Author Note
Thank you for choosing Remember Me to read! There is a great deal of exceptional romance out there, so I am honored that my efforts are on your e-reader or in your hand right now.
Remember Me is, at its heart, an exploration of what happens when we lose everything that defines us. If we don’t remember that we love mashed potatoes and The Office, do we still? If we don’t remember being bullied or abandoned when we were little, do we still carry the psychological impacts? These are questions that always intrigued me, and I had a great time researching and creating this romance.
I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please leave a quick review. You know, when we love something, we rarely think about doing this, but when we hate something, we always let someone know — amiright? It’s just human nature. Reviews are an author’s lifeblood, though, and I’m not just being dramatic. They help the next reader find my work. They show me that I’m not just screaming into the void. They make me want to write more.
So, thank you, in advance. I read each and every one, every message, every email. I appreciate you to the moon and back.
Love,
E.R. Whyte
“I would rather hurt,
and walk through the flames you leave,
than never feel you.”
Tyler Knott Gregson
November 8│Hayes
“…DON’T FORGET THE PROBLEM SET AND ASSIGNED READING, AND I’LL SEE YOU GUYS NEXT TIME.” My seven p.m. class over, I rolled my shoulders and tapped the stack of quizzes on the desk to neaten them before tucking them into my bag. It had been a long day — three sections of class, office hours, and a faculty meeting. At least Birdie would be at home when I got there. Maybe I could talk her into a massage.
A grin touched my mouth. For her or me, didn’t much matter.
Slinging the bag across my shoulders, I thumbed open my cell phone to send her a quick message.
Me: beer and pizza night?
The reply came as soon as I reached the top of the risers in the amphitheater-style classroom. I paused to read it before turning out the door and continuing down the hall to my office.
Birdie: one of those days, huh?
Me: If by that you mean hell, then yes. Got a stop to make at my office then be on the way.
I tucked my phone in my back pocket and looked up, blowing out a breath in aggravation when I saw the woman waiting for me beside my office door.
“Miss Hansen. How may I help you?” I forced a neutral tone as I unlocked the door and hustled in. Sooner I could get this over with the better. Serena Hansen was a menace, daughter of the assistant dean and full of her own authority. She had no business being in the upper level courses of the mathematics program. She was a lazy scholar at best and of inferior intelligence at worst. But what Serena wanted; Serena got.
Right now, I was aware that Serena Hansen wanted me. Why, I didn’t know. Maybe she wanted the thrill of screwing a professor so she could later shove her misdeeds in daddy’s face. If that was the case, there were plenty who’d be willing to accommodate her. I didn’t really care. Even if I hadn’t been with Birdie, I wouldn’t have been interested. She was too obvious. Too desperate.
Regardless, she had somehow managed to maneuver herself into a position as my TA. This put her in far too close a proximity for my own comfort, as she attended several lectures and made herself comfortable in my office whenever she had the chance. She refused to recognize the boundaries I kept establishing, but so far, I hadn’t managed to find a way to get rid of her without putting my own job and future tenure at risk.
She strolled in behind me, pushing the door closed behind her. “Open the door, please.” She ignored me. I put my desk squarely between us and tossed my bag down, raking a hand through my hair.
‘I need some help with that one formula,” she murmured, sidling up to the desk. She placed her book on its surface and leaned forward to flip through its pages, giving me a perfect presentation of plump breasts in the vee of her shirt if I was inclined to look.
I wasn’t.
“Which formula would that be?”
“You know the one…it was really…hard.” She did something funky with her lips that was intended to be sexy and I snorted, turning around to find the book I needed from my shelves. I had a new lesson to prepare for my ten a.m. class tomorrow and was missing a key piece of information I felt my students would find helpful.
“A for effort, Miss Hansen. I’ve told you before, though. I am not interested. Not now, not ever.”
“Methinks the professor doth protest too much.” She was behind me suddenly, pressing her body against mine. I startled, dropping the book I’d just plucked from the shelf. Shit. I should have known better than to turn my back on her.
“What the —”
“It’s okay,” she said, winding her arms around my waist as I turned and placed my hands on her shoulders to push her away. “I like this little game we play.”
“This is no game, Miss Hansen! Get the hell off me.”
“Get you off?” Her lips twisted in feline satisfaction and I could practically feel her purring against me. “I’d love to. How do you want me, on my knees or —”
With a garbled groan, I thrust her powerfully away from me. She landed on her back on my desk and hitched herself up on her elbows, laughing softly as she looked at me. “Ooh, yeah, baby. You’re so strong. I love it when you manhandle me like that —”
It was at that moment the door opened slowly and time stood still. Birdie stood there, disbelief freezing her expression. For a second that stretched into years we were all a tableau, unspeaking, unmoving. Then Serena scrambled up from the desk, straightening her skirt and smoothing her hair before walking past Birdie with a soft apology.
The insincerity of it plucked at my already taut nerves, but I had more important things to worry about. The betrayal in Birdie’s eyes was a gaping wound. I rubbed the back of my neck and uttered the most meaningless, trite expression in the history of relationships. “Mini, this is not what it looks like —”
Birdie’s chin trembled and she pressed her lips firmly together, quelling it. Tugging at the ring on her left hand — the one that had been my grandmother’s — she pulled it off and threw it. It pinged against the wood floor in the silence of the room between us. Without a word, she turned and fled.
“Damnit! Fuck!” Turning, I grabbed my coat from the back of my chair and the book from the floor, shoving it carelessly in my bag. I wasted precious seconds hunting for the ring before giving up. I’d find it later. I ran after her, hearing her footsteps pounding on the floor ahead of me. “Birdie, wait!”
I saw her as I blew through the heavy double doors of the weathered brick building. She was already at her car and swinging the door open. Rain was sheeting down, plastering her long hair to her face. Cold pellets stung my face as I ran after her.
“Birdie!” The wind caught my words and held them hostage, but she heard something, anyway. She turned and flashed a bitter look in my direction and climbed into her car. By the time I reached my own truck and climbed in, her taillights were rounding the corner of the lot and disappearing, far too fast, down College Avenue. I cursed under my breath and followed.