshot, but still beautiful. I wonder what they would look like if the sun were shining down instead of the moon.

  He looks back at me with the same curiosity, and I hold his gaze while I get up.

  “I’ve gotta go. I’d offer to call someone for you again, but…” I trail off shaking the last of the water from my phone.

  He chuckles and stands, appearing to have sobered up a little. Damn, he looks even better when he smiles. We fall in step next to each other and walk toward the parking lot. I stumble a bit in the sand, and he reaches over to steady me with a hand to my lower back. His warmth replaces the chill of my damp clothes.

  “Travis, where the fuck have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  So, that’s his name, Travis. My cousin Pierce is jogging toward us. When he looks from left to right and sees me walking with Travis, he picks up his pace. Once he reaches us, Pierce pulls me next to him, and I immediately miss the feel of Travis’ hand on my back.

  “What the hell, Charlotte? You’re all wet. Meara’s been looking for you, too. Why are you with him?” Even though I’ve never had a brother, my cousins gladly fill the role. They have always looked out for me and get angry when a guy is anywhe
re me. They did it with Caroline, and they do it for Meara, just the same. It’s borderline crazy sometimes how protective they are. Secretly, I like knowing I have someone who cares that much, but I’d never tell Pierce or Declan that.

  “You know her?” Travis asks.

  “She’s my cousin, asshat.”

  Travis takes a step back, mouth agape. “What?”

  “Yeah, I told you about my cousin, Charlotte. This is her. Why the hell are you with her, alone?” He’s practically seething.

  When I see Travis struggling to come up with an answer, I jump in.

  “We ran into each other. We were both on our way back from the other end of the beach. He was going to get his friend because he’s too drunk to drive home.” I raise my eyebrows, silently daring Travis to challenge me.

  “Fuck, man, you were supposed to be the DD,” Pierce tells Travis, clearly irritated. “Stacy wants to give me a ride now.” He chuckles and does the chin lift thing to Travis.

  “You’re such a pig,” I argue.

  “I’m a man, Char, but I don't disrespect them. You know me better than that.”

  “Whatever. I’ll drive him,” I volunteer, the words coming out before my brain can register what I’m saying.

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, Pierce, I will. I’m a big girl. Besides, he’s your friend, right? It’s just a ride,” I scoff. “You can get his car tomorrow or something.” I don’t know what the hell has gotten into me tonight; I’m normally not this bold. It’s empowering, though, and I’m giving myself an internal high five.

  Pierce looks between Travis and me for a minute before he throws his hands up in the air.

  “Fine, but if something happens to her, it's your ass, Travis.”

  “Pierce, cut the guy some slack.” I have no idea why I’m defending him or insisting on giving him a ride. I think it’s because of the sadness I see in him. It’s nice to be the responsible one for once. I’m doing this to prove something to myself. Hell if I know what it is, though.