Mine (Her Book 2)

  Mine

  Her Book 2

  portia Moore

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  IAN

  Chapter 2

  Ian

  megan

  Chapter 3

  MEGAN

  IAN

  Megan

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  MEGAN

  Chapter 6

  MEGAN

  IAN

  MEGAN

  Chapter 7

  IAN

  MEGAN

  8. Megan

  IAN

  9. Megan

  IAN

  MEGAN

  Chapter 10

  IAN

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Collided

  Untitled

  Untitled

  Also by portia Moore

  1

  Megan

  Wife. He just said wife.

  The air has left my body. I’m dizzy, and I feel like I’m going to vomit.

  My throat is dry and tight. The boy—not boy, man— with bright blond hair and his eyes…I’m not sure if they are light grey or dark blue, but they are amazing. He’s a beautiful stranger, but stranger is the key word. I don’t know him, despite the fact the first time I laid eyes on him my body warmed up and my heart jumped into cardio mode.

  He is a gorgeous man. Pretty, but in the roughest way possible. Strong jaw, large muscular arms beneath his tight grey shirt, tattoos wrapped around them. But his eyes are soft, and his lips look softer, and I can almost remember how soft they felt on mine. How fragile I’ve been in his arms…but no, that can’t be right. Not remember. Imagine is the right word.

  “Alana…?” I hear his voice but it’s muffled, like I’m underwater. The floor feels wobbly as if I’m going to fall through it, or maybe it’s my legs. Ian’s hands—large, firm, and in control—grip my body.

  “Get the hell out of the way,” he tells Blue, ushering him to a small corner of his large sofa and giving me space to sit down. This seems so familiar.

  “Katie,” Blue mumbles through his drunken stupor.

  I sit down, glad to have something beneath the legs that seemed so weak before. He stands near the edge of the arm of the couch. I fight to not stare at him, forcing my eyes to remain glued to my lap. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

  Wife? It’s insane! But those words aren’t coming out of my mouth. Nothing is. A dull headache is coming on. I massage my temples and try to steady my breathing. What do you say to something like what I’ve just heard? What do I say? He’s wrong, he has to be! It’s impossible. I’m not married…I don’t even know him. His expression is confusing, somewhere between what I can only describe as furious and desire, and I’m starting to tremble. If he thinks I’m her, if he really believes it, he would be beyond angry. I have to convince him I’m not her. I have to make him believe me.

  “I know I look like that woman in the picture, but I promise you she’s not me. I’m not…not her. I don’t know why this is happening and it has to seem like the biggest coincidence imaginable but I am not your wife.” His eyes are narrowed and the longer he stares at me, the harder it is to breathe. My throat is becoming tighter. The room is closing in.

  “Alana are you okay?” That causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand.

  “What?” I ask him, afraid for my eyes to find his.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he says again, more concerned than furious, as his eyes read earlier. That name…Alana.

  “Why the hell are you doing this?” He fumbles over his words. His skin is flushed, his arms seem tight, his muscles clench as he pushes his knuckles into the thick flesh of his thigh.

  I move away from him. He looks dangerous, like he’s almost ready to attack. But there’s something in his eyes that lets me know he’s more hurt than furious. “My name isn’t Alana!” I shout. His eyes are still wide, his expression hard, but it softens a bit when tears come to my eyes.

  “My name is Megan,” I say so quietly that I’m not sure if he hears me until his eyes widen.

  If I was going to be anyone’s wife it would Kam. Kam, who is my first love, who has stuck by me, who makes my heart swoon and the future look pretty decent. Even if it’s all a fairytale, a fantasy that’s never meant to be. This guy…that’s it! He’s Blue’s cousin! What is going on? Why is this happening to me?!

  “I’ll be honest, I’m a little high right now. More than a little high,” he admits. A flicker of embarrassment passes through his expression.

  “You more than look like her.” Ian’s voice is confident and strong, as if he has no doubt. And from the picture I can understand, but it’s not true. I laugh and it’s clipped and nervous, but what else can I do when I have this man staring at me with confusion, anger, and a passion that is radiating off of him? My nerves are on overdrive, my throat completely dry, and one of the only two people who could help me figure this out is drunk out of his mind and heartbroken. And the other...if I tell him, he’ll be the same. I clasp my hands together, not sure what else to say.

  “This is insane,” he mutters under his breath, sweeping his hands through his light blond hair. It’s long, almost down to his shoulders, but thick and full, not styled like some of the preppy friends Kam has. It’s rugged but perfectly so, and I’m in horror at the butterflies that are lining my stomach.

  “I don’t know what’s going on but I’m leaving. I shouldn’t be here.” I stand and he jumps in front of me. I instantly sit back down.

  “No, please, I’m sorry, I…this is just...you can’t go.” He’s blocking my path and even though he does seem inebriated, I know I can’t run. I won’t be fast enough and I feel like it’d heighten an already emotionally charged situation. I steady myself and try to remain calm. He seems to have calmed down the tiniest bit.

  “Blue is drunk and it’s almost three in the morning. We don’t have to talk about this now,” he promises desperately, but there is an authority behind his voice, wrapped around a genuine plea. This isn’t a good idea, I know it, but…what if she is my sister?

  “You can take our—my room,” he quickly corrects himself.

  “I’ll take the other couch,” he continues.

  “Just…please don’t go.” His voice is so deep but it’s vulnerable. And he’s right. I’m in a city I know nothing about, with nowhere to go, and if I leave it defeats the purpose of me coming in the first place.

  “Okay. I’ll stay the night,” I tell him reluctantly.

  “Great.” He lets out a held-in sigh, while I’m holding a breath in that just might make me float away if I let it out. We both stand almost perfectly still, my hands in my jean pockets, his across his broad chest.

  “I don’t have to take your room. I’ll be fine on the couch.” The couch is much better, especially if I have to leave to get away.

  “Come on,” he says brushing past me, his energy almost swallowing me up as he does. I glance back at Blue, who is dead to the world, and try to swallow my last reservation. It’s going to be okay.

  The apartment isn’t big so the walk isn’t far, but it seems like it takes forever. The room is enormous, not what I expected from the small living room with a shared dining area and even smaller bathroom. The ceilings are high, and all around the room are photos; big, beautiful black and white portraits, some of buildings, others of people’s faces, and all seem to tell a thousand stories. They’re captivating and I try not to stare at them. They seem private, too personal to be seen by anyone but the artist’s eyes, like a private diary entry.

  “This is the bed…obviously.” His voice wakes me from my daydream. It’s deep but shaky. He’s just as nervous as I am, and I’d rather him be that th
an angry. His skin is flushed, neck and arms red. I don’t know him well enough to know any other tells but I couldn’t imagine looking at someone who looked like my husband but it not be him. That picture, it was me, except it wasn’t. He quickly starts to pull back sheets, attempting to make the jumbled mess more presentable.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I tell him but he continues anyway.

  “These are really nice,” I say, even though nice is an understatement. They’re mesmerizing, breathtaking.

  “Thanks.” He gives me a small grin and that’s breathtaking too. I quickly look away, wondering how I’ll go through an entire day in this apartment without looking at its owner.

  “I’ll let you get some rest,” he says, backing out of the room with a reluctance that’s palpable.

  “Thank you for…I can’t imagine how this…if I were you I don’t know if I’d be so calm,” I stutter, trying to gather my words to not sound like a complete idiot. He only presses his lips together and gives two distinct nods.

  “Goodnight,” is all he mutters before he disappears, shutting the door behind him. What else could he say? What else can I say? I stand around a few seconds before carefully sitting on the bed. It’s softer than I thought it would be. I look aimlessly around the room again. He just gave up his room to a complete stranger…

  I ignore the small voice in my head that says You’re not a stranger to him.

  Because I am. Regardless of me having a possible doppelganger. My phone vibrates in my pocket.

  It’s Kam.

  My hands immediately begin to shake. Can he feel this? Can he sense I’m in another man’s bed? Even if I’m alone and it’s completely innocent? I finally take a deep breath and text him back.

  I’m okay. Please don’t worry.

  The bubbles immediately appear on the screen.

  Call me please. I’m losing my mind. I love you don’t do this.

  Tears fill my eyes as I picture him, his phone tight in his hands, gripping it for dear life. How much sleep has he gotten? Has he gone to work? To class? The one good thing that came out of us running into his sister is that he knows I’m okay. Am I okay? I’m alive, at least.

  I pull my knees to my chest and put the phone to my heart, wishing it was him. When my head hits the pillow something strange begins to happen. The smell of it, woodsy and masculine, is almost intoxicating, but it’s not only that it smells really good—it’s familiar. I tell myself that maybe he wears the same cologne Kam used to wear, but Kam has worn the same cologne since I met him, a few sprays of Armani Code, and this is different. I’m not even sure if it’s a cologne or a shampoo but it’s overwhelming. My heart is beating faster and tears are coming to my eyes. I push myself out of the bed so quickly that I fall out of it.

  “Get it together,” I whisper to myself.

  So what, the smell is familiar. There could be a million reasons for that. But there aren’t a million reasons for this man to have a picture of himself with my doppelganger in his phone. The smell of him shouldn’t bring tears to my eyes. It’s been a long, emotional day, and I try to convince myself that if I can just get some sleep then tomorrow will be better.

  IAN

  “Fucking. Fuck!” Blue shrieks, jumping out of his skin from the cold water I’ve poured on him.

  “We need to talk!” I tell him, pulling him by the arm through the apartment and outside our door.

  “What the hell is your problem, have you lost your mind?” he asks frantically, finally having climbed out of the drunken coma he was in once we hit the fresh air. I tried to wait for him to wake but I have to talk to him before she wakes up…or at least leaves the room. I think she’s been awake but probably too afraid to come out, this girl, whoever she is. My girl has never been afraid of anything.

  “That’s Alana,” I tell him, trying to calm the intensity in my voice. He’s still scowling, looking annoyed and confused.

  “What?”

  “The girl you brought here is Alana. I know it’s her,” I tell him with absolute certainty. Even though I haven’t slept in over 24 hours I’ve been going through every second of our conversations. It’s her, not a sister or a relative that looks like her. It’s her.

  “The chick you married?” he asks through a chuckle.

  “She’s not just some chick.” I push him in the shoulder and he feigns a noise, rubbing it.

  “Dude, I don’t know what you’re on, and I never met your…wife. But that is Megan, I know her!” He almost laughs at me and I feel my face growing hot.

  “Calm down before you go all hulk mad on me,” he says, throwing up both hands. I’ve been working on my temper, I really have, but today seems like I’m going to relapse if he doesn’t stop taking this for a fucking joke.

  “Where is this coming from? How did you even come up with this?” I let out a deep breath and instead of trying to catch him up on all that’s happened I pull out my phone and show him the picture of us. His cynical grin fades into complete disbelief.

  “Holy shit!” he exclaims, pushing his hand through his mohawk.

  “Is this for real? You guys aren’t playing a prank on me right?” he asks, but when he sees my deadly serious expression, he nods and hands me back the phone.

  “Did you show her this?” he asks.

  “She admitted it looked like her but she didn’t admit to it being her.”

  He takes the phone from my hand and looks at it again.

  “When did you take this?” he asks, finally starting to look at me like I’m not insane.

  “A little over a year ago, right before she left,” I say, sitting on the steps in the stairway we’re in. Blue and I both let out a simultaneous breath.

  “I don’t know, fuck I don’t know…” he exclaims, looking as confused as I am.

  “That’s my wife sitting in there with amnesia or something!” My voice is loud and strained and I immediately hush it.

  “If it was anyone else I’d say she was a scam artist, scamming you or Kam,” he says through a hushed breath. “But Megan’s not like that. I believe her, and you know I don’t believe most people. And if she was, she wouldn’t come here!”

  He’s right. I rest my arms on my knees.

  “This Kam dude…who the hell is he?” I ask. Blue clears his throat.

  “Katie’s brother. I told you about him a while back. He’s her boyfriend and they were pretty serious, man,” he says somberly. I bite my lip and squeeze my knees together. My blood is boiling with the thought of someone else touching her, possessing her, when she’s only supposed to be mine.

  Were is the only good thing I hear him say, which still makes me feel like a complete pussy. She’s been screwing some other?!

  “She left him…Megan…she has a lot going on.” He rubs the back of his neck.

  “What do you mean?” I ask him urgently. He throws his head back.

  “It’s not really for me to say.”

  “Like hell it is. You saw the picture! I’ve told you she’s my wife, you brought her to my house.”

  “She’s here looking for her family. Her past, and…” He trails off.

  “What?” I ask him desperately.

  “She…she told me she doesn’t remember things.”

  A shiver crawls down my back.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t have a lot of time to get into it with her…she just told me.”

  I swallow hard and grip my forehead, feeling anxiety rising and wrapping around my throat.

  “Still that doesn’t…it wouldn’t explain why she wouldn’t know me at all, why she has a completely different name.”

  “I hacked into her records to find her family, and I like Megan. She’s awesome, but she’s messed up man. And coming from me that says something.”

  I feel my face contort in anger. “She’s not messed up,” I say defensively.

  “I don’t mean like that. You know what I mean…” he fumbles, fiddling with his lip ring.

&nbs
p; “Who isn’t messed up? I just—you can be intense, and that’s probably not what she needs right now.”

  “You think it’s her too.” I ignore his previous negative shit and focus on the glimmer of positive.

  “Look, I don’t know! It could be a sister or a distant cousin for all I know. The point is, if it’s her—Alana—and she’s not full of shit, and she really is this Megan person, then it’s a bigger fuckin problem than her pretending not to know you. Aside from the fact that she’s in love with my girlfriend’s brother…ex-girlfriend,” he utters with an angry laugh.

  “You know me man, I don’t fall in love. I have fun, and she came in like a fuckin whirlwind and made me different. Blue, I can’t just forget her, pretend she never existed. Every day since she left me I wake up feeling numb, anxious, dead. Nothing drowns her out. Not other women, alcohol, or weed. I hate her for disappearing. I hate her even more for telling me to let her go, like she was just some bad habit I had picked up, instead of the woman I fell more in love every day with, who etched herself in all of who I was and who I am.” There’s a stretch of silence.

  “When did you grow a pussy?” Blue bursts into laughter and I feel my face heat up. I nudge him hard in the stomach.

  “I wasn’t the one crying some girl’s name all night. Katie…I loved you…” I exaggerate and it’s his turn to look away embarrassed. He lets out a small sigh.

  “I did love her…” He trails off, glancing up at me briefly and squeezing his knuckles.

  “What happened to us? What happened to me?” I ask, looking up towards the ceiling for answers.