He may be strict, but he’s also fair. He does me a favor by calling all of his local contacts in the hope of placing me elsewhere. In order to meet the requirements, I have to complete another month in terms of credit hours. He hits the jackpot when one of the entertainment weeklies says yes. Now as long as Lauren signs off on the generic form letter he plans on sending her and I receive a glowing recommendation from my new boss, I should be able to fulfill all of the stipulations designated in the course catalog.
Professor Tate encourages me to reach out to Lauren before he tries contacting her on my behalf, but I refuse. Talking to me isn’t going to sway her. She’s either going to make things extremely difficult for me or she’s going to write me out of her life with one flick of her pen. She’s moody to the point of being bipolar, so who knows which way the wind will blow on the day she receives the letter. She’ll either release me from whatever connection that is still tethering us together, or she’ll leave me scrambling at the last minute to make up the extra hours. Even though I don’t think it’s possible to reclaim all of the ground that’s been lost. I’ll just have to wait and see what she does, but I’m not going to beg. That’s where I draw the line.
Eric hasn’t called and I’m too afraid to call him after my drunken outburst outside the bar a couple of weeks ago. The next morning I was utterly mortified by what I’d said, but I couldn’t take back. I knew he was dealing with the anniversary of Cassidy’s death, and what did I do? Rub salt in the wound. Making him choose between her and me when it wasn’t even a competition. Maybe we had a shot at repairing the damage between us before I opened my big mouth.
I figure if he wants to talk to me, he will. I’m not going to go chasing after him, especially if I’m the last person on earth he wants to see. I insulted the memory of his dead fiancée and trash talked him all in one fell swoop. That’s enough to put the skids on any burgeoning relationship, much less one as complicated as ours. He’s probably thinking, Good riddance. Thank God I got away from her before things got too serious.
But for me, they already were. I’m in too deep. No wonder it hurts like hell trying to get out from under this when there’s no place I’d rather be than by his side. He’s it for me whether he wants me or not. I’m used to unrequited love. I went through years of it with Will. I can solider on alone, sustaining myself on just the memories of that one incredible night we shared.
I try not to think about it too much, but sudden flashbacks hit me when I least expect it. Like when I’m in the break room at my new internship getting a cup of coffee, I’ll remember fixing breakfast with him that morning in his kitchen. Or when I’m getting ready for work, I’ll be putting on a pair of earrings and I’ll recall how he nibbled my earlobe, taking my breath away.
But in between all of those stolen moments, most of the time I find myself in the restroom of the Weekend Express. I haven’t been able to shake this stomach bug, but luckily this internship isn’t as taxing as my previous one. For the most part, they have me updating the calendar of events on their web site and maintaining the social media pages that go along with it. It’s not exactly hard news. There’s no reporting required. All of the information flows into the office via email and fax. I just type it up and regurgitate it back out. Kind of like what my stomach has been doing to everything I eat.
After one particularly nasty episode that had three of my new co-workers knocking on the door of the bathroom stall to check on me, I decide it is finally time to visit the emergency room. I have been seeing the nurse on campus, but I think my symptoms have journeyed beyond the level of her expertise. I’ll have to take the afternoon off, but it can’t be helped. I’ll ask if I can possibly make up the hours over the weekend or something. I don’t want to get any further behind, because Lauren still hasn’t responded with a signed copy of the letter, and it looks like she’s going to take pleasure in screwing me over.
The waiting room is already packed when I arrive, and I’m forced to cool my heels for nearly three hours before a doctor can see me. Beforehand, they run me through a battery of tests—urine sample, blood work, etc. Whatever it is they’re looking for, I hope they find it, because if I don’t get to go back to the dorm soon, I’m going to lose it.
However, when the doctor gives his official diagnosis, I nearly fall over. I grab a handful of the crinkly paper lining the exam table as he does a more thorough examination. I can’t believe what he just told me. It can’t be true. But my answers to his questions along with the results of my tests are pretty conclusive. There’s no denying what’s wrong with me. I only wish it weren’t true.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eric
I’m just getting ready to close things up for the night when I see a cloud of dust on the horizon. It looks like I’m going to have one more customer as a car rounds the bend. But my heart gets lodged in my throat when I recognize whose it is. My pulse starts to race, and I start heading toward the road, but I pull myself back. I have to hold my ground. I can’t give in. Too much time has gone by.
The car passes through the gate before coming to a stop at the front door behind which I’m standing. Shep is barking hysterically for me to let him out, but instead I carefully slip through, leaving him inside. This isn’t a social visit. If it were, it would’ve happened weeks ago. Something must be up.
“Ivy.” I greet her as she steps out. She looks more beautiful than ever. She’s wearing a black sleeveless top and matching pants meant to accentuate her figure. However, the outfit seems to be hanging off her. Did she lose weight? Now that I take a good look at her, it appears she hasn’t been sleeping much either. Maybe she’s taking our breakup harder than I thought.
“Eric.” She doesn’t elaborate, and neither do I. We’re both pretty business-like in our approach. It hurts me to have to talk to her this way.
“What are you doing here?” I may as well cut to the chase, or at the rate this is going, we’ll be here all night.
“I’m returning something of yours.” She holds it up for my inspection, and for the first time my eyes alight on the object she is carrying—Cassidy’s shirt. I recoil inwardly. “I did my best to get the stain out. I even took it to a dry cleaner, but it won’t budge.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered. It was already ruined.” I snatch it roughly out of her grasp as she holds it out to me. A flicker of remorse travels through her eyes before quickly vanishing. I’m being an asshole, I know, but she deserves it.
“Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.” Now we are both talking about more than just the shirt.
“Well, thank you for dropping it off, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to lock up the place and go home.” I can hear Shep scratching at the door, but I try to ignore it.
“I’ll leave. But there’s one more thing I have to tell you.” Her eyes pierce mine, and I simultaneously want to ravish her and send her packing. My emotions are waging a war within me as the front I’m trying to maintain begins to crack.
“What is it?” I want to come off like I’m uninterested. Instead, I sound practically breathless with desire.
“I think maybe you should invite me in so we could sit down.” Her gaze darts over to Shep, who she can clearly see through the glass door.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell me out here.” If I let her inside, I’ll never let her leave. It’ll be my undoing—and hers.
“Eric, please.” She’s begging me, and she never begs.
“Ivy, I can’t.” Her hands reach for mine, but they immediately drop to her sides when I utter my response to her plea.
“Are you seeing someone else?” The stricken expression on her face levels me. I’m tired of playing around with her.
“No.” I want to say more, but she looks away. It’s hard to tell is she’s relieved by my admission.
“It’s pretty serious. I don’t think it’s a conversation we should be having in the parking lot.” She’s determined t
o get her way, but I can’t let her win. She only thinks she wants me, but I’m no good for her. If I have to physically push her away, I will.
“Just spill it, Ivy. Stop being so dramatic.” There’s a flash of anger in her eyes at my impatience.
“Fine. You want to hear it like this? That’s your choice, not mine. I wanted to handle this like an adult but if you want to…” She’s going on a rant. I can’t listen to anymore of this.
“For God’s sake, Ivy. Just tell me.” I cross my arms in front of me in some effort to protect myself from whatever it is she’s going to say.
“I’m pregnant, you jerk. That’s what.” She turns on her heel as if to walk away, but I grab her arm and spin her around.
“How is that even possible?” She’s jerking her arm, trying to get free, but I refuse to let her go.
“I don’t know? Maybe because we had sex.” She glares at me, tossing her head back.
“You know what I mean. I used a condom…” Now I’m at a loss for words.
“Hello, they’re not one hundred percent effective, and I wasn’t on the pill.” She frantically wipes her tears away. I’m being way too hard on her and I hate myself for it.
“Ivy, come here.” I draw her into me and she punches my chest with her fists.
“Let me go,” she cries, gripping my shirt. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t need you just like you don’t need me.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.” I tuck her head under my chin and hold her firmly against me.
“I do know it. It’s been over a month and you never called me. Not once!” She’s hysterical now, and her sobs take on a frantic quality as she gasps for air. This can’t be good for her—or the baby. I need her to calm down.
“Because I thought you’d be better off without me, not because I didn’t care about you. You’re all I think about, night and day.” I kiss her the top of her head. “I didn’t want a young, vibrant, gorgeous girl like yourself saddled with a loser like me.”
“But you’re not a loser.” She cries even harder when she says that word. “I didn’t mean it. I was jealous and drunk and mad at you for turning me away. But I love you, Eric. I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”
And with that, I can’t restrain myself any longer. My lips find hers, and our grasp tightens like we’re drowning in this sea of life and the only thing keeping us afloat is our faith in each other.
“You’re really pregnant?” I ask when we finally draw apart. It seems too good to be true, like some kind of miracle I don’t deserve. The second chance I never thought I’d have.
“Uh-huh,” she says, beaming up at me.
I pick her up and she laughs, throwing her arms around my neck.
I intend to do everything in my power to make myself worthy of her love. No matter what happens, I can’t wait to see where this journey takes us next.
I push open the door with my back and Shep leaps up to welcome Ivy back where she belongs—in my heart, in my home, in my bed.
Meant for Me (Take Me Now, #2)
by Faith Sullivan
December 2013
The trilogy continues.
Will Eric get his second chance at happiness with Ivy?
Message from the Author
I really hate talking about myself. My goal is to have the shortest author bio imaginable. I would much rather have a conversation with my readers.
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Preview of
Heartbeat by Faith Sullivan
Katie and Adam are afraid of love.
She carries the scars of a first kiss gone terribly wrong.
He uproots his life to flee the stinging betrayal of an ex.
When trust is no longer an option, all romance is suspect.
As a young paramedic, Adam rescues people for a living but cannot save himself. Katie, just out of high school, struggles with a tortured home life she cannot escape.
Everything changes when Katie hops into the front seat of Adam's ambulance. Overwhelmed by what they are feeling, neither possess the confidence to make the first move. They walk away from each other, full of regret.
To find her, Adam risks his future. To be with him, Katie sacrifices her security.
Little do they know, what little time they do have, is being measured by a heartbeat that is slowly dying out.
Chapter One
Katie
CRASH!
The force of the impact is jarring, but it doesn’t completely startle me. A split second before the SUV hurtles into Grandma’s driver’s side door, I catch a glimpse of it in my peripheral vision. Grandma isn’t so lucky.
“Are you okay?” I gasp.
“I think so,” she says, moving to unfasten her seat belt.
The driver of the SUV is already outside of his vehicle inspecting the damage. It is a miracle Grandma isn’t trapped behind the steering wheel. She is able to open her dented car door. She struggles to stand, wincing in pain. The passenger in the SUV is already on his cell phone, probably calling 911.
I don’t want to get out of the car. It is a February afternoon. The temperature is hovering in the teens. The wind is whipping through the movie theater parking lot as snow flurries begin to fall. I crouch down in my seat. Why did this have to happen? I don’t want to deal with a guy who drives like Rambo, taking down every elderly woman in his path. Maybe if I close my eyes, it will all go away.
A speeding police car with lights flashing arrives on the scene. Do they really need to make such an entrance? They probably just left the donut shop down the road. No need to give in to the sugar rush.
Grandma slowly sits back in her seat as Rambo’s father comes over to our car.
“Ma’am, are you all right?” he asks.
“I don’t know…I’m awfully sore,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck.
“It’s not a good idea for you to be moving around. Why don’t you just sit back and stay as still as you can. The police are here now. Let me go and talk to them,” he says.
He strides into the wind head-on as his son bends down to analyze the damage to his front fender. Really? He can’t even come over and see if the old lady he hit is okay? He has to send his dad? Way to be a man.
I lean forward and open the glove compartment to find the insurance information and registration card.
“Here comes someone now. Are you able to roll down the window, Grandma?” I ask.
“I think so…let me see,” she says, hitting the power button.
“How are you doing, ladies? Anyone seriously hurt?” asks a female police officer, her blonde curly hair blowing around her head like a tornado as the wind begins to increase.
“Well, I feel a little banged up,” Grandma replies.
“Look straight ahead, and keep your head against the headrest. Do not move a muscle. I don’t even want to know what happened. We’re going to give you an incident report that you can fill out later and drop off at the station next week. For now, just sit tight until the ambulance arrives,” the officer says with practiced authority.
“I don’t think I need an ambulance,” Grandma says.
“Grandma, it’s better if you go and get checked out at the hospital. Just to be sure,” I insist.
“Listen to your granddaughter. We’ll all feel better if you let them examine you,” the officer responds.
“Okay, if you think it’s necessary,” Grandma sighs.
“Try to relax. I’m going to talk with the other driver. Remember, don’t move,” the officer commands.
“Yes, officer,” Grandma replies meekly
.
“Well, I guess they don’t want our paperwork,” I grumble. What a mess. We just wanted to get out and enjoy a movie without having it end in disaster.
It is the first time in a week that I have left the house. I’m still a little weak after what seemed like a never-ending bout with the flu. Last weekend, I was in the emergency room sick as a dog. Looks like this weekend is going to be more of the same. Except this time, I won’t be the patient.
This wouldn’t have happened if I had been driving. But the wind was so fierce that Grandma didn’t want me getting sick again. So she told me to wait at the entrance of the theater and she would pick me up. I ran from the theater entrance to the car, yet I still felt chilled to the bone. I didn’t notice anything amiss with Grandma. Everything seemed fine, until she plowed through an intersection without stopping. That’s all it took to land us in this predicament.
I look up as the ambulance pulls into the parking lot. A lanky guy with scruffy blonde hair and a face full of stubble jumps out…without a jacket…wearing short sleeves. Is he crazy? We’re practically living on an ice planet, and he’s dressed like it’s a summer day. And he’s going to be the one taking care of my grandmother? I think he’s the one who needs to get his head examined.
I watch him through the windshield as he follows his two older co-workers over to the police. Snowflakes stick to the black shirt of his uniform.
Great, they have some crazy guy who doesn’t look much older than me running the show. Perfect.
Luckily, one of the other paramedics approaches our car. He gently opens the door and looks at Grandma. He must see a lot of horrific things in his line of work. At least in this case there’s no blood or massive injuries.
“Hi, my name is Charlie, and I’m going to be taking care of you,” he says, with a smile.
Grandma nods.
“Oh, now don’t go moving on me. I need you to stay nice and still while I examine you,” he says in a soothing voice as he looks into her eyes with a mini flashlight. “Everything seems fine, but as a precaution, I’m going to put this neck brace on you. Then we’re going to put you on the stretcher and take you to the hospital.”
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