by Rebel Farris
PIVOT LINE
Copyright © 2018 Rebel Farris
All rights reserved.
Published by Mad Lane Books
Austin, Texas, USA
No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, including the poem Lifedance by Charles Bukowski from What Matters Most Is How Well We Walk Through the Fire.
Cover Illustration by Javier Chavarria of MaeIDesign
Cover Design by Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign
Interior Graphics from Depositphoto
Edited by Sandra Depukat of One Love Editing
Proofread by Jenn Wood of All About The Edits
Formatted by Erik Gevers
Poetry of Michael E. Reid used by permission of Michael E. Reid
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Poetry
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Coming Soon
Back of Book Shit
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Rebel
Social Media
Playlist
Snapshot Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
For every boy or man I loved and lost throughout my life.
Thank you for teaching me what it means to love and be loved. Though we may not have had the real thing—your role in my life taught me valuable lessons, and sometimes the most painful lessons are the ones we really needed to learn.
Sometimes
You’ll just be too much woman.
Too smart,
Too beautiful,
Too strong.
Too much of something
That makes a man feel like less of a man,
Which will start making you feel like you have to be less of a woman.
The biggest mistake you can make
Is removing jewels from your crown
To make it easier for a man to carry.
When this happens, I need you to understand,
You do not need a smaller crown—
You need a man with bigger hands.
—Michael E Reid
Dear Woman, 2015
Now
I killed Jared. I can’t believe the words ever came out of my mouth again. How many times did they tell me talking like that would get me nowhere? Bridget would be livid if she heard those words again. My hands are shaking. The room seems to spin. I gasp for breath before a sob forces its way out.
The cab of the truck is silent except for the muted sounds of navigating the streets of Austin. I drop my phone into my lap and look at Asher. His brow is furrowed and his jaw ticks. He’s angry. But there’s a tinge of sadness in his eyes like he knows that this is the end of the tour. The end of our band. And I can’t stop the flood of guilt—I’m the cause of that.
The fog is thick, settled over the city like a heavy blanket. It feels foreboding, but I’m sure it’s just the situation. The reason we are in this truck to begin with.
He pulls the truck into the parking lot of the recording studio, and I can feel immediately that something is off. Even before I open the door—the fog swirling with the movement—and hear the piercing wail of the building’s alarm, I feel it. Shutting the truck door, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the reckoning that is about to happen. The moist air fills my lungs. It feels heavy like my heart, my stomach. How did we get to this point?
I can’t see more than a couple of feet in front of my face, but the flashing red lights of the alarm color the fog between me and the building, showing the way. Asher joins me once we reach the sidewalk leading to the building, but stays silent. Step by step on shaky legs, I move closer. Closer to the love of my life. Closer to facing the consequence of my decisions. Shattered glass crunches under my borrowed shoes as I reach the front door that is nothing more than a metal frame now.
Blinking, I clear the memories. That’s not a path I need to go down. Not now.
Dex is sitting next to me, holding me across his lap. He pulls back and brushes the hair away from my face before running his thumb over my cheek to chase away the tears. He believes me. I can see it in his eyes. It’s not pity; it’s heartbreak. His eyes say he knows I’m responsible and he doesn’t want me to have to live with it. He gathers me in his arms and sighs. I’m not exactly sure what he’s thinking, but his gun is still sitting on the floor in front of me, and he’s not telling me that I’m under arrest. Nor is he trying to placate me with words about how I’m not at fault. That’s a bit of a relief.
“What am I going to do with you?” His voice breaks through the quiet patter of raindrops on the office windows.
His brows are drawn together as I lean back to look at him. “That’s it?”
His shoulders tense. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. You’re under arrest… or something? Isn’t that what you wanted? A confession? I’m so tired of fighting this. If you’re gonna arrest me, just do it.” My arms hang limply at my sides as he lets me go.
His hands move to frame my face, his sea-green eyes locking onto mine. “No. That’s not what I want. It never has been. I’m not lying to you, Mads. I’ve seen the evidence. I know you didn’t do it and I’m going to prove it. I’ve been looking for another angle, something that Martinez hasn’t considered, but I haven’t even found a place to start. I’m gonna end this for you. I promise. I want you to tell me everything about that night when you’re ready.” His eyes close and his lips brush over mine tenderly. “But I think we should call it a day and head home right now. I’ll go next door and tell Nate that we’re leaving. Will the receptionist cancel your appointments?” He sighs again, leaning his forehead against mine.
I nod, speechless and a bit dazed.
“I’ll go talk to her, too. Just gather your stuff to leave. When we get home, we’ll deal with all of this. Together.”
&
nbsp; I reach out and skim my thumb over his bottom lip. A shiver runs throughout his body, and I feel it when it reaches his hands that still bracket my face. The corner of my mouth tugs upward slightly. I like that I seem to have the same effect on him. He half-heartedly smiles back at me and places a quick kiss on my lips before standing up. He silently picks up his gun and puts it back in the holster.
My eyes are glued to him as he walks with an athletic grace toward the door. He stops and looks back at me once more.
“Be right back,” he says. There’s a hint of exhaustion in his voice, like he just fought a battle.
And perhaps we did because I feel it, too.
Sitting there for a minute, I stare at the door. I don’t want to get anywhere near that video again. There’s a feeling creeping up my spine, like even coming close to the computer will make it start playing. Releasing a breath through my nose, I steel myself. I grab my computer case from the closet, then walk to the desk, pushing the laptop shut and disconnecting the power cord.
With that taken care of, I gather my purse and look around for anything else. The sight of Evan’s phone on my coffee table sends a pang through me. I scoop it up and clutch it to my chest. That’s it. I take a deep breath and turn to the door. Dex is there, waiting for me. He holds out his hand, and I take it.
Minutes later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of my car, heading home. My mind is replaying everything that has happened today from the time I woke up, but it all comes to a screeching halt when I remember one thing he said.
“What did you mean by we need to talk?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says absently. “That reminds me—”
“You do understand that those words are like the international lead-in to a breakup, right?” I interrupt him.
“What?” His face scrunches as he briefly takes his eyes off the road to glance at me. “That’s not what I meant. I wanted to run through possible suspects with you and get your thoughts on them.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s likely the stalker’s someone you know.”
“It took you the last almost two months to come to that conclusion? Because Martinez was saying that years ago, but it never helped because everyone checked out, had alibis and such.”
“You don’t think there’s a way they could get around something like that?” His lips tip down into a half frown. “I’m just thinking about all the evidence, and there seems to be a protective vibe, you know? That tells me that the motivation isn’t sexual, it’s caring. Twisted, but still good intentioned. And it stands to reason, with all these people surrounding you, who care for you, one of them might be the suspect.”
“That’s ridiculous. None of my friends are stalking me. They know what all this has done to me and that it hurts more than helps, so I don’t buy that at all.”
“What about Nic? He hasn’t been around much, and he has access to your house—”
“I trust Nic more than most people in my life. No. He wouldn’t do that.”
“What about that guy Asher?” he asks.
“Asher has been in Atlanta for weeks. On a commercial flight when the stalker was at the mall.”
“What about—”
“Dex, just don’t. It’s not a great way to start a relationship, accusing my friends of shit they wouldn’t do, and making me pissed off at you in the process.”
“We’re in a relationship?” he asks, threading his fingers through mine and raising my hand to his lips. He kisses the back of my hand and smiles.
“I didn’t—” My mouth opens and closes as I flounder for the words.
“I get it. I had a nice long conversation with someone who knows you far better than me, so I understand. I’m in it for the long haul. I have a feeling that when you realize what this means to you, I’m gonna be a lucky man.”
He kisses my hand again as we pull into the garage at my house. I take a deep breath, not knowing what to say, so I say nothing. I don’t understand what I feel for him. I haven’t had time to think about it. Police, paparazzi, stalkers, FBI, US Marshals, Chloe and Evan leaving… it’s all too much. Last night feels like so long ago when I think of all that’s happened since we left the park.
“Let’s get you inside,” he says, turning off the car.
Then
“I’m moving into the house,” Jared said as he sat on the couch next to me.
We’d finally gotten the girls to sleep after several hours of coaxing and assuring them that everything was going to be okay. It took several hours, giving statements to the police, handing over the flowers as evidence, being treated for shock by the EMTs out of the back of an ambulance, and then finally walking home.
I started to reply, but he halted my words when he spoke again.
“I don’t like that he’s been in this house. Especially because he’s taken an interest in the girls, but also because I’m worried about you, Maddie. I don’t like that I could be thirty feet away from the house if something were to happen. I know how you feel about me right now, but this changes things. I can take one of the rooms upstairs, and if anything happens, I’m here.”
“Okay,” I answered quietly.
“Okay?”
“Okay, I get it.” My voice rose in defense. “Frankly, I don’t want to be here alone right now anyway.”
“Really? You’re not going to fight me on this?” he asked, looking dumbfounded.
“You act like I’m irrational. Since when have I ever defied common sense?” I stood up and started to pace. “Someone has broken into my home, has been watching me for God knows how long. I can protect myself, but I’m not stupid enough to turn down help. I don’t care who it comes from.” I choked back a sob that was threatening to come out. “Jared, he was with our girls. He could’ve taken them. I’m not going to take any chances, not with them.”
“Okay. I’m also going to call a security company and have a security system installed tomorrow. You okay with that too?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I said absently.
My mind kept running through my entire life, searching for clues to who it could be. What did I do that could’ve invited such behavior? It had to be something around the time we went to Germany, but I was drawing a blank as to what that might be. I couldn’t think of anyone suspicious hanging around.
“Hey, I’m sorry about this.” Jared stopped my pacing, grasping my shoulders and blocking my path.
“It’s not your fault,” I sighed. “I just feel so stupid. I had to’ve done something to invite this, but honestly, the only thing I can think of is the band. Maybe it’s a deranged fan, pissed about the band breaking up. Though, even that doesn’t make much sense—we were never that popular. That’s the only thing I can think of at the moment. I can’t even fathom another scenario.”
“Does it matter? Who knows why they’re doing it? You can’t always explain crazy. The only thing that matters is that we stay safe and that the police catch him.” He tipped my chin up to meet his eyes.
The guilt forced me to look away, and I broke from his hold to continue pacing. “Did Officer Martinez tell you when they expect to have the results of the testing they’re doing on the flowers?”
“Yeah, he said he’d probably stop by tomorrow once the report gets processed. He told me you might need to meet with a detective. If they decide to investigate.”
I stopped in my tracks. “What do you mean, if they decide to investigate? There’s even a chance that they won’t look into it?” I turned back to face him.
“Maddie, there isn’t much to go on.” He sighed, running a hand over his head. “Just your word that you had flowers show up in your room and a guy giving our girls a flower at the park. It isn’t exactly a violent crime.”
I felt the sudden urge to throw something well up in me. All the frustration, fear, and anger needing an outlet, a release. I reached for the first object within reach without thinking.
“Tha
t’s bullshit! Someone broke into my dorm and now my house to leave those flowers. That’s fucking creepy. Do you have any idea what that feels like?” I looked down at my hands and realized I was holding onto a clay bowl that Cora made at school. She’d be devastated if I broke it. The thought grounded me as I set it back down.
“Of course I do.” He was in front of me as I straightened. “I feel that way, too. I don’t like it either. Because I love you and the girls, Maddie. I care about what happens to you as if it were happening to me, too.” He reaches out to touch my cheek.
“You’ve gotta stop fucking saying that.” I slapped his hand away. “I’ve got enough to deal with at the moment.”
“No,” he said.
“What the fuck do you mean, no?”
“I mean no, I will not stop telling you that I love you. I will not stop fighting for you. I’m never going to leave your side, and if you want to keep pushing me away, that’s fine. Push all you want, but I’m not going to leave you alone ever again. You wouldn’t be fighting this so hard if you didn’t care. Deep down, I know you feel this. This—you and me. What we have. Something like that doesn’t go away.”
“What if I’m fighting it because I’m still in love with him—you ever think about that?” I spat the words at him.
“Fuck it,” he said and took the step to close the distance between us.
His hand dove into my hair, and he pulled my face to his. Faster than I could blink, his mouth descended on mine. It felt like we were moving in slow motion. At the first contact, tingles spread over my lips. My heart raced, and goose bumps chased a shiver that echoed throughout my whole body. I wanted to fight it, but the sensations he was causing were stunning me into inaction. I’d forgotten that indescribable magic pull he held over me. I opened for him, and his tongue drove in, twisting with mine. I lost all coherent thought as the familiar taste and smell of him filled my senses, sending my brain into overload. He pressed his body flush against mine, and I surrendered to him.
Moments later, he pulled back, resting his forehead on mine. “You feel that? People die for that feeling. They start wars and conquer impossible odds for that,” he whispered between heaving breaths. “That’s real, and I’m not walking away from it.”