“Turk! Come on!” Madelyn shouted, her cascade of brown hair blowing in the wind. She reminded me so much of Elle.
I blew my beautiful daughter a kiss. “Happy Birthday,” I yelled as Turk hopped in the front seat and buckled.
Bodhi tucked me beneath his arm and kissed my head.
“Don’t cry, Slick.”
“I’m not going to.” I elbowed him in the side as tears filled my eyes. When he lifted my chin with his index finger, a tear spilled over and he chuckled. “I’m going to miss her so much!” I cried.
“Baby, she’s 16. She has two more years with us.”
I shoved myself back far enough to see his eyes. The love that radiated in them from day one…still there…bigger, stronger.
“Bodhi…” I said so softly.
“Hmmm?”
“I know she’s 16…but if you think about it…when I was 17, I met the love of my life and he banged the shit out of me.”
His full lips curled up. “Banged? Did he now?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched in a number. “Turk. Tell your sister to come back home, now!”
This time, I chuckled.
Still holding the phone to his ear, Bodhi released me, took off his hat and threw it on the ground in a fit of rage. I took a measured step toward him. He was not happy. Watching my 44- year- old husband act this way was not cool.
“Turk. Tell Madelyn she is not to go over by Easton’s! I want you back home. Now. Your mother still has cake and your grandparents are here.” Bodhi’s voice held a warning.
I bit down on my lip, fighting the smile that was about to break free. His tantrum continued as he kicked his ball cap and hung up the phone. His angry eyes rested on me.
“What was that about?” my dad asked as he walked toward us. I had kept my distance from him during the first few years of our marriage. But after Madelyn was born, Hannah…mom, pressured me more to allow him back in. When Turk was born, I did. Forgiving him completely.
I hugged him and flicked my head toward Bodhi.
“Madelyn is seeing an 18-year-old senior and Bodhi doesn’t like it,” I said, smirking.
A slow shit-eating grin beamed across my father’s face. “Reeeally?”
“I always had your daughter’s best interest at heart!” Bodhi argued.
“This senior is only two years older? As I recall…hmmm….you were four years older?” My father teased.
“That’s her fault!” Bodhi shouted and slid his cap back in place, dashing toward me. “Defend me. You know that’s true!”
My mother walked up behind my father. The older I got, the more I looked just like her. I had confronted Elizabeth about the way she treated me and her unwillingness to love me even a little; and well, I got nothing in return. A toast and an eye roll at best. My father eventually left her—and lost a lot of money on that deal. But I’d never seen him so happy. Though even still today, Mom refused to marry him.
Bodhi lifted me in a bear hug and rubbed his scruff on my ear. “As I recall, you jerked me off before I ever touched you. Shall I tell your father that?” he growled, then lightly bit my ear lobe.
“Seriously? Do you guys have to do that out here where all my friends can see?” Madelyn shouted as she parked in the drive. She was always embarrassed at the affection Bodhi showered over me. “And I’m going to see Easton, Dad. Please don’t do this.”
My life was better than it had ever been. Bodhi still had no relationship with his family regardless of my failed attempts at trying to make that happen.
If I could stop time, I would. If there was one constant, it was that Bodhi’s eyes never left me for long. Even now, when I hugged Madelyn and then Turk, Bodhi’s focus remained on me. The things his eyes screamed at me…the things I learned from his smile alone. Both of those…his eyes, his smile…spoke directly to my heart. Without saying a word, I knew he’d forever be there. That summer 22 years ago…was the greatest of my life. Bodhi was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I knew that I was the game changer in his life as well.
“Hey, Mom?” Madelyn shouted.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Where’s Elle? She’s never missed my birthday before.”
Bodhi’s eyes flickered to mine and he bit his lip, hiding the smile.
“Well, that’s a story for another time,” I said out loud, leaning close to her ear. “I’ll tell you later,” I whispered.
“Uh oh,” she said softly.
I nodded. “Yep, uh oh!”
Drying off after my bath, Bodhi snuck up behind me and wrapped me in his arms.
“Do you remember the first time I kissed you?”
I pursed my lips at him. “That’s a dumb question.”
He smacked my bare ass. “Answer the dumb question.”
“Of course I remember.” Butterflies broke free in my chest and flew straight to my groin.
“That’s the day I knew you were mine.”
“We’ve talked about this before, Bodhi. I still hadn’t made up my mind between you and Ty when you kissed me,” I teased.
Unexpectedly, he smacked my other ass cheek. The sting lingered, but I grinned.
“You’re lying, Slick. You knew the moment you stepped out of that car and saw me on the porch devouring you with my eyes.”
I shook my head as he yanked the towel away from me.
“Not true. I was part Ty’s at the point and part yours.”
Within a second his eyes turned black and he flipped me over his shoulder with my ass sticking straight up in the air.
“Bodhi! Stop!” I giggled.
“I don’t know why we have to go through this, Slick,” he confessed as he dropped me on the bed and then buried his face between my legs.
Dumbest question ever… Mentioning Ty drove him crazy and always ended with his hands—and his mouth—all over me. And when he knew I was close, he stopped and plowed into me…as if it were punishment for not agreeing with him…as if….
“You’re mine,” he’d whisper and then…I’d always agree.
Acknowledgements
First of all, thank you to my readers and followers who support me! This is a hard business with thousands of authors out there and so many that are better than me. But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me a chance.
There is no order here!! Madison, Clista and Megan… my longest believers/fans/followers/loves freaking love beyond words. Ketty—Thank you for the pic and the reading feedback. Priceless. Lisa and Tera…my far away girls…thank you. Anchors. I don’t know what else to say. No words. Amber W.—always always always there morning, noon or night with a pic or teaser or whatever I ask. Sam—you are a gem. Sandra—You make me smile sweet lady. Always therewith a kind word! MK or Coach…which is it?? Julie—Ducks rule…I’m just sayin’ Someday a drink in Oregon. Kelly A—Thank you and I love that we can share books and favorite authors!! Janet and Elaine—Your support is undying. Makes my heart swell. ‘Ville rules. Michelle—your blog and twitter posts are amazing! Jazzy J—your videos always rock my world! Heather N—Oh sweet girl, thank you for the smiles and support. Amber B—girl…all I’ve got is…clown! (wink) Lacy—your blog and your posts and your profile pics…you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Riza—RMG…Laura OMG…not sure if you will ever love anyone like you love Zach…but I’m trying! Brittany A—I know you loved Kieran, but give Bodhi a try! Lorelei…thank you for your support. Renee E—always any time I ask, you’re there…thank you! Rachelle…thank you!
Some authors that have supported me…I can’t tell you what it means to email an author who you admire and love and support and adore their work… AND THEY RESPOND!! No matter what I’ve needed, I’ve emailed and they get back with me immediately! Their kindness to this indie author blows me away…in no order…thank you to Tijan, Anne Mercier, Jay Mclean, Colleen Hoover, Ella Fox, Ilsa Madden-Mills, Angela Graham, Elle Brooks, Rochelle Paige, Rachel Grey…thank you girls.
Mom…I think I got it d
own to only 79 f-words! SCORE! Dad, thank you for not reading them but for your support regardless… Kevin, Ben and Zach—thank you for giving me the freedom to do what I love and use our lives and stories to do it!
Go Cubs! Go Jayhawks! Go Ducks!
K, B and Z….1
Please keep reading!! There are two authors who have honored me with their first chapters of their books! Tijan and Anne Mercier! Thank you girls very much!! My cup runneth over with your kindness… Tijan—you are up first…flip the page to read the first chapter of Sustain and following that will be Ms. Anne’s Falling Down (Book 1 from her Rockstar Series)
SUSTAIN
By Tijan
Copyright 2015
CHAPTER ONE
They came in when we were sleeping. They were silent until our bedroom door was kicked open, and a loud male voice shouted, “Police! Police! We have a search warrant!” They flooded into the room. It felt like a stampede was entering, as the floorboards jostled and the bed shook. I sat up, dazed, but Elijah was already up. He kicked off the bed sheets, grabbed his jeans, and ran to the window. “Freeze! Stop right there and let me see your hands. Freeze!”
A strong hand grabbed my arm, and I was yanked upright. I soared through the air and hit against the far wall. It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Thud.
I can’t believe this is happening, I thought while in the air, right before I crashed into the wall with that thud. Elijah and I had been at a rave three hours earlier. The night had been filled with techno music, neon lights, and sweat that came from too much dancing, too much sex, and too much fun. And now this—I wanted to curse. I wasn’t dumb. What was happening before my eyes brought back all my brother’s warnings.
“He sells drugs, Bri.”
Braden had been so sure. I had been sure he was wrong. I had laughed at him and walked away, shaking my head, but a part of me had wondered. The money I found in boxes and bags that were stuffed everywhere. The chest he kept a lock on and refused to tell me what was inside. The nightly visits from people who were never allowed inside the house. After the first few fights, I stopped asking, because the truth was, I didn’t want to know.
Living in Grant West allowed me to live in that denial. Our town wasn’t a large city, but we had a large university and two technical colleges. The population swarmed tenfold during the school months, and because of all the newbies in town, the locals formed a tight unit. Sometimes they mixed with us. That was inevitable, especially at bars and sporting events. We tried not to associate with outsiders, but I knew one person that did. Elijah. All those college parties he dragged me to, only to disappear as soon as we walked through the door—those college students were his customers.
I groaned.
Idiot!
I was pulled from my thoughts when the cop pushed me face-first into the wall. He kicked my legs open, wrenched my arms behind my back, and slapped handcuffs onto my wrists. I winced as the cold metal cut into my skin, but ignored the pain and twisted my head to the window to see Elijah on the window frame, poised to jump.
The cop closest to Elijah yelled, “Elijah Turner, get on the floor!” Elijah stopped and spun around to face the room. His crystal green eyes jerked to mine, and his shoulders heaved up and down. The scratch marks I had left a few hours ago stretched with each breath he took.
So much passed between us in that look.
He had lied to me, but I had let him.
Everything was tuned out. The police were still yelling for him to stand down. Their guns remained aimed right at him, but he was looking at me.
He had lied to me. We were over, repeated in my mind over and over again.
Then I saw a shift in him. An apology flashed in his gaze, and I knew he was going to jump. I twisted in his direction. “No!”
The officer slammed me back into the wall. “Stay.” His knee pressed into the back of my thigh, holding me in place, and he pushed down on my handcuffs, making them bite into my wrists, but I didn’t feel it.
Please don’t, Elijah, I silently pleaded with him.
He read my unspoken message and took a deep breath in resignation. He was going to surrender. Relief flared through me. I was pissed at him, but jumping would have made things worse. I still cared about him.
The police sensed the shift in him and moved in. They dragged him from the window, pushed him to his knees, and handcuffed him. Once he was in custody, they took him first, leading him out the door. I was next. A female officer took my arm and led me out of the bedroom, into another room. As they did, I could hear drawers, boxes, and books being dumped onto the floor from Elijah’s room.
The officer searched me. My clothes were brought in, and she searched them, too. She went through the pockets of my jeans, checked my shirt and my bra before tossing it to the guy in charge of me. My flip-flops were next. The bottoms were inspected. They were looking for a secret compartment in anything. When nothing was found, she returned my clothes, and I was allowed to re-dress.
When I was taken out, I saw police officers searching all over—other rooms, the bathrooms, and the living room. Even the stair rails. Someone tossed my bag to the female holding my arm. It was unzipped, and the front pockets were pulled out; they had searched it. Another cop came over to us with my wallet. I watched her rifle through everything before she pushed it into the main compartment of my bag and zipped it back up. She said to the cop, “That’s hers. She might need it.” She met my gaze then. “We took your phone. It might have evidence on it.”
I hissed as I was yanked forward again. That was my phone, dammit.
Looking around for Elijah, I saw him in the second cruiser parked outside. When he turned to me, I pulled my gaze away. This was his fault. I had heard the rumors, but I had trusted him. I turned my back on a lot of people because I chose to believe my boyfriend. Elijah had never lied to me before, but this was one big-ass lie.
The cop led me to a different cruiser, and I was pushed into the backseat. Her hand covered my head until I cleared the door. Once inside, she popped into the front seat and turned up the heat. It was then that I realized how cold it was. The clock on her dashboard said it was 4:17 a.m., cold for the little clothing I was wearing. She didn’t say anything before she left again, shutting her door, and I was alone.
I was numb.
I was shocked.
I was livid.
I kept playing out the image of the cops bursting through the door. Elijah. This was his fault. No, it was mine. I should’ve listened to my brother. No. I was going back to my boyfriend. This was all his fault. Well. Check that. Ex-boyfriend now.
Hell. I was tired, too—tired and wired at the same time. My chest was moving up and down at a rapid pace. My skin was crawling, but I wanted to curl under a blanket at the same time. I understood why criminals looked crazy on those cop shows, if this was what they were feeling.
Then the cop came back and got inside. “Your name is Brielle Masterson?”
She was cold and brisk. Well, whatever. I watched those shows, too. I knew to keep my mouth shut. Plus, even though I was pissed at Elijah, I wasn’t exactly being flooded with warm feelings for these officers. It was dumb and immature, but I kept my mouth closed. That was my middle finger to her.
She turned around to face me and held up a file. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t tell us. We know who you are.”
How?
She arched an eyebrow. “We have your phone, Brielle.”
Oh. Well. Color me foolish, except—gritting my teeth—I still didn’t care.
The officer added, “Do you have any idea why we’re arresting you and Mr. Turner?”
I said nothing. I could be stubborn. My brother would testify to that. I wasn’t guilty of anything, so I wasn’t worried, or I didn’t think I should be worried. The cop kept talking, but I tuned her out and caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. I was surprised at the hard mask looking back at me. My face looked etched in stone, but there was anger boil
ing under the surface. Damn straight. Thanks a lot, Elijah. Wrinkling my nose, my dark hair was a mess. I hadn’t showered since the day before, so it was greasy. I reached up to smooth my hair out, at least to look a little presentable, but it was pointless. My hair had a mind of its own.
The cop was watching me with narrowed eyes. When I saw that, I turned away, and my chin rose in defiance. She sighed. I caught movement from the corner of my eye as she put the file down on the passenger seat. “Look,” she started, “I don’t know your full story. You have a juvie record, I see. Some fights when you were younger. It says you took on a group of girls. Another time you assaulted your boss at Dairy Queen.”
I snorted. The pervert thought breasts were on the menu…my breasts.
She kept going, “You are going to be processed, and you’ll be booked. You don’t have any drug-related charges. I’d hate for this to be your first one. If you cooperate, you can make it all go away.”
My gaze jerked to hers.
“Tell us what you know about Elijah’s drug circuit.” She smiled at me, though her eyes remained flat. Her tone sounded so friendly. I rolled my eyes. I grew up being poor. My mom worked the night shift, so it was Braden and myself. Our dad left when we were six, and we had to learn to fend for ourselves. We fed ourselves. We dressed ourselves. We figured out what things we needed for school. Mom tried, but she was usually a zombie. I wasn’t an idiot, and this cop wasn’t going to fool me otherwise.
She was saying, “…the more you help us, the more we can help you.”
I slumped down in the seat and took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to happen. I was now in a waiting game. Glancing out the window, I wondered how long this would take. Braden’s band played at Rowdy’s last night, so that meant they might still be there. Even if it was another hour from now, they could still be in the basement. It was where they practiced, but it was where they partied, too. I’d try Rowdy’s number when I was released. Because, you know, they’d have to release me if I wasn’t guilty.
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