“What do you want?” she asks, moving toward me.
“You,” I implore.
“No you don’t,” she argues.
“How do you know what I do or don’t want?” I speak soft, begging her with my eyes to listen to me—to believe me.
“Well, maybe I don’t want you,” she spits, turning away from me.
I move so I’m standing in front of her. Lifting her chin, I repeat, “Fine, you say you don’t want me?”
“That’s right,” she insists, her voice starting to waver.
“Prove it,” I challenge.
“How am I supposed to do that?” she murmurs, looking at her feet.
“Look me dead in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me.” Placing my fingers under her chin once again, I lift so her eyes meet mine. Those gorgeous eyes, so full of pain, stare straight into my soul.
“No, I don’t want to,” she says, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
“Then you’re full of shit,” I protest. Her eyes pop open at my outburst, her jaw clenching.
“I don’t want you,” she murmurs through gritted teeth, losing her resolve.
“Look here,” I demand, taking my index and middle fingers and pointing to my eyes. “Say it while you look here.”
Lani looks right at me, her eyes piercing my heart. Her lower lip trembles as she stares. “I can’t,” she whispers, lowering her eyes to the floor.
“Then don’t, darlin’. Come back with me.”
“I can’t be everything you need, Brody! I’m broken.” Her words break my heart into a thousand shattered pieces. Her tear-filled eyes are full of sorrow. I’d do anything to take away the pain she’s feeling. Anything. My strong, sassy girl is hiding and I need to bring her back to life.
I inch closer to her, less than an arm’s length away. Getting down on my knees, I murmur, “You don’t understand. You are the one I want, the one I need. I don’t see you as damaged, I see you as this sweet, beautiful girl who’s been hurt and needs time to heal. I’m not gonna let that asshole ruin what we have.” Reaching up, I run the back of my fingers down her flawless cheek. “I need you, like I need air to breathe,” I plead, hoping I can reach her.
“I can’t—”
“You’re so strong—so much stronger than I can ever be. Don’t let him win. Please.”
Tears run free down her cheeks. “I don’t want your pity!” she sobs.
“It’s not pity.” A tear leaks out the corner of my eye as I cup her face. “I’ve loved you since the first minute your sassy ass walked into my life. I meant what I said about the butterflies and that feelin’ in the pit of my stomach. I feel it every minute of every day. I can’t stop lovin’ you. I don’t know how and I don’t think I could if I tried.”
“God, Brody! I want to believe you.” She gazes down at me, her eyes bloodshot and nose runny. I don’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful.
“I don’t care how long it takes. I need you in my life, and I’m pretty sure you need me.”
“I do, but—”
“No buts.”
“Oh, Brody,” she sobs as she drops to her knees, throwing herself in my arms. “I love you so much. I’m so afraid you’ll leave me because I’m broken.” Her words reverberate through my chest as she lets out all her fears.
“Darlin’, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” I murmur as I stroke her hair.
“I’m afraid you’ll resent me,” she weeps into my chest.
“That’s never gonna happen,” I assure her, holding her close.
She sniffles, then looks up at me. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“No. Promise me. Promise you’ll never leave me.” The desperation in her eyes slays me.
Moving a wet tendril of hair that’s stuck to her face, I sigh. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” I assure her.
Reaching up, her tiny fingers find the sides of my face. Replacing her somber expression is one of hope. With a smile on her face, she leans forward, her nose inches from mine. Optimism takes hold of me as her ambrosia smell invades my senses. Knowing she needs to take control, I let her lead. Another inch, and her soft lips brush mine in a gentle, loving kiss. “Brody,” she murmurs against my lips.
“Hmmm.”
“Take me home.”
The End
THE EMOTIONAL STRUGGLE is real for so many women (and men) who have been abused. Lani represents the thousands of women who were beaten and raped; women who have touched my life or I know from close, personal experiences. She represents the pain women deal with day in and day out. Pain some have buried so deep, they don’t even know it exists. This book is for all the woman who have and will continue to endure.
JILLIAN ANSELMI RESIDES on Long Island with her husband and teenage daughter. She studied pharmacy, but decided it wasn’t the right fit for her and instead pursued a degree in chemistry. After receiving her master’s in education, she pursued a career in teaching, but there was always something missing.
As a young girl, she read an incredible amount of books, devouring over a hundred during the summer of her third grade year. After that, she would write poetry or dabble in short stories. Now, she writes romantic fiction, with some small amount of truth hiding behind her words. If you want to make her happy, surprise her with dark chocolate, a Starbucks Caramel Macchiato, or a good Sauvignon Blanc.
Contact JILLIAN
FACEBOOK | TWITTER
PINTEREST | GOODREADS
Summer by Calvin Harris
Lean on feat. MØ by Major Lazer & DJ Snake
Set Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol
Uptown Funk feat. Bruno Mars by Mark Ronson
Bartender by Lady Antebellum
Fake ID by Big and Rich
Watermelon Crawl by Tracy Byrd
The Thunder Rolls by Garth Brooks
Stay by Florida Georgia Line
Fearless by Taylor Swift
THERE ARE SO many people I would like to thank, and I know I’ll probably forget a few, so I’m apologizing in advance.
First, I’d like to thank my husband. He jokes about me being an author without profits, but he’s stuck by me, continuing to encourage me to write. Without him, I wouldn’t be able to do what I do, so thank you.
To my PA Jackie Senior. I know you came in late, but what you’ve done for me is nothing short than amazing. Thank you for all of your hard work.
To my editor, Monica . . . you are a rock star. I had a good feeling about this story, and you made it so much better.
To my beta readers, you know who you are. You helped shape this book to be the best it could be, and without you I’d be lost.
To Marisa-Rose Shor, my cover designer. From day one, you were able to help me see my cover exactly how I wanted it to be. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. It’s amazing and perfect.
To Christine Borgford at Perfectly Publishable, my formatter extraordinaire. Thank you for fitting me in when my brain forgot to schedule you.
To every single blog who have helped me along the way, whether it was posting a teaser or buy link, or reviewing. Your help has not gone unappreciated. Thank you for the blog takeovers, and anything else you might have done to help me promote my novel. I especially want to thank Give Me Books for hosting my blog tour, and One Click Addicts (especially you Beth <3 ), Bobbie’s Book Blog and Reviews, and Obsessive Pimpettes, who have been instrumental to my success.
To all the Indie Authors out there. I am so blessed to have been able to join this community. There is so much love and compassion between authors, it truly makes me happy to be part of such an elite group of individuals.
And lastly, but most importantly, the readers. You never cease to amazing me. The support I’ve found has been heartwarming. There are thousands of books you could have purchased, and yet you chose mine. I hope it lived up to your expectations.
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