by Jane Radford
Contents
Title Page
CopyRight
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Follow The Author
Bullying Nicolas
Cat with Glasses
catwithglasses.com
Copyright © 2013 by Jane Radford
All Rights Reserved.
Edited by Diane Kimura
Small World Editing, Salt Lake City
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, businesses and incidents are either the product of
the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Path to James is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or copied for redistribution without permission. If you would like to share this book with another individual, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it—that's awesome—you just got your hands on a free copy of this fine work. If you read and enjoy it, we encourage you to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 1
“What did he say?” Kara—my best friend since elementary school—looks up at me from the coffeemaker. Her dark brown eyes narrow, her asymmetrical hair is a bit mussed up. She scowls in anticipation of my answer.
“He said I was 'so fucking selfish.'” My eyes roll as I quote my ex verbatim, which is the exact gesture I had given when the sentiment was uttered. Jaren has said that phrase so many times it no longer has any effect on me.
My phone lights up with another missed call—that's number twenty-seven for tonight. My phone is perpetually set to silent mode.
“Seriously, he's an idiot.” Kara saunters over with our mugs of coffee. She hands me one as she says, “Promise me you won't get back together.”
“Absolutely not,” I blow on the hot liquid, the mug warms my hands. “he cheated on me.”
“Twice.”
“Exactly.” I glare at the reminder.
We're sitting in Kara's living room in our pajamas. I'm on the floor with my back leaning against the side of the couch. A fish tank gargles in one corner of the room. I've been staying the night here the past few weeks. Since my breakup with Jaren he has had a tendency to break into my little rambler while I have been sleeping. I would either wake up to his hot embrace or the sound of him sobbing next to me. I can't seem to figure out which is more unsettling.
Kara keeps urging me to get a restraining order, and I'm starting to think she is right. It has been a month since our breakup, since I caught him with his pants around his ankles, receiving a blow job from his “best friend.” In MY house.
“Does he know you're finished? I mean, truly finished.” Kara interrupts my introspection.
My eyes refocus on my friend, “I told him 'never again,' I can't stand the sight of him.”
I'm so bitter. He was the first long term relationship I had ever been in. Two years of my life wasted on that asshole. The first year was mediocre at best. The second year was spent, at least from my point of view, against my will. When I had caught him cheating the first time, I'd broken things off, and he had managed to get me back with the threat of suicide.
Then, I was so afraid he might do something to hurt himself that I stayed. Now...all I feel for him is resentment and bitterness.
I take a gulp of my coffee, it is the perfect temperature with just the right amount of honey and almond milk. Its warmth spreads through me as I drink. It's wonderful. Kara's whole house feels like one big cup of coffee. It's comforting and inviting, smells delicious. I frown. But I would much rather be able to return home. I hate the fact that Jaren has made me afraid to go back to the one place I can really relax.
I look at Kara. I wish I could go home. “His last words to me were 'you'll regret this.'” I try to imitate the same ominous tone he'd employed.
“Please get a restraining order,” Kara looks worried. “I'm begging you.” For that exact reason I leave out the part where he punched the wall right next to me, leaving a fist-sized hole. He wasn't psychotic for the first year of the relationship. In fact, he had hidden that side of himself pretty well.
I sigh. “I probably should.”
“You definitely should.”
We both stop to take another sip of our drinks. I have missed spending time with Kara, we don't do this nearly enough. I just wish it were under better circumstances.
“What time do you have work in the morning?” Kara stifles a yawn. It's almost midnight.
“Seven-thirty.” Kara's yawn is contagious.
“What about the diner?” Kara asks regarding my second job. I work as a medical transcriptionist by day, and an exhausted waitress by night.
“Five p.m.”
I'm killing myself now so that I can live life later.
By working two jobs, along with the nest egg I had inherited from my grandparents, I'm getting ready to travel. I have always wanted to be a travel writer. The person who writes those books about the Grand Canyon, and hiking hotspots, and national forests. The books that are covered in dust on bookshelves or sit unopened on coffee tables. The books that are given as gifts but no one actually reads them all the way through. I want to write those.
It's not much, but that's my dream.
“I don't know how you do this to yourself,” my friend looks at me disapprovingly. Sometimes I don't know how I manage either. “Are you ready for bed?”
I glance over my shoulder. The couch is made up with a folded blanket and a pillow resting over it. My friend is too good to me.
I impulsively lean forward to hug her. “No, let's vent some more.”
Chapter 2
“You're so fucking selfish!”
Oh, here we go again. I roll my eyes. I come back from work and Jaren is in my home, ready to greet me. I've taken my key back, but I suspect he keeps breaking in through one of my windows. I'm selfish because I won't take him back. Because I won't return his calls, answer his text messages, listen to his voice mails.
“Get out of my house.” My tone is calm, my voice is level, but my hands are shaking.
“Jesus, Alex, would you just fucking talk to me?”
“I have nothing left to say to you,” I cross my arms. I am exhausted. My wrists and fingers ache from typing for eight hours, and my feet and hips hurt from serving food after that. My long, wavy hair is pulled back into a ponytail. I'm still wearing my apron.
“You can't do this to me!” Jaren snarls.
“I don't want to do anything to you. Please, leave.”
He moves from his side of the counter, walking toward me. I begin retreating. He corners me against the wall and starts fiddling with my apron. The strings are too long around my waist, I have them doubled around me and knotted in front.
“Please, leave.”
“What is wrong with you?” He throws the apron strings from his hand. I jump when they snap against me.
“You! You are everything that is wrong with me! Get out of my house!” I'm shaking so hard. I'm trying not to cry. I am way too tired for this.
“I'm not fucking leaving!”
“Fine, I'll go.” I turn to leave and his fist slams into the wall, right by my face. I jump back.
“
You're not going anywhere.”
I look up into his blue eyes, his short black hair. His muscled arm flexes in front of me. I can't believe I once found him attractive.
“Alex, wake up!”
I startle awake. Kara is staring down at me, my phone is in her hand. She is fully dressed in black slacks and a green blouse. The apartment smells like coffee, she must have brewed a fresh pot. Her boyfriend is in the kitchen, still in his bathrobe.
“You slept through your alarm.” My best friend hands the phone over to me.
“Morning!” Kara's boyfriend calls from the kitchen. He's chipper.
I look at my phone. 7:00 AM lights up on the main screen. “Shit!” I jump from the couch. “Shit, shit, shit.” I'm hauling my change of clothes with me to the bathroom.
“There is toast and a thermos of coffee on the table!” Kara shouts after me.
“I love you!” my reply is muffled through the bathroom door.
A glance in the mirror shows me what a mess I am. I make an attempt to straighten out most of the major problems with my appearance, but I’m in a hurry. My blonde, streaked hair is rumpled and my hazel eyes are all puffy.
“Oh, whatever,” I mutter to myself.
I throw on my clothes and rush out the door. I'm going through a rough time right now, I can afford to look like a disaster.
“Bye, I love you both!” I'm grabbing my coffee and breakfast from the table. “I'll see you tonight!”
And I'm out the door.
It's a crisp spring morning in Kiowa, Oregon. My mood is lifting as I sprint to my car. I'm biting my toast, holding my thermos and grabbing for my car keys with my free hand. I think today will be a good day. For some reason that thought makes me uneasy. 'Calm before the storm,' comes to mind.
I am about to hop into my little car when I notice a note on my windshield.
Oh, no! He's been here! It’s in Jaren’s handwriting.
I snatch the note from under the wiper and hurry into my vehicle, locking the door behind me.
You are the love of my life. But if there is no hope, I will respect your wishes. I won't bother you again.
Reading those words, the note flutters out of my hands, my stomach eases out of a stubborn knot. “Oh, thank you!” I breathe up at the roof of my car. It is such a relief to have this over, and without going through the hassle of a restraining order.
I start my car and back out of the parking spot. Maybe now I can finally return home.
***
Work was fine, really. I'm so used to working eighty-hour weeks that my body just goes on autopilot without me realizing it. Being a medical transcriptionist pays decent, and it keeps me sharp. I am able to keep up with my typing and utilize words like “herxheimer” and “encephalopathy.” It's fun even though I'm trapped at a desk for the entire shift.
Waitressing has its benefits, too. I can switch my brain off and I get to be on my feet, active. It's a great way to socialize when I have no free time, and I have come to love my regulars.
There are no uniforms, the sweet older couple who own the establishment just ask that we “dress nice.” So, I throw the apron over my previous work clothes and I'm good to go. I pull the door to the main entrance open and the smell of fried food comes wafting over me in an air conditioned wave.
“Hey, Alex!” Crystal yells from behind the till. The restaurant is slow, but it will pick up in about half an hour.
“Hey,” I'm still securing the apron to my waist. “How's your shift?”
Crystal frowns. She never frowns. She is one of those infectiously, bubbly people—the ones that are always grinning with their too-perfect teeth. Uh, oh. She wants something, it’s never good when Crystal wants something.
“What is it?” I scowl.
“I've been working the morning shift for weeks, and then Paul requested vacation and they have me on graveyard tomorrow,” she pouts. I've never found that sort of thing attractive.
Every weekday I have the opportunity to see Crystal at the start of every shift, then Paul at the end. He has really been looking forward to this vacation.
Crystal's brows knit. As she looks at me with her pleading eyes, I'm thinking “Out with it!”
“Alex, I'll be so tired.” She comes from around the registers to hug me. Affection will get her nowhere, “Have I told you how awesome you are lately?” But flattery might.
I sigh wearily. I haven't been sleeping well lately, anyway. If it’ll help me escape my nightmares I might as well do it. “Fine.”
“Oh! Thank you thank you thank you!” I don't return her embrace, but that doesn't stop her from squeezing me tighter.
Since when did I become such a pushover?
“Fill out the shift change and I'll sign the book.” That was her cue to leave, and she jumps straight for the office to get the trade written out before I can change my mind.
“You are the best!” Crystal squeaks before she disappears.
Chapter 3
When I get back to Kara's apartment, she and her boyfriend are already in bed. I'm feeling worn out myself, having stayed up so late talking with her the night before.
I check my phone as I close and lock the front door behind me. Despite his note saying that he would leave me alone, there is one missed call from Jaren, and a few text messages.
I need to see you
I delete and open the next message.
I just want closure, please
Deleted.
You're such a bitch! You can't do one thing for me!
Psycho. I don't know where he was hiding all this crazy for the first year, I did not see this coming. I toss my phone onto the couch and head into the guest bathroom for a shower. There is absolutely nothing in this world that could possess me to want to see that man again.
I start the shower for the water to warm. I release my ponytail and begin to strip in front of the mirror. I frown as I look at my own reflection, my cheeks are a little bit sunken in and I am missing what little fat was left on my hips.
I've lost more weight, I see. All this stress is beginning to eat at me. No wonder Kara has been trying to force feed me lately.
I slip out of my lace panties and remove my bra. So. Tired. I pull back the shower curtain and step under the stream of the shower-head…it's marvelous. The steam fills the air, heat works to release my worn muscles.
It's been such a long day. Such a long month, really. I haven't had any satisfaction in ages, and a rush of endorphins could do wonders for me, I determine. It couldn't hurt.
I back against the shower wall. The tile is cold against my heated skin, it's a glorious contrast in comparison to the hot water. I left Maurice, my vibrator, at home. We've both been neglected lately. With Jaren hounding me, I haven't been able to retrieve him.
“Oh!” my hand has found myself. My fingers slip in and my eyes flutter closed.
My mind ventures to the usual...my dream man, my fantasy who whisks me away from my depressing little bungalow. The very opposite of my ex, he will free me from my work and my problems. He'll save me from Jaren. We'll travel the world. Me, writing about our journeys after making love to him in every semi-private venue we can find.
I sigh as my sex grows wet around my fingers. What I wouldn't do to have that man in the shower with me now. I groan at the thought of him capturing me against the shower wall, the water slithering down his back, over his perfect ass. His thick hair wet and water filtering through the stubble on his chiseled jaw. He presses me against the shower and...and...and...
I'm breathing hard. I'm close.
His hands would slip over my breasts, past my aroused nipples, slide down my sides to grab a firm hold of my hips. He would position himself just right, pull me onto him and his rock-hard cock would push inside me.
“Ah!” I moan as I come at the fantasy of him, of this dream man that is out there somewhere. My imagination bringing him so vividly to mind that I can feel the warmth of his skin and the sensation of his touch. I relax limp a
gainst the tile, my head turned to place my flushed cheek against the cold wall.
I know my dream is out there. I just have to find him. Somewhere. Somehow.
Chapter 4
The next morning I'm no longer a frayed mess of nerves. I think that shower really helped me. I'm ready and out the door early. During lunch I check my messages and am not surprised to find another tirade from Jaren.
Alex?
ALEX!
ALEXANDRIA!!!!
If you don't talk to me, so fucking help me,
you will be sorry!
I sigh. There goes my good mood. I'm about to put my phone away when I think of my shower and my fantasy. I think of my dream man, of how being alone with my imagination is far more fulfilling than being with Jaren. I text my ex back on a whim.
I have discovered someone new.
Sent.
Please have the decency to leave me alone.
And Sent.
Jaren doesn’t respond.
I get through the remainder of my transcriptionist shift and have a large break before I have to be at the diner, since I traded shifts with Crystal. Normally I head straight over from one job to the other. With this swap I now have an unfamiliar surplus of time. Despite the inconvenience, it will be something new.
To fill the gap in my schedule, I stop by my home for some extra clothes. I don't bother parking my car in the garage, this should only take a moment. I peek my head in to make certain Jaren isn't there. I gaze at my comfy couch, my drooping houseplants, my pile of junk mail, the pictures on my mantel. He should be at work, but you can never be too careful. There is still no response from when I texted him earlier.
I move quickly, grabbing some jeans and workout shorts. Maybe I'll go hiking later. A few tank tops and more professional outfits for work. I think to grab Maurice, my forlorn vibrator, but I blush at the thought of masturbating in Kara's apartment. Again. I have to stop myself from reaching into my nightstand to grab him. Last night in the shower was a one-time lapse in judgment.