by Nancy Adams
Chasing Love Series
Torn
Nancy Adams
www.RomanticSoulBooks.com
Published 2015 by Watchtower Publishing
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Stories, characters, and entities are fictional. Any likeness to actual persons, either living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Copyright © 2015 Watchtower Publishing
Also From Nancy Adams:
THE OTHER MAN (Chasing Love: Book One) By Nancy Adams
The BILLIONAIRES Choice By Nancy Adams
Perfect Stranger By Nancy Adams
“You can love two people at the same time, but never at the same level.”
―Unknown
Contents
Contents
John: Hope
John: Broken
Tina: Undone
John: Determined
Tina: Desperate
Tina: Spirited
John: Chasing
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John: Hope
Chapter One
The office would have been completely dark if it weren’t for the two large windows overseeing the skyline of the city. John had thought about closing the blinds, but he knew sitting in the dark wouldn’t go over too well with the others on his floor. It didn’t matter if it took all his will power to pull him out of bed that morning to dress and drive himself to work. It didn’t matter if sitting in the office chair was laborious.
Even breathing was pained and difficult. It seemed that each inhale only racked his body with deep agony and brought him a moment closer to death. He didn’t bother turning on his computer. He knew he missed meetings and purposefully ignored calls. In that moment though, it just didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Pushing through the dampening fog that hung around his mind which only welcomed a thick silence that jumbled his thoughts, John reached for a small picture frame to the right of his darkened monitor.
Two bright faces beamed with wide smiles, showing beautiful rows of teeth that flashed back at him. The couple could have been the happiest in the world from how brightly their faces shined in that frozen moment, but John couldn’t remember what that felt like.
He had sat in his office a dozen times like this before, so many times he had begun to fear it was becoming a routine: Sitting in the closest amount of darkness possible, with that picture in his hands, now a mocking reminder of the better days and years they had seen.
He didn’t know when things had eroded past the foundation of love and friendship their marriage had been built on. Staring at the picture of Christiana only ushered a heavier sadness into his heart and soul. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her smile like that at him.
After seeing the bright smile on her face last night, he knew it wasn’t from some remembered joke. It was a look that she had used to give him, years and months ago, when she was eager for his time, when she craved his touch and his presence. When he looked at his wife now, he knew she felt nothing. He had been replaced.
John stood abruptly, tossing the picture into the trash can just inside the corner of his desk. It landed with a sharp, metal clank. He would have loved to keep that picture but he knew it was from a time that no longer existed in his world.
Turning on his heel, John headed for the office door. His assistant sprang to her feet when he arose, a short woman still in college somewhere on the outskirts of town.
“Mr. Robbins—” she tried her hardest to get him to stop without leaving her desk. John ignored her calls, letting his eyes pass over her as he walked briskly to the elevator located at the end of the floor.
There was only one meeting he planned to make that day and it wasn’t until two. Until then, he needed to get out and get some air.
Once on the main floor, John steadied his breaths. His body shook internally with a tight tension he couldn’t quite explain. His hands were always sweaty, his eyes just a step from tears, yet those tears never came. Darkness was his only visitor with no sign of relief. It settled heavy on his soul, attempting to crush his chest like a thousand pound wave threatening to drown him with sheer force.
Gripping his chest, John fought himself to get outside. Feeling the burst of warm summer breeze breathed a life into him that was choking to death only moments before. He opened his eyes slowly against the sun, not even bothering to shield himself.
Breathing in deeply, John felt the blanket of thick, unsettling darkness begin to rise. The pressure on his chest eased in varying degrees, like someone slowly turning a wheel to release pressure from a sealed shaft. Breathing became easier in the seconds that began to follow.
He knew he needed help. It wasn’t until recently that these moments began to affect his breathing, making him feel like he could really suffocate and simply cease to take his next breath. Work was beyond difficult. He couldn’t even think or concentrate most days.
John forced his legs to move. He needed to walk. It didn’t matter where. He just needed to walk to get the blood flowing in his legs and circulating throughout the rest of his body.
So many days had stretched and morphed into weeks and then months where he felt like he couldn’t feel a thing. His mind had stopped drawing blanks. He had grown numb, he thought, at least until last night.
Seeing a smile on Christina’s face had sent him to a well of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jealousy, anger. Rage. If he could feel those, then perhaps he could feel love one day. If that was a possibility, then he was certain there was something worth fighting for.
Pulling his cell phone from his suit pocket, John looked at the time. One ten. Just enough time to make his appointment over the Illinois border to the neighboring state where he lived in Indiana. He needed to leave now.
~*~
The plastic paper covering the medical table rustled as John sat down. It crinkled and twisted beneath him with every move he made as if in an attempt to make up for the silence that engulfed him and the doctor. He felt out of place, fully clothed in dress shoes and a suit, but he ignored the gnawing feeling of tension that began to mound within him and rolled the sample box of Prozac around in his ever moistening hands.
“So how does this work again?” John asked. He definitely didn’t feel like he belonged there, but he knew he at least owed it to himself to seek some type of help. “How fast will it start working?” He didn’t bother to meet the doctor’s eyes, opting to read the accompanying information sheet for answers.
The old doctor in the room watched John carefully, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not like Tylenol or aspirin if that’s what you’re asking.”
John felt a flicker of annoyance rising somewhere in his chest, sparking his cheeks with heat. He glanced in the doctor’s direction. “Then what can I expect?”
“Antidepressants work best by building up chemical levels in your body that will help create the equilibrium you’re missing,” the doctor paused, nodding slowly with a certain knowledgeable authority in his stance. “Some patients see a difference as early as four weeks; others are about six to eight.”
John looked the door in the eye. “A whole month?”
“The chemical levels need to be built up slowly, over time,” the doctor nodded, pressing his lips together. “So yes, a whole month.”
Lifting the paper, John continued, “This says that side effects are nausea, insomnia, anxiety, and—” As if he had been through this countless times before, the old man nodded, his eyes closing in a slow blink. “Why would I take this if the side effects are all things I deal with right now?” John didn’t bother masking his annoyance.
“Well,” the doctor opened his eyes equally as slow. He stared in John’s direction but not directly at his eyes. “When patients experience great setbacks in the side effects, they can usually be offset with additional medication—”
“More pills?” John gawked, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. I just—”
You can’t keep going on like this.
John froze, his thoughts speaking to him what he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say out loud. The doctor had lowered his hands from his chest. He rolled a ballpoint pin around in his hands with his fingertips and waited patiently for John to continue.
With defeat, John looked back at the sample box, his chest growing heavy again. “Is there no other way?” His voice had lost its vigor and defiance. It was completely flat.
“There are natural steps that you can take to naturally restore chemical imbalances,” the doctor offered.
John edged towards the doctor, to the rim of the plastic examine table. “What are they?”
Nodding with exaggeration, the doctor crossed his arms again. “Exercise. You might try changing your diet too. We have a behavioral health specialist with starting information sheets on this if you want.”
John nodded, hope beginning to return to his voice. “I think I’d like to try that first.” He added, fighting to swallow back the dryness in his mouth.
With a pause, the doctor looked over John, pursing his lips. He seemed to linger on a thought, but then in an instant, he excused himself and left John in the room, alone.
John: Broken
Chapter Two
John drove straight home from the appointment, drained. His body felt like an empty vessel, devoid of most thoughts and emotions, but one thing: anger. He hated that he needed to make that appointment. He hated attending that appointment, mostly because it meant he had to acknowledge that something wasn’t right—he wasn’t right.
He didn’t know how exercise and a diet change was going to help, but he was desperate for anything. If I were better, maybe Christina—John shook the thought out his head with a violent jerk. His neck strained with the motion, sending a spike of pain to his brain; but, it was better than getting pulled into those stifling thoughts like that.
When he spotted his house in the distance, his breath caught in his throat. It had been a while since he had seen Christina’s car in the drive way while the sun was still out. Instantly, he felt his gut tightening and anger returning to him.
He couldn’t forget the burst of anger he unleashed last night. He had never raised his voice at his wife before—they didn’t yell. That’s not me.
But it was you last night.
He knew he had no one else to blame but himself that his wife stayed out so late, that after being away from home for six hours she came home with a smile on her face, a beautiful grin that John had long since forget she was even capable of making. There was no one else to blame but himself; and, he simply hated himself for it.
By the time he had pulled into the drive way, his body had broken out in a full sweat. Droplets beaded on his brow and above his lips. When he released the steering wheel from the grasp, there were moisture patches left on the leather cover of his Lincoln.
Stepping out the car, he pulled the keys from the ignition. They slipped from his fingers and landed on the concrete driveway. Breathing was laborious again, like breathing through a small coffee stirrer, gasping for air in huge gulps and still not getting enough.
Stuffing the silver into his pocket, he shut the door of the car softly, pushing it closed. He didn’t want to startle Christina if she were inside.
With feet feeling twenty pounds heavier, he began to the trek towards the front door, each step feeling like a step towards death. After a short moment of fumbling with the keys at the door, and dropping them twice with trembling hands, John managed to push on the door. It swung open without a sound.
The curtains were drawn, but it was still darker inside than it was outside. As he stepped through the door, he felt his body feel as though it were going to shut down. The kitchen was to the right of the ranch style home. Christina couldn’t be seen.
Probably in her puzzle room.
The door clicked as John pushed against it, closing the door to the bright outdoors. It was only three o’ clock. It didn’t make since that any of them should be home right now, but a part of him felt a brief wisp of hope that they were.
He didn’t have much that he could share with Christina, but he wanted her to know that he wasn’t going to ignore his problem any longer. He had taken the first step towards getting help. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
John moved throughout the house at a slow pace, first the kitchen and then the living room, drawing the curtains wider and lifting up the blinds. He knew it wouldn’t help his headache at all, but the light helped him to breathe a little easier. It helped to keep the fog fighting to settle around his head off. He needed to think clearly for when he approached Christiana.
He had hoped that after being home for a time, she would come out to greet him. After ten minutes passed, he was still alone in the living room. With a sinking ray of hope dimming within, John headed towards the refrigerator. Maybe we can have dinner together.
He tried not to think about the last time they actually sat at their table together, or had a conversation normal to most husbands and wives. Instead, he focused his attention on the contents of the refrigerator. He frowned. There was nothing inside save for a shelf of old condiments, a pitcher of water, a six pack of beer, a package of ham and cheese and that was it.
What have I been eating?
His eye caught the six pack for the second time and he felt a force push him to grab one. He reached out with a taut hand.
“What are you doing home so early?”
John slammed the refrigerator door shut quickly and turned towards the sound of his wife’s voice. His heart dropped when he saw her. She wore no smile for him, but looked angry, disgusted even. He watched as her eyes looked him over with little thought. She wasn’t happy, that much he could tell.
“I could ask you the same thing,” John breathed in response, instantly biting his tongue. His voice was neither kind nor soft and Christina seemed to wince at his words. “What I meant is that I was surprised to see your car in the driveway,” he spoke quickly to take back the lost ground. Christina’s eyes glassed over. She didn’t care.
“I was going to order some food,” she said plainly, ready to turn.
John took a quick step towards her, but he stopped short, keeping his hands at her side. He knew he wasn’t welcome to touch her. “Christina,” he called her name softly. She paused, facing him. Her eyes watched him carefully. “I’m sorry,” John began; he saw her face contort. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night,” he swallowed back dryness caking to the roof and back of his mouth.
“I shouldn’t talk to you like that,” his voice began to strain, “or accuse you,” he tacked on with a push that required nearly half the energy it took it keep him still standing. Christina’s face began to solidify, becoming unreadable.
John forced a deep breath, but it was more akin to a last attempt at gasping for air before drowning in the tension that nipped at him. “I’ve made some appointments for myself,” he attempted to mock the reassuring head nod the doctor kept giving him earlier. “I saw a doctor earlier today—”
“Why are you talking to me about this?” Christian
a asked, tone laced with acid. Her eyes stared back into John’s, unmoving.
With hesitation, John answered, “We’ve both been unhappy for a while—”
“That’s why I’ve moved on.”
John could see anger in her; he could hear it in her voice…or was that hatred? Her words registered a moment later. Is there really someone else?
Watching Christina’s face with caution, John proceeded, “What are you saying?”
“What do you want from me, John?” Christina asked, exasperated. “You want another year out me?” She straightened her body, as if preparing for a fight. “Well you can forget it—you already got five. Five!” She pointed a finger at him, “I’m not giving you another year of my life. And if I had my way, I wouldn’t even give you another month.”
She could have spat at his feet with the venom that laced her words. John heard her words clearly through his ears, but watching her face, everything seemed to move slower. Closing his eyes, he replayed his wife’s words back to himself.
Christina still stood in front of him when he opened his eyes again. Hope threatened to crash around him. He knew when he should back off, but he couldn’t let it go.
“Marriage counseling?” It had been a full sentence in his mind, but only the last two words managed to break his speech barrier. Christina chuckled. Within a moment, she let out a laugh, but just as soon as it ripped through the air, she pulled it back, replaced with fury.
“Are you out of your mind?” She swore. “I’m not trying to stay in this marriage with you. We’re done,” she nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been done for over a month, in case you didn’t notice,” she scoffed, then looked at John from his feet to his head.
Shaking his head, John tried to make sense of what she was saying. “So there’s no way?” He asked again, fighting to keep his composure. Christina was incredulous.
“Are you serious?”
