Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(71)

I shoot a text to Emmett and then throw my phone, not giving a shit what his reply will be.



Me: I’m done lying. Whatever you think you know about us, you don’t know it all. I can’t do this anymore, and I won’t. Fuck your case. Find the killer without Brielle. I am telling her everything.





I sink down onto the couch with my head in my hands and try to figure out how to start the process of telling her the truth about us without ruining everything.





Chapter Twenty-Five





BRIELLE





I can’t stop feeling like Spencer is lying. He said no lies, and I believe him, but the way he has been since we made love has suspicion taking root inside me.

I exit the bathroom silently and walk back into his room, drawn to the space.

My fingers wrap around the knob and a memory flashes.

Spencer is removing my clothes, throwing them around the room with a grin. “I want you naked.”

“I bet you do.”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard.” His hands grip my ass, pulling me against him.

“I look forward to it.”

“You should.”

I giggle as he tosses me onto the bed, and then I spread my arms wide and smirk. “I’m waiting.”

The memory drifts away, and another appears.

“I don’t want to tell him.” I am naked with the sheet wrapped around me.

“We are going to have to at some point,” Spencer says as he climbs back into bed with me. Immediately, I snuggle into his side, resting my head on his chest.

I don’t want to tell Isaac or anyone. I am happy just like this. The bubble we have created is perfect, and when it pops, we’ll be forced to deal with everyone’s opinions. We are happy as we are, and even if we never become anything more than this, I selfishly want to keep these moments untarnished by the outside world.

I sigh, resting my chin on my hand. “No, we don’t. We’re grown adults, and it’s no one’s business what we do.”

“You can’t want this, Brie. You’re not some random hookup.”

“Aren’t I?” I challenge. “Because that’s what this is.”

Spencer’s green eyes stare down at me. “You could never be random.”

“But we can never be more.”

“Why is that?”

I lay my head back on his chest, loving the way it feels to be like this. “Because I’d fall in love with you, and then you’d break my heart.”

He chuckles. “You’re right. I would.”

I’m thrown back here, staring at the bed, remembering how soft his sheets were against my skin. I’ve been with him. Many times. I’ve slept in this bed—with him. Last night was not a first, and he lied.

I step deeper into the room, wanting more memories to appear. I look around, not sure if what I just saw actually happened. I should leave, talk to him, give him a chance to tell me the truth, but I need proof that what I just saw was real.

Instead of being sane, I open a drawer and then another and then, just when I start to think I’m a total asshole, I find a frame. There we are. I’m wrapped in his arms, he’s smiling down at me, and my hand is pressed against his cheek—with a diamond ring on my finger. The one in my jewelry box. The one he said he never gave me.

The one he told me, point-blank, was not his.

But it was.

As though the fog is no longer in my mind, but in front of me, I walk out into the living room and stop when I find him sitting on his couch.

He gets to his feet. “Brie? Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “You lied.”

“What?”

“You lied to me. I remember.” He comes toward me, but I lift my hand. “You broke every goddamn promise you made. You told me you would never lie, and every fucking thing has been exactly that—bullshit.”

“No, not everything.”

I laugh. “No, just the fact that we were together and apparently engaged.” I toss the frame at him, and he catches it before it can crash to the floor.

“Brielle, let me explain.”

“Explain? Explain that you’re a liar? Explain that I asked you—literally asked you if you were who gave me that ring, if we’ve ever been together, and you said no.”

“I had no fucking choice!”

“No, you had a choice. You chose to lie.”

My world is imploding. Everything I thought I knew is disappearing before my eyes. What is true anymore? He has been my constant and the one person I thought I could trust to be honest with me, but he chose to withhold our past. Now, I don’t have a clue what my reality is.

He huffs. “Yes, I had a choice. I had to choose between letting you remember, knowing the outcome could be this, or telling you, possibly ruining any chance of you being able to testify against the person who killed your brother. I had to sit back and watch you talk about Henry, the fucking piece of shit who couldn’t even be there for you at the funeral when he was trying to get back with you. I chose to watch you convince yourself that you were with Jax. I chose to spend every minute I could with you and give you whatever you needed. I listened to you tell me you wanted to forget the man who gave you that ring because he must be what’s wrong in your life.”