If I Can't Have You Read Online Free

was a lot like Trevor dropping a rose onto a casket. Of course, he couldn’t wish his lover back any more than she could wish for Trevor’s return, but it didn’t matter. She liked to dream, she liked the movies, and that scene had been one of her favorites, especially Trevor’s words and the loving way he’d whispered them.
    She closed her eyes and softly repeated Trevor’s lines. “Come back to me. Please. Come to me.”

Chapter 2
    Trevor Montgomery shot out of the water, arms flailing, his chest tight, as if he were being pressed in a vise. His heart beat rapidly and he sucked in great gasps of air, fighting for breath, for control, for life.
    The blessed darkness that had engulfed him had thrust him out of its grasp, into the bright light of day. What was happening? He’d wanted to end his life. He’d wanted all the horror and fear to disappear, so why was he trying to breathe? Had he been frightened of death and changed his mind at the last moment? Was self-imposed drowning impossible?
    Oh, God! He didn’t want to live, yet his body was battling with his mind, and winning.
    He swam, and when he reached the edge of the pool, he flattened his hands against his temples. The pain was unbearable. The alcohol he’d consumed made his head spin, and the sunlight glinting off the water and shining into his eyes caused even more pain. He couldn’t even think.
    Sunlight? Why? How? It should be dark, he thought. Except for the sun in the sky, everything was the same, but where was the shattered bottle of whiskey?
    A red rosebud floated in front of him, and he grasped it tightly in his hand. He put it to his nose, smelling its sweet fragrance. He thought he might be in heaven, or hell, or maybe even purgatory. He thought his attempt to blot out all memories might have worked, but the scent of the rose made him face reality.
    He’d failed.
    He tucked the rose into his pants pocket and climbed out of the pool, his shoes sodden, his dinner jacket and trousers clinging to his body. Water dripped from his clothes, his fingertips, his hair, even the end of his nose, leaving a puddle at his feet.
    From somewhere near the pool he heard voices and wondered if his friends were coming to look for him. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let anyone see him this way. They’d seen him drunk before, but never disoriented and disheveled. He had to get away quickly so he ran, hiding behind a statue of Poseidon surrounded by half a dozen mermaids.
    He peered around the sea god’s muscular back and watched a group of men, women and children heading toward the pool. People on tour, he assumed, snapping photos of the statuary, the ornately tiled pool, the magnificent temple. He’d never known Harrison to allow strangers on the grounds, but maybe they were friends, people Trevor didn’t know. Still, it seemed so odd.
    The woman at the head of the group cleared her throat and the twittering among the others hushed. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors about Trevor Montgomery.”
    She was speaking about him. Him? But why? Her words came out in a hushed but dramatic tone, and he listened intently. “This is the spot where he was supposedly seen floating. Of course, no one ever found his body, and no one’s seen him since. That, as some of you might recall, happened sixty years ago”.
    Trevor frowned at the woman’s preposterous words. What had she said? Sixty years ago? He must not have heard her correctly. It was only last night.
    He plowed his fingers through his hair, digging them into his scalp. Pain pulsated in his head, the whiskey grabbing hold of his senses. There was no logical reason for anything that was happening. God, he’d wanted to die. Had he gone insane instead?
    Finally, the woman ceased talking about him, about the pool, and through blurry eyes he watched the group file away to a different part of the estate.
    He sat down on the cold, hard marble and rested his head against the wall behind him. He thought about the