Page 75 of Almost Him

“It’s all I know to do. He’s working with a cognitive therapist too.”

Smith looks me in the eye. “Alden would be happy that you’re taking care of him. And proud.”

A sudden rush of emotion threatens to make me cry for the millionth time. “I hope so. Milo said you needed my signature?”

“Oh, yes.” He hands me a sheet of paper. “I hired the accountant we discussed to do the taxes. He needs either your signature or Oliver’s on this before it can be filed.”

After I sign the paper and hand it back, he asks, “Any news from the detectives?”

“Not since they caught Connor Warren. He’s being held and they’re still looking for his cousin. The detective warned me these things move slow. Even if they catch him, the trials could be a year away.”

“They should execute them in the street and be done with it.”

“I’d be good with that.” The hate I feel for the men who took my Alden and left Oliver with half a life is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced.

Smith gets up and we start for the door. “This place isn’t the same without them.”

“Nothing is,” I agree, following him out to the repair bays.

Oliver squats down beside a bike while Milo points at something. They appear deep in conversation. He spent more time with these guys than with me the last few years. Maybe they’ll be the key to rattling something loose in his memory. At least he doesn’t seem too nervous here.

I give him a little wave and gesture to the stairs leading to his apartment, letting him know where I’ll be. He nods and goes back to listening to Milo while Smith joins them.

I’ve been here a couple of times now to get things for Oliver, but I haven’t had to search for anything. It’ll be easier to get his bank and credit cards re-issued if we have his statements with the account information. The pile of old mail on the kitchen table contains a statement from his bank, but not from either of his credit cards.

While I’m searching, I pause by the big windows that look down onto the shop. Oliver wears a small smile while the guys stand around him, gesturing to the bike and talking. How many times have I come here and witnessed this same scene. All the guys gathered around some motorcycle like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Except there’s an empty spot in the circle. Alden should be here. It’s so fucking unfair.

I resume my search and end up in the bedroom. It’s doubtful that he’d keep bank info in here, but I’ve looked everywhere else. His dresser is all clothes. I hesitate at the drawer of the nightstand. Knowing most men, there’s probably lube and condoms, not anything important, but it’s the only place I haven’t looked.

The piece of paper I pull out is the last thing I expected to find. There’s no stopping the tears from filling my eyes at the sight of the drawing. It’s a caricature I surprised Alden with years ago, right after we got back together.

“Hey,” Oliver says, standing in the doorway. I didn’t even hear him come in. “Did you find what we needed?”

“Um…not everything.”

“What’s that?” He walks over while I take a seat on the side of the bed.

“A drawing I gave to Alden. I’m not sure why it’s here. Maybe he left it or something.” My fingers trace over the lines while I recall his laugh when I told him how I’d had it done. It makes me smile.

Oliver grins at it when I hand it to him. “It’s goofy.”

“It is. You actually posed for it.”

He raises his eyebrows and sits beside me.

“A few years ago, Alden was supposed to meet me, you, and Tori at the fair. Alden ended up being super late because he got held up at work, and we weren’t sure he was going to show up at all. I was disappointed because there was this caricaturist there and I wanted us to get our picture drawn together. Then Tori had the idea to let you stand in for him. We showed the artist Alden’s picture, and told her to make the hair longer, swap the clothes for jeans and a tee shirt.

“It was hilarious. You started pretending to be him, copying the way he talked and everything while she worked. We had a great time.” I look down at the two exaggerated versions of Alden and I. The man had drawn him with hearts coming out of his eyes and his jaw open like a cartoon character. Another airbrushed heart frames us both withTrue Lovewritten around it.

“I gave it to him as a gift. He swore he was going to frame it and hang it in the office here, but he must’ve misplaced it or forgotten.” It doesn’t make sense why it’d be in Oliver’s nightstand, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.

“You should take it home,” Oliver says.

Nodding, I get up and take a deep breath. We came here to travel down Oliver’s memory lane not mine. “I will. How was the tour with the guys? I saw you checking out one of the motorcycles.”

His chuckle is bitter. “I didn’t have a clue about anything he was showing me. I felt like an idiot. I couldn’t have found my way to the bathroom. I sure as fuck don’t know my way around a bike anymore.”

“You’ll get there. It’s going to take time.”

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