The Fading Trilogy: Fading, Freeing, Falling: Includes 2 BONUS short stories: Hoping and Finding Forever

by E. K. Blair

  Ryan keeps breaking through my thoughts. I tell myself moving will lessen the pain I feel every time I think about him. I know once I get to New York that I will be busy learning the ropes at ABT and learning a lot of new choreography. I'm already jittery thinking about it.

  When Jase pulls the car around to the departures drive, I can feel the fear in the pit of my stomach. I tighten my hold on Jase's hand, and when I do, he looks over at me. "You're going to be fine. Everything is working out the way it should."

  I nod at him, unable to speak, and he smiles at me. He pulls up to the curb, and the three of us get out of the car. I turn around to hug Kimber and breakdown at the same time she does.

  "I love you," I choke out and I feel her nod her head in response. We hold tightly onto each other and when we finally loosen our hold, I turn to Jase and just fall into him and cry. His arms have been home for me. He's everything to me, and my heart breaks to think about not having him. He kisses the top of my head and says, "I'm so proud of you. I'm going to come visit you in a few weeks, okay?"

  I pull back and nod my head. As soon as I accepted my offer in New York, Jase booked a ticket to come visit me at the end of June. So, I only have a few weeks until I see him again.

  We all say our goodbyes and cry a little more before I grab my bags and wheel them to the luggage counter to check them. Once they are checked, I make my way through security and walk to my gate. My mind is consumed, and a part of me wants to hop in a cab and run back home. I start doubting myself, and I'm not sure I can do this alone. Maybe I should have taken the job in Seattle. If I did that, everything would be different.

  I sit down on one of the chairs facing out the window. My plane is already here, and I watch as the carts drive up next to it with everyone's luggage. My insides are twisting with anxiety. I think about how everything has changed in the past two months, ever since the morning the detective called. It took me a while to understand why Ryan did what he did. Dr. Christman helped me sort out all of my thoughts and I know, in Ryan's mind, he only did it because he didn't want to hurt me. I know he never meant to deceive me, and in my heart I have forgiven him.

  Going to New York has always been my dream, but now that it's actually happening, I'm suddenly questioning if it still is. Would I be this sad if it was? Shouldn't I be happy? I wonder if I should even be doing this. Maybe I'm just stuck on the dreams of my past. Dreams change; maybe mine has. I thought I had everything planned out, but this year took me in a completely different direction. Meeting Ryan and falling in love was the last thing I ever expected. The last thing I thought I ever deserved.

  I've been working so hard in therapy, but now I think this whole New York thing is just something I'm forcing, to try and prove to myself that I am strong enough to do it, to stop clinging and be independent. But what if what I am actually clinging to now is the dream? A dream that really isn't my dream anymore. Because when I close my eyes it's never there. It's Ryan. What if the choice that takes the most strength is not the choice to get on that plane, but the choice to know that I shouldn't get on that plane? I snap out of my thoughts when realization suddenly hits me. What am I doing?

  Grabbing my purse, I stand up and start pushing my way through the crowds in the terminal. I run by the security check and find the exit. I fly down the escalators and when I run out the sliding doors, I hail the first cab that I see. I hop in the back seat and give the driver the address.

  Pulling out my phone, I go through my call history and find the number I'm looking for. I tap it and after a few rings a woman answers, "PNB. How may I help you?"

  "Is Peter Kirchner available?"

  "May I ask who's calling?"

  "Candace Parker."

  "One moment please."

  Butterflies swarm in my stomach as I wait. I'm on hold, hoping that I still have a chance to sign with them.

  "Ms. Parker, this is Peter. How can I help you?"

  "Hi, Mr. Kirchner. I was actually wondering if it was too late to be considered for placement in your company."

  "What happened to the American Ballet Theatre?"

  "It wasn't the right choice for me."

  "Why don't you come in on Monday, and we can get all those papers signed? We would be honored to have you."

  "Thank you. Really. I will see you Monday."

  "See you then."

  When the cab stops, I hand over the money, get out, and start walking up the drive to the stairs that lead to his front door. I ring the bell and immediately start crying, feeling a total overload of emotions.

  When the door opens, my breath catches, and he takes one look at me and asks, "What are you doing here? I just got off the phone with Jase. He said he dropped you off at the airport."

  "I can't go. I'm so sorry. I can't do it."

  "What do you mean you can't do it?"

  "Because...I love you too much to leave. And I miss you. And I made a huge mistake by leaving you. I'm so sorry," I cry out.

  When he wraps me in his arms, I know this is where I belong. This is my dream.

  "Baby, you didn't make any mistakes."

  "I did. And I know I hurt you. But, I'm so sorry. I can't go because I can't leave you. I don't want to leave you."

  Pulling me inside, he closes the door, and he walks me over to the couch. When we sit down, he says, "I can't let you give up on your dream. I can't."

  "But, it's not my dream. I was just hanging on to it because I was scared to see that it really wasn't what I wanted. It's you. It's always been you."

  When he crushes his lips to mine, I wrap my hand around his neck and climb onto his lap, straddling his legs. Ryan bands his arms around me and holds on tight. He pulls away for a moment and tells me, "I've missed you so much, babe. You have no fucking idea."

  "I love you. I'm sorry I've been so stupid and wasted all this time when all I really wanted was to be here with you."

  "You have nothing to be sorry for. I fucked up. I hurt you, and you'll never know how much I regret it."

  "I don't blame you, Ryan. I did, but I don't anymore. I just want to be with you."

  He cradles my cheeks and wipes my tears with his thumbs. "I don't ever want to lose you again."

  "You won't. I'm yours."

  Our affectionate kisses are laced with passion, making up for lost time. Picking me up, I lock my ankles around his waist as he carries me upstairs. He lays me down on his bed and crawls on top of me. I've missed this bed, being wrapped up with him in these sheets, smelling his scent all around me, feeling his warmth.

  He reaches back, pulls his shirt off over his head, and tosses it aside. I look at the tattoo that's on his ribs and read the words again: pain is a reminder you're still alive. I sit up and brush my fingers across his scar and over the words. I tilt my head back to look up at him and he says, "I couldn't breathe without you."

  I reach up and run my hand along his jaw. "I need you."

  And with words unspoken, he presses me down with his weight wholly on top of me, and I soften into him. I let my arms float above me as he takes his time peeling off my shirt. He slides his hands from my neck, over my breasts, along my stomach, and when he gets to my pants, he unhooks them and pulls them off, along with my heels. When he removes his pants, he lies down next to me, and I wrap my leg around his hip as we are face to face.

  We move slowly as we reclaim each other after being apart for these past two months. Our hands explore, and I relax into the heat of his body. I feel the peace that had been missing since I left him return to my heart, and I'm whole under his touch.

  Ryan unhooks my bra and drops it to the floor with the rest of our clothing. He trails his lips over my sensitive flesh and licks my nipple with his hot tongue before covering it with his mouth, sucking gently. My head rolls back into the pillow as my body lifts and presses into his, needing more. When he reaches down and drags his hand between my legs, feeling what he does to me when we're together, I release a moan. His touches are intimate and exactly what I need r
ight now.

  Shifting between my legs and running his hands up my knees and down along my inner thighs, he looks down at me, "God, you're so beautiful." I reach up and bring him to me, melding my mouth with his. When I feel him enter me, he parts my lips with his tongue and licks slow and deep, freely exploring each other's mouths. My arms wrap around his neck as his hips roll over me, pushing himself deeper inside. Our breaths are labored, and our moans fill the room.

  He rolls us over, and I'm spread across his lap as he sits up to keep our bodies close. He wraps his hands around my shoulders as I slowly begin to roll my hips into him. We take our time with each other. I love that Ryan can be this way with me, open and vulnerable, never rushing. He's the only one who can make me feel so safe when I bare my entire self; he's the only one I want to.

  With one of his hands on my hip, guiding me, and the other on my cheek, I wrap mine behind his head and weave my fingers into his unruly hair as my body begins to climb.

  He doesn't even need to ask as we look into each other's eyes. I know he likes to watch me. My body begins to quiver beneath his hands as my hips rock into him, and I grip his hair in my fists. "Let go, baby." I drop my forehead to his as his blue eyes pierce mine, and I fall apart in his arms. A carnal moan escapes the both of us as he pushes himself deep inside of me and finds his release too, gripping his fingers tightly onto my body.

  I fuse my lips with his, never wanting to let go as he lays us down on our sides, bodies still connected, facing each other. I've missed this so much, and I don't even try to hold back my tears. I love this man from a place inside that I never knew existed. He's saved me in a way I never knew a person could be saved. He holds me close, and it's only when I sniff that he pulls back from our kiss. "Babe."

  Looking at him, I take my time before saying, "I never want to know what life is without you."

  He reaches down and pulls the sheets over us as we tangle our legs. "You won't ever have to."

  We continue to hold each other and kiss until we drift off together.

  I wake from our afternoon nap, and the mist from earlier is now coming down harder. I lay in Ryan's arms for a while as I watch the raindrops trickle down the windows. I never knew home until now. It's with him, in this house, in this bed. My mind and body are free of doubt. This is my dream. He is my amazing.

  Looking back over my shoulder at him, his eyes still closed as he sleeps, I know I will never love as powerfully as I do with him. I reach down, grab his discarded t-shirt, and shrug it on as I make my way to the bathroom. I flick on the light and before I can close the door, I see my necklace lying next to his sink. Walking over and looking down at it, I see that he got the chain fixed from when I ripped it off my neck. I run my finger along the etched letters: And though she be but little, she is fierce.

  Looking up, I see that my toothbrush is still next to the other sink along with a bottle of my perfume. Warm arms slowly snake around my waist as his lips press into my neck. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror. "I could never let you go."

  He picks up the necklace and clasps it back around my neck where it belongs. I will never be close enough to him to satisfy me. Maybe it was supposed to be like this all along; maybe I needed the pain of losing Ryan to make me finally pull myself out of the madness. Maybe I just had to lose him for a moment to keep myself from fading.

  Every 2 minutes, someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted. Approximately 2/3 of assaults are committed by someone known to the victim. And only 46% of assaults are reported to the police.

  You just read about Candace who suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Flashbacks,

  Sleep Terror Disorder, and Nightmares.

  These are only a few of the effects one can experience after being sexually assaulted.

  There is help.

  National Sexual Assault Hotline

  1.800.656.HOPE

  National Sexual Assault Online Hotline

  www.ohl.rainn.org/online/

  Visit http://www.rainn.org to find more information and resources.

  Deciding to write a novel did not come easy. There was a lot of self-doubt before I actually typed my first word. I never could have anticipated the power of this journey. It took the support and encouragement of many people to make this book a possibility.

  It was my husband who first told me that I should write a book. I honestly thought he had lost his mind. But he saw something in me that I never knew was even there. He believed in me when I first started stumbling through the prologue. It was his encouragement that kept me going, and before long, I became unstoppable. I am so lucky to have such an amazing man in my life that provided me the freedom I needed to immerse myself in this book. He took on all mommy and daddy duties, along with all the cooking and cleaning while I typed my heart out. I would thank you from the bottom of my heart, but for you, there is no bottom.

  This story would not be as beautiful as it is without Gina Smith. She has been with me from the first days of creating the plot for a book I didn't know the story to. I quickly deemed her my 'Creative Assistant.' She sparked the ideas for many of the scenes and helped me create the hauntingly romantic love story between Candace and Ryan. I could not have written this book without her guidance. We have clocked many hours on the phone and on the computer doing massive research to ensure that I was accurate in what I was writing, even down to map-questing drives to calculate timing. I will forever be indebted to her. Being able to share the love for my story and the love for my characters with her was such an amazing experience. I couldn't imagine ever writing a book without her by my side.

  My editor had her work cutout for her. Lisa Christman, from Adept Edit's, is such an amazing person. An honest friend is hard to come by, but I found one in her. Brilliant and amazing. She not only encouraged me through this whole process, but she guided me in the right direction with my characters. Candace was not an easy person to write, but Lisa made it a possibility. I will never forget all your pep talks and comforting words when stress was getting the best of me. Thank you for taking this book so seriously, but also knowing when to use your humor to get me through all the editing. You will never know how hard some of your editing comments made me laugh and what that did for my stress. You really stepped up to the plate and delivered. You are such a dear friend, and I love you!

  Thank you to the Haborview Medical Center in Seattle, Washington for guiding me and educating me. Making sure I told a true story was so important to me, and you made that a reality for me. Thank you Rene Langston for sharing your knowledge and assisting me with the hospital scenes. You kept me on track and made sure every detail was addressed down to the HIPPA laws. You also motivated me in so many ways to follow this dream and make it a reality. Your enthusiasm kept a smile on my face.

  To include remarks about everyone who contributed to this book would be entirely too long, so here are the Cliffs Notes: My mother for enrolling me in my first dance class and giving me the freedom to grow in my love for the art. My father and step-mother for the constant support and excitement during this journey. All my beta-readers for opening your hearts to this story and helping me polish the book. Your hard work did not go unnoticed. You all were the cheerleaders I needed to get to the finish line. Maxim Malevich who shot the amazing cover. No other photo could ever measure up. You are absolutely brilliant. Sarah Hansen for hunting down Maxim when all I had was a photo and a dream to have it grace my cover. You made it happen, and I can't thank you enough for turning the photo into an amazing cover. To my Indie Chixx writing group for helping me learn the ropes in this crazy world of self-publishing. The support you girls give is amazing. And to all of my friends and family who gave me the motivation I needed during the madness of writing this novel. This story was a hard one to write and countless tears were shed. I could not have done it with you all!

  Thank You!

  For my son and daughter

  You need to know with every fiber of who you are that when you walk through th
e front door of your home, you are safe, and you are loved.

  The rain falls hard as I drive back home. I’m a goddamn mess, and I can’t get my head to stop tormenting me. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me or why this is happening. I couldn’t even force myself to come this time, and I was such a dick that I made her believe it was her fault. It was a shit thing to do, but I knew if I didn’t embarrass her, she would go open her mouth to all her friends.

  I pull up to my house and head inside. It’s dark as I quietly make my way upstairs to my bedroom. Shutting my door, I lie down on my bed and stare at the fan on my ceiling making its rotations over and over. How is this my life?

  I’m so twisted that the only reason I wanted to fuck that girl was because I knew Tyler had. It was my sick way of connecting with him. I hate myself for doing what I did. I hate myself for so many reasons.

  I grew up in church, going to Sunday school and Bible study summer camps. I believe in God, and was taught that this way of life is wrong. It isn’t what He wants; it isn’t what I want, but at the same time . . . it is. This shouldn’t be happening to me. I’ve done all I can to force these thoughts and feelings away. I’ve pretty much screwed every girl in my graduating class at La Jolla High. Nothing is working though; in fact, it’s only making everything that much worse.

  Nobody knows. I’m not sure anyone will ever know. I’ve spent the last few years praying that this is just a phase, fighting the thoughts that skate around in my head. Pretending to be someone I’m not in an attempt to escape this sick person who lives inside of me.

  The only person I need right now—the only one who would listen and not judge me—is gone. I feel like God is punishing me for some reason. He took away the only one who could help me. The only one I could confide in. It’s been almost two years since Jacie died. She was in the car with her boyfriend on prom night when an overly tired truck driver hit them head-on and killed them. She was my best friend. Everyone even called us by the same name: Jase for Jason, and Jace for Jacie. We never went through any sibling rivalry and did everything together: exploding mud pies with firecrackers when we were little, and later, learning to surf. Surfing was our thing; we would always go out early on Saturday mornings and stop at the In-N-Out Burger on the way home. Mom and Dad still haven’t touched her room, and I’m not allowed to mention her name.