Always (Carter Kids #1.5)

by Chloe Walsh

  Always

  Carter Kids #1.5

  By Chloe Walsh

  Always (Carter Kids #1.5)

  Published by Chloe Walsh

  Smashwords Editon.

  Copyright 2015 by Chloe Walsh

  All rights reserved. ©

  The right of Chloe Walsh to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright and Related Rights Act 2000.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-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 reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Always

  (Carter Kids #1.5)

  First published, June 2015

  All rights reserved. ©

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-910817-22-3

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-910817-23-0

  Cover photo licensed from Shutterstock Inc.

  Editor: Bernadette Kearns

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges all songs titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses, brands, mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners.

  Chloe Walsh is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  Other books by Chloe Walsh

  The Broken Series

  Break my Fall

  Fall to Pieces

  Fall on Me

  Forever we Fall

  Breaking Point (2016)

  Fall into Me (2016)

  Carter Kids Series

  Treacherous #1

  Always #1.5

  Blaze #2 (2015)

  Inevitable #3 (2015)

  The DiMarco Dynasty

  DiMarco’s Secret Love Child: Part One

  DiMarco’s Secret Love Child: Part Two

  &

  Blurring Lines

  Never Let Me Go (2015)

  Upcoming titles by Chloe Walsh in 2015

  Blaze (Carter Kids #2)

  By Chloe Walsh

  Inevitable (Carter Kids #3)

  By Chloe Walsh

  Never Let Me Go (Blurring Lines #2)

  By Chloe Walsh

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Disclaimer

  Other books by Chloe Walsh

  Upcoming titles by Chloe Walsh

  Table of contents

  Dedication

  Author's Note

  Part One: The Past

  Part Two: The Present

  Acknowledgments

  About the author

  Playlist for Always

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to my husband.

  John, I love you more than life.

  Thank you for my babies.

  Thank you for your unequivocal love.

  And thank you for being the beautiful person you are both inside and out.

  You make breathing easy.

  Always & Forever.

  I promise.

  xxx

  Author's Note

  Always is the second book in the Carter Kids series.

  It is a novella with a 20,000 word count and sets up the premise to Hope and Jordan's story, Inevitable. This novella is divided into two parts: the past and the present.

  Although it is not necessary, it is advisable to read the Broken Series before reading the Carter Kids, as many of the characters are in both series.

  Due to its sexually-explicit content, scenes of abuse, violence, and moderate bad language, Always is recommended for mature readers of eighteen years old and above.

  Thank you for reading this.

  Chloe. x

  Part One

  The Past

  Hope

  Age 13

  "If I told you a secret, would you keep it?"

  We were sitting on the edge of the dock, with our feet in the water, and Jordan had his reading glasses on. I suspected he wore them because he had been crying, but I didn’t want to embarrass him by saying so.

  "I always keep your secrets, Jordan," I told him honestly. "You know that."

  I'd been keeping his secrets since I could talk, and he'd been keeping his promises since as far back as I could remember.

  "I hate it there, Keychain," he whispered. I knew exactly where there was, and it made the anger inside me boil to the surface. Three years ago, Jordan's mom, Karen, married this shifty-looking dude from her hometown in Idaho and moved back there, taking Jordan with her.

  I'd never felt pain like I had the day Karen brought him to our house to say goodbye. I had known he was leaving, but I had been absolutely convinced – and so had Jordan – that Jordan's father, Derek, would step in and stop her from leaving. Derek didn’t stop her and I lost my best friend that day.

  I hated Derek for it, but my hatred paled in comparison to Jordan's.

  Jordan made me a promise to me, though: a promise to return – to always come back to me. And not once since the day he left had he broken that promise. Twice a year he came for me – not Uncle Derek – and spent the majority of his vacation at my house, and I loved him for it.

  It wasn’t easy for Jordan. Nothing in his life had been easy. I worried about him constantly, especially now, with that look in his eyes and that pain in his voice. He'd been home for summer vacation three days and I could tell he was different.

  I wasn’t stupid, I could tell something was … off … about his stepfather, Paul, and the whole damn situation, but I just didn’t know what that something was.

  I had suspicions, but no proof and I didn’t like feeling useless. If I told my parents, my Dad would charge in like a protective lion, acting on his emotions, not logic; but Mom was much cleverer. She would get to the bottom of Jordan's problem.

  "Twenty-five days." Jordan glanced over at me, his green eyes damp. "And then I have to go back." He sighed heavily; his hand trembled next to mine, and I wasn’t sure what to do to help him. "I don’t want to go back there."

  "You can come live with me." Shifting onto my knees, I turned to face him, the scuffed denim of my dungarees felt hot against my skin. It was so hot today. "I can talk to my mom," I told him. "She fixes everything. She'll talk to Dad, and he can stop them from making you go back. He can talk to your dad and tell him you're sad."

  "I can't leave her there," he choked out. "As much as I don't want to back there, I can't leave my mom."

  I didn’t know what to do; or how to help. I didn’t care about Jordan's mom. I cared about him. I wanted him to be happy, and I wanted him here with me.

  "Don’t go back," I urged him. Something was happening to him in Idaho, and if he wasn’t so insistent I keep his secrets, I could tell my mother about the bruises I saw on his body when we went swimming yesterday, or the way he flinched when he was touched. Jordan didn’t like surprises and he cried in his sleep.

  My mom would understand.
<
br />   She would know what to do.

  "If I asked you to do something for me, would you do it?" Jordan croaked, not meeting my eyes, as he stared straight ahead. The only parts of our bodies that were touching were our fingertips.

  He looked so nice, and smelled so good, and this weird tingling sensation came alive every time I touched his skin or sat close to him. When I was with Jordan, it felt like I was bursting with happiness and was on fire with excitement. At first, I was worried because I thought there was something seriously wrong with me, but then I decided I liked the feelings he brought to the surface. I liked him. My best friend. I had a crush on Jordan Porter.

  "Anything," I vowed, covering his hand with mine.

  I felt his hand tense underneath mine, but I didn’t pull away.

  "If I asked you to kiss me," Jordan whispered, "Would you do it?" Removing his glasses, Jordan shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "What I mean is: would you do it because you wanted to do it, or would you do it just to please me?"

  I shook my head in confusion, as my stomach somersaulted around in my body. "What?"

  "I need to know you'd say 'no', Hope," Jordan choked out, looking me in the eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. "I need that assurance." He squeezed my hand. "I need to know that you could say 'no'."

  "I could never say 'no' to you, Jordy," I replied honestly. "Never."

  "Please don’t say that," he begged, dropping his head to stare at our hands. "Please."

  "I'm sorry," I told him. Pulling my legs underneath me, I knelt, staring at the side of his face, waiting for him to turn.

  He looked so incredibly troubled, and my heart broke to see him like this. He shouldn’t have the worries I sensed he was carrying. He was only sixteen years old.

  "Why are you so sad, Jordy?"

  "Hope …"

  He paused and held his breath for a second, before letting out a sigh and climbing quickly to his feet. "Come on – enough of the sad talk! Let's go for a swim."

  He dived into the water before I had a chance to call him out on avoiding my question.

  Standing slowly, I placed my hands on my hips and watched as he swam to the surface. His black curls were clipped short and soaking wet.

  "You coming, Keychain?" Jordan called out as he bobbed in the water, grinning up at me. He swam closer and splashed me with water.

  "You better swim fast," I shouted back through fits of laughter, as I kicked off my ratty old tennis shoes and socks. "I'm gonna catch you, Jordan Porter."

  "And I'm going to let you, Hope Carter," he said with a smile.

  ****

  Jordan

  Age 16

  He hit her again.

  I was home three hours and that man had put his hands on my mother.

  Hatred like I'd never known existed spewed through my veins, twisting my heart and forever blackening my stance on holy matrimony. But most of all I hated myself.

  I hated myself because I was hiding. My mom was inside that house getting beat on, and I was hiding in the barn, crying like a baby and wishing I were back in Thirteenth Street with Hope Carter.

  "Get the hell out here, boy."

  Clenching my eyes shut, I bit down on my fist and held as still as I could, not daring to move a muscle. I was aching all over. I had tried to defend my mom earlier, but I was too fucking weak. Paul was bigger than any man I'd ever met in my life and my crushed nose was proof of his strength.

  "Porter!"

  I wondered if I held my breath long enough, remained completely still and didn’t answer Paul when he called my name, would he forget I existed and leave me alone?

  But then I thought of my mom and what he would do to her instead, and the fear began to spread like wildfire through my body.

  My voice was tight as I crept out from under the bale of hay and said, "I'm here."

  ****

  Hope

  Age 15

  "That's completely unfair, Dad!"

  I glared across the table at my father. Dad met my glare head on, with a look of anger of his own.

  He was always my greatest opponent. Mom was soft – she caved easily – and the boys were stupid, but Dad: he was a warrior. This argument could go either way.

  I hoped it went my way.

  "Best friend's sleep over at each other's houses," I said in a level tone. "Do you want me to be friendless? Is that how you want to treat your only daughter?" I opened my eyes as wide as I could. "Your favorite child?"

  "Eighteen-year-old boys don't sleep in fifteen-year-old girl's bedrooms," Dad countered quickly. His blue eyes were narrowed and focused on my face. "It's not happening, Hope. Get it out of your head."

  "We're just friends, Dad," I growled, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep my tongue in check. "And think very carefully about this," I added with a smirk, "I may be the only child you have who's prepared to care for you in your old age."

  "I have four kids," Dad chuckled. "I figure I'll live with the youngest, and make the older three suffer."

  "You'd prefer to live with Logan than me?" I asked in an appalled tone of voice.

  "Logan doesn’t threaten old age pensioners, Hope," Dad shot back with a grin.

  "Let him stay, Kyle," Mom crooned, as she drifted into the kitchen, armed with a bucket full of cleaning detergents.

  Mom had her dark hair pulled back off her face, and I had to hold in the gasp that tried to burst of me. As beautiful as my mother was - and she was gorgeous - the horrible scar she bore on her face still frightened me. She was scarred on every spare inch of her skin, but the one on her face was, by far, the worst one. It was so deep and distracting, but my dad never seemed to take any notice of it. He looked beyond Mom's scars.

  I think I loved him a little more for that.

  "He can sleep in one of the boy's rooms if you're worried, but he's a good boy. You know this."

  I loved Mom even more for opening her mouth and sticking up for Jordan. Dad was a marshmallow when it came to my mother. The big, hotshot businessman in him fell to pieces when my petite mother came up against him.

  "This is the last year, Hope," Dad grumbled, as he pushed his chair back and stood. "You're getting too old for this shit. It stops."

  "Watch your mouth, Kyle," Mom warned.

  "You like my mouth, Princess," Dad said with a smirk, as he prowled towards her.

  And that's where I checked out.

  Ugh.

  ****

  Jordan

  Age 18

  She was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. I knew that sounded contrived, but never in all my eighteen years had I looked at someone so beautiful - so full of life.

  I fed off Hope Carter's positivity, and I lived for her smiles. Being with Hope took the pain away; numbed the voices in my head; made me feel like I had a life worth living because I had her.

  "You're staring again," Hope announced, stirring me from my reverie.

  We were sitting at her parent's kitchen table. Hope was writing in her journal, and she was right. I was staring at her. Shaking my head, I buried the smile that was threatening to creep across my face and said, "Sorry."

  "Don’t apologize," she told me, flashing me one of those amazing smiles I craved. Brushing a dark curl back from her face, she rested her cheek in her hand and grinned. "I stare at you too."

  My heart slammed against my ribcage. It felt like it was trying to force its way out of my chest and into hers.

  And then his voice penetrated my mind, and I remembered exactly why I didn’t deserve the girl sitting opposite me.

  "Say you like it, you little shit."

  "I like it," I cried out, digging my fingernails into my flesh, piercing my skin, and wanting to burst into flames and disintegrate from this planet...

  I was weak.

  I couldn’t defend my own mother.

  I couldn’t defend myself.

  I didn’t deserve shit …

  The
feeling of suffocation built inside me at a rapid pace, causing my heart to palpitate and my palms to sweat.

  "What's wrong?" Hope asked me, ever perceptive. Reaching across the table, she covered my large hand with her small one. "Talk to me, Jordan," she urged, entwining her fingers with mine.

  My throat felt like sandpaper, and I couldn’t get my words out, but I clung to her hand, savored the feel of her skin on mine like it was the last time I would ever get the chance. Hope was too young and pure to ever understand my life. But that's exactly what I loved most about her. She was untouched by the shitty things in the world – she was innocent and good.

  Kyle Carter had made sure of that – her father had protected her from the bad things in the world. Like my father should have done for me – like he should have done for my mother …

  "Did he do it again?" she asked me then, and I felt like dying.

  "Do what?" I replied, desperately trying to hide my secrets and protect her from my truth. "What are you talking about?"

  "Paul," she hissed, and her eyes flared with anger. Slamming her pen on the table, Hope roughly shoved her chair back and moved towards me.

  I sat, with my heart in my mouth, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of me. Gently, Hope reached forward and raised my T-shirt.