Intimate Fear

by D. C. Stone

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2015 D.C. Stone

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-392-3

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Jessica Ruth

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Publishing a book is an intimate process for an author. It involves everything from creating worlds and characters, driving their actions through experiences imagined, and laying bare a hope that others will like the story just as much as the creator. Being an introvert, this process is all a little soul baring for me, but the hero in INTIMATE FEAR, Dwayne, made it so much easier. He demanded his chance, wanted to have others understand him, and wouldn’t give up until I had his story on paper and perfected—sorta like the man he is.

  There are many, many individuals I want to thank for helping me get this book ready. Ruth S., Nicole D, and Lea B…your support means the world to me, and your encouragement keeps me going. I know I sat on this story for over a year before submitting it, I think I finally got to the point you all said I was in, to make it ready for the world. I appreciate you more than words can explain.

  To Evernight Publishing, and my lovely editor, Jessica. Thank you for taking another chance with me, and making this story shine.

  And to my father, who will never read one of my romances because they have sex in them. (laughs) I love you, Pops. You walked through hell this past year, and made it through even stronger than before. You have taught and shown me the meaning of strength and willpower, and because of that, I’m pursuing my dreams. You amaze me.

  And last, to my husband who holds the fort down, entertains the children, and gives me the peace needed to write. Thank you, honey. This is for you…

  INTIMATE FEAR

  Empire Blue, 2

  D.C. Stone

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter One

  “Wake up, Brooke.”

  The sultry voice of John Mayer penetrated her subconscious. Brooke Mason latched on to the sound and envisioned the dark-haired man with hooded eyes, the slight tilt of his lips for her alone.

  “Hurry, girl, time is running out. Wake up.”

  Brooke lingered on the edge of consciousness. She stood in a dark room, no one else but her and this sex god. Held in his stimulating trance, she swayed along to his music. His voice called to her. She wanted to go, to be wrapped in his promise of pleasure.

  “Hailey’s waiting. You have to stop it.”

  With a shift, her face brushed against something soft, a comfortable feeling associated with plush bedding. Long nights…this man spread out across her bed. His body a wonderland, just as he crooned.

  Her bed…

  “Wake up, girl!”

  Her eyes snapped open as the local DJ for Z-100 interrupted John’s voice with a brief on traffic. Sunlight shone brightly through the blinds, glaring against her vision and the reality she’d been thrust in. Her gaze snapped to the clock. Eight fifteen.

  “Shit!”

  She jumped out of bed and shoved her legs into a ratty gray pair of house pants lying on her desk chair. She’d slept through the alarm again! Stumbling past her desk chair, she stubbed her toe and pain ran a line up her leg with the force of a punch. “Ow! Shit, shit, shit!”

  It was the third time this week. She cursed her late-night hours and rushed from the room.

  Brooke darted down the hallway, passing rows of pictures: a giggling baby reaching for her first flower, the bottom of a toddler’s feet taken from behind as she sat on her knees, a toothless grin staring up at the camera as the girl stood still for the frozen memory. Their lives—her and her daughter’s—splayed across the wall with hardly any white showing beneath. The display was a constant reminder of their happiness, a treasure, more, a declaration of the forbidden four-letter word she no longer believed in.

  Love.

  She skidded to a stop and slapped a hand on a door, the sign “Enter at your own RISK” shaking with the impact. Pushing the door open, her gaze darted to the empty bed before landing on her daughter, who sat at a vanity table applying pink gloss to her already pink lips.

  “Hailey, I overslept again. I’m so sorry. Give me five minutes and I’ll have breakfast ready.”

  Her seventeen-year-old’s deep brown eyes met hers in the reflection of the mirror and paused. One brow lifted and Brooke fought a smile. Hailey looked too damn cute with that look on her face.

  “Again? Mom! You know this isn’t healthy. How late did you stay up this time?”

  Brooke, still trying to brush off the remnants of her weird dream, shook her head and lifted a hand. “Never mind that. Are you almost ready?”

  She nodded and pursed her lips. “Just about.”

  “Okay.” Brooke paused, taking in Hailey. She was growing up so damn fast. It seemed as if it were just yesterday she learned how to walk, to talk, to throw a ball.

  “Mom?” Hailey lifted a brow. The impatience—and yes, aggravation at being stared at, because the girl couldn’t stand it—was written clearly across her face. Brooke struggled with the sigh that wanted to escape. Her beautiful daughter was in that stage all young women went through, the one where they were so self-conscious about their bodies, their looks. It was a wonder they didn’t have men of all ages knocking on the door to get their shot with her teen.

  “I’m going, I’m going.” Brooke drew back and rushed down the hall and into their bright kitchen. An island sat in the middle of the room, decorated in blue-and-white broken tiles. She and Hailey had built that countertop piece by piece. Between Brooke’s father and her daughter, the two had more fun taking a sledgehammer to the tiles before starting the process of getting them together in grout. It had been painstakingly slow, four weeks to complete, to get everything to fit like a puzzle. The laughter, though, the conversations and bonding experience they went through made it well worth the time.

  Especially now—her lips thinned with sadness—when her parents couldn’t remember those memories. They’d both been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s six years ago, and each sad verdict of this disease had been within three months of each other. Now when she visited her father, which she needed to do soon, she was lucky if he remembered his name. And her mother had unfortunately succumbed to the illness.

  She shook out of her depressing thoughts and skidded across the floor. A large, dark stainless steel refrigerator stood behind the island, and to the left was a door leading to a small yard behind the house. To the right were the sink and a window that overlooked the backyard. Countertop wrapped around the corner of the room before stopping at the stainless steel stove.

  She yanked open the refrigerator, grabbed orange juice and coffee creamer, butter and jelly. She pulled two pieces of bread from a loaf and tossed them into the toaster.

  Her hand slipped behind the Keurig machine and turned it on. Whoever had invented a machine that brewed cups of coffee on demand, and in single rations, should be deemed a god. The familiar, soothing sound of water heating inside filled the air.

  Several minutes later, she was in the process of setting butter on toast when Hailey breezed in. Brooke took in her outfit and bit her tongue.

  Jeans sat low enough on Hailey’s hips to cause a traffic accident, and her white t-shirt didn’t hide the very visible pink bra she wore beneath.


  “Hailey…” Brooke began, wincing at the telling tone, but really, this outfit couldn’t be fit for public consumption.

  Hailey grabbed a piece of toast and bit off a chunk. “Mom, don’t start,” she said around a mouthful of food.

  Brooke narrowed her eyes and leaned forward on the center island. “I’m your mother. I’m supposed to start—and end it. How do you even know what I’m going to say?”

  Eyes matching the color of dark chocolate and framed with long lashes met hers. A trait Hailey shared with her deadbeat father, and yet another daily reminder of Brooke’s failures in love. Hailey tossed a long, thick braid over her shoulder and let out an exaggerated breath. The color of her hair matched the clay of Arizona’s desert, deep, rich shades of red and gold, intermingled with blonde. Besides her stubbornness, the color was another trait she shared with Brooke. And it had always been one that thousands of other women paid hundreds of dollars to replicate in the salon.

  “I know what you’re going to say because it’s written all over your face. And from the way your eyes practically bugged out of your head, I’m sure I can guess what it’s going to be. This is the style now, Mom.”

  Brooke bristled. Her hand curled around the coffee mug, the brim almost as big as her face. In most instances, she needed at least two cups to start her day, and today she figured she’d need a lot more. But for now she used the warmth coming through the ceramic to comfort her frayed nerves. The day had started out wrong, her dream interrupted, her daughter’s outfit… She could only guess what else was going to come her way.

  “It may be the style, but really?” she asked.

  Hailey huffed. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  She wanted to give Hailey a chance to grow on her own, but she needed to keep the boundaries tight, as well. It wasn’t too long ago that she had been a teenager herself. And even if Hailey didn’t know it, they were alike in many ways. She saw herself in her daughter and fought an impulse to point it out. That argument, the repeating of her past mistakes, had never been one to get through to Hailey, and it wouldn’t help matters now.

  Before she demanded Hailey go and change, she took a deep breath. Her smart daughter retained knowledge faster than anyone she knew. Brooke hoped her daughter would get over this need to act out soon, and get back on track. She had tried to stand back and not harp on Hailey too much, give her space, and encourage communication. Lately, though, it seemed as if the girl deliberately tried to push her buttons in what she wore, in who she’d hang out with, in the late hours she would come home. Her grades even started to slip, and while Brooke really wanted to get that under control, to set her daughter straight, she didn’t know how to get through to the teenager standing across from her. The slip was minimal, mind you, nothing rash compared to the four-point-oh Hailey held, but it was there.

  “Hailey,” she started again, “you’re beautiful without having to draw attention to your…assets.” She raised her brows, emphasizing her point, and tried another tactic. “Honey, I get that you want to grow up, feel like you can take on the world, think you understand what it’s like being an adult. But really, don’t rush it.”

  Hailey rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. “God, Mom.” She bit her lip and looked around, her words fading.

  Brooke’s hackles rose again. “What, Hailey? Just spit it out.”

  Hailey’s expression grew harder, reminding Brooke of when her daughter had been two and thrown a tantrum in Walmart. That fit was over the fact that she’d said no to getting the new holiday Barbie. Brooke braced for the explosion.

  “I’m not going to end up like you. You want me to be myself, well then, stop trying to make me into someone you want me to be.” Her face softened with an undeniable amount of pity. “I understand your fears, but I’m also smart and know what I’m doing. All I do is go to school, play softball, and come home. I need to break out of the box.”

  Oh. Well, shit. “Hailey, listen.”

  “No, Mom, you listen.”

  Hailey came around the island. Her daughter brushed the hair from Brooke’s shoulders, and she sighed. Such a small touch, but damn it, she didn’t even get hugs anymore.

  “I get you’re scared. I do. And I love you for it, but you need to trust me here.”

  “I want to, Hails.”

  Hailey wrapped her arms around Brooke’s shoulders and smiled. “Prove it.”

  She raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

  Hailey shrugged and looked away. “If you trust me, then hear me out and really think about it before you answer.”

  Ding, ding, ding! That was the sound of an alarm. She shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t resist. The brow she raised came down tight and she frowned. “What do you want?”

  As if she were bracing for impact, Hailey let out a slow breath. “Jaxon asked me to go out on a date and I want to say yes.”

  Brooke sucked in a sharp breath. “Jaxon.” She didn’t ask it as a question, but it was stated. Oh shit, shit, shit. This couldn’t be happening already.

  “Yes,” Hailey answered with a smile, slow and sweet as honey.

  “You’re only seventeen,” she said and winced at the whine in her voice. “A date? Jaxon is older,” she rushed on. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea. Plus with everything going on at the school, with the investigation, I don’t know if I want to have to worry about you dating while things are…tense in the community.”

  Hailey huffed and stepped back. Brooke fought with the loss of the little girl who used to give hugs out as if a necessity to life. It seemed she only got any kind of affection when her daughter wanted something.

  “See? This is what I’m talking about. He’s only two years older,” Hailey said, with what Brooke noticed was a complete disregard for anything involving the drug investigation going on at her school. “And he’s nice. Has a good job and his own place. He’s smart and funny, and totally cool. You’ve known him for two years. Come on, give me a chance to go out on my first date with someone I really like.”

  Brooke saw the hope in her eyes. It was there like bait to a fish, straining to do its job, and it worked. Hailey was a teenager who could manipulate with the best of them. Caught on the hook, Brooke closed her lids before opening them again. “Okay, under one condition.”

  Surprise flashed across her face before happiness. She jumped up and down, laughed, and wrapped Brooke in a tight embrace. The sweet innocence of her daughter filled her lungs—baby powder. Such a simple smell but one that reminded her of a hundred memories. Her heart clenched as Hailey hugged her tightly. Brooke did not know if she was ready to take this step, but holding on forever wasn’t an option. She needed to teach Hailey about taking responsibility, about making the right decisions, and the first step to that would be cutting the cord, so to speak.

  “Anything, Mom.” Hailey pulled back, her smile as big as the GW Bridge was wide.

  Brooke nodded. “Number one, go change your bra. Put on a white one.”

  She nodded with rapid movements.

  “And two, promise me you’ll concentrate on your grades. They’re slipping, Hails.”

  Hailey bit her lip, looking sheepish before she nodded again, the movement slower than before. “Of course, I promise. Anything else?” She ducked her head and looked up beneath heavy, long lashes. Brooke bit back a sigh at how beautiful she was. What if this was too soon?

  “You won’t come home too late. And you’re not allowed to be alone in his house. And you will keep in constant contact with me. Understand?”

  Hailey beamed before she jumped forward and kissed her cheek with a giggle. At that sound, the sigh she tried to hold broke free. Love swelled unconditionally. Hailey was the one person Brooke felt comfortable giving any affection to.

  “Understood.” Her daughter’s gaze darted over Brooke’s shoulder before widening. “Crap, I’m going to be late.”

  With a whirlwind of movement, she dashed off down the hallway, thanking Brooke over her shou
lder.

  Brooke looked over at the small wooden kitchen table and sighed at the bags left behind. She picked up Hailey’s softball bag and made sure everything was inside before moving it next to the rest of her daughter’s things. With another small wince—this one for herself—she tried to ignore just another reminder of her ex-husband. Leo Mason had been the star pitcher for their high school’s baseball team. He was good, phenomenal actually, and had dreams to back up his star playing abilities. He was also pretty damn dreamy when it came to how a young woman might view him.

  She’d been more of an academic teenager and sat on the other side of the cafeteria from where the jocks did. He was a year ahead and bounds more popular. She never thought he’d ever give her any kind of attention, much less look in her direction twice. So, when he approached her one afternoon, she’d been shocked and wary. It took him months to build their friendship, her always thinking he couldn’t possibly want her. He could have had anyone, but he’d chosen her and that was unbelievable. She questioned every step they took before finally giving in to him.

  Time was relative in everything one did. It took months to build the friendship, moments to break through the affection, years to grow a relationship and a child, and mere seconds to have it all shatter.

  An exuberant Hailey rushed back into the room and grabbed her bags, tossed them on her shoulder, and shoved the remaining piece of toast in her mouth.

  “Is Dwayne picking you up again this morning?”

  Hailey turned and pressed a sweet kiss on Brooke’s cheek. “Yup,” she said, then dashed out of the kitchen with an, “I love you, Mom,” over her shoulder.

  Brooke followed on her heels and held the door as her daughter sped outside. Sandy hair reflected off the teenager’s head as the sun rebounded from the strands.