Running From Forever

by Ashley Wilcox

  “I wasn’t one for romance,” I started, nervous excitement bubbling inside of me. This is it. “I wasn’t one for happy endings or fighting for what I believed in. I wasn’t a believer in love, in fate, or spending the remainder of my days with only one person. Until I met you. You changed me, Kayla Reynolds. You changed everything about me…you made me a believer; a believer in love, in destiny, in spending all my days with one person. I don’t want to miss a moment without you, not one breath. I want you every day, every hour, for the rest of our lives. I want to marry you. I want to be able to call you my wife. I want you in my life forever.” I pulled the ring from the inside pocket of my jacket. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  With tears streaming down her face and her free hand covering her mouth, she nodded her head yes, unable to find the words to speak just yet. I slid the ring effortlessly on her finger before standing and picking her up in my arms, her feet dangling off the ground. Her hands found my face, holding it passionately and kissing me over and over again, whispering ‘Yes’ in between each one.

  “I love you so much, baby,” I said as I set her feet back on the ground. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, smiling up at me with the smile I could never forget on her tear-streaked face. “I love you, too. So, so much.”

  What happened to Merrick? Let’s rewind.

  It was just after three in the afternoon when Kayla came strolling into the bar. Her hair was up, sunglasses covered her eyes, and she was wearing a smile so big that you couldn’t help but smile back at her.

  “What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” I joked as she pushed her glasses back up into her hair and took a seat on one of the empty bar stools.

  “Oh ya know, just living the high life,” she answered.

  “You say it like it’s not true.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I do, don’t I?” she kidded, leaning over the top of the bar and pulling up a glass, then taking the soda gun filling it up with cola.

  I swatted at her arm with the wet rag in my hand. “What do you think this is, a free for all?” I scolded, but all I got was a sassy eye roll in return, knowing that I wasn’t serious.

  “So anyway…” she said, carrying a smirk on her face. “It totally sucks donkey balls that I don’t get to see you race this weekend.”

  Scrunching my eyebrows together, I looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you effing kidding me? You’re going to be on a tropical island this weekend! Pretty sure there’s no donkey ball sucking about that.”

  “Yeah, but it’s your biggest race of the year!”

  “It’s being televised—you’ll be able to watch it from your swanky hotel room.”

  Again with the eye roll. “First of all, it’s not a hotel room, it’s a suite, and second, you know watching it on TV isn’t like being there.”

  “Oh, pardon me with the hotel room. How dare I group you with the commoners,” I poked fun at her in my best hoity toity voice, although I knew she didn’t say it to be smug. Kayla could honestly take it or leave it. Sure, she doesn’t mind living among the wealthy, but she had no problem hanging with us middle class folks, too. It wasn’t long ago that she was one, too.

  She smirked. “You’re an ass!”

  I laughed at her attempt at being mad. “But yeah, I actually wish you were going, to be honest. One of the big sponsor’s daughter’s is racing, and she’s apparently setting up shop right next to my trailer. I can’t wait to see how fucking bratty and annoying she is,” I explained in a less than enthused tone.

  I hadn’t met the chick, but I’d seen some pictures. Hot, but a spoiled fucking brat. No one had ever seen her race, nor had ever known she existed. My guess is she sparked an interest one day, rode around the track a few times, and since Daddy’s company was the largest sponsor in the motocross tournament, she whined herself into the race. Hot or not, I couldn’t effing stand girls like that.

  Kayla looked at me, confused. “Ken has a daughter?”

  “Right? No one had fucking heard of her before last week and now she’s racing in the biggest fucking race of the year!”

  “Ugh. Annoying.”

  “Yeah so, how’s the Caribbean vacation looking now?” I kidded, now thoroughly annoyed again thinking about it.

  “You can still come!” she hinted, wiggling her eyebrows.

  I chuckled. “I fucking wish.”

  It was only a little after nine in the morning when I arrived at the track. I couldn’t sleep worth shit the night before, so instead of dragging ass around my apartment, I headed out early, thinking maybe I’d get some practice runs in before everyone had to be off the track. At a little past eleven, the big black, white, and pink trailer belonging to Ken’s daughter pulled in. The thing looked brand new and was bigger than most people’s homes. Already the rage was building inside. Must be nice to be just handed the best of the best for a spur of the moment hobby.

  She hopped out of the backseat of the black, tinted window Denali. I couldn’t really see her face, but her hair was dark, almost black, and pin straight, hanging down to the middle of her back. She was only in a tank top and tiny little shorts, so I could see she had a rocking body. But that was beside the point—she didn’t belong on a race track with top qualifying racers—you had to work for that shit!

  Annoyed, I escaped to the inside of my trailer, where Micah and the other guys were doing some last minute tune ups to my bike. I tried to forget about the chick next door but kept being reminded of her presence by her damn high-pitched voice.

  “Can anyone else hear that?” I asked, anger showing through my tone.

  They looked at me like I had ten heads.

  “That girl’s fucking voice,” I added for further clarification.

  They shrugged their shoulders. “It’s a chick’s voice,” Micah said like it was no big deal.

  “No, that chick could get every dog’s attention in a ten mile radius with her voice that fucking high.”

  Micah smiled. “Whatever, dude.”

  Just after 12:30, I finally got in my gear, put on my helmet, and fired up the bike. It was my time to concentrate and get focused for the race. My head was down and my arms crossed over my chest, like usual. I was in my own little world when I heard that fucking voice again. I couldn’t handle it any longer; I turned the engine off and stormed out of my trailer to see her sitting on her bike, yelling to Ken over the sound of her engine.

  With my helmet off, they both turned to look at me. I couldn’t see her face hidden underneath her helmet, but I had a clear view of her eyes. They were incredible; a color I couldn’t describe.

  “Problem, Merrick?” Ken asked.

  “Oh, uh, no,” I said, starting to walk backwards. I couldn’t remember why I came out here; my mind was blank other than the inner conversation I was having about what color eyes she had. They weren’t blue, but they weren’t green, and they were too light to be considered hazel; they were almost an aqua color. Do people have aqua colored eyes?

  Micah snapped me out of haze. “Dude! Ya gonna get on your bike, or what?”

  “Can people have aqua colored eyes?” I turned and asked him.

  He looked at me, confused as hell. “Have you lost your fucking mind today?”

  I rubbed my face and shook my head, realizing I wasn’t all in; I’d been preoccupied all day by this chick and it was starting to fuck with my head. Who the hell cares what color eyes she had? I had to cut the bullshit and focus on my race.

  At ten minutes to one, we were all called to the starting line. Thank God her bar wasn’t anywhere near mine; I think it was somewhere near the end, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I focused on the metal bar in front of me, disregarding the noise and commentators talking in the background. It was just me, my bike, and the metal bar, waiting for the drop.

  Moments later, my engine roared and I jumped out into the front of the pack. As usual, I didn’t have a radio set on, so
I was on my own, taking turns and jumps at my own pace, watching out for those around me. The first turn was crowded, as was the second. By the third, the seasoned riders had separated from the others.

  By the fourth lap it was just me and another rider out in front, weaving in and out of each other, trying to get to the inside of the turns. It’d been a while since I had hardcore competition, but it was what I loved—a competitor made the game more challenging. Fighting for the first place spot held more honor than riding in painlessly by yourself.

  On the last jump, I had to pull a move I hadn’t in a while; a crossover in mid-air. If I didn’t, I ran the risk of not getting the inside of the final turn. It was by no means safe, and if landed wrong, it could put me in a hospital bed. Thankfully the landing was successful, albeit a little shaky, but I didn’t crash land and it gave me the room I needed to take the inside. The son of a bitch could take turns like he weighed two pounds, though, putting him back on my ass and inching beside me as we crossed the finish line.

  When I looked up to see the rankings, the screen was blank; it was too close to call just yet. I moved over to the side and took my helmet off, waiting for the officials to review the replay. Two seconds later, the rider that I was neck and neck with came up beside me and looked up at the board. Everything in my body dropped to the fucking ground when I saw who it was—Ken’s fucking daughter. I watched as she slipped her helmet off her head, rested it on her handlebars and redid her ponytail, which was messed up from her helmet. I’d watched Kayla do it a zillion and one times to her hair, but the way this chick did it was entrancing.

  “Awesome race, huh?” she turned and asked after she was done.

  I was still mystified, speechless. How did this even happen? “Uh yeah, good run,” I responded like a dumbfuck, scratching the top of my head with my right hand while still holding my helmet in my left.

  “Well, good luck.” She smiled and that’s when I noticed her teeth; they were fucking white as hell against her olive skin. The girl looked like a damn model caught in a motocross outfit. I was pretty sure I’d fantasized about girls like her a few times.

  “Thanks. May the best man…or woman,” I corrected myself, “win.” I smiled back, feeling my stomach flutter. Shit no! Was this chick actually effecting me?

  She laughed at my slip-up then put her focus back up to the screen as the commentator announced the results were in.

  “After close viewing and multiple playbacks, it’s been determined that the winner of the 2012 Motocross Finals is…Merrick Drake!”

  The crowd roared along with the annual fireworks that were set off every year, but I wasn’t engulfed with excited adrenaline like I normally was.

  “Congrats!” she yelled over the noise, extending her hand.

  I took her hand and held onto it. “Thanks. You raced awesome. We should practice together sometime.”

  She smiled and began to reply but was cut off when Micah and the rest of the crew bombarded me with celebratory hugs, nudges, yells, and anything else you could imagine an excited group of guys would do. I ignored them all, standing up and trying to see her over the swarms of people now congregating around me. I was getting pissed. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I had something else to say; I needed to finalize plans or something. I just wasn’t done with her yet.

  I stood on my bike to see if I could spot her but it was no use, it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Before I knew it, I was being pushed into the winner’s circle anyway to be awarded with my trophy and answer the million dollar questions—how did I pull off such a close win? How did I feel? What was I going to do next? They were questions I’d answered a million times before; I had about five sets of answers that I just rotated at every race. Today’s was, “It was definitely a close call coming into the last turn, but I held on, pulling in close, and managed to get enough lead to grab the checkered flag.” It was robotic, but it worked, and seemed to appease everyone; they always got all excited and shit.

  I don’t think there had ever been a time I grabbed my trophy so fast and ran, but I wanted to get back to my trailer as quickly as possible to catch her before she left. I still didn’t even know her name. My body instantly relaxed and I sighed with relief when I saw her standing at the bottom of the ramp of her trailer doing an interview with some radio station. I leisurely walked over, not wanting to interrupt. When I came into view, they turned to me, excited to have me there, too, to talk to. Instantly, I felt like a prick. I didn’t want to steal her thunder, but she didn’t seem to care, smiling and inviting me in to answer questions with her. She was a cool chick, not seeming bratty at all.

  It was like a trickling effect when the other stations got wind of the first and second place winners standing side by side and interviewing together. What originally started as just the one reporter turned into ten more in seconds. Neither of us cared, answering what was going through our heads the entire time and of course, if it bothered me throughout the race that it was a girl riding my tail. That one made me chuckle and I responded honestly.

  “I had no clue it was her until the end.”

  During the first interview, I finally found out her name. Amelia. It was different and I liked it. I could see it working for her.

  “So, uh, I don’t know your plans, but everyone is coming back into the city tonight to celebrate at my bar, if you’re down?” The words slipped from my tongue before I even realized what I was saying, but it worked. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with her tonight. I’d already hung a sign on the door before I left saying that the bar was closed for a private party tonight, so I could actually celebrate instead of serving everyone else. It was probably a little rude to assume that I’d be taking home the trophy, but it’d been mine for four years running; I had to plan ahead.

  “Yeah sure,” she replied, making body thrum with excitement. “I actually live in the city, too.”

  “Really? Where?” I asked, needing to know.

  “West 50th and 9th Ave.”

  My mouth dropped. “No shit! That’s like four blocks from me.”

  She looked at me like I was blowing steam out of her ass.

  “Swear to fucking God!” I added for assurance.

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Well, do you wanna ride back in together?” I couldn’t believe how forward I was being, but I couldn’t help it. The balls were falling in my court left and right, and there was no way in hell I was dodging them. Amelia was damn near perfect, and I wasn’t about to let an opportunity to spend time with her pass me by.

  Her expression turned apprehensive. “Are ya sure? I probably smell.”

  I laughed. “You definitely don’t smell.” She actually smelled amazing. Every time she moved or her body swayed, I got a whiff of her scent—fresh but with a hint of floral perfume, making me slightly mesmerized each and every time. “But if it’s a big deal to you, my apartment and shower are above my bar.”

  Shit, Merrick! Slow it down.

  She didn’t seem to care, or maybe didn’t pick up on my insinuation about being naked in my apartment, because her grin stayed the same. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied.

  Even though I’m not that kind of guy—I swear my goal in life isn’t to get into every hot girl’s panties—thoughts of Amelia naked in my apartment with me possibly by her side, wet in the shower…Jesus. The attraction was definitely there, and a pull like no other to boot. It was becoming pretty damn obvious that I had it bad for this girl. I wanted to spend time with her, get to know her, and not to mention, kiss the lips that I had been admiring standing beside her. Yeah, I wanted Amelia. I wanted her in the worst possible way.

  I wasn’t big on chasing or relationships for that matter, but fuck it all to hell, for the first time in my life, I wasn’t running from. No, with Amelia, I was running to.

  Want to know more about Merrick and Amelia’s story?

  Coming late fall 2013

  ***

  Readers!!! I love you all. You�
�re the inspiration and drive behind my books. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you all. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for all your continued support.

  Jennifer Roberts-Hall and the rest of A-team, you ladies are the craziest, most wonderful group of women. You’re love, support, encouragement, and help is more than I could ever ask for. There’s no way I could do all this without you all. Love you, ladies!

  Other books by Ashley Wilcox:

  The Forever Series

  Planning on Forever

  Waiting on Forever

  Promising Forever (Novella)

  Giving You Forever

  Running From Forever

  With the exception of Promising Forever,

  all books in The Forever Series can be read as standalones

  Because of Hope

  Summer Rush

  ***

  Some may consider me a jack of all trades, but I consider myself well rounded. I’ve waitressed, styled hair, answered phones and, most recently, worked full time as mom to my two beautiful little boys.

  Then there was this book...

  Everyone and their brother started talking about this book series titled Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James. I didn’t really pay attention to the craze at first, since I wasn’t a big reader- okay, I didn’t read at all. But curiosity got the best of me, so I downloaded it to my kindle.I was immediately hooked. I read the whole series in three days. Yes, three books in three days.

  I kept finding all these great books that I HAD to read (just ask my credit card!).

  Then I started hearing voices. Voices that turned into stories; stories that were begging to get out of my head.I started writing them down on scraps of paper. Then I transferred them to my computer. Before I knew it, Planning on Forever was born.