by Logan Chance
My son knew I loved him. I clutch the note tighter to my chest and smile.
Chapter 23
Marley
Resuscitate-verb-to make something active or vigorous again.
Another week goes by and then another, and the idea of ever seeing Houston again fades with each passing moment.
After Lexi left, I threw myself into my coursework, stopping only to sleep. But, sleep isn’t an easy task when you miss someone.
On my way to class one mundane morning, I take my normal route via the subway. The mindless chatter and hustle and bustle of travelers blocks out my thoughts. The walk to campus is the same as every day, robotic.
When I reach the door to the Anatomy building, my breath catches. He’s back.
My heart cracks when he steps closer, and I see his eyes. A twinkle of hope lies in the depths of his dark orbs. His hands hide in his pockets, and a small smile paints his face. I want to run my fingers through his hair which has grown a few inches in the past weeks.
“Houston,” I breathe.
“Hello, Marley. I know you need to get to class.” He has an air of vulnerability about him, as if he’s out of his element. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
I have so many questions for him. But I don’t ask. Instead I listen.
“Go ahead.” My ears prepare for whatever it is he could possibly want from me.
He shuffles on his feet, his hand reaching around to rub at the back of his neck. “I know I have no right to ask, and I know I always said I never wanted dates. But, will you come over tonight? I have something important I want to show you.”
My response is immediate, “Of course I will.” I want to hug him. To kiss him. But, he walks away.
Later in the evening, with my nerves on high alert, I venture to his apartment. I dress in a little black dress, with my red heels and silver hoop earrings. The gloss on my lips is smooth when I press my lips together out of nervousness.
He lets me in, and a smile is plastered on his face. He looks happier, lighter. It stays in place as I enter into his well-lit apartment.
It’s so different than any other time I’ve been here. I glance around and see photos of Nathan lining his fireplace mantle.
I step over, running my fingers along the silver frame. “This is a great picture,” I say, admiring the photo of Nathan on a horse.
“He was three, he was so scared to get on that horse. I remember holding him close, telling him everything would be ok.” He gets a bit teary-eyed, but holds his composure together. I’m proud of him for not shutting down.
I step over to another photo and see two more on a shelf near his kitchen. “These are great, Houston.”
“I want to remember everything. Every single detail of every day of his short life.”
I hug him. I hug him with everything I have. He fills me in on where he’s been the last few weeks, and I’m glad he and Jennifer are coming back to life.
“I think it’s great,” I say, a small smile playing at my lips. “You look happier.”
“Marley, I haven’t been happy for a long time.” He steps closer. “But, I want to be. I’m trying.” He reaches for me and leans in, dropping his forehead to mine. “I want to try to be happy with you.”
My lips meet his in a passionate kiss, tongues twirling together. I lean back. “I want that too.”
He cocks a brow, smiling a boyish grin. “Besides, someone needs to make sure you stay in line.”
I smile, sheepishly. “Oh, is that right? And what happens if I don’t?”
“Spankings. Lots and lots of spankings.” He pulls me closer to his strong chest.
“Marley, one thing I’ve learned is life is short. I want to make the best out of every day, and I want you to be there with me.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
Epilogue
Houston
To say the past year has been easy with Marley would be a lie. But, I strive every day to be strong for her, for me.
I returned to medicine, my one true calling. Working at the Langone Medical Center in New York has been a dream come true.
Some days are still hard. Some days I want to curl in a ball and never wake up, but Marley is always there helping me to be better.
She’s a natural in her studies and works hard day in and day out to succeed.
Her beauty, her strength, and her heart are a few of the things I admire most about her. Who knew she’d be the one to heal my soul. Who knew my soul was even worth saving?
I love her.
It was an easy decision to be with her. One I had no problem admitting when I finally came around.
My therapist has noticed a significant improvement in my life, and now I only see her every other month. I still write in my journal daily.
And there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t celebrate the life of my son, Nathan.
We pull up to the cemetery, and I grab Marley’s hand. With a deep breath, we push past the iron gates and head toward Nathan’s plot.
Jennifer and Stuart sit side-by-side at his grave. A line of Hot Wheel toy cars sit atop his headstone.
We say our hellos, and I introduce Marley to them. We kneel in the plush grass and, I notice Jennifer’s belly.
“How far along are you?” I ask.
“Seven months. It’s scary,” Jennifer says with a smile on her face, rubbing her hand over her protruding belly.
Stuart places his arm on her back, running his fingers up and down, and Marley squeezes my hand.
“I think it’s great.” I drop Marley’s hand and lean in to hug Jennifer as a fresh tear escapes me.
The sun hangs high in the sky as the leaves on the nearby trees rustle in the wind. Such a serene place for my son to rest until we can all meet again.
A while later, after Jennifer and Stuart have left, Marley hugs me and says she’ll wait for me by the rental car.
A moment alone with my son, and I pull out the note he wrote me before he died. I clutch it in my hands as I gaze at his grave.
“Happy birthday, buddy. I miss you so much.” I walk away knowing that I was an idiot for ever trying to forget him. No, his memory will never fade.
As I see Marley leaning against the car, my heart beats faster. I wrap her in a hug and kiss the top of her head. “Thank you for coming into my life when I needed you the most.”
Thank you for reading Study Me.
Break Me
Prologue
A brand-new day. A fresh start. Another chance at life. A new beginning.
Ever heard of these phrases? Yeah, well they’re all bullshit. Why? Well, I’ll tell you. The new life you think you’re having isn’t new at all.
Your past mistakes. The hurt you may have caused. The lives you’ve ruined. They’re all still there. Hiding. Dwelling deep within you.
I could have a thousand new lives, and it would never erase the people I failed. The mess I caused. The years of heartache I’ve dealt with.
I failed her.
She wasn’t meant for the life I caused.
She was meant for so much more.
But, she couldn’t see that. She hid her pain well. She cried herself to sleep every night, and I never noticed.
I overlooked her sorrow.
And then one day she was gone.
Leaving the rest of us behind. And breaking us all.
Chapter 1
Katy
“Oh fuck, you like it when I choke you?”
Hell yes. His handsome face, with the faint scar jutting through his left eyebrow, blurs. No one has ever choked me during sex. It’s not actually a full choke, just light pressure on my windpipe by his large hand. I am too far gone to even answer this sex God, so I nod. “You’re such a dirty girl. Your pussy is so wet for me,” he husks out, tightening his choke hold and driving his thick cock faster into me. I am. I am so dirty. Filthy. I can’t tell him, because I can barely breathe.
My ass slides across the cool marble of the bat
hroom counter as he rams into me. I bump and scoot along the small surface, and the basket of tissues flies to the floor when I reach out trying to get leverage. Tingles ignite low in my belly, fanning out. I’m going to come before he kills me. It’s going to be epic.
The heels of my red Louboutin’s dig into his firm ass, pulling him closer to me. My head falls back, and pricks of light fire off behind my eyelids as my orgasm rolls through my body.
I can finally breathe when he releases my throat to grab my ass and lift me off the counter, thrusting into me until his tall, lean body shudders with his own orgasm. “Goddamn,” he mutters.
He slides out, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash can. The swanky bathroom is no longer filled with the grunts and groans of sex, only an awkward silence. My short, red evening gown bunched around my waist is a wrinkled mess. And ripped. Fuck. I shimmy it down covering myself, trying to fix the delicate lace hanging from the bodice. His deep brown eyes meet mine as he tucks his weapon of sex voodoo back in his black tuxedo slacks.
He grabs the tiny bit of dangling lace from my dress and rips it.
“There, you won’t be needing this.” He tosses the material into the trash. “Your eyes are a little bloodshot,” he says, running a hand through his dark hair. “They’ll just think you’re drunk.”
“What?” I ask, spinning around to look in the gold-framed mirror stretching across the wall. Shit. They are. Worse than the roadmap of my eyes is the love bite on my bare shoulder. Large and purple, where his full lips sucked. It was hot when he bit me, so hot I bit him back, but I’m not sure the wealthy people filling the ballroom will appreciate the hostess of the charity event to save their precious Dales pony looking like a two-dollar hooker.
I lock eyes in the mirror with the sexy stranger behind me. Yes, stranger. The only thing I know about him is his name. Pollux. I’m assuming he must like ponies since he’s here tonight.
He reaches out and releases the snake pit of black curls on my head. “Now you really look like you’ve been fucked.” White teeth rake across his bottom lip. “Should’ve done that a while ago. I could’ve wrapped it around my fist.”
Let me just say, I’m not used to men saying these things to me. The men I’ve been with would rather get off to stock portfolios than pulling my hair. Katy Dale Vanderlin, daughter of a prominent New Jersey physician, senior consultant of Master’s Consulting Firm, and semi socialite, does not have sex with strangers in bathrooms. Actually, she doesn’t have much sex at all, which is probably why I ended up with my panties by the door. The panties he’s now sliding in his pocket.
“Okay, listen,” I tell him, “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”
“Why?” he interrupts. “Too busy mingling with the stuffy asses out there?”
Well, the tall sex God has good looks and brains. That’s exactly why I don’t. Fear of judgement, I guess.
A knock on the door halts our self-examination of me. “Katy,” my assistant, Anne, calls out, “are you in here?”
I hold a finger to my lips and shake my head at Pollux. “Yeah,” I answer.
“James is looking for you.”
Of course, he is. Anger courses through me. This prick has been on my ass all night. His neediness led me to seek solace in the hallway leading to the restrooms. That’s when Pollux stumbled upon me, and well, one thing led to another.
I peer over at Pollux, smile, and rustle my fingers into the now mess of wild hair on my head, smoothing down the ends. “See ya around,” I say, as we walk through the bathroom door.
A smile lights my face. Spur of the moment sex with a stranger is so not me. Not even a little bit. But it felt good to let my hair down, metaphorically speaking.
I only get a few steps before James scowls in my direction. His balding head reflects the lights from above, blinding me momentarily.
“Hi, sir. Did you need to see me?”
“Yes, I know we’re not working, but did you get the AR-2 file to me this afternoon?” As if I would forget. I’m up for partner, and I wouldn’t make any mistakes now when I’m so close. I can almost taste the sweet victory of it all.
“Of course,” I answer.
“Who’s this, Katy?” James asks, sizing up Pollux.
I can’t exactly tell him this is the guy that choked me in the bathroom, so I step closer to Pollux and smile, or at least I try to in this awkward predicament. “This is, uh, um,…”
Pollux cuts in, “Pollux Clark. I’m Katy’s boyfriend.” He smiles, extending his hand out toward James’s.
Our eyes meet, and right now, I wish I could telepathically scold him. But, I weigh my choices and go with the charade. “Yes, he’s my boyfriend. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.”
“Nice to meet you,” James says, shaking Pollux’s hand.
Pollux drapes an arm over my shoulders. “Yeah, Katy here loves these events, but she needed some quiet time. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
His hand moves further south, smacking my ass cheeks as he winks.
I want to strangle his neck. “Yeah, honey. Sure,” I say through clenched teeth.
James is unimpressed. In fact, he appears like he wants to murder us both.
I step out of Pollux’s grip.
“Pollux, are you coming Sunday to the company picnic at the park?” James asks.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Great. See you then.”
James leaves, ambling back to the twinkling lights of the party, and I turn to Pollux. “What are you doing? What was that?” I want to scream more things to him, but he laughs slightly, crossing his strong arms over his chest.
“Calm down, princess. You looked like you could use the help.” He steps closer, pulling me against his firm chest. “I’ll see you Sunday, sugarplum.” He salutes me with a wicked grin before striding away.
Asshole.
Chapter 2
Pollux
Fuck. My night went from great, to complicated, to even more complicated.
With my MacBook in hand, I sink down onto the large, overstuffed sofa in the grand penthouse suite of the Plaza, my home away from home while I stay in New York. It’s nice here, very accommodating, but the color choices are God awful. Blue and gold? It looks like a lot of the hotels I’ve stayed at in the South of France. Frilly, overdone, and just plain gaudy.
Surfing the latest stock portfolios, I narrow my eyes as I come across Masters Consulting Firm. I click on Katy Vanderlin’s link and stare at the picture. Tight body, fiery eyes, and red, plump lips. Reading about her slew of top clients and hard work ethic is overshadowed by the way she felt coming on my cock.
The idea of seeing her again makes me smile, but I need to tamper down the school-boy crush and focus on my main objective. And it sure as fuck isn’t falling for an executive at Masters.
No, that’s the last thing on my agenda.
It’s probably best not to see her again, but, I need to be at that picnic. Hell, I need to be anywhere Craig Kendall, president of Masters, is. I’m finally making progress with my plan, and I won’t let some smoldering temptress persuade me otherwise.
What’s my plan? I’m a corporate raider, for lack of a better word. Sounds kickass, huh? Well, it is. I buy companies, tear them apart, and resell off the parts for big money.
Right now, I have my sights set on one of the top consulting firms in New York. Yeah, you guessed it…Masters.
I’m still unsure what I’ll do with it once I buy it. Tear it apart? Sell it whole? Run it myself? That’s why I want the inside scoop. I want to get a vibe for the employees. Not only how they work, but how they function as humans.
This is how I operate. It’s how I work. Some may think it’s not a traditional approach, not old-school, but that’s the beauty of it all. Being unconventional is how I’ve become so successful.
Staying incognito to achieve my objective is the main reason I threw out a fake name. Seemed fitting, a gala to save a pony…so I chose
Pollux, the Greek patron god of horses.
At thirty-four, I’m a beast in the boardroom. And an even bigger one in the bedroom. Katy Vanderlin just made things even easier for me.
Sunday morning rolls around, and I smile at my new plan, and maybe a little bit because I get to see Katy again. This is the first time in years I’ve felt a spark of excitement. She’s fun. I’m sure she won’t be too happy to see me, and it makes it all the more fun. I keep it semi casual in black Armani. Trim button-down shirt and slacks. Can’t go wrong with Armani.
I step off the street corner, weaving into the throng of people rushing to the Subway on this brisk afternoon in Manhattan. I hit the stairs and slip inside the closing Subway doors to grab a seat. I don’t think I’ve been on the Subway in well, ever. I’ve never ridden this hunk of junk. And now I see why. I’m shoved in between an earbud wearing yuppie and a religious zealot trying to give me a pamphlet on how to get to heaven.
“No, thanks,” I tell him. “Hell has a spot reserved for me.”
The sub pulls in at Grand Central Station, and I hop out, passing by the panhandlers with cardboard signs and street artists trying to get attention. Ninety percent cons. Like me, I guess. Pretending to be someone you’re not.
Fuck, it’s cold. My breath hangs in the freezing air, and I wonder how great this “picnic” is going to be. The people last night don’t strike me as the type to picnic. When I think of a picnic, I imagine summer green grass, a wicker basket, and sitting on a red and white gingham blanket. Like the kind I used to take with my kid sister, Harper.
Not the large white tent up ahead with the company logo for Masters.
I step inside the chatter filled heated tent, removing my jacket and handing it off to the coat check girl by the front. How is this a picnic? The only ants at this picnic are the army of black clad servers circling the white linen covered tables. Ice sculptures of the board member’s heads sit on each table surrounded by a moat of crystal glasses. I almost laugh. I’ve been to many corporate functions, but this may set a new bar for pretentious.