© 2015 Jessalyn Jameson
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Cover design by Michelle Johnson of Blue Sky Design
Edited by Tamara Mataya
Formatting by Caitlin Greer
This book is dedicated to high school sweethearts everywhere.
You’ve fought the fight, battled the seas of adversity, beaten the challenges of growing up, and you’re still standing strong in your love.
Together.
What a beautiful thing that is.
Foreword from the Author
I want to begin this with a trigger warning. My main character, Sage, grew up in abusive foster homes, abused in all ways imaginable by not one, but multiple foster fathers. She turned to cutting as a way to numb the pain, but her self-abuse continued into adulthood in the form of careless sexual encounters. Within CHLORINE & CHAOS are flashbacks to the abuse she endured as a child and scenes some readers may be uncomfortable with.
If this topic is something you don’t think you can read about, even fictionalized, please stop now. Sexual abuse is a very serious matter and I in no way want to trivialize or glorify something that is so horrific. More importantly, I do not wish to add pain to the lives of my readers.
If you are concerned about foster abuse, please seek help and/or guidance. There are many resources available online like this organization: Promises 2 Kids.
Almost nine years away from this town and the raw ache of shame still gripped her heart. She’d moved on, moved away—there was no arguing that—spent the past few years making a name for herself, building a career, only visiting her hometown on the third weekend of each month and every major holiday…yet the scars remained ever-present in her mind. The burn of the blade still seemed fresh on her skin.
A psychological demon she couldn’t quite tame.
No matter how far she traveled, or how much she grew, this town would always signify one thing for Sage Shepard.
Dirty little secrets.
You’ve got this. Sage repeated the words in her head for the millionth time, still unconvinced of their validity. Her feelings toward her home town aside, she had no idea how she felt about Lorimar High. Part of her loathed the school because of the town, and the memories it held of that time in her life….
But she wasn’t that gutter trash foster kid anymore. She wasn’t anyone’s secret.
You’ve got this.
She leaned forward, her hands splayed flat against the bathroom countertop, gaze locked on the woman staring back at her. Sage’s hair was no longer jet black, though it had taken nearly that entire nine years away to rid herself of the damage all that cheap dye had done to her blonde locks. Her eyes, still as stormy as a mid-winter day, weren’t hidden behind choppy color-of-the-week bangs, or downcast in shame. Her skin, milky white with just a light dusting of freckles, no longer carried the bruises of her foster father. Fathers.
Her scars remained. Tiny, raised lines; a self-inflicted map of every assault crisscrossing over the soft skin of her forearms and inner thighs; a keepsake of every trauma she’d experienced but couldn’t avoid. Every moment she’d felt defenseless, vulnerable.
Reminders that she’d never be that fragile little girl again.
With the support of a guy no one would have ever guessed she’d cross paths with, Sage had finished high school with decent enough grades, and by some stroke of luck—not a miracle, for she’d long ago given up on God—Sage managed to receive enough funding from the system to attend college. Now, with a BSN and RN certification under her belt, Sage found her dream job close to home, and close to the one person from her past she’d promised to come back to. The only person who could bring her home.
Returning to Lorimar High wouldn’t be easy, Sage was under no delusions, but she’d had no idea just how difficult it would be until she woke up this morning with a pit in her stomach the size of the Great Lakes. Her fingers shook with nerves, and her stomach threatened to reintroduce her to her morning coffee. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third cup.
She finished her makeup, applying her favorite blush-pink lipstick to her now-plump lips—amazing what a friend with a skincare license could do for you these days—and stood straight, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high.
Regardless of her history with this town, she’d at least walk into work today with the air of someone who hadn’t been broken by the system.
Because she wasn’t that scared little girl anymore.
“Coach Tiggs?”
Tig pulled his attention away from the old-school, boxed television set, narrowing his green eyes on the kid seated in front of his desk long enough to make two assessments: one, this scrawny runt wouldn’t last a day on his team; and, two, instinct told him the kid came from money.
The team needed money. Which meant Coach needed this kid.
He smiled, leaning forward on his elbows. “What can I do for ya, buddy?”
The runt pushed his glasses up on his nose with his index finger, looking away as if Coach Tiggs was a busty blonde, not a tired swim coach, and Tig held back the laughter. The kid was too clichéd for his own good.
“I…I’m here to join the team.”
No shit. “Can you swim?”
The shyness lifted like a veil, sliding off the kid’s face to reveal a confident, teeth-baring grin. “Yes, sir. I can swim.”
With eyebrows raised, Tig assessed the sudden one-eighty in the kid, and that mask of awkwardness slipped right back down over his face, downcast eyes and all.
Tig smiled. Give me one year with you, kid. You’ll walk these halls like a king.
If he could actually swim.
“Do you have your paperwork? Joining the team has to be cleared with the office.”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded, his brown hair shaking down over his eyes. His sweatshirt was about three sizes too big, nearly swallowing him.
Tig stifled a groan. “And, of course, you’ll have to show me what you can do in the water.”
That arrogant grin flashed again.
“And you’ll need a haircut.”
The kid raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me, sir?”
“My boys don’t hide behind bangs, son”—the kid swallowed hard, but Tig continued—“All right. If we’re agreed, I’ll see you after school. Three-thirty sharp. I don’t tolerate tardiness. For any reason.”
“Oh, okay. After school?” He clutched a satchel-type briefcase to his chest.
Odd choice of backpack, Tig thought, raising his brow again as he stifled a groan—this kid would be more work than he’d anticipated, but Tig wouldn’t let him down. If he could swim, of course.
“Yeah.” Tig waved around the room, then gestured toward the television set. “I have work to do.”
As the kid turned toward the door, Tig called to him. “Uh, kid?”
He turned around, eyes hidden behind those bangs once more. “Coach?”
“Paperwork?”
He tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Tig sighed, wondering what this student’s grades must look like and trying not to feel discouraged. Bad grades meant no extracurriculars, and this kid meant money, so he sounded each word out, clearly and slowly: “May I have your transfer paperwork, please?”
The kid’s eyes widened and he shook his head, reaching out to hand Tig the stack of documents in
his hand. “Sorry, Coach.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Artemis, sir. Artemis Langford.”
Tig stared for a long few seconds, unblinking. “What the hell am I supposed to do with Artemis Langford?”
Artemis tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Tig shook his head. He hadn’t meant to speak the question aloud. “Never mind, Artie. You can go now.”
Artemis nodded. “Yes, sir. See you after school.”
“Oh, and Artie? Stand up straight. The boys on my team don’t cower.”
Artemis’ eyes widened briefly, then a small smirk drew up the corner of his lips.
Tig smiled as the kid actually did as he was told, straightening and squaring his shoulders. As he did so, Tig assessed his build, happily noting that Artie wasn’t the runt he’d pegged him for originally—he just had the posture of a frightened field mouse and needed some help with his wardrobe.
Stick with me, kid. Tig knew firsthand what a little confidence and swim team glory could do for a high schooler. Hell, he’d been a local god in his day.
Coach Tiggs returned to his task, pressing play on the DVD player’s remote and resuming the video feed from the team’s last swim practice.
After a too-quick five minutes in the car, Sage finally stepped onto the front steps of Lorimar High, stiletto heels clicking on the pavement.
I wore the wrong shoes.
I’m trying too hard.
She exhaled a deep breath, reminding herself that the torment of her youth hadn’t been dished out here, on these grounds, but rather in the confines of home, behind the façade of safety.
But, regardless of what she told herself, the sinking feeling remained tethered in her gut. Root of the problem or not, returning to Lorimar brought back all those feelings again, and she wondered for the hundredth time today if she’d made a horrific mistake.
Jimmy’s round face flitted through her mind, his grin wide and unwavering, his love pure and selfless. Aside from Brandon, he’d always been the one to keep her strong, keep her focused on the future—even after Brandon was long gone. Jimmy kept her strong now. Sage focused on that smiling face in her mind and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. She smiled, tapping her neck and the tiny, lucky, elephant pendant hanging from a delicate silver chain. The one Jimmy gave her when she graduated high school and left the system, all within days of her eighteenth birthday.
‘Elephants don’t care, Sagey, they’re bigger than God.’
The same necklace he asked about every time she’d visited him over the last nearly nine years. Every. Single. Time. She’d made the mistake of forgetting to wear it only once, an oversight that would never happen again.
She smiled at the memory of Jimmy’s meltdown over the missing pendant, and how long it had taken him to believe her that she’d just left it on her bathroom counter, convincing him that the trinket hadn’t been kidnapped, as he’d called it.
I’m doing this for you, big brother. Just for you.
Squaring her shoulders, Sage smoothed the front of her gray blouse, checking to see that the buttons weren’t bulging—the forever curse of a large chest—then ran her fingers over her burgundy pencil skirt and took one hesitant step forward. Before she could hesitate, before she could change her mind, she followed that step with another. And then another.
School would begin in just over an hour, and the campus would soon swarm with disgruntled students, pissed off about the first day back after winter break, pissed off about Monday. She hoped to be settled into her new office by then.
Sage walked up the five stairs and through the double doors, into the main entrance, then straight to the front office, which was directly to the left. A stout woman with graying hair and red-rimmed glasses manned the front desk.
“Mrs. Hall?” Sage smiled, warmth filling her, the presence of an old friend slowly dispelling her nervousness.
The woman looked up, a familiar grin pulling her round cheeks upward. She stood, her smile widening further. “Why are you still standing way over there?” She waddled around the desk, wrapping Sage in an embrace so fierce it mirrored Jimmy’s famous hugs.
Mrs. Hall slid her hands to Sage’s shoulders, then held her at arm’s length, looking up at her through thick lenses. Playing coy, she tilted her head. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Sage grinned, straightening. “Well, I’m your new school nurse. But you already know this.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “And if I’d told you back then that I knew that someday, Sage Shepard, the one who spent more time sitting in that chair over there”—she pointed to a worn, brown fabric chair in the corner of the waiting area—“than attending actual classes at Lorimar High would be our school nurse? Bah, you would have argued.”
“You’ve mentioned that.” Sage tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, but she couldn’t keep from laughing. “I never argued with you, per se.”
Mrs. Hall snorted. “I’m proud of you, Sage. For all you’ve done for yourself, and for Jimmy. Remember when you didn’t even want to bother with graduating?”
Sage nodded, feeling the telltale tickle of tears forming behind her eyes. Pride. It’s what she felt, and what she saw in Mrs. Hall’s eyes. Pride. It wasn’t something she’d seen in many people besides Jimmy.
Mrs. Hall hugged Sage one more time, briefly, then shook her head as she returned to her desk. “What a mistake that would have been,” she mumbled as she pulled a file of paperwork from a drawer beside her, then glanced up at Sage once more. “All grown up.”
“You always seem so surprised.” Sage smiled again, shaking her head. Even as a troubled teen, Sage had loved Mrs. Hall. She was the type of woman who never judged—an adult who didn’t size a kid up, then instantly lose all faith in them.
Mrs. Hall’s gaze met Sage’s eyes. “Not surprised in the slightest. Pleased. I’m pleased to see you became the woman I knew you could become.”
That tickle behind her eyes kicked up again, and Sage smoothed her pencil skirt, trying to find the words that would even remotely express the swelling in her chest. “I’m pleased that you’re pleased, Mrs. Hall.”
“Ellie, Sage. For the last time, call me Ellie.”
“You know I can’t. It just doesn’t feel right. Especially now, back here—”
“Hey, Ellie, you know that new kid we got today, that transfer from….” His words trailed off, but Sage had heard more than enough.
That voice.
Every muscle in Sage’s body tensed at the sound. Her eyes fluttered closed as the honeyed tone caressed her ears, then widened as so many feelings, so many memories assaulted her mind. If possible, Sage would have sworn her palms instantly flooded with sweat. She sucked in a breath at the heart-stopping, no, heart-racing realization of who stood behind her, then leaned forward, palms resting on the desk—the only thing keeping her upright. The sharp scent of chlorine tickled her senses, and every cell in her body buzzed with the confused excitement that now surged within her.
He cleared his throat.
Her knees weakened further.
“Tig. My name is Tig.”
She narrowed her eyes, raising one bedazzled eyebrow. “No, that’s what your friends call you. Jocks like you always have a nickname. What’s your real name?”
He smirked, his lip curling up just a bit in one corner, and she found herself unable to look away.
“Brandon. Brandon Scott Tiggs.”
“Does anyone call you Brand?”
He tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Nope.”
“Perfect. Hey, Brand, I’m Sage.”
“Hmmm,” he said, considering. “I like that. It’s really nice to meet you.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh yeah? How do you know? You don’t even know me.”
He smiled, a beautiful, raw grin that caused her heart to race.
“I just have a feeling,” he whispered.<
br />
Sage sucked in another shaky breath, pushing the memory aside. She righted herself, rubbing her palms against her skirt while staring wide-eyed at Mrs. Hall.
Help.
The woman smiled, actually smiled. She’d known this would happen.
Shaking the stupor from her mind, Sage slowly turned around, eyes still wide, as her heart simultaneously froze and melted within her chest—as if that were even possible. Her stomach dropped to her feet, past her feet, right into the solid earth below her patent leather heels. Any trepidation pushed aside by Mrs. Hall’s warm welcome rushed right back to the forefront of her mind.
Mouth still open on his unfinished sentence, indicating less time had passed since Sage had been struck dumb than she’d thought, the man’s eyes widened when Sage finally faced him.
Brandon Tiggs stood before her, just as breathtakingly gorgeous as she remembered.
Golden boy. Star student. Swim champion.
First love.
Their gazes locked for too long; Sage couldn’t breathe. She tried to avert her eyes, tried to focus on something else—the way his wavy, dirty-blond hair laid back, as though he’d finally rubbed his hands through it enough times that it just knew to lie back now—but her gaze kept returning to his eyes—soft, muted green…like eucalyptus…like sage—his lips, full and straight like she remembered, oh God, did she remember—then back to those damn beautiful eyes again, as if her gaze was pulled by some force she couldn’t fight.
Didn’t want to fight.
She’d get lost in those eyes all over again if she allowed herself the chance.
“Sage?”
She nodded, trying to swallow the giant lump that clung to her throat.
“Ah,” Mrs. Hall sounded pleased. “So you two remember one another. Good, good. Miss Shepard, here, is our new school nurse, Brandon.”
Brand smiled, and Sage smiled back, surprised by the movement of her own lips. She wanted to shake herself, but still couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Luckily, because had she any feeling in her legs, she may have run right the hell out of the room like a total freakshow. Good Lord he looked amazing. Time had only made him more beautiful, manlier. He was all man now. Her mouth watered, actually watered as she stared at him.
Chlorine and Chaos Page 1