by C C Monroe
Table of Contents
Disclaimer
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Acknowledgements
About The Author
FOREVER THE ONE
Copyright © 2017 by CC Monroe
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Edited by Virginia Tesi Carey
Cover Design, Interior Design & Formatting by Jersey Girl Design
ISBN-13: 978-1544638294
ISBN-10: 1544638299
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
Also by CC Monroe
Always and Forever Series
Always The One
Always Us
Forever The One
Forever Us (Coming Soon)
To the women like me who survived domestic abuse. You are worthy and you are a survivor.
To my own King, Todd - The one who helped pick up the pieces and fixed the broken in me—giving me the gift of real love—thank you.
Carmen and Jenny Rose - Kingston is for you. Love him with all you have, forgive Lana when she test his limits and find hope in their tortured love affair. “He’s her lobster.”
*Warning: Novel contains subject matter that may cause emotional triggers.
If you or someone you know is in danger, please reach out.
You are not alone.
To make a donation to the National Domestic Violence Hotline:
https://support.thehotline.org/hotline/support-the-hotline
A metallic taste hits my tongue meaning my lip is bleeding. If the pain didn’t indicate it, the taste does. Joel’s abuse is constant, I’m surprised my skin hasn’t adapted to it and created an extra protective layer. This is all my fault, because I want out.
For two years I have been at the violent hands of the man I once called my lover. Joel Carrell was the man I fell in love with at sixteen, the one I gave my body, heart and soul to. But, when my heart settled, the cute things that once made me feel special turned dark and violent.
The way he told me I was his, and only his, went from being seducing to captivating. Not the kind that makes you feel whole or desired, but the kind that makes you sick or afraid—the kind that holds you captive like a prisoner. The kind that makes you feel I’m going to lose my life at the hands of the man I once loved.
I try to grasp my bearings and reach for the coffee table in front of me. I feel it with the tops of my fingers as I grab it and try to push myself up. I’ve almost made it to my feet when I feel the familiar harsh blow of a steel toed boot making contact with my ribs. I start bleeding more and this time I don’t taste blood from just my lip, but also from my throat.
Joel’s kick is unyielding, causing me to cough loudly with chunks of blood spouting out onto the white fluffy rug. The one we bought together, the one I got a black eye over, because when we brought it home to his apartment and laid it down, I wasn’t sure it went with the decor. Maybe I’m a glutton for pain since I can’t seem to silence my stubborn mouth.
“Please stop. I won’t leave you, we can go to Seattle together,” I cry out, my voice muffled from the large amount of blood coming out of my nearly swollen shut lips.
I had planned to leave him. I gave into temptation and spent hours wrapped in Kingston, daydreaming of my freedom. I should have listened to Kingston when he told me to wait until he came over to help me tomorrow. But I didn’t want to risk him getting hurt, I wanted to keep my best friend safe. Another reason I deserve this.
“I love it when you beg, bitch.” Another kick followed by my hair being pulled tightly in his fist. I scream again, the burn slowly yet painfully spreading down my spine.
“You smell like another man, you were with him, weren’t you whore!” he yells. I watch in slow motion as he rears his fist back then brings it down hard, slamming into my face right under my eye. The pain roars like a beast causing my legs to buckle. As he delivers another punch to my gut, his eyes dark and lifeless, I think to myself when will this be over?
I keep praying that this next blow will be the end, that my life will be taken so I don’t have to feel another one—the agony that palpable, the pain that vicious, my heart that broken.
“I was with Shayla and Kingston,” I lie, bringing my arms up to my face to protect myself from his descending fist. My lie being a half truth, I was really with Kingston. I left to go see him at work, where we left and spent hours...together... in bed... making love.
I made love to another man and now I’m being punished. Kingston begged me to leave Joel and move without him, to be with him. His words sounded like a slice of heaven. There was surety in his every promise.
“You weren’t. I drove by and Shayla and Trey were outside on the porch...where were you, Lana?” Thrusting me down onto the rug he finally releases my hair. I catch myself, facedown, and weep into the rug. I take deep breaths, gaining back my hushed voice.
“I don’t want you around that cunt Shayla or those two fucks. I see the way they look at you. I should call right now and have my boy take them all out.” My eyes stay down, but they bulge. He has my friends being watched.
“Joel, baby. I’m sorry. I won’t leave. I promise, let’s forget this... please,” I croak out my plea, ‘baby’ coming out like blood dripping from a fresh knife.
“No, see, I think I may have forgiven you too many times. You’re mine, Lana, only mine. No man will ever take what’s mine.”
I see the devil looming over me, burning deep within him and in this moment I know I’m done. I think of my friends, my family, my best friend—I see his face and I close my eyes, begging for him to feel my heart beat all the way from here. It will forever be his.
Kick!
His boot strikes me one time.
“You weak bitch.”
Kick!
“Disgusting.”
Kick!
“Fucking filth!”
Kick!
His last kick ends any chance I had of escaping. Black dots dance almost intricately in my eyes, the room tunneling in, my body losing consciousness.
“I’m sorry, please,” I tell him, plead to him, all while begging in my head for this to be the last one, for this to end. I should have left all those years ago, like any woman in this situation should. But it’s never that easy.
Joel had men following those I love, dangerous men who would kill with the flick of a wrist or nod of the head. My parents never
knew about this, only my friends did. My beautiful friends. Shayla, I see her soft smile in my mind. Trey and his funny jokes. And my King. Kingston’s green eyes danced with little flares of promise while he held me against his bare skin tonight. Never will I forgive myself for dragging them down with my burdens, take me now God.
“Yeah, well not sorry enough. I wanted to believe you, baby, I did.” He kneels down to my almost lifeless form, getting right in my ear. I smell the liquor on his breath, feel the heat of his venomous words against my face.
“You won’t be leaving for Seattle, you won’t even leave this house. I tried to love you and tried to break you in.” I cringe when he says things like that, like I’m a dog. “You resisted it, ignored my warnings.” He knows I know what he means, this is the end. But he still brings it home, making sure that his sadistic voice is the last one I hear before he takes my life.
“I’m not leaving you. You’re leaving me. If I can’t break you or have you, no one can.” With that, my eyes fall closed, my body goes numb and I become weightless. I think of the last thing I would want to think of before death and I see his face.
Kingston.
My best friend, the man I truly love but never had the chance to. His green eyes and brown hair smile at me in my daydream. I wish I would have picked him and not Joel. I wish I would have been brave enough to tell him how I feel about him sooner. How much I’ve loved having the time I did with him.
Right before the blow hits me, I see his face and imagine his voice.
“Lana! Get off her you piece of shit!”
Kingston?
Blackness.
I jolt up from the bed, my hair sticking to my neck, my clothes damp from my sweat. I dreamed about him again, the reminisce of the dream still sticking to me like the sweat on my body.
Checking myself over, I make sure I’m still here, that the dream wasn’t real and the scarcely familiar feelings from that night are just memories. Nightmares come frequently, the abuse still seeming fresh after almost four years. Abuse is not something that you can ever forget, it resides with you for life, just like scars on skin do—faded, but never flawless again.
Salty air breezes in through the window of the beach house waking me fully now. Crashing waves and the rising sun setting the mood for this lazy Saturday morning. I look over to the round clock on the nightstand, I know it’s early since the sun is just on the horizon. It reads 5:15.
Turning, I find the bed is still empty, I’m not surprised. Kingston and I fought for hours last night, screaming at each other over the same tired reason. He wants to be together and that’s a place I never want to be again. In love with someone, someone I’m supposed to trust with everything, all while they destroy everything that I am.
Perhaps that has become something I fear more now since I’m pregnant. Having a child means I need to keep them safe, it’s not just me I have to worry about anymore. Kingston may never hurt me like that, but it isn’t just the physical pain I’m still recovering from.
The way the heart falls cannot be slowed down or stopped, and needing someone as deeply as I need Kingston puts my heart in danger of pain again. Kingston’s a great man, he’s been a best friend to me for fourteen years and he’s the father of my unborn child. I love him more than anything, but he’s a smug bastard, selfish to get what he wants, and every bit of a caveman.
I dated a man who was my living nightmare and I was stripped of my essence.
The part of me that was robbed and owned by someone who wasn’t me. I lost myself, lost my voice, lost who I was because I thought it was love. I was completely blindsided by Joel when he started abusing me. I tried the first few times to run but he always won. Following my friends and family was the turning point, that’s when I knew I couldn’t leave. Sending messages about hurting those who loved me if I didn’t come back to him, that was enough to fool me back to his waiting fist.
Abuse can be looked at as a form of weakness, as pure stupidity, but it’s not—it never is. Fear and manipulation by someone who once loved you can keep you from seeing greener tomorrows, keep you from finding the right way out and hope at the end of the black desolate tunnel.
Now I sit here fighting with the man I love, torn up inside because I’m pregnant and more afraid than ever to tell him. The way he reacted when Shayla got pregnant made me stiff as stone next to him. Kingston doesn’t want a family yet. He said Shayla and Trey were making a mistake and had no business being parents at a young age.
Hello, that’s us! I’m pregnant, with child, bun in the oven, the whole shebang, with the man who I’m scared to love, and the one who is dead set on no babies. It’s a
no-win situation. Still, I need to tell him and I will, but right now I need to focus on getting this trip back on track and find my lady balls, so I can tell him.
Last night I said terrible, inexcusable things to Kingston. I actually used the words I hate you as a defense mechanism and that is the lowest I have ever gone. I could never hate Kingston, even if I tried, even if I spent every day looking for reasons to hate him, I couldn’t. Instead, I would only find more reasons to love him and that’s exactly why I fear it, I shouldn’t need someone that bad.
Climbing out of bed, I leave my silk babydoll nighty on, the black material making my already tan skin look darker. I find my matching thigh length robe and slip it on, tying the strings loosely around my thin narrow waist. Looking myself over in the mirror I see the bags under my brown eyes, my long brunette hair a mess on my head. I look like death, replicating how my heart feels—lifeless.
Grabbing a brush, I get my shit together and fix my mess. Once I’m content, I head out to find Kings, I need to say sorry for everything I did to him last night. Hitting the stairs, I take them slowly, repeating what I’m going to say to him over and over again in my head. How do you say I’m sorry enough after you’ve said you hate someone?
“Kings?” My foot touches the bottom stair, the light from the kitchen just to left is on, maybe he’s in there?
There’s no answer. Checking once in the kitchen, I peer over the island and see he isn’t on the couch either. My heart rate instantly spikes, it’s quiet, the lonely silence far too deafening and familiar. The silence of shadows is once where Joel often lingered before he would abuse me.
I walk into the entertainment room and see it’s empty also. Did he leave me? I think for a short second that this could be true, until I see the car out front through the glass of the front door and his wallet sitting just to the left of it on the entry table.
“Calm down, Lana. Maybe he went for a walk,” I talk myself down and still my racing heart. Heading back into the kitchen, I set out on making breakfast. My little thirteen week love nugget needs to be fed. I reach down and rub tiny circles on my belly while I work at pulling out some eggs and fruit.
I grab the juicer out of the cabinet, taking the array of fruits and vegetables from the fridge and placing them on the island. I love this place and I’m secretly jealous Trey gave it to Shay as a wedding gift. It was his pop’s beach house. Charles’s death was sudden and the aftermath nearly destroyed Shayla and Trey, but then it brought them closer making me green with envy. I wish the past traumas and hardships that I have faced would bring me closer to Kings, instead they seem to wedge a deeper space between us.
I hear the sliding doors beside me open, causing me to stiffen and a cold shiver to trickle down my spine.
“It’s me.” Kingston’s sweaty form takes up the entryway. I visibly relax, soothing myself.
“Hey, did you go for a run?” I assess his body, admiring his strong physique, bulging muscles, tight six pack and lean hips hiding under his shirt—that lead to the most impressive ten inch cock. Controlling my thoughts, I do my best to stay focused on him and the fight last night.
“Yeah, I had some aggression I needed to get out.” I look down at the lemon in front of me peeling the sticker off and trying to look busy, his comment sticking to me like glue. He meant aggressi
on I caused him, I don’t want to be someone’s problem or reason for aggression again.
“Sorry,” I mumble, keeping my eyes honed in on my task.
“Don’t be.” He removes his shirt and my knees almost give out. I grab the counter for some stability. Kingston Troy Donovan is the most irresistible man I have ever touched, seen, or had. His tattoos cover nearly his entire body, both arms, his chest—my name between his hips. That tattoo caused the biggest fight, followed by the best make up sex. See that’s what we do; we fight, we make up, then we make love. It’s a vicious cycle, a war zone.
“I’m gonna make breakfast. Do you want some?” He stands guard across from me, gauging my mood, not saying a word, just eyeing me up and down. I feel myself sweating under his watchful stare. I wanted to say sorry, but I’m drawing blanks.
“What?” I ask dryly, my throat in its own drought. I heard him say something but didn’t catch his low husky voice.
“I’m sorry, angel.” My resolve shatters, part one of our cycle commences. Kingston looks so calm, his voice sounding sweet, his eyes vulnerable and filled with unmistakable regret.
“No, you can’t say sorry. I shouldn’t have said hate, I don’t hate you Kingston. I used that as a defense and that was so fucking wrong—you don’t deserve that shit.” He rounds the counter and grabs me, placing me on the countertop in one fluid motion, nudging his hips between my legs.
“I know you did it to push me out, I know who you are Lana, and that’s why I won’t stop. I’ll never give up on us.”
“What if it takes forever, Kings?”
“Forever it is. I would spend a thousand forevers waiting just to have you for one.” Those words strum a cord in my heart, making me weak and desperate for him. Never has my smug cocky man been this way for anyone but me, and the realness in his raw words has me aching to shut myself up and go against my will to keep him.
I lean in and kiss him, giving him a sincere apology with my lips. “Besides, as long as you continue to kiss me the way you do, then surely I can wait for forever,” he says taking my lip between his teeth. Kingston can be so blissfully carnal that I can do nothing but show him how I feel with my body. Because right now, that’s all we have, our physical touch, but unattainable hearts. I will selfishly take what I can get. What my heart will not let me have.