by E. L. Todd
CHARGE
E. L. TODD
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Fallen Publishing
Charge
Editing Services provided by Final-Edits.com
Copyright © 2016 by E. L. Todd All Rights Reserved
Prologue
Volt
My story has been told a million times.
I was a wild stallion that couldn’t be saddled. Freedom rang in my heart like a loud bell. The future had no hold over me because I could never look past the forthcoming day. I lived in the moment, tasting it and feeling it in my very blood.
Until I met her.
She grounded me with the force of gravity. As if she had the ability to move mountains and station them, she put me in place.
And I never moved.
Which is why I’m asking her to marry me.
“What do you think?” The saleswoman held out the ring. It was a princess cut diamond with flawless quality. With every shake of her hand, the prisms within the jewel showered the walls with rainbows.
It was perfect. “Great. I need a size five.”
Instead of smiling because she made a sale, and probably a commission, she grinned in a genuine way, the kind that reached her eyes. “She’ll love it. Trust me.”
She would love anything I got her. But she would definitely love this.
***
My jacket felt much heavier than it did when I first entered the store. An invisible weight pressed down on my shoulders, giving me the kind of pressure that felt welcoming rather than daunting. I pulled out my phone and called the first person who came to mind.
“Hey, wanna go out?” Derek’s voice came over the phone, and judging by the conversation in the background, he wasn’t alone. It sounded like Jared was with him, along with the other guys.
Which was perfect. “I have some big news.”
“Your insurance company approved the dick implant?”
Nothing could hurt my ego tonight. It was practically made of steel. “No. They said your brain transplant was more important.”
“Burn…” His face wasn’t visible, but his tone made it clear he was rolling his eyes. “Are you going to tell me, or am I going to guess for the next hour?”
The ring was hidden deep in my pocket, the black box keeping it safe from unwanted scratches. The velvet lining and protective film would keep it sparkling and clean, ready to be revealed at the right time. “I’m proposing.”
“Shut the front door, man.”
“I’m serious.”
“What? Volt Rosenthal is going to take a wife?” I could tell he turned away from the phone, his voice becoming muffled. “Guys, check this out. Volt just told me he’s going to propose.”
They immediately erupted in yells, screams, and straight-up gibberish.
Derek returned to the phone. “Where did this come from? I didn’t even realize marriage was on your mind.”
“Well…sometimes you just know.” We hadn’t been together very long, only a year. But I knew couples who’d been together for five years and it was clear they still weren’t ready to get married. The measurement of time was subjective to whoever was experiencing it. “Just got the ring.”
“Damn, you’re serious then.”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Yes.”
“Then we definitely have to hit the town. Where do you want to meet?”
I stepped to the end of the sidewalk, letting people pass me. Manhattan was one of the biggest cities on earth, but the seven million inhabitants made it feel cramped. My eyes wandered to the bar just a block over. “How about Tito’s?”
“Tito’s? Where the fuck is that?”
“Corner of 23rd and Broadway.”
“I’ve never been there, but it’s your night. See you in ten minutes.”
“Ten-four.”
He finished the phrase. “Over and out.”
I shoved the phone into the front pocket of my jeans and felt the nerves get to me. Now that I’d told my best friend, everything just became real. I had an expensive engagement ring in my pocket and a question to ask. When I pictured myself getting down on one knee, I felt excited. Her bright blue eyes would somehow become brighter, and the same joy that burned in my heart would burst like fireworks in her smile. Instead of feeling scared, I felt driven.
I crossed the street once the light turned green then made it to the entrance of the bar. I’d never been there before, but that was the beautiful thing about Manhattan. You could live in the city your entire life and still not experience every thing about it.
I walked inside and felt the warmth from everyone’s body heat press tightly against me. My jacket was suffocating, but I kept it on because of the diamond ring in the pocket. I’d rather sweat to death than risk losing it. When I looked into the diamond, I saw her face. I couldn’t just buy another one to replace it.
The NHL playoffs were on every screen, and everyone crammed together to see every play as it unfolded. I headed to the bar to get a drink but stopped when I recognized someone.
With long blonde hair and a petite frame, a woman I knew better than anyone else in the world stood. Her blue eyes were soft, but not dull. They contained innocence more pure than the snowcaps in the Swiss Alps. Like ice crystals that hung from igloos, they reflected the deep blue color of the sky.
Her skin was fair like the surface of a ripe peach. It was soft to the touch and warm against the mouth. I’d tasted her a million times—and she tasted just as sweet as she looked.
But those lips were kissing someone else.
She wore dark skinny jeans that led to brown heeled boots. The only reason why I noticed was because I bought them for her birthday. The saleswoman at the store spent nearly the whole day helping me pick them out because I didn’t know shit about shoes.
Her arms were wrapped around the waist of some guy, and she looked up into his face with a wide smile. Her perfectly straight and white teeth were intricately designed to fit a flawless face. When he said something, she chuckled, and then she leaned in to kiss him again.
And again.
The bartender asked what I wanted to order, but his words sounded like a distant echo. My ears could pick up on what he was saying, but my brain couldn’t process the sounds into information.
The guy ran his hands up her arms then gripped her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. He had a thin layer of facial hair from not shaving that morning, and his eyes glowed for hers just the way hers did for him.
And then it hit me.
It was Leo—her ex.
Despite the pain it caused me to stare, I couldn’t look away. Instead of feeling my heart pick up its pace to a terrifying speed, it slowed down. My body slowly shut down, cutting off circulation to every organ.
Because that was the only way it could protect me.
I never fantasized about a moment like this because it wasn’t something I ever thought possible. But I assumed if I were in this situation, I would march over there and give the guy a beating he would never recover from. Then I would turn my gaze on her and say something so hateful she cried.
But I didn’t do either of those things.
I kept staring, unable to believe what I was seeing with my very own two eyes. I tried to be logical and give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they were just friends who were affectionate. But with every kiss, tha
t possibility was erased. He wasn’t even some guy she just hooked up with.
They had a relationship.
The box suddenly felt lighter in my pocket, losing all of its meaning and significance. The image I had for my proposal was cracked like a dried twig. The dream shattered into a million pieces, becoming forever broken. The pain that burned inside me was agonizing. I’d never experienced anything like it. I’d take a broken leg or cracked ribs over this.
But even then, I wasn’t angry.
I felt stupid.
Foolish.
And hopeless.
I had every right to march over there and give her a piece of my mind. I had the right to make a scene and storm off. I had every right to say exactly what was in my heart.
But I didn’t want to do any of those things.
Because in that moment, I realized my feelings didn’t matter. If she did this to me to begin with, then I meant nothing to her. Every kiss and every touch was just a show. It was all an act.
So why would she start to care now?
She wasn’t worth my time or my heartbreak. Call me proud or call me stubborn, but I wasn’t going to let this woman even know what she’d done to me. In fact, I was going to hurt her far more than she ever hurt me.
She’ll see.
Chapter One
Taylor
Cardboard boxes were scattered around my small apartment. The hardwood floor was the same color as the boxes, so it was difficult to differentiate between the two. I didn’t have a lot of stuff to begin with, but that didn’t make moving any easier.
The guys carried my furniture into the living room—the new couch I bought from Macy’s as well as the other pieces of my living room set. Their strong arms bulged as they carried the weight, and I broke a sweat just watching them.
Sara walked inside carrying two boxes. “Shit, why is this so heavy?”
Right on the side in black permanent marker was the label BOOKS. “Read the label next time.”
Sara dropped the box on the ground, making a loud thud that nearly shook the apartment. She put her hands on her hips and tried to catch her breath.
“Dude, don’t drop my stuff. You’ll break everything.”
“You can’t break books.”
“So you did read the label.”
She dodged the question by changing the subject. “What do you need these for? You’re done with school, aren’t you?”
“It’s always good to have them for a reference.”
“That’s what Google and Wikipedia are for.”
“As an academic, I don’t use Wikipedia.”
Sara narrowed her eyes on me, calling bullshit with just a look.
“Okay, I use Wikipedia for everything. But don’t tell anyone that.”
“There you go.”
The guys finished unloading the truck, and after I gave them a big fat tip and lunch, they left. Sara and I sat on the floor in the living room, and slowly, we went through my things.
Sara opened the box of living room accents, a few sculptures and picture frames. Whenever we stopped talking and her mind began to wander, she always had a sad look on her face. The past lingered behind her eyes, haunting her.
“Thanks for helping me unpack.”
She snapped back to reality. “Of course. Like I’d ever let my best friend handle this on her own.”
“I wish you would show that same compassion for my things…”
She rolled her eyes. “If the box said china, I wouldn’t have dropped it.”
“Actually, china is stronger than regular plates. You could throw them at the wall, and they still wouldn’t break.”
“How do you know stuff like that? Random crap?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a sponge.”
“A sponge?”
“You know, I absorb everything.”
She made a face when she didn’t understand the reference, and then she returned to sorting through my things. “When do you start your new job?”
“Monday.” I was nervous as hell, but so damn excited at the same time.
“Teaching little pretentious brats at a private school…” She turned up her nose in disgust. “Count me out.”
“They aren’t pretentious brats. They’re kids.”
“Whatever,” she said. “They’ll still wipe boogers on you.”
“I’m teaching high school, not preschool.” Sara wasn’t exactly the most maternal type and never had been. But when she had her own kids, the instinct would kick in. It happened to all women.
“I wonder if there will be any hot teachers there…” She waggled her eyebrows at me in a playful way, but it looked a little ridiculous since her eyebrows were so blonde they were white. It was difficult to see them move.
“It doesn’t matter if there are. I don’t sleep with my coworkers.”
“Why not?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be perfect if you married a teacher? You would both have summers off.”
“I admit it would be nice, but it’s not a part of my criteria.” Not that there was a list of prerequisites in my pocket. I was open to any type of guy—funny, outgoing, anything really. But dating someone I worked with had catastrophe written all over it. “I’m more excited to be in the classroom. I feel like I’ve been going to school forever, and now I finally get to do what I love.”
“And they must be paying you pretty well since you’re at a private school.”
The pay wasn’t amazing, but it was enough to get me a decent apartment, a savings account, and some spending money. I couldn’t ask for more than that. Besides, as a teacher, I was given a pension, something that was so rare these days it was almost nonexistent. “I’m not complaining.”
Sara sorted through the picture frames, looking at the image of my parents, brother, and me at the top of Mt. Rainier in Washington. Her eyes lingered on the photo longer than necessary before she moved on.
“Everything alright?” I picked up on her moods easily because I was intuitive. Part of my job was understanding human emotion without asking questions. In order for my students to succeed, I had to understand what they needed without them ever telling me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice belied her true sorrow. It was suddenly soft and raspy at the same time, as if she were living in a distant memory that strained her voice without speaking.
I knew what troubled her, even if she didn’t speak a word of it to me. She and her boyfriend broke up a year ago, and the anniversary of that date was just around the corner. I wasn’t sure the specific date, but it was near. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
I completed my Teach For America training in Nashville, Tennessee so I’d been separated from Sara for over two years. We’d been best friends since childhood, but I went away to college then moved to the South. We kept in touch by texting and occasionally Skypeing, but we missed out on significant life events.
“It’s still hard, you know?”
I busied myself with the plates, organizing my dishware and glasses. Each was secured in bubble wrap and had to be carefully removed before being placed on the ground.
“As time goes on, it gets easier, but I’ll never really get over it.”
“You’ll be alright, Sara. Healing takes time.”
“But I guess not knowing what happened is what haunts me.” Her bottom lip trembled slightly, but tears didn’t form in her eyes. “We were fine. We were happy together, and everything was perfect…and then he just left.”
“Maybe there was someone else?” No one wanted to entertain the idea of their lover cheating, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility.
“No. He wouldn’t do that.” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in her voice.
Since I’d never met the guy, I didn’t have an opinion about him. And when they started seeing each other, I talked to Sara even less than I usually did. In fact, I didn’t even know what he looked like. She’d taken all of his photos and shoved them
into a box under the bed. “Then maybe he started to feel differently.”
“But the last time I saw him, everything was normal. He told me he loved me and kissed me…” She shook her head, like that would get rid of the pain. “But then the next time he saw me, he just dumped me. I’m not even going to sugarcoat it. He dumped me.”
“Did you ask him why?”
“Of course.” She stopped organizing the books and just stared at the ground. “But he said he just wanted to take a step back. Then he walked out—no further explanation.”
“Could he have been mad about something?”
“No…” Her eyes were still hazy.
Lingering on the past and analyzing every word of a prior conversation wasn’t healthy. Soon, people began to see things that weren’t there to begin with. They felt emotions that hadn’t existed at all. Memory was subjective—and dangerous. “Let it go. You’re going to find someone really fantastic, and this guy will seem insignificant in comparison.”
“Yeah…I suppose.” Her voice trailed off as she continued to ponder it. “It’s just, I think he was going to propose.”
“Why do you think that?” I doubted it. Why would he flip that suddenly if that were the case?
“He’d just been different lately…wanting to go on a trip. We’d never been on a trip before.”
Continuing to live in the past was just making it worse. “Sara, want my advice?”
“I guess.” She turned her gaze back to me, finally coming back to reality.
“Whatever happened a year ago doesn’t matter. He let you go—and that’s his loss. You’ll find a much better man someday, and he won’t hesitate to ask you to be his wife.”
Finally, Sara smiled. “You always know the right thing to say.”
“Because I’m your best friend.”
Invigorated, the life came back into her eyes. “And you’ll always be my best friend.”
***
My first day of class was uneventful.
I read off the syllabus and explained my expectations for the school year. A sea of blank faces stared back at me, every student still in summer mode. Their eyes glanced to the windows, dreaming about their vacation by the pool. They looked like a group of lifeless slugs.