eyond Desire Collection
Page 145
And finally…
To my readers, wow… I love you guys. All the wonderful notes you send me, I read every single one. You guys are why I do this.
Author’s Note:
Obviously, “Silver Springs” played a huge role in this book. In fact, the idea for the book came from the song. Within three minutes, I saw the entire book unfold: I saw Ryan’s struggle, Lili’s fight to save him, and finally Ryan discovering that no one can save you but yourself. But even though I felt very strongly I needed to write the book, I was terrified to do it. Because it felt too personal, too raw, and too scary.
So what do I say after writing a book like this? I’ve gone back and forth in my mind, wondering how I should end this, if I should even say something. This wasn’t an easy book to write, and I wanted to make sure never to trivialize or sensationalize it. I decided to tackle two tough issues: Suicide and Sexual Abuse. Neither of which are pretty, but unfortunately the two sometimes go hand in hand. I knew having a main character who tried to kill himself might make it difficult to understand why Lili sticks around. Well, I have a friend in real life who did just that. She took a giant leap of faith to love him, even knowing what he’d tried to do to himself and fearing it could happen again someday. But now, fifteen years later, he tells me she’s his hero. She helped him to understand he really was worthy and sometimes what seems too big when we’re younger is something we can grow perspective on when we’re older. I’m glad she was there for him and that’s why I had Lili there for Ryan. Because sometimes in life, there are those strong enough to help put the broken pieces back together again. As for the rape, sad to say, this happens. Too often this type of abuse goes unreported, especially by males. And it takes a very strong person to love someone who’s experienced this sort of trauma. When something like this happens, it strips you, makes you feel like you’re not the same person, like you’re disgusting and dirty… but guess what? It’s not your fault. Like the priest said, and what I’ve always wanted to tell all of you who’ve suffered from something like this, you didn’t ask for this, it wasn’t your fault. Like Ryan, I hope you choose to fight and know you’re beautiful. Don’t let something like this define who you are, because in the end it’s all the moments that make you you. I’ll leave you with a note I read the other day that felt very fitting. It’s a prayer by St. Francis:
Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; And where there is sadness, joy.
And I hope I’ve done that, because even though parts of this book were sad, the whole of it is a story of triumph and joy.
In book 2 called Right Now, I will explore how Alex copes with what happened. Too often people forget that these types of crimes don’t just affect the one it happened to. But like a grenade explosion, shrapnel flies everywhere and Alex has his fair share of demons. In that book I will deal with not only Alex but his father—the aftermath of what he’s done and the truth of his son’s hatred for him.
If you’d like to continue the Moments Saga, click here to purchase Right Now
About Marie Hall:
Marie Hall is a USA Today Bestselling author and has always held a dangerous fascination for creatures that go bump in the night. And mermaids. And of course fairies. Trolls. Unicorns. Shapeshifters. Vampires. Scottish brogues. Kilts. Beefy arms. Ummm… Bad boys! Especially the sexy ones, be they fantasy men or even the guys next door.
On top of that, she’s a confirmed foodie. She nearly went to culinary school and then figured out she could save a ton of money if she just watched food shows religiously! She’s a self-proclaimed master chef, certified deep-sea dolphin trainer, finder of leprechaun’s gold at the end of the rainbow, and rumor has it she keeps the Troll King locked away in her basement. All of which is untrue. However, she does have an incredibly active imagination and loves to share her crazy thoughts with the world!
If you want to see what new creations she’s got up her sleeves sign up for her newsletter, she promises to never spam you: Newsletter Link
Marie’s Books
Moments Series (Contemporary Romance)
A Moment, Book 1
Right Now, Book 2
Jaime and Tor’s Story, Book 3
Kingdom Series (Fairytale Romance)
Her Mad Hatter (Free everywhere! Book 1 based on Alice and the Mad Hatter)
Gerard’s Beauty (Book 2 based on Beauty and the Beast)
Red and Her Wolf (Book 3 based on Little Red Riding Hood)
The Kingdom Collection (Books 1-3 with bonus deleted scenes)
Jinni’s Wish (Book 4, based on Arabian Nights)
Hook’s Pan (Book 5, Based on Peter Pan)
Danika’s Surprise (Book 5.5, novelette and first introduction to the upcoming Dark Princess Series)
Moon’s Flower (Book 6, a fractured fairy tale based on the story of The Man in the Moon)
The Huntsman’s Prey (Book 7, based on Snow White and Alice in Wonderland themes)
Rumpel’s Prize (Book 8, based on tales of Rumpelstiltskin and Beauty and the Beast)
Hood’s Obsession (Book 9, based on Little Red Riding Hood themes) Coming, July 2014
Night Series
Crimson Night - Urban Fantasy Romance (Book 1): Also available to own in the Magic After Dark Boxed Set a USA Today Bestseller!
All Hallows Night (Book 2) Available Now
Howler’s Moon (Book 3) Coming August, 2014
Eternal Lover’s Series (Paranormal Romance)
Death’s Lover (Book 1) From Grand Central—Forever Yours—Publishing
Death’s Redemption (Book 2) Coming June 4, 2014 from Grand Central!
Chaos Time Serial (Time Travel Fantasy Romance)
Sable #1
Slayde #2
Synnergy #3
In Kelly’s Corner
By Roxie Rivera
Copyright © 2013 by Roxie Rivera
Cover Art © 2013 Melody Simmons/EbookIndieCovers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Chapter One
“We’re about to close up, Bee.”
Startled by the coffee shop owner’s voice, I tugged on the cord connected to my ear buds and glanced around the empty café. The lights were already dimmed, and he’d flipped up the chairs on the tables surrounding me. I offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Ron! I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Oh, it’s fine. You’re one of my favorite and best customers.” Ron drummed his fingers on the wooden chair across from me. He seemed hesitant to speak but finally worked up the nerve to say it. “Is everything okay? I noticed you’ve been spending more time here over the last couple of weeks. We just had that housewarming party for your new place so…?”
I brushed off his concern with a shrug. “I do some of my best work here. My brain seems to function better when I’m inhaling coffee fumes.”
He laughed. “Maybe I should use that as part of my new marketing efforts to draw in the high-tech crowd.”
“Make sure you emphasize the wicked fast Wi-Fi and these super comfy chairs,” I added while tucking my laptop and gear into my backpack.
“What are you working on tonight?”
“I’m troubleshooting some bugs in a program I built for a DJ friend of mine. She likes to interact with her fans and the audience while she’s spinning, but it’s hard to juggle social media while she works.”
“I bet. That’s a very hands-on job.”
“Exactly. So I created a program that allows her to filter messages via hashtags and clip out the pertinent bits to build playlists.” I drained the last of my lukewarm coffee. “She’s trying it out at Faze tonight, but it’s not working seamlessly.”
“You’ll get it figured it out,” he said with a dismissive wave.
“I hope so.”
“Bee, you bui
lt HomeFront at the kitchen table of your mom’s house while you were still in high school. You created LookIt while you were a freshman at Rice. I’m pretty sure you can figure out some bugs in this new software.”
I shot him an appreciative smile. “I might have to snap your pic and hang it in my workspace as a motivational tool.”
He chuckled and combed his fingers through his blond hair. “Whatever it takes, right?”
“Yep,” I murmured and slipped my arms through my backpack straps. When I reached for my chair, our hands bumped together. Ron quickly tugged his hand back. I’d noticed that he seemed to have an aversion to personal touch, so I didn’t make a big deal out of it. Everyone had their quirks, and this one seemed to be his.
“Are you on your bike tonight?”
I nodded and dug the key to my bike chain from the pocket of my jeans. “It’s not a long ride now that I’ve moved into the new place.”
He glanced toward the floor to ceiling windows lining the front of his downtown shop. “It’s awfully late, Bee. You sure you don’t want me to drive you? I’m happy to let you park your bike inside for the night.”
“It’s a tempting offer, but I’ll pass. I need to burn off some energy anyway.”
Ron seemed reluctant to let me go. “Well…if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I unclipped my bike helmet from my backpack strap and plopped it down onto my head. “I’ll see you around, Ron.”
“See you later, Busy Bee.”
I smiled at his playful nickname and left the café. Outside in the humid night, I grimaced at the suffocating heat. Mid-May in Houston and the temperatures were already flirting with three digits. I shuddered to think what July would bring.
As I unlocked my bike and wound the chain around the handlebars, I wondered if it wasn’t time to crack open that vacation folder tucked away in my desk. It wasn’t just the heat I wanted to escape. The stress of my skyrocketing profile as a tech entrepreneur was finally starting to get to me.
A little nervously, I glanced around the dark but still busy street. One of the theaters up the block was just letting out, and the bars and restaurants lining either side of the avenue had steady streams of patrons moving through their doors. I don’t know what I expected to see among the crowd. A boogeyman in black? A masked figure?
Shaking my head at my silliness, I inhaled a cleansing breath and hopped onto my bike. There’s no one there. You’re just paranoid.
I eased off the sidewalk and into the bike lane. Keeping an eye on the late-night traffic, I tried to focus on the cars and buses whizzing along beside me. My thoughts continually strayed to the weird vibe that had been following me around for the last few weeks.
At first, I had convinced myself it was merely the stress of preparing for finals, moving into my first real place, and entertaining an offer for my micro-blogging platform LookIt. I had even reluctantly conceded that years of pulling all-nighters to study or write code hadn’t been kind to my body. All that caffeine and junk food? Not exactly good brain fuel.
Throw in all the normal coed partying and the occasional weekend hackathon, and I probably hadn’t had a full eight hour stretch of sleep since high school. When I considered the fact that I had lost my mother and brother within the last four years? Well—it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that I was simply starting to mentally deteriorate from wear and tear and stress.
But, while I could brush off the strange sensation of being watched, there was no way I could ignore the bizarre phone calls and texts that couldn’t be traced beyond the burner phones that had been used to send them. With my contacts in the tech world, there was very little information I couldn’t get my hands on, but the phones were dead ends. They had all been purchased with cash and had been used at various places around the city, so I couldn’t even create a geographical profile with cell phone tower pings.
Three days ago, I had started to receive disgusting photographs. They popped up in random places—tucked under the windshield wiper of my car, stuffed in my backpack—and made my skin crawl.
There was only one conclusion that made sense.
I had a stalker.
The very thought of some creep following me around and sending me snapshots of his dick made me want to puke. Ever since I had made a splash on the tech scene in high school with HomeFront—a real-time chat service for military families—I had experienced more than my fair share of weirdos. Most of them were harmless folks who lacked social skills and simply wanted to reach out to someone who interested or inspired them.
But this? No, this crap was in a different league altogether. It felt intensely personal, and it scared me.
More than once, I had considered calling Kelly. There wasn’t a man on earth I trusted more than my brother’s best friend. He had been a permanent fixture in my life for as long as I could remember. If anyone could protect me from this unknown menace, it was Kelly Connolly.
But the former Marine worked in private security for the Lone Star Group and had been bouncing in and out of the country since March while on a detail with a sheikh from Dubai. I had tried calling him a couple of times, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He hadn’t returned my texts, either.
A twinge of hurt twisted in my chest at the way he had basically ignored me. There was no one to blame for that but me. A poorly timed attempt to kiss him on New Year’s Eve had resulted in a quick rejection and such incredible embarrassment. Not surprisingly, Kelly shutting me down like that had strained our once easy relationship.
Whenever he was in Houston, Kelly made sure to stop by and see me, but our visits were growing shorter. He seemed unable to spend even half an hour in my presence.
And it hurt. Bad.
Even now, as I angled my handlebars to glide up onto the sidewalk, I couldn’t ignore the gut-churning pain of unrequited love. Falling head over heels for your brother’s ridiculously sexy friend? Definitely not my smartest move.
But it wasn’t as if I had ever stood a chance. Kelly was…well…he was perfect, wasn’t he? The bright green of his eyes had been my favorite color since I was old enough to have a driver’s license. His boyish grin did crazy things to my belly, and that booming, raucous laugh of his made my heart race. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about having his big, strong arms wrapped around me—or tumbling into bed with him.
Foolishly, I had let myself believe that I could be something more to him than just Jeb’s kid sister. Clearly, I had been wrong. Now I was paying for that mistake. When I needed Kelly most, he wasn’t there for me.
As I slowed to a coast near the building I had recently purchased, I experienced the strongest pang of loneliness at the idea of spending another night alone in my empty apartment. After living in a noisy dorm for two years and sharing a house with Coby and Hadley for another two years, adjusting to a newer, quieter space was proving incredibly difficult for me. I was having serious second thoughts about striking out on my own. I found myself wanting to crawl right back into the third bedroom at Coby and Hadley’s place.
Hopping off my bike, I walked it the last few feet to the private entrance of my building. I had snapped it up in early February after the developer that had previously owned it was forced into bankruptcy after pleading guilty to a list of shady crimes. So far, only the top two floors were habitable. One I used as a living space and the other as a workspace. I hoped to have the rest of it renovated and operational as the headquarters for JBJ TechWorks, my company, by the end of the year. The floor I currently rented at Yuri Novakovsky’s downtown skyscraper was nice enough, but we needed more space if we were going to continue growing.
After unlocking, entering and relocking the side entrance, I swiped my keycard near the RFID reader to access the elevator. I rolled my bike inside and punched the button for my floor. Leaning my head back against the cool metal, I tapped my finger against my bike seat while the elevator slowly climbed. The box bounced slightly as it reached its destination and dinged pleasantly.
Holding the door open with my foot, I rolled my bike across the threshold and leaned it against the wall of my sparsely decorated space. I smacked on the light and took exactly three steps into the living room before freezing mid-stride.
There, sitting on my coffee table, was a hot pink gift box adorned with a bright white bow.
Adrenaline poured into my bloodstream as I realized someone had been in my home while I was gone. I was the only person who had a key to the front door or the access card for the elevator.
Panicked, I glanced around the open living space. Was my stalker still here?
Terrified, I frantically backed up to the door and escaped my apartment. I didn’t bother waiting for the elevator. I rushed to the emergency stairwell and swiped my keycard through the reader there to unlock the door. Taking the steps two and three at a time, I raced down the seven floors. It was a freaking miracle I didn’t break my neck.
Bursting out the side entrance, I didn’t even wait for the door to close behind me before sprinting to the sidewalk. My backpack bounced against my back as I desperately searched for people. A fast food joint on the next corner over beckoned me with its promise of safety.
Huffing and panting, I reached the brightly illuminated spot and sagged against the brick wall in utter relief. With shaking hands, I retrieved my cell phone from my backpack and started to dial 9-1-1. My finger hovered over the touchscreen, but I couldn’t commit to calling the police.
During my freshman year, a girl in our dorm had been stalked by an ex-boyfriend who had followed her halfway across Texas just to harass her in Houston. The police had done absolutely nothing to help her, not until the creep had gotten close enough to abduct her from a grocery store parking lot. All the restraining orders in the world hadn’t been enough to save her from seven horrifying hours of being held hostage at a rundown motel with that sicko.