Promise Me: A Novella (Rivers Edge Book 3.5)
Page 12
“If it means we get to have makeup sex, you can pick a fight with me every day and I’ll even let you win a few,” I sass back. “Promise me something, Jase,” I add after several moments of taking in the scene around us.
He doesn’t even say anything, just turns me to face him. The look in his eyes confirms that he would do anything I asked of him right now - in a heartbeat.
“Promise me that you’ll keep writing beautiful music,” I tell him.
“Oh, that’s a given. You and me? We’ll be making music together for the rest of our lives. I guarantee it,” he says with another kiss.
Who would have known I would walk into a Meet and Greet and meet my future husband? Who would have thought I’d be featured in newspapers and magazines from all over the country? Who would have guessed I would have everything I could have ever wanted in this exact moment? Not me.
But, that’s the crazy thing about life. It never goes according to plan.
Life is like music. It has its highs and lows, its fast paces and slow melodies. And like music, life is dramatic, agonizingly beautiful, and yet so full of love. It’s full of hope.
I don’t know about you, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life making beautiful music.
That I promise.
~ THE END ~
Want more Rivers Edge?
Check out the excerpt from Nate’s story!
Protect Me
Rivers Edge Book 4
Coming July 2015!
Prologue
Lia
9 months ago
Beeping. Somewhere very distant, I hear the constant, dull sound of beeping.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The rhythm is enough to try to lull me back into unconsciousness.
I struggle to open my eyes. They feel gritty and heavy like little weights are pulling down each of my eyelids. My entire body is…sore. Painfully sore. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. A very large truck. My limbs are heavy. My abdomen is tight. My head is foggy.
What the hell happened?
And then it all comes back to me.
I reach down and touch my ribs covered with a tight stretchy bandage underneath my hospital issued gown. That slightest touch is enough to send fire through my gut and pain shooting through my entire body. I turn my head to the side, fighting the urge to throw up. I know from experience that if I just breathe deeply, in and out, and focus on the breathing with my eyes closed, the nausea will pass. Eventually.
After a few minutes, the first wave on nausea finally subsides. I crack open my tired, heavy eyelids and take in my surroundings for the first time.
Another hospital room.
My eyes quickly go to the chair in the corner which is surprisingly empty. As I scan the small, private room, lit only by a dull florescent light on the wall above the bed, I realize I am alone. My eyes quickly avert to the doorway, to the door that is closed all but a couple of inches. I wonder how long before someone comes in to check on me?
The clock on the wall next to the dry erase board with the name Emily, RN on it reads ten-fifteen. Ten-fifteen. The fundraiser ends at eleven. I am alone but only for a short time, and I know what I have to do.
With super-human strength I summon up from deep within, I swing my legs over the edge of the sterile hospital bed with the rough, bleached white sheets. I fight the returning wave of nausea as I sit on the edge of the bed. Close your eyes. Breathe deep, Lia. In and Out.
It doesn’t take but a few moments and the queasiness slowly subsides. I gently grab a hold of the IV sticking out of my hand and give it a tug. It pulls free and draws just enough blood to turn my stomach again. I reach for the box of Kleenex sitting on the nightstand next to the bed and apply a little pressure to the open hole that once held my IV. Breathe in and out.
The hospital gown falls into place as I gingerly step down onto the cold linoleum floor. My ribs scream in protest by the sudden movement of my body, of the twisting and turning as I stand completely upright. Fight the nausea, Lia.
My eyelids are still heavy and groggy, and the desire to climb back into bed and succumb to a deep sleep is great. I’m tired. I’m in incredible pain from the bruised and probably cracked ribs. But my quest for freedom is greater. My need to get out of here and start a new life is within reach. For the first time in my adult life, I taste it. All I need to do is get out of this room.
I head over to the wardrobe closet and find my dress. The long, black sequined dress that I had been wearing when I had this little “accident”. Accident, my ass.
It takes everything I have to slip out of the large hospital gown and drop it on the floor. My stomach wants to retch. My ribs are screaming in agony. The fog in my head is threatening to take completely over. I fight to keep the tears at bay, but a few slip out.
I grab the gown out of the closet and slowly - very, very slowly - start the agonizing process of dressing myself. I bite my lip to keep from screaming as I slip the gown over my head and down my battered body. I contemplate calling a nurse in for assistance, but know that they will probably hinder my exit. No, no one can know that I’m leaving.
After what feels like hours, I finally have the dress back on; the elastic wrap around my abdomen still securely in place. The once beautiful dress is stiff around the high neckline, caked with dried blood. My own.
I try to reach for the black strappy three-inch designer heels that are sitting at the bottom of the wardrobe, but my ribs won’t have it. Screw it. I don’t need shoes. The clicking of the heels in the quiet, empty hallway would probably only draw attention anyway.
I long to slip into the bathroom and pee. Vomit. Pass out. Anything. Unfortunately, time is not on my side right now. Leave. Go. Hurry.
I take one last look around the small hospital room and snatch up my black clutch that is sitting on the bedside table. I know there isn’t anything in there worth value, but at least I feel like I have something of my own. Especially since I can’t go back home to retrieve any of my belongings.
I slowly crack open the door and peek out into the hallway. The hallway is fortunately empty though filled with the steady stream of beeping from other hospital rooms. At the end of the hallway is an occupied nurse’s station. The woman at the desk has her head down, vigorously writing in the chart she has laid out on the counter.
I take my first steps out into the hallway, away from the woman at the nurse’s station, and head towards my exit. Fight through the pain. Fight it. I keep my back hugged against the white wall. My shaking legs carry me further and further away. I fight the tears welling up in my dry eyes as my smarted ribs protest each and every step I take.
Finally. I reach the end of the hallway. I glance to the left and then to the right, looking - searching - for my exit. And then I finally see it. Stairs.
I hold my breath as I reach for the metal bar across the door. It’s not a fire exit so there shouldn’t be an alarm. Just the thought of being this close to freedom and having it ripped away from me with some attention-grabbing alarm is terrifying.
I give the bar a gently push. It releases with a loud, echoing bang, but I try not to think about it. I need to get out of here. I step into the stairwell and slowly start my descent. My ribs continue to protest with each agonizing step, but I can’t think about that right now either.
Once I descend three floors of stairs, I finally find myself on the ground floor. I contemplate momentarily heading down another floor to the basement, but without knowing the layout of the hospital, I realize that it could slow my exit down considerably.
I glance out the little window on the door but don’t see anyone I know. Thank you, God. I slowly open the door, look left and right, and walk out of the stairwell and into the main hallway of the ground floor of the hospital.
The emergency room is to the left. I know because that’s where they brought me this evening after my little “accident”. The room where I pretended to sleep so that I didn’t have to answer any more questions or look into the gray ey
es that have haunted me for years.
Beyond the emergency room is a large set of sliding glass doors. Daytona traffic buzzes by on the busy street out in front of the hospital. That traffic represents my freedom.
I slowly start to make my way towards those sliding doors. I try to walk as normal as possible even though my steps falter from the pain and lack of shoes and my breathing is labored with exertion. Twenty yards.
As I reach the front counter, I see an older woman typing vigorously on the computer in front of her. She glances up as I approach her workstation. Ten yards.
I avoid eye contact as I do everything I can to steer clear of recognition. I know that I must look like hell with my up-do no longer “up”, my makeup all but gone, replaced by swollen and bruised skin. Bare feet. The dried blood doesn’t help either. Five yards.
The sliding door begins to open as the woman finally speaks. “Miss, can I help you?” she asks with concern evident in her voice.
“No thank you. I was just leaving,” I reply, giving her the warmest and friendliest smile I can muster considering the situation, and continue to walk.
The woman stands up and looks around. I notice the security guard at the same time she does. He’s on the opposite end of the waiting room near the emergency department. I pick up the pace a little and start to walk through the opened doors.
“Miss, wait! You can’t just leave. Miss!” I hear her exclaim as the warm night air slaps me across the face.
I don’t stop, and I don’t turn around. This is it. My chance to escape. My freedom. I have nowhere to go, no money to my name, and no plan whatsoever. But I don’t care.
As I step out onto the sidewalk, towards the filled parking lot that leads to the busy street, I can’t help the smile that crosses my swollen face.
I free.
I’m finally free.
Get more Nate & Lia in
Protect Me
Rivers Edge Book 4
July 2015
Acknowledgements
I’m going to attempt to make this one short and sweet, but I can already see that’s probably not going to happen. THANK YOU to everyone who took the chance on this Indie, unheard of author, and purchased this book! This has been an amazing ride and I still love what I’m doing every day!! To my fan club/street team, Lacey’s Ladies, I adore you all SO much…Thank you for the daily smiles and for keeping me stocked on Nick Bateman photos! My beta readers and friends, Amanda, Sandra, and Taryn, and my editor, Emily…Thank you doesn’t seem like enough, but THANK YOU! Ginny for my amazing covers and Brenda for your talent at formatting my books, thank you! Kelley for your help with the Blitz and Two Book Pushers for your amazing teaser pics! My family and close friends who found out recently about my “other” life! Thank you for your support, excitement, and love! To the real-life Holly…Best. Friend. Enough said. And to my husband and our little ones, you are everything! I love you!
All my love,
Lacey
About the Author
Lacey Black is a Midwestern girl with a passion for reading, writing, and shopping. She carries her e-reader with her everywhere she goes so she never misses an opportunity to read a few pages. Always looking for a happily ever after, Lacey is passionate about contemporary romance novels and enjoys it further when you mix in a little suspense. She resides in a small town in Illinois with her husband, two children, and a chocolate lab. Lacey loves watching NASCAR races, shooting guns, and should only consume one mixed drink because she’s a lightweight.<3
Lacey’s debut novel, Trust Me, was released in August 2014. It sent six weeks in the top 100 in contemporary romance on Amazon’s Top 100 Best Sellers for e-books. Fight Me, book 2 in the Rivers Edge series, released December 2014 and was another Amazon Best Seller in contemporary romance, as was Expect Me, book 3, which released in February 2015.
Email: laceyblackwrites@gmail.com
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