The Image of You Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Drama, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
<<<<536371727374758393>117
Advertisement


I had arranged for the loft to be checked on and cleaned. John would handle my business affairs, and I would contact him when I could.

On the counter was my new phone. The other one still worked, despite the shattered screen, but with the way I was traveling, I changed plans and numbers. Only a few people had the old number, but I had passed on the new one to them anyway, and to a couple others as well.

The only contact who didn’t have it was Ally.

I picked up the cracked phone, which hadn’t rung in days. Now, unless it was a wrong number, the only person who would ever call it was her. I ran my finger over the broken screen and tapped the keys. I hesitated, then cleared my throat and hit voice mail.

“You’ve reached Adam Kincaid. I’m no longer at this number. If it is urgent, contact John Reynolds.” I gave his phone number, then I paused, my voice dropping. “If this is you, Ally, come home. John can find me if you want that. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

I hit save and turned off the power. Opening the file cabinet, I tucked it in beside her ring.

I picked up my bags and walked out.

PART TWO—

SIX MONTHS LATER

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

ADAM

I stared at her hand and then her beautiful face.

The woman I had loved passionately—desperately—and still loved to this day.

My former fiancée…who was looking at me with no recognition.

As if I were a stranger to her.

And then it hit me as I took in the emptiness in her eyes.

I was.

I paced the floor restlessly, stopping only to slam back another shot of scotch or run my hands through my hair in vexation. I didn’t have any answers. I only had more questions.

What the fuck had happened to Ally?

I made many trips to the windows, looking for her car, but Emma still hadn’t shown up.

It had been two hours since Emma had pulled me back into the shadows, her face as shocked as my own senses.

“What the fuck is going on, Emma?” I hissed. “Why is Ally looking at me as though she doesn’t know me? What happened to her?”

Her eyes searched my face, trying to determine if I was telling the truth. “You really don’t know?”

“What the hell am I supposed to know?”

She shook her head, her hand covering her mouth. Her gaze was wild as she scanned the room. Then she gripped my arm, tugging on it. “Adam, you have to go. Now.”

I wrenched my arm free. “I’m not fucking going anywhere until I get some answers.”

“I’ll come to you. As soon as I can. You have to leave.”

“Right,” I scoffed. “I’ll leave and never hear from you again. You’ll make sure I don’t get back in.”

“No, I will come to you. I promise.” She held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

Wordlessly, I did, and she tapped in her number. “What’s your address?”

“It’s the same. You dropped Ally off after lunch.”

Her fingers faltered. “You didn’t move?”

“Move? No, I didn’t move.”

“Go home, Adam. Wait for me.”

I looked past her, trying to find Ally, who, after shaking my hand, had turned and fled, leaving me gaping after her. It was only Emma’s hand pressing on my chest that stopped me from storming after her and demanding to know what the fuck was going on.

“Do it for her,” she pleaded.

“You’ll come? You give me your word?”

“I gave you my cell phone number. So, yes. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She stepped closer. “Don’t let anyone see you, or I can’t help you.”

I left as she requested, hugging the shadows, slipping out the employee entrance.

Now, I was waiting.

I groaned, rolling my neck. I felt as if I was going to burst out of my skin. I had shed my jacket, tugged off my tie, and pulled my shirt out of my pants, leaving it loose. It still felt as if I was choking. The loft felt confining and small, my thoughts rampant. My gaze swept the unused space that, for a brief time, had felt like a home because of her. Pivoting, I stared out the window, recalling the past six months.

I had returned to Africa. I had a burning need to forget, bury myself in a project that would distract me, to escape the pain. When I showed back up at the clinic with trucks of supplies and looking like a ghost, Peter and Edwina were surprised but welcoming. When they’d found out I had no determined time frame for staying, they allowed me my privacy until I was ready to talk. Then they offered only their support and comfort. We grew closer as the weeks passed.

Over the next while, the Elena Ames Center was built. It was a rough wooden structure that would service this small area. I also set up a fund that would ensure the clinic had supplies whenever they were required. Elena had been right, as usual. I knew when and where to use her money. These people would benefit from her generosity for years to come. I spent my days building and working with Peter and Edwina, and my nights fighting the memories and pain that never seemed to stop.


Advertisement

<<<<536371727374758393>117

Advertisement