Page 91 of Conception
Clay shoots me a pointed look. “Or you won’t. But you’ll know where to find her when you figure out you won’t ever be able to live without her. It’s going to happen, Knox. The only question is: How long do you plan on torturing yourself?”
I don’t get over it. Not even close. Hell, I move in the opposite direction. And like Clay predicted, I torture myself day in and day out.
The days grow shorter, with Mother Nature taking pity on us and ending the heat wave, offering relief with cooler temperatures as the leaves turn from green to oranges, yellows, and reds.
All it does is make me think of Amelia.
Summer will always be a reminder of her. The cacophony of crickets and cicadas echoing all around us. The moonlit sky reflected in dazzling eyes that gazed at me intently. The sound of rain, the crash of thunder, the flash of lightning. The sweltering heat and droplets of sweat.
But it’s not just summer. Now that autumn is here, I wonder what she’s doing. Is she out photographing the changes in the trees? Does she still spend time at the lake now that the summer heat’s faded? Is she even still there? Do I cross her mind even half as much as she crosses mine?
The holidays come and go, and I wonder where Amelia is, who she’s celebrating with. Is it just her and her Grams, or is she back with the gang in Crystal Cove?
I graduate early, ready to take on more work at Wellington, but Dad won’t hear of it. He claims it’s still my last semester whether I have classes or not and says, “Get your ass out there and have fun while you still can.”
I begrudgingly listen, and all that does is turn me into a third wheel to Clay and Maria.
They drag me to wine tastings, art shows, and restaurant openings. I love my brother, and Maria’s obvious adoration of him endears her to me, but the more I witness their relationship, the more I’m reminded of what I could have had with Amelia. What I want with her. I need a fucking break.
That’s how I find myself as part of a foursome on the golf course even though I’m pretty shit at the game.
But that’s the nature of the business. Come for the golf, leave with new clients. Since I was a kid, Dad taught me that just as much business can be done on the course or in a bar as it can be done in a conference room. He wasn’t kidding.
After ending the afternoon one under par and in last place of our group, I head into the club to return the keys to the golf cart. As I turn to leave, I spot a familiar face by the door. There’s no way to avoid him if I want to get out of here, so I head over, giving him a chin lift.
“Hey, Knox. Good to see ya, man,” J.T. says, running a hand through his hair. The sunlight from the glass door catches the gold band on his finger.
“Yeah. I guess congratulations are in order,” I tell him, feeling slightly bitter. Not because he’s with my ex, but because he looks so damn happy and I know why. And I don’t have that. Not anymore.
He’s not smug. He’s also not apologetic. “Look, man, I’d apologize, but that’d make me a damn liar. I’m not sorry Gwen and I fell in love. I never touched her while you were together. I respected you too much for that.”
Without skipping a beat, I wave him off. “Water under the bridge, J.T. Gwen and I had no future. She just realized it before I did.”
He hesitates then nods. “Glad to hear it. We weren’t sure, with you taking off for the summer and all. You pretty much up and vanished after the wedding invitations went out. Odd for you, since you usually spend all your summers working for your pop.”
J.T.’s watching me, and even though he’s never been one to gossip, I can tell he’s interested. Whether it’s to make him feel better that I wasn’t off pining over his new wife or he’s genuinely curious, I’m not sure.
“Yeah, Mom decided I needed a break from that before senior year. My parents got me a place in Crystal Cove, a few hours from here. I spent the summer fixing it up.”
He tilts his head then snaps his fingers. “Crystal Cove. My grandma has a place out there. Man, I haven’t been there since I was a kid.” He chuckles. “Maybe I’ll have to take Gwen there sometime. I wonder if my cousin still goes there.”
My curiosity piques. “Cousin?”
“Yeah. Shit, I haven’t seen her since…” He pauses, his eyes darkening. “The funeral four years ago. Some cousin I am.”
Her. Funeral. Four years. My ears start to ring.
There’s no way. Tennessee isn’tthatbig, but the likelihood that J.T. and Amelia are related is slim. Isn’t it? Still. I have to ask.
“Funeral?”
I don’t even care that I’ve been reduced to one-word questions.
As J.T. slips his hands into his pockets, something dark crosses his features. “Her parents—my mom’s brother and his wife—were killed in a storm a few years ago. She was with them. It was fucking brutal, man. Seeing her at the funeral? All pale and small?” He lets out a low laugh, one laced with shame, not amusement. “Geez, I’m a fucking asshole.”
Yeah, I know the feeling.
It’s been eight damn months since I started trying to do everything possible to get Amelia off my mind, and even though I thought I’d been winning, one mention of her from J.T. completely unravels everything.
