Unspoken Memories (Unspoken Series) Page 4

His eyes are light brown and the curl in his long lashes make those eyes pop. As I’m looking straight into his eyes, my body starts to melt from weakness.

  How in the world can someone’s stare do this? I feel like I can’t concentrate from him looking at me with those eyes.

  The smell of their friend is still really heavy in the air, so maybe that’s what’s causing this reaction.

  “Can you open up a window or the patio door maybe, please? I need to stay focused for this conversation.”

  Yes, I’ll just blame it on the Mary Jane.

  Matt gets up and heads over to the patio door, opening it. Once he’s done, he comes back, and sits down on the edge of the couch closest to me once again.

  “Umm, not that we're not happy you’re here, but, why are you here?” he inquires. He seems pretty calm and under control. Even though I bet he’s as baked as the other guy.

  The entire car ride here I was thinking about what I would say when I arrived, but now my mind is blank, so I start talking in hopes that it will come back to me.

  “Well, you see, I woke up from a coma last week and I seem to have amnesia, I have no clue who I am, other than my name, and that's only because I guess that's really not hard to figure out. But, in reality I don't have any memories at all. The only thing that I could remember when I woke up was a phone number.” I’m pretty sure I’m rambling at this point, but I continue, “I hired a private investigator to track the number and he gave me your information,” I say, pointing my chin towards Matt.

  Although I have my hands folded into each other on my lap, they’re starting to get sweaty again from the nerves. The two guys are both still looking like they’re trying to absorb the information, this must be a major buzz kill for their high, but I need answers dammit, and at this point they are the only answer to the number in my head.

  “So let me get this straight? Other than your name and Matt’s number, you have no memories at all?” the big guy asks, trying to figure all this out as well.

  “Yes,” I whisper, looking down at my hands.

  Matt is staring at me with his head cocked to the side.

  “But, why my number?” He points his finger at himself. “I've never met you and I'm pretty sure we don't run in the same circle.”

  “I don't know either, but I kept repeating the number in my head, like it was natural to me. I tried texting you last night but I didn't get a response.”

  Matt takes his phone from the coffee table and starts searching through it. “Oh, you must be the 206 number. I was kind of busy at the moment with someone,” he says with a wicked grin. “It was a pretty crazy night last night. Since I didn't recognize the number I just ignored it. Sorry about that,” he says, placing the phone in his pocket of his shorts.

  With the look he’s just given me I’m pretty sure it was a girl that he was busy with, and I don’t blame him. If I knew him well enough I would want to be busy with him myself.

  Where the hell are all these thoughts coming from? I have to get myself under control.

  I try to distract myself from my carnal thoughts. “It's okay, I pretty much headed over here as soon as I got your information this morning from the PI. I needed to see you, the thing is I've had dreams about you too,” I say, looking straight at Matt, while biting my lower lip in embarrassment.

  He thoroughly looks confused, his eyebrows arching up in surprise. I know exactly how he feels. The other guy’s mouth drops in an O, and then he lightly shakes his head, before taking a sip of his beer. He hands it to Matt and he does the same. I sit there in silence, giving them time to absorb everything I’ve said.

  Trying to distract myself again from the tension beginning to build up inside, I begin to look around the room. I notice on one of the walls is a wall hanger, with a whole bunch of medals hanging from them. I walk over to them and start looking at them. As I'm doing this I get another memory.

  This one is of Matt and me. A crowd of people surrounds us, as a medal is being placed around my neck. I feel ecstatic as I hug him. I’m looking behind him at the big banner that says “Portland Marathon” in big green letters. It’s a finish line, and by the year on the banner it was just last year.

  Excited, I turn to face Matt, this must be where we met. Even though I don’t remember reading anything on Google that said I was a runner. “We ran the Portland Marathon together last year, that's where we must have met.”

  He gets up and comes over, standing next me and begins concentrating on the medals with me.

  “No, we didn't,” he clips out, keeping his eyes on the medals.

  “Yes, we did, you’re in my memory and we’re crossing the finish line together.” At least I’m pretty sure we did. “They gave us our medals together and we are hugging.”

  Matt looks back at me with a fierce glare. His chest is beginning to rise and fall, and he’s shaking his head. His eyes turn glassy like he wants to cry, but he's fighting to hold it back. “I didn't run it with you,” he insists, staring at me in disbelief, and irritation laces his voice. “I ran it with my sister. It was the last race we ran together.”

  Oh shit! Then why am I having this vision? It has to mean something, I was pretty sure it was my memory. It felt so real.

  “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I’m right. I clearly see the memory. It was only last year, and I'm pretty sure I was there with you. “Can I be wrong? No, I wasn’t asleep when I got this one, so I know it has to be an actual memory. “What about my dream of running with you in the park, that has to be real, right? There's a trail in the background.”

  This makes Matt angry and he walks away. “Now you’re fucking with me. Who's been feeding you her info?”

  “What are you talking about, nobody is feeding me info. I told you these are the things that I remember. The only things I remember. Besides you, and who is this she you keep referring to?”

  Matt shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair. The other guy starts drinking from his beer again. He looks like he wants to put his two cents into the conversation, but he decides to stay quiet. He's trying to absorb everything, and so am I.

  “Look, there is no way you would have those memories unless somebody told you about them.”

  He goes quiet but then his eyes light up, like he’s just realized something. I’m soon disappointed when he says, “I get it. She must have done some designer shit for you. That’s when she must have mentioned that she ran the marathon. She talked about running to anybody who would listen.”

  I shake my head in disagreement, wanting him to believe me.

  Matt starts pacing the small space in the living room in front of the patio door. What is he talking about, and who would design something for me? I start biting my thumbnail and pacing the room next to him, but in the opposite direction, causing us to pass by each other. That's when the other guy stands up from the couch.

  “Dude, you guys need to stop that walking shit, you’re making me trip.”

  I’m irritated again as I look over at him and snap, “Oh, shut it Trey, I'm trying to figure this out!”

  He drops his beer and it lands on the floor with a loud thump. Matt’s body spins around fast, facing me, and he covers his mouth with a fist.

  “Holy shit, she even sounded like her when she said that!” the muscled guy states.

  What is he talking about? Then I realized I knew the roommate’s name. It had just come to me because he had annoyed me and that line came out so naturally. Well, at least the other guy now has a name. It's Trey.

  Trey sits back down on the couch, buries his face in his hands and says, “Holy shit, no fucking way. This is not possible.” It comes out more of a mumble.

  What’s not possible? I swear, these guys need to get a clear head and help me out here. I’m confused as it is, and I came here hoping they would help me out. Only instead of giving me answers, I’m just more confused.

  Trey gets up from the couch and goes to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and comes back with three bot
tles of beer, handing one to Matt, then one to me. I look at him with a confused look and shake my head. “I'm okay. I don't think I like beer anyways.”

  Matt looks over at me, and chuckles. “Take it; you might end up liking it.”

  I take the beer from Trey, twist the cap off and take a sip, keeping my eyes on Matt the whole time. Surprisingly, the moment it hits my tongue, I swallow, and it tastes like heaven. I make a small moaning sound and take a bigger sip.

  Matt’s mouth goes into a smile and he shakes his head.

  “Told you so,” he says.

  Trey goes and sits back down on the couch and starts to drink his beer, and I return to the recliner. Matt begins to drink from his beer and he’s thinking really hard about something.

  “How did I know your name all of a sudden?” I ask Trey.

  “I'm still trying to figure this shit out myself, but one thing is for sure. I'm really freaked out right now,” he says before he starts drinking his beer again.

  “Well, that makes two of us,” I say, taking another sip of my beer.

  With a worried look on his face, Matt speaks, “There's only one person who would snap at Trey like that.” I look at him waiting for him to tell me.

  “Emily, my sister.”

  My eyes go wide in surprise. The room starts to spin and I feel really light headed. Matt must have noticed my reaction because he heads straight over to me. “Put your head between your knees, it might help.” I do as he says and once the dizzy feeling is gone I lift it back up.

  My nerves are getting to me, I start bouncing my knee up and down and Matt looks at it, saying, “Feeling much tension? Maybe you should take up running.”

  For some reason a run sounds really good right now. Especially after the dream I had last night.

  I'm sitting there, realizing that all these memories I’ve been having, are his sister’s. I’m wracking my brain on how or why I would have these memories all of a sudden. It’s really freaking me out right now. I turn to look at Matt and I notice he’s staring right back at me, studying me.

  “So let me get this straight. You wake up with no memory of the model you are, but you keep having these other memories?”

  I nod, twisting the beer in my hands, sitting there and I start trying to peel the label off the bottle in an effort to distract myself.

  Trey’s eyes light up. I could tell he’s thought of something.

  “Why don’t we show her a picture of Em? Maybe she’ll recognize her and it might trigger a memory of them working together.”

  Matt immediately goes over to a wall with several shelves and grabs a photograph.

  He comes back and hands it to me. It’s one of him and a woman, at what must be Matt’s graduation since he’s wearing a cap and gown. I take the picture from his hands so I’m able to focus better on the image of the lady, but nothing is coming to me.

  Nothing.

  Dammit, this is getting more frustrating. I shake my head, handing the photo back to Matt. He grabs it from me, taking it back to its original home on the shelf. As he puts it down, he takes a moment to look at it. His body is tense, without emotion, but his shoulders are slumped.

  He turns back at me. “How often do you have these memories?” he asks, drawing his brows down tight.

  “I don't know. They just come to me, but they’re so real. At first, I thought they were only dreams, since I had the first two while I was sleeping, but the last one was while I was awake. The one I just had.”

  He walks over in front of the fireplace and starts pacing again. All I can do is sit there and stare at him.

  He suddenly leaves the room, going through a door leading into the kitchen. I look at Trey waiting for him to tell me what's going on, but he shrugs his shoulders and takes another drink of his beer.

  I stopped myself at the one beer that he gave me because I began to feel lightheaded. With everything going on, I haven't had much of an appetite. So I’d forgotten to eat breakfast, and the alcohol began to hit me hard, and right now I need to be as clear headed as possible.

  Another fifteen minutes go by and Matt comes back into the living room with what looks like a planner. He resumes his seat on the couch and starts going through the pages, starting in the middle. I see his eyes moving back and forth with a determined concentration, while slowly flipping through the pages.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask curiously.

  He shakes his head while keeping it down, but manages to hold up his finger as if telling me to wait. He goes back to scanning the pages. He does this for a while and in the meantime Trey has turned on the flat screen mounted above the fireplace, and is now watching the sports channel. Since I'm not into sports I go back to watching Matt.

  My phone begins to ring in my purse that I placed on the floor next to the recliner. I take it out and look at the screen. There is a picture of Bill with his name flashed across the screen. I push the ignore button, because the last thing I need right now is Bill asking where I am and bitching me out again for not taking security with me. It's not my fault he didn't tell me how to get a hold of security.

  Another reason I didn’t call for a bodyguard was how in the world would I explain my road trip to see a guy from my dream?

  I decide to turn off the phone and figure I’ll deal with that obstacle when I'm faced with it. This is more important right now. I need to know why I’m having these memories.

  Matt has finally reached the last page of the planner he’s holding and shuts it. Making an exasperated sigh, he tosses it in front of him onto the coffee table. With his elbows on his knees, he begins rubbing his face with his hands. He rakes his hands over his head, and then brings them down again over his face.

  He says into his hands, “I don't get it, how is this fucking possible?” the question comes out more of a mumble due to his hands.

  I'm assuming the planner didn't have the answer he was looking for.

  I ask him, “What is it you were looking for?”

  He takes his head out of his hands, but keeps staring at the floor between his knees. “I was positive that she must have worked with you at some time, but she never mentioned you. But, then again she was not the type of person who would brag about her clients.”

  Clients, what clients? “What did your sister do for a living?”

  He looks at me. “She was an interior designer, and she mostly worked with a lot of high end clients.”

  So this is why he would think that I would have met her. He must have thought I hired her to work for me, maybe do a design job in my apartment.

  I look around the room with shocked eyes, and a raised eyebrow. I'm really confused how, with his sister being a high-end interior designer, this place sure looks like crap. Now that I think about it, why didn’t these guys recruit her expertise? But I guess that is boys for you, especially those who are in college.

  Trey sees my face and laughs. “Trust me, she would have gone to town if we let her, but she was really cool about giving us our space on the decorations,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “So let me get this straight, according to that book,” I point my chin to the planner sitting on the table in front of Matt, “she never worked with me?”

  “Or your dude,” he responds, nodding his head.

  “But, since I've never met her, how is it that I could have her memories?”

  Matt gets a grim look on his face and he stares out into the backyard. I know this must be hard on him, losing his sister, then having some stranger come in and claim to see what she did.

  Matt looks at me, and takes a breath. “This might sound stupid, but the way I see it, you are somehow absorbing her crazy memories.”

  Crazy? She doesn’t seem crazy from the memories I’m getting, unless I’m getting the tame ones.

  Yay for me, I dryly think.

  “How, I don’t know. I don’t want to know, because all this shit sounds freaking crazy to me as it is. That’s the only thing I can think of at the moment.
” I remain dazed as I’m listening to him.

  “I’m still waiting for you to tell me that you’re really my sister back from the dead any moment, but seeing that you don’t have all her memories, it can’t be that,” he says, frowning.

  He drops his head back into his hands, rubbing his face.

  Trey looks just as amazed at what Matt has said as I do. “This shit sounds so crazy to me right now.”

  I nod my head, not knowing what else to do.

  We all sit there in silence for a couple of minutes and it begins to feel really awkward.

  Trey finally gets up from the couch and says, “I'm hungry. You guys hungry?” I'm about to shake my head to reply that I’m not, but my empty stomach takes this moment to start to growl, answering his question.

  Trey laughs and states he's going to order some pizza.

  How he can think of food right now amazes me, but I remember that they were stoned out of their minds when I got here, and then I remember that the driver is still waiting for me. He also must be starving at this point.

  “I should let my driver go grab something as well, I'll be right back,” I say, standing up.

  Matt stands up too, saying, “I'll go with you.” He follows me out the door, to the hired car.

  I make it down to the curb where the driver is patiently waiting for me in the driver’s seat. When he sees me approaching, he immediately steps out and rushes over to me ready to open the door. I shake my head at him and tell the driver to go get his lunch.

  At first he seems hesitant to leave, but after reassuring him that I will be at least another hour or so, he gives me his card in case I need him sooner.

  As we're walking back up the driveway I notice the black car again and, out of curiosity, ask, “Which one is your car?”

  He points his finger to the black Charger.

  I can't help myself as my jaw drops. Damn lucky bastard.

  I head over to the car and automatically start running my fingers on it, craving to touch it. The feel of the perfectly glossy paint job against my fingers claims it must have been done recently within the last ten years. You can tell he takes really good care of it.