by Lauren Runow
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Other Books By Lauren Runow
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The High Road
Lauren Runow
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Other Books By Lauren Runow
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The High Road Copyright 2017 by Lauren Runow
All rights reserved.
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means. Including electronic or photographic reproduction in whole or in part, without the written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Names, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended. No claims have been made over songs and/or lyrics written. All credit goes to original owners.
Cover Images © Deposit Photos
Cover Design © Designed With Grace
Created with Vellum
Dedicated to my Secret Affair Girls
1
“Excuse me, are you Jenelle?”
A girl stands before me with a look of death written all over her face, making me wish Jenelle wasn't my name. I get the feeling whatever she wants with me, I’m not going to like. I smile—the same, sweet, fake smile I have plastered on my face all day long. The one that hides my true feelings of how unhappy I am with the direction my life is going.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“No, you don’t know me. I wanted to let you know I’m pregnant with your boyfriend’s baby,” she states matter-of-factly, like I’m at a coffee shop and my drink was being called instead of dropping life-altering news.
My smile fades like the jeans this chick is wearing. I turn more toward her, shaking my head in disbelief. “Excuse me? I think you have the wrong person.”
“Oh, no. You’re the right person. Believe me, I’ve seen your picture all over his apartment every time we fucked.”
Bile fills my throat, and the sting of swallowing it down almost hurts more than the pain that’s filling my chest. I sit silently, not sure what to say. I’ve never seen this girl, and I still have no clue what’s actually going on.
My friend, Layla, witnesses my sudden paleness and grabs my arm. “Jenelle, are you okay?”
She’s missed the interaction I’ve had in the last few seconds. Her attention was on the hot bartender who was making our drinks instead.
The girl in front of me offers her hand to Layla in greeting. “Hi, I’m sorry, you missed all the fun. I’m Sarah, and I’m pregnant with Travis’s baby.”
A freezing cold feeling of liquid splashing up from the ground brings me out of my shock. I look at Layla who’s leaning down to pick up the drink that fell from her hands.
I’m glad to see I'm not the only one losing my shit by what this girl is saying.
“Wait, I’m sorry, let me get this straight. You know my Travis?” I ask, leaning in and placing my hand on my chest.
Her head falls back, and a deep laugh escapes her lips. “Well, I guess you could say he’s our Travis. I’ve been fucking him for four months now. He said he was bored with your lazy lays and needed a little excitement. He wouldn’t break it off with you because it looks good for his advancement coming up.”
Travis and I are both Officers in the Air Force. I’m already a Captain, and he’s testing any day to be one, too. The higher in rank you go, the more they pay attention to the examples you lead in your life. I guess it looks good we’re together but what she’s saying doesn’t make much sense.
“What does us being together have to do with his upcoming test?”
“Oh, I guess I left out that part. I’m Airman First Class Anderson,” she states with a sarcastic nod of her head. “I guess he could hide our relationship better because everyone knew he was with you.”
My eyes go big. Is she serious right now?
She’s not only telling me she’s in the Air Force, but she’s newly enlisted, which is an extreme no-no for fraternizing within the military.
I’ve heard of mean girls and even trashy sluts who get their kicks out of making other women’s lives hell, but I’m not getting that kind of vibe from this girl. She obviously didn’t care they were having an affair behind my back. Things aren’t adding up.
“So, if you’ve been having sex with him for so long, why are you telling me now?”
“I just wanted you to know what a scum bag he really is. When I told him I was pregnant he denied everything, saying it wasn’t his kid, and he’d have nothing to do with me. So, I’m taking him down.” She leans in, making sure I hear her clearly over the rising noise around us. “Everyone will find out he’s been seeing me, and I'm going to make it my personal mission to fuck up his life.”
My life, as I know it, just changed in the drop of a dime, or in my case, a girl named Sarah.
Butterflies swarm in my stomach and the burn of potential vomit presses its way up to my mouth where saliva fills to the brim. I swallow it down, trying to let air into my closed chest, when Layla grabs my arm, noticing my oncoming panic attack. Thankfully, she pulls me out of the bar before I make a scene.
I hate men.
2
Rolling out of bed, my head hurts almost as much as my heart. After Layla dropped me off last night, I cried into my pillow until I passed out. Now my eyes are swollen and my body aches from my head all the way to my toes.
When I glance in the mirror, my reflection does nothing to soothe my wounded heart.
I joined the military to see the world—little did I know I’d be meeting the world’s biggest assholes along the way. Now I’m twenty-eight years old and the only one out of my high school friends who isn’t married and having kids.
I’ve had a few serious relationships, all ending horribly, and one actually stealing money from me. It’s like I have “walk all over me” tattooed across my forehead that only the real douchebags can see.
Travis just left on deployment, and even though I could call him to get his side of the story, I know I don’t need to. I’ve had multiple people tell me they thought he was cheating on me, but I didn’t want to believe them. I liked living with blinders on; as long as he gave me the illusion our relationship was a good one. That was all I needed to keep my dream alive that he was the one.
The one. Ha! What does that even mean?
In my life, it correlates to the one who cheated, the one who drank too much, the one who was a slob, the one who had terrible breath, and now, the one who got the other girl pregnant when he told me over and over again he never wanted kids.
I want kids, and I was willing to give up my dream for that piece of shit.
No more.
I’m done being a doormat to any guy who pays me attention.
Frustration rises to the top with a new Jenelle peeking her head through, ready to be a new person.
Laced with my new fuck-it attitude, I pick up my phone to call Layla, determined to change my life and for once, live for me, not the person I think everyone wa
nts me to be.
Layla’s been my friend since I transferred to Travis Air Force Base four years ago. Yes, I dated Travis who is stationed at Travis Air Force Base. He thought that was pretty cool. I should have known he’d be a total douche then.
She’s not in the military but was born and raised in the area so I need her to take me somewhere different, somewhere away from this military town. I’m done dating anyone in the military and just want to have fun in the civilian world for once.
After making plans for later tonight, I rid my apartment of anything Travis related, throwing it in the trash before heading to work, ready for a new day and a new me, without men.
“Damn girl, look at that hair,” Layla says after I open the door to my apartment.
At work, dress code says my hair must be tucked back in a low, tight bun and more often than not I leave it that way. Not tonight though.
When I got home, I pulled it loose and could style it since it was still wet from my morning shower. Now my long, light-brown hair is flowing down my back in soft curls.
“Thank you, it still feels weird having it down like this,” I state, running it through my fingers.
In an atmosphere full of men at work, it feels good to get away and be who I want to be, not who I’m supposed to be.
Layla and I head to Sacramento to a downtown dance club. All I want is to let loose tonight and dance with my girl.
Music bounces through my chest as we walk into the club, filling my veins with sounds of freedom. We came to Sacramento so I wouldn’t know anyone, and I could have a good time without a care in the world.
As an Officer, I have to hold a certain level of professionalism, and sometimes, it’s all too much. I just want to be a normal female, and my getaway is dancing.
There’s nothing better than being on that dance floor, letting the music guide me. That’s where I’m the woman I want to be. I can close my eyes, letting the rhythm dictate how I move, how I feel, even how I breathe. It’s a freedom I only feel here and crave more than men, coffee, or even chocolate.
After a few songs, we head to the bar to gather our drinks and catch our breath.
A guy from the corner of the room catches my eye, but I quickly look away, reiterating in my head I’m not here to meet anyone. Unfortunately, I didn’t look away fast enough, and he’s heading this way.
Ugh! Why can’t a girl just hang out without feeling like she’s being hunted all the time?
“Hey there,” I hear over my shoulder.
I don’t look his way; instead, I throw my hand over my shoulder in response telling him to go away. “Not interested. Keep moving along.”
“I’m sorry, who are you talking to?” he says in response.
I turn to him, and I’ll admit, he’s a good-looking guy, but I’m not interested. “You. I’m here with my girl, not looking to hook up with anyone tonight.”
“Well, good to know, but I was talking to the bartender standing behind you who’s a good friend of mine.”
Embarrassment spreads throughout my entire body. I know my face is flushed so I turn back around, only to see a female bartender waiting to talk to her friend behind me.
Well, shit.
“I’m going to the restroom,” I tell Layla before I make even more of an ass out of myself.
After checking my hair and washing my hands, I head back to the bar only to notice Layla talking with the guy I tried to get away from. I question even going over there but when he looks my direction, we catch eyes and a slight smirk crosses his face.
Great, my night of embarrassing moments continues.
I take a deep breath, trying to pretend nothing happened, and walk up to Layla, hoping the guy leaves upon my arrival.
No such luck.
“Jenelle, meet Alex,” Layla says, handing me my drink from the bar.
“Hi, Alex,” I say with my signature fake smile.
He backs up, holding his hands up like he’s waving surrender. “I know, I know, I won’t try to hit on you.”
I drop my head in embarrassment, not sure how to respond.
“Hey—” he puts his hand on my arm, making me look up at him “—I’m just kidding. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I get it. A pretty girl like you must get hit on left and right.”
Ugh, now I’m blushing. This guy is batting a thousand with me. I smile, a more genuine smile, in response.
“Now that’s a beautiful smile. Your other one seemed forced. I’m glad I got to see the real one. I’ll leave you two alone now.”
Before I can say anything, he turns and walks away, leaving me to look at Layla with confusion.
“Hey, you’re the one who said you didn’t want him around,” she teases, bringing her straw up to her mouth.
I turn to see him again; he’s talking to a group of guys but I have a perfect line of sight to him.
He’s definitely different than the guys I’m around all day. No Officer in the Air Force would be caught dead in a surfer-like tank top, yet it totally works on him the way his broad shoulders stick out from underneath.
His dark hair is short on the sides and unruly on the top in a sexy, spiky way, which is a stark contrast to the normal military buzz cut that isn’t required in the military yet most men keep it that way from their boot camp days.
My eyes take in his shoulders and arms that are lined with tattoos but not like a biker would have them. These look like intricate designs of art that wrap around his arms and tell a story.
Suddenly, I’m dying to know what his stories are.
He turns and catches me staring his way, winking at me before returning his attention to his friends.
Jeez! Now I’m totally making a fool of myself with this guy.
I down the rest of my drink, set the glass on the bar, and head back out to the dance floor—back to the real reason why I’m here. And it’s not to meet a man.
While dancing, I try to forget about the way his blue eyes seemed almost clear with dark circles lining them, or the way his jeans hugged him in just the right places as he walked away.
I find myself glancing his direction more times than I want to admit so I purposely turn my body away from him to rid the temptation.
Closing my eyes, I wrap my arms around my myself, hugging tightly as the music slows down, flowing like angels through my soul.
Surprise takes me out of my high when warm hands hold onto mine that are wrapped around me and hugging my hips. I know I should push whoever’s touching me away, but there’s something so comforting about it. When combined with the music reverberating in my ears a level of happiness overcomes me.
A warm breath tickles my neck when I hear the words, “I’m sorry, but the music looked like it was putting you in a trance, and I wanted to be where you were.”
I turn to see Alex watching me with a sexy smirk on his face. His arms stay secured on my waist, and I do nothing to move them, which he doesn’t miss, and he pulls me closer.
“Could I get you to change your mind? At least hang out with me tonight? I’m not looking for a hook-up, either. Just let me be where you are in that beautiful head of yours.”
I smile, not responding, and turn back around, staying wrapped in his arms and moving to the music in connection with him.
His hands stray from my hips, traveling up and down my thighs, to my stomach, my arms and back around my waist. He’s careful not to put them on me inappropriately, but makes a point to place them everywhere else.
And I let him.
Feeling his strong body against mine makes me feel like I’m wrapped in the warmest blanket on a stormy night.
There’s something about his touch that brings me to places I’ve never felt. All of my anxiety and fears wash away, giving me security in his comforting embrace. The way his fingers trace the curve of my back. His strong hands caress my sides with a meaningful touch.
It’s soft yet manly.
It’s caring yet demanding.
Most of all, it’s lifting m
e to a high I don’t want to come out of.
Music is the only thing that could make me feel this way. When you combine the vibrations with the way his hands feel on my skin, I’m brought to a heaven I didn’t even know existed.
The rest of the night is spent in his arms, not having a clue how much time has gone by.
The bar announces last call, and the time warp I’m in disappears. I quickly realize I’ve only had one drink the entire night. I’m not a lush or an alcoholic, but for me to only have one is a little surprising.
Normally, I have a glass in my hand pretty much the entire time, but more as a defense mechanism than anything else. It gives me something to hold onto, or something to do when my insecurities get the best of me.
My head clouds when thoughts of Alex and not needing that defense mechanism once sets in. But fear takes its place. I wasn’t here to meet a guy.
Instinctively, I retreat from his embrace but he holds me closer, whispering in my ear, “You can’t leave until I at least get your number.”
“Sorry, I told you. I don’t want to hook up with anyone.”
“Well, good, me neither. I’m actually going through a divorce, so believe me, the last thing I want is a relationship. I’ve just had a fun night and want to hang out again.”
“You’re what? How old are you? How long were you married?” I’m surprised to hear he’s going through a divorce; he doesn’t look that old.
“That’s not important. We're not going to date, remember? Just hang out sometime.”
I smile, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad to hang out with him again.
Before I change my mind, he hands me his phone. I enter my number then he kisses my forehead, saying, “Thanks, Jenelle. I’ll see you around.”
3
Waking up with a clear head and a nausea free stomach, due to the lack of alcohol, surprises me the next morning. If only my body didn’t feel like it’s taken a beating from the dancing.