by Emilia Finn
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part ONE
Part TWO
Part THREE
Epilogue
Part 1: The Beginning
Way Back
A little less way back
Getting closer
Lilies in the dirt
HP’s Finale
Bobby, Meet Your Match
The Hernandez Fight
Sunshine
Just Once, Padme
Chocolate Blob
Part 2: The Ending
Kit’s Birthday
I’ll be your spoon
Hart’s Heart
Glandular Fever
Bad Blood
Perfect for each other
A man deserves to know
Wash away your troubles
I kicked the pupp(ies)
Rinse and Repeat
The truth shall set you free
Part 3: The Real Ending
Annie
Korean Elvis
Oops
Walk and Talk
Consummate
Run Away
Beans. Spilled.
The Finale
Acknowledgments
What’s up next?
FINDING REDEMPTION
Rollin’ On Series
Book 5
EMILIA FINN
All rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
An original work of Emilia B Finn. Finding Redemption copyright 2017 by Emilia Finn.
ISBN-10: 1977648665
ISBN-13: 978-1977648662
Finding Redemption
Rollin’ On series, novel # 5
By Emilia Finn
This book is for Arelis.
Because the love you and M share
is the kind of love we all wait and
hope and wish for.
Tink is just for you, and I hope
she’s as awesome as you are.
xxx
You never gave me a reason to come back. I was always there when you needed me but I guess you never showed how important I am in your life. Now it’s different, and now we’ve changed, but I’m still smiling. Now it’s your turn to miss me.
- Tinkerbelle to Peter Pan.
Other Books Written by Emilia
The Rollin’ On Series
(in reading order)
Finding Home
Finding Victory
Finding Forever
Finding Peace
Finding Redemption
Table of Contents:
Prologue
Part 1: The Beginning
Way Back
A little less way back
Getting closer
Lilies in the dirt
HP’s Finale
Bobby, Meet Your Match
The Hernandez Fight
Sunshine
Just Once, Padme
Chocolate Blob
Part 2: The Ending
Kit’s Birthday
I’ll be your spoon
Hart’s Heart
Glandular Fever
Bad Blood
Perfect for each other
A man deserves to know
Wash away your troubles
I kicked the pupp(ies)
Rinse and Repeat
The truth shall set you free
Part 3: The Real Ending
Annie
Korean Elvis
Oops
Walk and Talk
Consummate
Run Away
Beans. Spilled.
The Finale
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
What’s up next?
Where to find Emilia
Prologue
There are dancing elephants pounding inside my head, clanging on those cymbals that high school kids bash together to annoy their parents. What tastes like vomit and mud sticks thickly on my tongue and I work not to heave as the taste hits my senses.
My body is hot, over heated and sweaty and I can barely breathe as a boulder pins me down.
I groan as I try to move but my entire body is sore, like a train hit me and squashed me dead.
Probably not the most tasteful analogy to use anymore, but whatever. I’m hung over and sick. I’m dying.
And I can’t breathe.
Pulling my arm free with a jerk, I try to roll to escape this sweaty, hot bed of death.
“Not time to get up yet.”
I freeze at the mumbled words and the hot breath as it fans my neck, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
This can’t be happening again.
Opening a single gritty eye, I look down my body, at the muscled forearm pinning me down, the tattoos that I know by heart now, at the large hand cupping my boob even as its owner sleeps.
I painfully close my eye again, like closing a rusty shutter over a dirty window and scraping along the tracks the whole way down. I’m pissed at myself for falling back into bed with him. Again.
Why do I keep falling into his bed. Why him? Why can’t I escape him?
I don’t want what he’s offering. Not anymore. It almost always hurts. And not the good hurt. The hurt that squeezes your heart and makes your stomach roll.
I don’t even remember our night together, which is the bitch of the situation. If I’m going to sleep with Jon Hart, at least the universe should let me remember it.
It was probably good too. The bastard knows how to rock my world.
The last thing I remember is Tina and Aiden’s tasteless but awesome as hell quickie wedding with Korean Elvis, then the casino bells and lights. Shot races with Jon. Glass after glass after glass of Tequila lined up on the bar and my stubborn ass trying to keep up with Jon despite the fact I’m literally half his size.
I shouldn’t have challenged him to that last shot but he said I couldn’t do it, that I was done, that I should stop dancing on the tables and instead go to bed.
Fuck that. He should have known I wouldn’t walk away all meek and shit.
He probably did it on purpose, knowing I’d drink it and banking on the fact he’d get a BJ about an hour later.
He knows me now.
Fuck that asshole.
I bring my left hand up to brush my crusty hair out of my eyes, ready to get this asshole off me and get lost, but I wince when I scratch my cheek with something sharp.
My movements are slow and uncoordinated, lethargy slowing my every thought but I open my eyes again, suddenly aware of a weight on my hand that shouldn’t be there.
My eyes flare wide at the silver ring on my finger, the ugly as hell thick band design with a cheap looking red gem in the middle of a circular face.
The band has an engraved line circling the center with indented dots following it around. It looks mildly familiar and it takes me a moment for my pained head to place the image.
Is that… R2-D2? Is this a Star Wars ring?
My head snaps around, coming nose to nose with a still sleeping, still heavy as hell beautiful asshole pinning me down and I feel my stomach drop.
This can’t be real.
We didn’t…
We couldn’t…
No. We definitely wouldn’t have…
No way would he have! No matter how drunk I got, he would never have let this happen.
I fly out of the king sized bed, letting the silky sheets slink away from my body and I race around and grab my crap.
My skirt. My sparkly top. My heels that even in this moment I can admit are hot as shit. I throw them on then freeze as my heart and brain explode at the sight of our marriage certificate.
Our marriage certificate.
What the ever loving fuck!
Jon’s signature sits right next to mine in a deep black ink and I work not to throw up everywhere.
I snatch the paper up and fold it into a tiny square, then grab my bag and phone and any other crap I see floating around, then with one last glimpse toward the mountain still asleep on the bed in the middle of the room, I race out the door and into the hall.
I need to get out of here. Now. I need to get a divorce, preferably before he wakes up. I can’t do this again.
I can’t ride this train to hell again.
I barely survived the last round.
Part ONE
The Beginning
One
Jon
Way Back
Seven years old.
The last day before Summer break.
I spin around with a yelp at the hard knock to the back of my head, and my hand comes up to grab at his, but I’m too slow and he’s already skipping back.
“You’re an asshole!”
“So?” He argues back, dropping my hat onto his head then lifting his fists in the air like we’re going to box in the playground. “And that’s a naughty word. I’m gonna tell my mom.”
“You’re such a mama’s boy! Just give my hat back and leave me alone.”
The asshole skips around without a care in the world. “I don’t wanna give your hat back! I like it. I’m gonna keep it.”
He’s such a loudmouth, showoff asshole who likes to make all the girls watch him dance around. He reminds me of the peacocks I sometimes see on our shitty TV. But only when the picture is okay. And only when they’re not home.
He’s the popular kid and he walks around school puffing up his butt, being loud and annoying because he likes attention. He likes attention the same way my mom likes attention.
Other kid’s moms don’t dress the way she does; with her smelly perfume and her short skirts. Her click-clack-clack shoes and her jiggly boobs. My mom likes when people look at her. She loves it.
I don’t. I don’t want anyone looking at me. I never want anyone to look at me ever.
“Come and get it, Jon Fart.”
I sneer at Bobby Kincaid as I think of ways I can beat his ass. “That’s not my name, asshole. Give me my hat.”
“You’re gonna have to take it, Fart.”
“C’mon, Bobby. Give his hat back.”
I turn fast to keep both these assholes in front of me. Aiden Kincaid’s not a loudmouth like his big brother, but blood runs thicker than water and he’ll probably hold me down so Bobby can kick my ass. Again.
“I don’t wanna give it back.” He bounces up onto the balls of his feet, ducking and swaying just like Ali does. Lots of other kids are surrounding us now, laughing at me, looking at me, and I’m ready to just give up on the stupid hat and leave.
It’s not worth it.
But it’s my only hat. Besides my ratty sneakers and my shirt and jeans that are almost too small, it’s the only thing I own. I really want it back.
I have to go though. The bell already rang, and I have to get home. My baby sister is there. I need to protect her. I need to take her away from them. I can’t let them keep her. Hurt her. Taint her.
“Bobby,” Aiden drawls with an almost grown up voice even though we’re still in elementary school. “Give it back.”
“Make me--”
“I’ll make you.”
I jump back, fast like only an adult can make me move when a huge man picks Bobby up by the scruff of his collar and shakes him. Bobby’s face turns white like Casper and I want to smile - That’s karma for you, bitch! - but I don’t. Instead I turn on my feet, I’m out of here. Screw the hat, he can keep it.
“Dad--”
“Boy.” The man’s voice is deep and commanding and my feet lock up even as my chest thumps hard. My hands are sweaty and my body has turned cold and goose bumpy. “Stop there. This your hat?”
If I run while he’s still holding Bobby, I could probably make it to the parking lot before he catches me. I run pretty fast. Maybe I can hide between the teacher’s cars, lay under one for a bit till this dude leaves.
“Seriously kid, don’t run,” the man sighs. “Bobby, what’s his name?”
“I’m sorry Da--”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. You’re only sorry you got caught. Answer my question.”
“Jon. His name is Jon.”
“Right.” He puts Bobby down on his feet, his brand new sneakers still shiny clean and not torn taking his weight easily. “Give Jon his hat back.” He turns around to all the kids watching, half of them already ran off when this guy turned up, the rest stepping back as he turns to them. “Clear off. It’s summer break, go home!”
Bobby steps toward me, taking my hat from his head slowly, his hand shaking a little and I look up at the giant man and wonder if Bobby is scared of him. Bobby’s an asshole, but if he’s scared, I can help him. Probably. Maybe.
“Here ya go. Sorry.”
“Bobby.”
Bobby jumps as my hand latches onto the brim of my hat and I look curiously at the man again. Does he hurt Bobby?
“Yeah Dad?”
“What are bullies?”
Bobby’s eyes drop to my feet and I shuffle them. My shoes aren’t like his. Bobby looks really sad and although I should be happy, it feels weird. I’ve never seen him sad before. Peacocks don’t get sad. “Bullies are cowards, Dad.”
“So why were you bullying Jon?”
My name coming from this man’s mouth has me stepping back again, wary of letting him get too close. Not a single man is this world that I’ve ever met is good. They all hurt. They hit and grab, they shove and they control. I learned my lesson a long time ago and stay out of arms reach as often as I could. And when I couldn’t… I learned not to cry.
“I was just trying to have fun, Dad.”
“Did it look like Jon was having fun?”
Bobby’s eyes stay down, his head turning to the sides softly. “No sir, it didn’t.”
“I don’t raise bullies, Robert. We never bully. We help the people who need us. If we pick on them, then we’re just assholes.”
Aiden’s eyes snap wide as his hands come to his face. “Dad!”
“Don’t you dare tell your mother I said asshole.”
Aiden giggles softly, his giant backpack bouncing as it covers most of his body from head to toe. “You just said it again.”
The man’s lip lifts up at the side. “Don’t tell her I said it twice and I’ll buy you ice cream.”
Bobby’s sad eyes turn light and his head snaps toward to his Dad. “Can I have ice cream?”
“What’s your favorite flavor, B?”
Bobby smiles big and licks his lips like a dumbass. “Salted Caramel. That’s my favorite.”
The man turns to me with a kind smile on his face. “Jon?”
I don’t answer him, I just swallow my spit and take another step back.
“Jon, do you like salted caramel ice cream?”
I take another step back. Adults don’t do nice things for boys like me. This is a trick.
The man’s brows pull tight over his big forehead. “Well kid. Do you like it?”
He smiles big as he claps his hands together. “Good. You get Bobby’s today.”
“Dad!”
“Bullies are cowards, son. Bullies are assholes. I don’t buy ice cream for assholes.”
“But--”
“So next time, you’ll think about today and you’ll remember to be a friend. Then maybe you’ll get ice cream.”
“But--”
The man turns his eyes away from mine and meet his son’s instead. They have the same eyes. “Do you understand?”
Bobby’s head turns down again and he nods at the ground. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now hug it out.”
“Dad,” Bobby hisses, looking around the playground although all the other kids left already. It’s just me and the man and the two brothers. “I’ll hug you when we get home.”
The man shakes his head. “Not me. Hug him. Hug it out.”
“Dad!”
The man’s eyes nail his son again and Bobby shrinks back. Resigned, he steps toward me and I feel my face turn white like Bobby’s was when his dad turned up. “Just do it, man or neither of us will get ice cream ever again.”
I shrug. “That’s fine with me.” Can’t miss something you never had .
Even though I didn’t say he could, Bobby takes the remaining steps toward me and throws his long monkey arms over my shoulders and I tense up. I know he’s not trying to hurt me but my ribs smart anyway. They’ve hurt since last weekend when my dad was pissed at me.
“I’m only hugging you because I want ice cream,” he whispers in my ear as he squeezes my shoulder tight. Too tight.
I roll my eyes. I bring my fist up and tag him in the ribs on the side his dad can’t see and he lets out a winded grunt. “And you’re still an asshole.”
“Good job, now let’s go get some ice cream. Except Bobby, he just gets to watch.”