Finding Memories (Breaking Free Series) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Part One.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Available now …

  Books by Becca Taylor

  Acknowledgements

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Available now …

  Books by Becca Taylor

  Acknowledgements

  Playlist

  Copyright © 2016 Becca Taylor

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or electronically, without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or businesses, companies, events, institutions or locales is completely coincidental. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained are the property of the songwriters and copyright holders. The author acknowledges trademark status and trademark owners of products referenced. The use of these trademarks is not authorized and done without permission.

  This book is intended for audiences age 18 and over. Contains graphic language, strong sexual situations, violence and mature content. If any of these offend you, please do not read.

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Designer and Formatting done by Pink Ink Designs

  Photographs by Kruse Images & Photography

  Models: Manny Harvey and Davina Sanchez

  Editing by Editing4Indies

  This is dedicated to everyone who has stood by me.

  I MET A FUCKING amazing woman. She’s beautiful, smart, and gets along with my male friends—even their women too. I’ve been putting this night off, but only because life just kept getting in the way of my plan. The past two months really put a damper on them since she’s been in California for the opening of a new hotel, and even though I didn’t like the idea of being separated from her that long, she was so excited about going. Deanna got her degree in hotel management in California and still works for the same hotel as she did when she graduated. She was offered a promotion that would require some traveling, and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

  Now that she’s finally back, I can get my ring where it belongs. On her finger.

  Telling her to dress up tonight, I decided to take her to a restaurant downtown. Usually, the waiting list is months out, but the owner is a client of mine. Lucky for me, I just finished some custom furniture for his house, so he told me he would have a special table reserved just for us.

  After a long shower and much-needed shave, I pull the suit out of my closet. I haven’t worn one since I graduated college almost ten years ago. I hate them. I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of man. Work boots are more my style than the dress ones I’m wearing tonight, but for Deanna, I’ll wear it with a smile on my face.

  Just before I leave the house, I tap my hand over the inside pocket of my jacket to check and recheck that the box hasn’t moved. During the ride to Deanna’s house, my nerves are getting the best of me even though I’m normally Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected. After I step out of my truck I wipe my hands on the front of my neatly pressed pants because I can’t seem to stop sweating. My tie feels like it’s choking me, and I have to resist the urge to take it off. Fuck, it’s hot.

  Before knocking on her door, I place my hand over the ring box, again, and it’s still there. When she answers the door dressed in her robe, Deanna looks like she’s been crying. In two strides, I reach her and have her wrapped in my arms.

  “Dee, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  I hardly ever see her cry—other than when she watches one of those romance movies she likes—and it’s tearing me up to see her so distraught. I lead her to the couch and sit, pulling her to my lap where she sobs for the longest time, and I know whatever is going on is bad. The need to fix whatever is making her feel this way is overwhelming because it’s what I do; I fix things.

  Finally, she talks. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Dee. Just talk to me.”

  She climbs off my lap and takes a seat next to me. When she takes my hand in hers, a chill runs through me.

  “You know I love you. You’ve become my best friend.”

  “I love you, too.” I squeeze her hand, encouraging her to continue.

  “Something happened while I was in California.” She looks at me, and her eyes are so sad. I brush my hand to her cheek, and for a second, she leans into my touch, but then she grips my wrist.

  “What happened?”

  “I ran into some old friends from college. We went out for some drinks and bumped into another group of people.” She stops for a moment, and I watch her throat as she swallows. “My old … friend was there. I don’t know how it happened, but we just started talking. We talked all night.”

  It’s not what I thought she would tell me. My head was thinking maybe they were transferring her job. I would tell her we’d make it work, but this … this isn’t what I was fucking expecting. The words friend, talking, and all night are ringing in my ear. I push her hand away from my face because I have a feeling I’m not going to like the rest of it.

  “I’m guessing this friend is not a female?”

  “No.”

  “Did you sleep with him?” I ask. More yell. I never understood when people said that they saw red, but right n
ow, I see it. A sick feeling is roiling in my gut, and I almost don’t want to hear her answer.

  When she shakes her head, a feeling of relief comes over me, but it only lasts for a second. “He’s moving here. And I think I want to give it another try with him.”

  The need to punch something is strong. I search the room for something to hit, but it’s not my house. Instead, I reach into my pocket, pull out the ring, and toss it on her coffee table. I don’t say anything as I walk out her front door, but I hear her loud and clear as she calls to me.

  “Oh, God.”

  “Jeremy, wait.”

  “Don’t leave like this.”

  I get in my truck. The fuck I’m sticking around. Once home, I throw the suit in the trash and vow never to wear one again. I put on a pair of shorts and head straight to my punching bag. I hit it over and over, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. The knot in my chest is too tight, and I need something to numb the pain. From the liquor cabinet, I grab the bottle of Jack and the biggest glass I can find, which is pointless because I start drinking straight from the bottle. I can’t tell you how long I drank, but I woke up to an empty bottle, feeling worse than I did the day before. Fuck my life.

  CAN YOU SMELL that? It’s the scent of fresh cut wood and sawdust. When I come out to my garage to start on a new piece of furniture, the first cut I make brings back a flood of memories.

  A trade that goes back generations in my family, both my pop and grandpop taught me everything I know about woodworking. My workspace is a mini museum of tools dating back to my great-great-grandpop. Each has a story ... Where, how, or why it was purchased, who used it, and what it built. To this day, I still use them.

  Yes, I do use modern technology on my craft, but some days, like today, I need the quiet. When life gets too insane, I come out here, grab a tool, and let the wood do the talking. Sometimes it tells me it wants to be a simple shelf, and on other days, it wants to be more. Today is a more day, and I can envision it clear as day. The wood wanted to be a chest, cedar lined with a herringbone design for the top. I’m not sure yet if I will keep it or if I’ll sell it. That’s something for me to think about another day. For now, my tool is a pencil, and as I grab a sheet of graph paper, I map out my plans on the same drawing table used by generations before me.

  Lately, family has been on my mind. My family, my friends starting their families, and even the family I’ve wanted. The urge to plant my own roots has been growing more and more.

  “Fuck that. I don’t need anyone. I’m happy with my life because it’s fucking phenomenal. I don’t have to answer to anyone, and I can do whatever the fuck I want, anytime I want.” I scoff to myself. I also have a habit of talking out loud. It’s kind of my own version of a kick in the ass.

  I blame my friends for my ‘I need a woman’ attitude. Three of my best friends found their soulmate around the same time. In fact, the girls they are with are all best friends. Caleb, Bentley, Hunter, Josh, and I go back to the days of puberty. We formed a common bond over music, and our band Slither was born. We thought being in a band would bring us all the girls, and we were right. Bentley’s voice, Caleb’s bass strumming, Hunter’s drumming, and my guitar playing got us in plenty of girls’ pants. Even Josh, our somewhat manager, holds his own. To this day, I still have women giving me their numbers after a show, but I haven’t called any of those numbers since I met Dee. The moment she enters my thoughts, I push them down, not wanting to go there.

  Playing has definitely taken a back seat to work, engagements, and weddings. My job keeps me more than busy. J&H Construction was built on friendship. Hunter helped me with the startup, and we split the profits sixty-forty, with me being the majority owner. Business has been good. So good that I’ve been able to hire a larger crew. Hunter has even started overseeing some of the jobs, which gives me a little more flexibility to work on side projects like this.

  After Dee had hit me with her news, I built a dining room table with six chairs. When I finished with that, I started a complete living room set. I kept going, and in two months’ time, I had a new piece of furniture in every fucking room of the house. But it did nothing to get her off my mind.

  I look down at the completed drawings. It looks more like a kid’s toy chest than the footlocker I intended it to be. But the wood wants what it wants. I laugh, thinking I sound like a complete lunatic, because it’s not like wood can actually talk. I’m the one who decided it. Unless one of my friends decides to start having babies, which is a distinct possibility, this one will go in the sell pile.

  That’s it. Two months of living like a hermit is enough. I need to get out and find someone and have no-strings-attached sex. Josh is the only one, besides me, who’s unattached. Hell, I don’t think he’ll ever settle down, but I thought that about Caleb and Bentley too. Hunter’s the one I pictured with a family.

  Me: You up for getting a beer?

  I get a response within seconds.

  Josh: Hell, yeah.

  Me: The Sandbar in an hour.

  Josh responds with a fist bump emoji. He could have sent a simple yes or see you there, but that’s Josh. Girls flock to him because he’s the funny guy.

  I stick my plans on the corkboard in my office. Tomorrow I will start cutting the million pieces needed for the pattern. After a quick shower, I put on a pair of jeans, a casual button up striped blue shirt, and spray on some cologne. It doesn’t take me long to head out the door.

  I pull my truck into the parking lot just as Josh pulls in on his motorcycle. Since it’s ladies’ night, the place is jammed pack, which is also the reason I suggested this particular bar.

  We find a high table close to the bar since it’s the best place for scoping out the joint. The waitress comes over, and she’s cute but too young for my blood. Instead of spending time hitting on her, we order the first round of beers. They appear quickly since we are sitting in prime table real estate.

  “Not a bad looking crowd tonight,” Josh says as he looks for who he will call dibs on.

  Myself, I’m not going to be picky. Blond, brunette, redhead—I like them all.

  “Anyone in particular you’re interested in?” I ask him.

  “I’m thinking legs over there.” He answers at the same time as she looks over. He tips his glass to her before letting me know, “Be back.”

  I laugh as I watch Josh make his move when a pair of female hands—soft as fuck female hands—cover my eyes, and I get a whiff of peaches on her wrist.

  “Guess who?” She removes her hands and comes to stand in front of me. Jade says, “Boo.”

  “Hey.”

  Jade is friends with my bandmates’ women: Kat is engaged to Caleb, Aly is engaged to Bentley, and Lexi and Hunter are living together. Jade also happens to be renting an apartment owned by Bentley.

  “I thought I saw you walk in. What are you doing here? Wait, let me guess. Single guy here on ladies’ night. No further comments needed,” she jokes.

  I’ve always talked to Jade around the group, and she’s usually quiet. Friendly, but more on the shy side.

  “Have you been taking advantage of the two-for-one drinks?” I ask her with a smirk.

  She holds up her glass of some pink concoction. “This tasty drink is my second. Want to come with me to get my third and fourth? The group I came with is rather dull, and I could use more lively company.”

  Just then the waitress comes back. “Another beer. And whatever the lady is having. Put it on my tab.”

  “Anything fruity. Surprise me.” The waitress heads back to the bar, and Jade continues, “Wow. You don’t even have to fight the crowd to get a drink. That’s awesome.”

  “Since I’m getting you a drink, I think you should join me. And awesome?” I question her choice of the word or maybe just the way she said it.

  Jade sits in the chair vacated by Josh moments ago. “Totally awesome. So, are you here alone?”

  I point at where Josh is dancing with a blonde. Jade waves at him, and
he gestures back with a bob of his head.

  “You want to tell me about the boring people you came with?”

  She sighs. “Okay, it’s not that they are boring, but I decided to finally take my co-workers up on their drink offer, and all they discuss is work. I lived it enough today, so I don’t want to hear about so-and-so’s crush on the copyeditor. Or tomorrow’s edition of the magazine. I wanted to have a drink and dance.”

  “Gotcha. Well, if you need an escape, tell them you just found a hot guy who wants to buy you a drink. And that they probably won’t hear from you again tonight.”

  “Where? What hot guy?” She looks around the bar. The smartass. I like relaxed Jade.

  We wound up talking for well over an hour. In that time, Josh only stopped by to give Jade a quick hello and goodbye. He is heading back to Blondie’s house. I don’t even bother with remembering her name because I know I won’t see her again.

  “Which girl did you have picked out?” Jade asks me curiously.

  “I didn’t get that far. How about you? Any guys here who interest you?” Not many men are here tonight. Not many who seem to be alone anyway. At this point, most of them have found their pick for the night.

  Jade looks around. “That muscly guy over there is cute.”

  I look at where she is staring, and he looks like Hunter on steroids. Definitely not who I would choose for Jade. “I pegged you as more of a business suit office kind of girl.”

  “Do I really seem that stuffy? Oh, God. You’re right. That is my type. But I’m sick of being Miss Goody-goody. I want a bad boy.”

  I raise my eyebrow at her.

  “Don’t you make that face. I can be a bad girl if I want.”

  I burst out laughing, and she punches me in the arm, but I barely feel it. “Okay, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

  “I don’t want to yet. Besides, I feel like nachos. They have the best pulled pork nachos here, and you can’t let me eat alone.”

  I, of course, stayed. I couldn’t leave her there stuffing her face with nachos by herself. We talked well after the food was gone, and then I made sure to follow her back to her place, wanting her to get there safely. She waved bye, and I went home. Alone. But I didn’t mind; it’s better than waking up with a stranger and dealing with that awkward morning after.