by L. D. Davis
Tethered
By L.D. Davis
Copyright© 2014
LD Davis
Smashwords Edition
Cover Design by
Focus4 Media
Tina Kleuker
[email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and situations are entirely a result of the author's over active imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is coincidental or used in a fictitious manner. No part of this novel may be reproduced without written permission from the author.
Special Thanks to Lorien Vanover, Evelyn Erndt and Karleigh Brewster for editing this monster of a book and for your consistent support.
Thank you, Tina Kleuker for your awesome skills and creating a fantastic book cover, book trailer and so much more. You rock my socks, woman.
Also, I’d like to thank R.L. Mathewson, Amy Bustard, Juliet, and all of the many blogs that have helped me along the way. Thank you so much!
Other Titles by L.D. Davis
Accidentally On Purpose
Worthy Of Redemption
Worth The Fight
Pieces Of Rhys
Contents
Prologue
Book One
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
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Book Two
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Book Three
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty- One
Epilogue
Prologue
I was at my best friend’s wedding reception dancing dirty with her husband. I grinded, I shook, and shimmied, and dropped it like it was hot. He got into it, dancing better than most guys I have ever known, and I’ve known quite a few. I dared a glance at his wife. She watched us while laughing, smiling, and clapping. I loved that she knew that I didn’t mean anything by it. I love that she knew how happy I was for her and that I was not trying to screw her husband.
The song changed and he drew me in for a slower paced dance that didn’t require me to shake my ass. Luke Kessler looked ridiculously happy. He was high off of his happiness. It pleased me, and it also made me sad for myself.
“You look really happy,” I said to him.
“I don’t think it’s possible to feel any happier,” he answered with that big, beautiful smile.
How has Emmy survived these panty dropping smiles?
I bit back my own smile and said “Sweet. Cheesy and corny, but sweet. I’ve honestly never seen Em look so happy.”
Emmy was now dancing with her father Fred. I danced with Fred at my wedding, too. He was the only dad I had when I got married.
“I really like you, Luke,” I said, turning my eyes back to my best friend’s husband. “In fact, I love you as much as a girl can love her best friend’s husband without it being scandalous. But…” I trailed off.
Like Emmy, and especially like her mother Sam, I spoke my mind. Speak first, and worry about the consequences later. My words have caused a great deal of trouble over the years. But maybe this wasn’t the time or place to say what I really wanted to say. Luke has been very good to Emmy, with the exception of a few months not that long ago, but that was kind of her fault. I didn’t want him to think that I doubted him, because I didn’t. But like the rest of us, he was only human.
“But?” Luke looked at me questioningly.
“If you fuck this up beyond repair, I will kill you,” I promised.
“I would rather die than to fuck this up beyond repair,” he replied. I felt his body stiffen ever so slightly under my hands.
“We all say that,” I said quietly. “We would rather die than to hurt the ones we love, but we do. She did it to you.” Under my breath, I said “Hell, I’ve done it.”
Luke frowned and looked at me with puzzlement and I realized with horror that he heard my last few words. He looked at my husband Jerry who was paying us no mind. He was surrounded by adoring baseball fans. Even if they were not Philly fans, they were drawn to the professional athlete.
“It’s my wedding day,” Luke said exasperatingly. “I don’t want to talk about that, Donya.”
“I just want you to always be conscious of your actions, Luke,” I said and looked at him very hard. “It’s very easy to find yourself standing on the wrong side of the line without ever meaning to cross it.”
He looked at me, startled. I suddenly felt like the banquet hall was too small. I kissed Luke’s cheek and pulled out of his arms.
“Just remember what I said,” I said in a rush of air.
I whirled around and raced towards the exit. It was January, in Chicago no less, but I felt hot and my palms were sweaty. It was very stuffy inside the building and I was having difficulty breathing. I promised myself I wouldn’t turn around and look. There was no reason to look. I won’t look.
I was only a few feet from the door. I turned my head and looked.
It is as if there is a magnet that draws my eyes to his exact location every time. My eyes always find him right away, no matter the circumstances.
He looked stunning in his tuxedo. His deep blue bowtie was hanging to one side and his shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons, revealing the beginning contours of what I knew to be a well-defined chest. His dark hair was a little on the long side. Hair fell across his forehead. It was sexy. His wife hated it. She must not have liked running her fingers through it. His hands were in his pockets as he was speaking to his older brother. He looked casual and relaxed.
I looked away and escaped the crushing pressure of the room.
I dug into the little purse strapped to my wrist and got my ticket for my coat. I thrust the piece of paper at the guy behind the counter and he retrieved my coat a few seconds later. I walked out of the building and away from the few people outside who also dared the cold. I followed a walkway until I found myself on the other side of the building, facing what was probably a very gorgeous garden in the warmer months. It was still pretty, even under the ice and
snow.
I looked around and was relieved to find myself alone. The sun was setting and the lampposts were flickering to life. It was cold as cold could be out there, but I needed to get out of there.
I opened my purse and found my hidden cigarette and lighter. I put the cancer stick in my mouth and lit it up. I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes, and let the smoke out slowly through slightly parted lips.
Smoking was the bad habit I picked up during my days as a model. I got lucky. It could have been cocaine, heroin, pills, or so many other things that strung a girl out. I quit smoking regularly when I quit modeling, but on occasion, a cigarette was warranted.
I heard light footfalls behind me. The long invisible tether tightened. I knew who was coming without having to look. I could feel him. My eyes always find him and he always finds me. I stopped questioning it long ago.
One strong arm encircled my waist. I shivered and it had nothing to do with the chilling weather. Fingers plucked the cigarette from my lips and tossed it away. I watched as it landed in the snow a few feet off of the path. It was resilient. It burned on, despite the cold moisture under it.
Another arm closed around me, securing me in an embrace. My head naturally fell back on his shoulder and his cheek naturally pressed against my hair. I breathed him in and his scent settled my nerves better than any cigarette ever has. Feeling his body enveloping mine made me feel safer than I ever have anywhere else.
We stood quietly as the sun set and darkness set in. He kissed the side of my head and I closed my eyes, both relishing and cursing the kiss. His breathing changed as his arms tightened their hold on me. I felt his breath on my neck and I knew he wanted to kiss me there. I hated that I wanted him to kiss me there.
There it was. The line I spoke to Luke about. I had one foot on the right side of the line and one foot on the wrong side of it. This was the third time this week I had found myself standing like this, with the line between my legs, but it had happened too many times over the years. The line got blurrier and blurrier every time I even poked a toe over it. If not careful, the line would dissolve, and so would so many other things. I knew this, yet I could not make myself pull away. I could not push him off of me and walk away. He would always find me again. He would always tug on that tether and I would always return.
Eventually, the line needed to be cut. Or we were all going to crash and burn.
I turned around and looked into those green eyes I fell in love with as a child, and spoke his name.
“Emmet.”
Book One
Chapter One
“My name is Emmy, and I don’t like your shirt, but your hair is pretty. What is your name?”
I looked down at my red and white striped shirt. What was wrong with it? My mom let me pick it out at K-Mart. I was lucky she even took me shopping because she was so tired so much anymore.
I looked at Emmy’s shirt. It was blue and had a ruffle down the front with gold buttons. I frowned, because I really did like her shirt better than mine.
“Don’t be sad,” she said, touching my arm. “I just don’t like the lines in shirts. They hurt my eyes.”
What a weird kid!
“What is your name?” she asked again.
“Donya Elisabeth Stewart,” I said quietly. Emmy was the first kid to really talk to me since the school day started. She was sitting right next to me at our table and we were eating snack. Well, she was eating snack, and a lot of the other kids were eating snack, but my mom didn’t give me money for snack time.
“Where is your snack, Donya Elisabeth Stewart?” Emmy asked as she looked at the empty space before me.
“I don’t have one,” I said and felt embarrassed.
Without a word, Emmy divided up her four cookies, gave me two and put her carton of chocolate milk between us. She kissed my cheek and then said “You can share with me, Donya Elisabeth Stewart.”
Hesitantly, I smiled at her. She was the nicest girl I ever met.
After that day, Emmy slept on the mat next to mine at quiet time, played with me at every playtime and shared her snack with me at every snack time. She was the first friend I had ever had and I really liked her. She was pretty with long wavy brown hair and she always wore pretty clothes and shoes. I even liked her mom when she came to pick Emmy up from school every day. She was really pretty too, but a little loud, not like my quiet mother.
My mother was late everyday picking me up from school. I was always the last kid to leave. Emmy and her mother Samantha stayed with me every day until my mom or dad arrived, but one day Sam asked my mom if it was okay if she picked me up with Emmy every afternoon.. She said she would take me back to their house, give me lunch with Emmy and let us play and have me home by dinner. It took my mom a couple of days to think about it, and I begged her and bugged her so much about it that she finally gave in. I didn’t have anything to do at home anyway. My mom was spending more and more time sleeping or watching television and less time with me. It was no fun to play with my toys by myself and I didn’t care too much about cartoons.
The first day when I was supposed to go home with Emmy, I was so excited that I got into trouble a few times with our teacher because I was talking too much. Samantha made us a nice lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches, celery with peanut butter and we had cups of apple juice with it. It was so much better than the lunches I had at home, and I told Emmy and her mom that.
“What do you usually have at home?” Samantha asked me.
“Cereal,” I answered. “But if there’s no milk, I just eat it with my fingers. Sometimes there is bread and I’ll have toast.”
“But you don’t eat lunch every day,” Emmy reminded me and I agreed. I did not eat lunch every day.
“You need to eat more,” Samantha said. “You’re too skinny.”
“I don’t always have lunch to eat,” I said very quietly. Even at five, I knew that it was weird for me not to have food in the house. I felt ready to cry, because I felt so embarrassed. I wasn’t like other kids. I wasn’t like Emmy. Her mom and my mom weren’t alike either.
“Well, don’t worry about that,” Samantha said, tenderly caressing my wild hair. “You can eat lunch here every day, even on the weekends. If you can’t be here to eat lunch, I will send something to your house, okay?”
I nodded. I felt better, because she was very nice about it, and Emmy smiled at me and held my hand.
After lunch, we went outside to play. They had a big back yard with a swing set and a sliding board and a hanging tire. There was even a little playhouse that we could play in. My back yard only had dead grass. We played restaurant. We made mud pies and grass cakes and flower stew. We got super dirty. There was dirt caked under our nails, our knees were dirty and I know I had a few muddy streaks smeared on my cheek.
“Let’s take a break and swing,” Emmy said after we grew tired of cooking.
I followed her to the swings, but I didn’t know how to swing. I had only been on a swing a couple of times and I never learned how to swing myself. I sat down on mine and watched as Emmy began to swing. Her legs kicked out and pulled back again and again until she was swinging high.
“Don’t you know how to swing?” she called to me.
“No,” I said sadly.
She tried to explain it to me, and I tried to do as she said, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. I was frustrated and angry and sad because she was swinging and I wasn’t. The back door opened, and I expected to see Sam come outside, but instead a boy came out. I knew Emmy had brothers and sisters but I had never seen them until just then.
Even from across the yard and with his brown hair covering his eyes a little bit, I could see his green eyes. I had never seen anyone with green eyes before, and his were bright green. He looked right at me as he walked across the yard, his hands in his pockets. He was older than us, a big kid almost. I didn’t know if he was going to play with us or not, but I was feeling a little shy as I looked at him. I don’t know why I was so nervous about meeting hi
m. I had butterflies in my chest and I wanted to stop looking at him, but I couldn’t.
“Emmet!” Emmy called as she swung high. “Push Donya on the swing! She doesn’t know how to swing by herself!”
He stopped a couple of feet away from me and looked at me.
“You don’t know how to swing?”
I shook my head.
“You have dirt on your face,” he said, and reached out and touched my cheek where the mud was streaked. His touch made my skin feel funny and the butterflies went crazy in my chest.
“I’ll teach you how to swing,” Emmet said and walked around me.
He told me how to move my legs and how fast. He reminded me to hold on to the chains no matter what.
“I’m going to push you for a little while until you get it,” he said. Then his hands were on my waist and I held my breath. “Here we go,” he said gently from behind me.
He gave me a small push and then another. I started to move my legs as he told me and he continued to push me. His hands were so soft on my back even though he was pushing me higher and higher.
“You’re doing it, you’re doing it!” Emmy cried out as I began to fly.
Eventually Emmet stopped pushing me and got on the swing on the other side of me. The three of us swung together for a long time. Emmy was first to stop and Emmet stopped soon after her. I wasn’t sure how to stop swinging when I was ready to get off, and before the swing could stop moving, I had let go of the chains and fallen to the ground. I wasn’t hurt, but I was embarrassed.
“I told you not to let go of the chains,” Emmet said as he helped me to my feet.
“I didn’t know how to stop,” I said quietly as I looked down at the ground.
“Well…that was one way of stopping,” he said. He plucked me in the forehead, gave me a grin and walked back to the house.
I stood there rubbing my forehead, watching him leave. Just before he went inside, he paused and gave me a long look. Then he shook his head and went inside.
*~*~*
I was seven years old and I was mad as hell. I had been riding Emmet’s skateboard, even though he told me not to, and I had fallen off. My knees were scraped and so were my elbows. I didn’t just fall off of the board because I was a terrible rider. I was pretty good and getting better all of the time. I fell off because the punk big kid from a few streets over pushed me off. Benny was such a bully. He was Emmet’s age but he was always picking on kids my age.