Down on My Knees

by Samantha Conley

  Table of Contents

  Down on My Knees

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Also by Samantha

  About the Author

  My hubby & Kids – Thank you for your patience, love and endless support

  Darlene – Thank you for your words of inspiration and the push to keep me on track when I wanted to give up. You’ve always had my back and I’ll always have yours.

  Down on My Knees

  Silver Tongued Devils Series

  Book 3

  By Samantha Conley

  * * *

  While each book in the Silver Tongued Devils Series can be a standalone, reading the books in order will enhance your reading enjoyment as the stories are interconnected.

  © 2017 Samantha Conley

  All Rights Reserved

  * * *

  Ebooks are not transferable. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the writer’s imagination or have been fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Photographer/Model: Nathan Hainline

  Cover Design: Amanda Walker PA and Design Services

  Editor: Word Nerd Editing

  Formatting: Christina Butrum

  Will I be the one Down on My Knees or will she?

  Camryn Kirkpatrick is smart as a whip. The self-professed nerdy girl excelled when it came to learning. However, with the constant mistreatment she’s received from a family member, she has no self-esteem whatsoever and prefers to stay in the background. When her long term relationship ends, she’s ready to give up and tuck her heart away. It’s not worth the hurt.

  Isaac Haynes is the manwhore of the Silver Tongued Devils. A different woman on his arm every night is commonplace. For years, he’s been friendly with Camryn, never taking it further. Until the day he wakes up and realizes what has been right in front of him all along is what he needs and wants in his life. Now to convince her that they would be good together.

  When his past comes roaring to the forefront thanks to an old video that goes viral, will Camryn’s self-doubts about herself cause her to run? And if she runs, will Isaac follow and convince her to give him another chance? When Camryn’s secret is revealed, will he be the man that she needs?

  Camryn – 10 years ago

  “Move your fat ass, Camryn! I’m going to be late, and if I don’t get to see Mitch before school, I’m going to kick your lard ass up and down the road.”

  “Hold your freaking horses,” I mutter under my breath, grabbing my blue backpack from the foot of the bed.

  “Cam, Addy, let’s go!” Bryson’s deep voice bellows up from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Don’t yell at me! Lard ass is the reason we’re running late,” Addy screams back. Her words spear me straight in the heart, as I blink back tears, even though I know that she’s just a spiteful little witch who loves to hurt me. Self-conscious, I pull on the hem of my shirt so it won’t cling as tight to my stomach.

  “Shut up, Addy. It’s probably your two hours of primping in the freaking bathroom.”

  Opening my door, my sister pauses and looks me up and down in obvious disgust. “Couldn’t you at least try to look decent? I can’t believe I’m even related to you,” she sneers.

  “You and me both,” I retort.

  Leaning toward me, she whispers, “You’re fucking pathetic, Cam. I hope Mom and Dad change their mind about sending you off to school so I don’t have to see your ugly face anymore.”

  With a toss of her long, perfectly straight blonde hair, she flounces out the door. No matter how much I don’t want her to get to me, she still makes me the outsider in my own home—always feeling alone.

  Which is why my sister is griping about being late. I don’t go to school with the two of them, but for whatever reason, my parent’s make us share a car. That means we must drive five miles out of the way to drop me off at school. South Texas Advanced Placement Academy. Nerd Central. The one place I don’t feel like someone on the outside looking in.

  * * *

  There could not be two more opposite people in the world. My sister, Addyson, is eleven months older than Bryson and me. She’s a replica of my mother. Petite, blonde, and perfect—perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body. But the beauty on the outside is only matched by the ugliness on the inside.

  I watch as she glides down the stairs in her tight denim skirt and low-cut blouse—which would get any other girl sent home from school for breaking dress code. Not my sister.

  Glancing down, I wipe the crumbs from my white Harry Potter t-shirt. Boobs are the ultimate crumb catcher. Hefting my bag over my shoulder, I slide my black glasses back up my nose and trudge down the carpeted stairs. When I clear the bottom step, I turn, knocking Bryson with my bag. He grabs his arm dramatically like I really hurt him. With a quick grin, he lifts the bag from my shoulder and pretends to stagger under the added weight to make me smile.

  Unlike my sister, we take after our dad. Curly red hair, honey eyes, big boned. At sixteen, Bryson is six-foot-five and a solid two hundred and twenty pounds. He’s the star of the football team, the basketball team…well, he’s the star at whatever he does.

  I’m not athletic in any sense, no matter how hard I try. My mother has politely described me as Rubenesque while looking at me with disdain. I developed early and became the target for the boys in school once I got boobs. Now I do my best to hide all my curves, so I won’t attract that sort of attention.

  In this family, my siblings and I are put into categories. Addyson is the pretty one. Bryson is the athletic one. And me, well, I’m the smart one.

  Too smart, I think at times. It’s another attribute that separates me from the rest of the family.

  “Don’t listen to her, Camryn. All she has upstairs is covered in a haze of hairspray. Don’t let her get to you. But we need to get a move on, or we’ll be late.”

  As he walks to the door, he looks back over his shoulder at me. “Love you, sis.”

  “Love you too, bro,” I murmur before promptly tripping on the door threshold and landing face first on the wooden porch. What a way to start the day.

  Camryn - December

  “Camryn, it’s just not working. We both know that. I care about you, but I’m not in love with you.”

  Watching Adam pace across the living room, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, I numbly absorb his words.

  “You want to break up?” I ask, my disbelief apparent.

  Pausing in front of me, he runs his hands through his hair, m
aking the inky strands stand up in disarray, bicep stretching his shirt to the limit. Normally that sight would have me licking my lips knowing that those strong arms would be wrapped around me, but now I’ll never feel the warmth of his embrace

  “Are you happy, Cam? Really happy? ‘Cause I’m not,” he says, the tone of his voice telling me he already knows the answer.

  “I am…I think.”

  “You think?” he asks, incredulous. “If you only think you are, you’re not. I want you to be happy. You deserve that, and so do I.”

  “You want to break up?” Jeez, I sound like a damn parrot.

  Kneeling on the carpet in front of me, Adam grips my cold hands in his and rests his forehead against them before looking up at me with sad gray eyes.

  “Cam, I love you, but I’m not in love with you. And I think we are better off apart.” His eyes search my face before he continues. “I want to fall in love with someone and spend the rest of my life with her. Have babies and grow old together.”

  “Is there someone else?” I try to control the tremble in my voice as I ask the question that has been plaguing me for months. The insecurity in the back of my mind is unrelenting.

  “There’s no one else, Cam,” he breathes out.

  “Has there been?”

  “No, I haven’t cheated on you.” He hesitates before he continues, guilt written on his face. “I’ve been tempted, and I’ve come damn close, but I couldn’t do that to you. That’s not the kind of man I am.”

  Reaching up, he wipes tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen from my cheek.

  “This for the best, Camryn. You deserve to be loved like you are the air he breathes, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his soul. That’s not me. And you’re not for me. If we don’t let each other go, we’ll never find the piece of our heart that’s missing.”

  Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss on my forehead before standing up.

  “I’ll always be here if you need me, Camryn. Always.”

  Turning, he strides to the door and picks up the black duffle bag I never saw sitting beside it. With one last look over his shoulder, he walks out of the door and out of my life, leaving me sitting there alone—again.

  The ringing of the phone wakes me from an exhausted sleep. Blinking, I reach for the phone, my hand patting the table until I touch the device and grab it before it vibrates off the edge.

  “He—” I croak before clearing my throat to try again. “Hello?”

  “Camryn? Hey, it’s Sarah. I’ll be there to pick you up a six tonight. That okay?”

  “Huh? What’s tonight?” I rack my brain, trying to remember, but my thoughts are fuzzy from my night of drowning my sorrows.

  “We’re going to see my boyfriend’s band play, remember?” she asks, exasperated.

  “That’s tonight?” I push back the long, red strands of hair covering my face.

  “Yes, silly. It’s New Year’s Eve. Is Adam going to meet us there?”

  “Uh…no, he’s not.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “We…um, broke up last night.”

  “Oh, shit. Really?” Shock bleeds into concern as she speaks.

  “Yeah, and I’m not sure I feel like going out tonight.”

  “Bullshit. You need to get out tonight and get him off your mind. Even if it’s just for a little while. You can drink and dance and have a good time. I’ll be the designated driver so you won’t have to worry about drinking too much,” she orders like a drill sergeant.

  “Sarah, I’m not sure,” I waver.

  “I’ll be there in three hours, and I’m dragging your ass out whether you want to go or not.”

  “Sarah…Sarah?” The silence on the other end of the line assures me she hung up.

  Son of a bitch.

  Pushing down the covers, I swing my legs off the side of the bed. With the movement, my stomach rolls and whatever’s left in there threatens to make a reappearance. Ugh, how much did I drink last night? I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, and my pulse pounds like a jackhammer in my head.

  Glancing at the clock, I groan. It’s two in the afternoon. I’ve slept the day away. I make my way to the bathroom and flip on the light, blinding myself in the process. Blinking, my eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, and what I see in the mirror would scare small children. I am not a pretty crier. My eyes are red and puffy. I look like someone punched me. My face is splotchy, nose raw, hair tangled and matted to my head…

  There’s no way I’m going to be presentable for tonight.

  Turning on the hot water in the shower, I take off Adam’s Calloway Construction t-shirt and aim toward the hamper. Pausing, I take one last smell of the cologne clinging to the material, then drop it into the trash instead. I don’t need constant reminders of him lingering.

  Steam billows from the shower as I open the curtain. Nothing in the world is better than a hot shower. The longer I stand under the spray, the better I feel, until the water starts to cool off. Before collapsing back on my bed, I down four ibuprofens and lay a cool, wet washcloth over my eyes.

  Loud knocking jars me from sleep, and the now warm washcloth slides off my face, landing on the floor with a soft, wet plop. I stand up, waiting to see if my stomach is going to rebel as my towel drifts to the bed. I reach for my robe and wrap it around me while walking into the living room. Looking through the peephole, Sarah’s standing there with a big pink bag hanging from her shoulder, impatience written on her face. I lean my head softly against the door, contemplating whether to open it.

  “I’m not leaving, Camryn. You might as well open this door.”

  Flipping the lock, I open the door and step back as she barrels through.

  “Well, you look like shit,” she blurts out. “But no excuses, you’re coming out with me tonight. Move it, sister.”

  “Hi to you, too,” I mumble to her back as she walks into the living room.

  “Sorry, hon. I know this is a tough time for you. Let’s get you dolled up, and we’ll paint this town tonight.”

  “I don’t get dolled up.”

  “Tonight, you sure as hell are. I’m gonna raid your closet, but I brought back-ups if we need them. You’ll be smoking hot by the time I’m through.”

  I seriously have my doubts, but I can’t deny Sarah knows her stuff. I’m a bigger girl, so I always try to make myself as plain as possible to avoid drawing attention—dark clothes, sensible shoes, and a simple French braid to keep my curly hair tamed. Sarah, on the other hand, flaunts her goods. She may be a couple inches shorter than my five-nine, but she’s curvier than I am. She skirts the line between professional and club wear when at work. Cleavage should be her middle name. The length of her skirts could be considered scandalous for an office. And the four-inch heels she wears would cause me to break my neck. She never lacks attention from the opposite sex, though, and revels in the adoration. I can’t help but be a little jealous of her confidence.

  “Okay, hair and makeup first, or outfit?” she asks, looking me over with a critical eye.

  “Um...”

  “Outfit first, then I can decide how to do your makeup.”

  Throwing open my closet door, she begins rummaging through my clothes while clucking her tongue. All my sensible work clothes are in the front, but she quickly pushes them out of the way and reaches into the back of the closet.

  “Eureka!” she yells as she backs out holding an emerald dress. “This is going to be gorgeous on you.” Spying the tags still attached to the garment, she asks, “Why haven’t you worn this before?”

  “Uh, I’ve never had a chance to, I guess. Kristen talked me into buying it, but I didn’t have the guts to wear something that low cut.”

  “Tonight, you are gonna rock this dress.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be comfortable in it.” My upper arms will look horrible with all their extra flab, I think in disgust while imagining the jiggle with every motion.

  “Okay.” Moving back to the closet to hang it up, she p
auses. “Wait, don’t you have that short denim jacket?”

  “It’s somewhere in there, I think. I’ve only worn it once.” Laying the dress on the bed, she goes back to digging through the clothes. After a couple minutes, she pulls the jacket out.

  “Now, shoes. Do you have cowboy boots?”

  “Actually, I do. They’re in the hall closet.”

  “Perfect. Time for the hair. Get in the bathroom, sister.” Her tone brooks no argument.

  “Let me grab a chair to sit on while you work your magic.”

  Half an hour of her applying goop and spray, my hair is shaped in perfect ringlets, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Usually when I leave my hair down, my curls just look like a big frizz ball.

  “How the hell did you do that? I can never make it look like this,” I ask, running a finger over one of the tendrils.

  “The right products help, and from what I can see, you don’t have them. Don’t worry, I’m leaving the ones I brought for you.”

  “Sarah…” My eyes catch hers in the mirror.

  “I insist. I’m tired of you hiding your light under a bushel. You are a beautiful, smart woman. It’s time to shine, Camryn.”

  Tears pool in my eyes as her words make me feel pretty for the first time.

  “None of that. Let’s get this makeup done.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Trust me. I won’t do anything you won’t like. I’m not going to turn you into a Kardashian.”

  Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and steel my resolve. “Okay. Go for it,” I say, and she turns me, so I can’t see what she’s doing.

  Twenty minutes and a “Ta-da” later, I turn to see the damage, and my mouth gapes open. It’s me, only better. I was afraid she was going to contour and highlight until none of me was left, but she didn’t. It’s…well, perfect. My eyes look amazing, and the colors she used make them pop. My lips are full and pouty. Just a touch of color on my cheekbones add a little definition.