Love Hate Relationship (a Colors novel)

by Jessica Prince

  Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Prince

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.authorjessicaprince.com

  Cover Designer: Najla Qamber, www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  Editor: www.hottreeediting.com

  Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book 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 the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  OTHER BOOKS BY JESSICA

  THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:

  Picking up the Pieces

  Rising from the Ashes

  Pushing the Boundaries

  Worth the Wait

  THE COLORS NOVELS:

  Scattered Colors

  Shrinking Violet

  Love Hate Relationship

  Wildflower (coming January 2016)

  THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (A LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP SPINOFF):

  Fire and Ice – Griffin and Pepper’s story (coming April 2016)

  Untitled Book #2 – Richard and Delilah’s story (coming July 2016)

  DEADLY LOVE TRILOGY:

  Destructive

  Addictive

  Obsessive (coming soon)

  OTHER TITLES:

  Nightmares from Within

  To Jacob,

  Because of the random things you say, Mommy will always have something funny to put in her books. I love you with all of my heart!

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Navie sat on the dirty, trash-covered floor in the living room of the rundown apartment she lived in with her mother. Knees pulled tight to her chest, she rocked back and forth as she stared out the grime-covered window. The sun was slowly falling from the sky, making the room darker and darker with every passing minute. She’d tried flicking the switch that was supposed to turn on the ceiling light, but when she flipped it up, nothing happened.

  None of the lights in her house would come on.

  Tears streaked down her face as she kept her dark eyes trained on the window, hoping and praying her mother would return soon. It wasn’t unusual for her to wander off with the man who stayed with them after they’d snorted that white stuff off the table, or poked their arms with those sharp needles. But she’d never stayed gone for so long. She knew Navie was scared of the dark. She wouldn’t have left her all by herself when nighttime was falling. Something had to be wrong.

  The darkness in the room turned to a deep black so heavy she couldn’t see anything at all. It wasn’t until she’d cried her tiny body into exhaustion that she’d finally managed to fall asleep.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Navie jolted awake on the living room floor, her little body quaking in fear as the front door rattled on its rusty hinges.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  She tried her best to keep her sobs quiet, but she was so scared that it was the mean man who always came to see her mother. She hated the mean man. He always broke things and hit her mommy, yelling about money every time he came. She really hoped it wasn’t him. He’d be so mad if he discovered Mommy wasn’t home.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Police department,” a deep voice called through the flimsy door. “Open up.”

  It wasn’t the bad man. It was the police. Police were supposed to help you. They helped find people and arrested bad guys. With a desperate cry of excitement that she was no longer alone, Navie jumped up from the floor and rushed to open the front door.

  “Have you found my mommy?” she shouted as soon as the door swung all the way open. The tall man in a dark blue uniform looked down at her. His smile was kind, but there was something behind his eyes that looked a little sad.

  “Hey there, sweetheart,” he spoke as he crouched down to Navie’s level. “I’m Officer Michaels. What’s your name?”

  “N-Navie,” she stuttered shyly.

  “Navie, like the color?”

  She gave a barely discernible nod as she looked at Officer Michaels through her lashes.

  “Well that’s a really pretty name.”

  “T-thank you. Mommy said it’s ‘cuz my eyes are dark, just like my daddy’s.”

  “Is your daddy here, honey?” he asked.

  “No. Mommy said he went away before I was born. Do you know where my mommy is? She left a long time ago. She should have come back, but she hasn’t yet. It got dark and I’m scared of the dark, and none of the lights would turn on. Did you find her?”

  Officer Michaels stood to his full height and scanned the room before him, his jaw ticking with concealed rage as he took in the disgusting condition of the apartment the poor little girl was obviously living in. Chances were, if the mother had been there right at that moment, he’d have lost complete control of his anger.

  What kind of woman raised a child in filth? Better yet, what kind of woman abandoned her child, leaving her scared and alone through the night? If they hadn’t received a call from a concerned neighbor informing them that there was a kid alone in the apartment, who knew how long Navie would have been by herself?

  “No, sweetheart,” Officer Michaels spoke in a low, soothing voice. “We haven’t found your mommy. But we’re gonna take really good care of you, okay? You’re not going to have to be alone anymore.”

  “Okay.” Navie nodded, taking the big man’s outstretched hand. “I don’t like being alone. Especially in the dark.”

  Officer Michaels’ fist clenched tighter around the little girl’s tiny hand. If he could, he would have scooped her up and taken her home with him. That just wasn’t feasible, though. He could only pray that CPS found a decent foster home for the child and that some loving family would come along in the near future to adopt her and give her the life she deserved. He also prayed he never crossed paths with her mother.

  It was a good thing to pray for. Those hopes made it easier to hand her off to the social worker a few hours later. As the little girl with the big, navy blue eyes turned to look at him over her shoulder, fear evident in their dark depths as the worker led her away, he found himself rubbing at a dull, lingering ache in the center of his chest.

  Closing his eyes after she rounded the corner out of his sight, he offered up his silent words as a lone tear trailed down his cheek.

  Dear Lord, please give that little girl a beautiful life.

  “I look like a turd.”

  My top lip slowly curled up in disgust as I
stood in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom, taking in the boxy, ill-fitting skirt suit I was wearing. The ugly brown garment hung from my petite frame in the most unflattering way, making me look at least twenty pounds heavier than I actually was. I wanted to rip the damn suit off and burn it so no other poor, unsuspecting woman would ever have to fall victim to such a crime against fashion ever again.

  “You do not!” Harlow insisted passionately from her spot on my bed. A quick glance at my best friend and roommate had me rolling my eyes. She hadn’t even bothered to glance up from her damn magazine long enough to actually look at the monstrosity I was wearing.

  “You didn’t even look!” I whined. I even threw in a foot stomp for good measure.

  “Oh, my God,” Harlow grumbled dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You look…” As soon as her eyes hit me and she clammed up, I knew it was bad. “Oh, sweet Jesus’s mother, Navie! What the hell is that?!”

  “I knew it!” I shouted as I threw myself back onto the bed. “This is awful! I can’t go. I just can’t. There’s no way I can walk into that place dressed like this.”

  “What the hell happened to your other outfit?”

  As I thought about my sleek, black pencil skirt, I silently mourned its loss, trying my hardest not to openly weep at its demise. “I ripped it on the turnstile,” I sniffled.

  I thought back to my first interview with Lauren Brown of Enterprise PR, and how wonderfully it had gone. I’d been on cloud nine the whole way home, when I went through the subway turnstile and ripped a massive hole in the side of my one and only interview outfit. When she called yesterday requesting a second interview, I spent ten minutes doing a happy dance before realizing I didn’t have a single suitable article of clothing in my closet and spiraled into a full blown freak out.

  “This was the only thing at the thrift store that even came close to fitting,” I lamented as I stared up at the popcorn ceiling of my bedroom. The tiny Murray Hill apartment wasn’t the best, but it was one of the only places Harlow and I had been able to afford after graduation. We’d been on cloud nine when we signed the lease, convinced we were about to take the world by storm.

  Yeah, not so much.

  Who’d have thought jobs didn’t just fall into recent college grads’ laps? It was mind boggling when I stopped to think about it. I’d earned a generic business degree for the simple fact that it made job hunting easier. I’d have loved to major in something more creative, but I wanted to ensure that I’d have a way to stand on my own two feet when I was finished. My foster brother, Carson, and his wife, Cassidy, have been fabulous throughout the past four years, but I refused to take another cent from either of them. Cassidy had come into their relationship with a toddler already, and they were expecting another baby in a matter of months. I knew Carson would offer up anything he could to help me out, but he had other things to worry about. I was determined to take that burden off his shoulders once and for all.

  Harlow had landed an executive assistant job for some clothing franchise a week back, but had yet to get her first check, while I’d been spending every available hour not spent job hunting, waiting tables at the café I’d been working at since freshman year of college. Needless to say, tips weren’t going to cover my half of the bills much longer.

  Call me crazy, but I’d grown accustomed to having a roof over my head and four walls surrounding me. I kind of preferred electricity and running water. I felt pretty confident in admitting that I wouldn’t fare well without it. I watched Naked and Afraid. I wasn’t embarrassed to admit my limitations. And homelessness was definitely a limitation.

  Why, oh why, did I have to fall in love with a city that was so damn expensive?

  Harlow dropped the magazine onto the bed and stood to her full five feet, seven inches. When she propped her hands on her slender hips and appraised me with narrow, assessing eyes, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat inferior. She was absolutely stunning, statuesque… basically any adjective you could come up with to describe tall, slim and gorgeous, that was Harlow.

  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t fat at all, but being cursed to only stand three inches above five feet—all right, so I only stood one and a half inches above five feet, so sue me—made it much easier for a slice of pizza, (or the mac and cheese I just couldn’t resist the night before) to show on my teeny-tiny frame. Not only was I a shorty, but I was curvy as well. It wasn’t exactly easy to go shopping for new clothes with my body type. Being poor, short, and curvy, and having no option but to dress like the plain brown M&M no one ever wants to eat was just another one of God’s cruel jokes.

  “You know,” she started, “if you’d just call—”

  I cut her off with a wave of my hand. It was the same predictable conversation we’d been having for months. “Don’t even start, Har. I already told you. I’m not calling Carson or Cassidy. They have enough on their plates as it is. I’m not asking them for more money.”

  “Jesus, you’re stubborn,” she huffed.

  I lifted my head from the mattress and narrowed my eyes at her. “Four years of living together and you’re only just now realizing this?”

  “You know they’re going to be pissed if they find out you’ve been keeping this from them. They’re your family and they want to help you out. Hiding the fact that you’re broke from them won’t make the situation go away.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I asked sarcastically as I sat up to look at her. “I tapped the last of the savings Carson had for me to put up my half of the deposit on this place, and I’ve been so damn busy with school and work and looking for a stupid grownup job that I haven’t been able to make any jewelry in months, so there’s no income coming in from that, either. What I need is to nail this interview so I can start pulling my weight around here. You riding my ass about keeping things from my family isn’t all that helpful at this point, Harlow.”

  “Okay…” she drew out, a look of determination skating across her stunning face. “Then let’s make sure you nail this interview.”

  “Yay!” I shouted, hopping from the bed and holding my arms out. “So? Can you help me?” I asked, turning from side to side, hoping she could somehow make the poo-suit work.

  Her eyes scanned up and down my body for several seconds. “Why don’t you just wear something of mine,” she offered casually, earning herself an evil glare.

  “Because anything of yours that even comes remotely close to fitting is either at the cleaners, insanely short, or uncomfortably tight.”

  She looked me over again in silent contemplation. “It’s really not so bad.” I would have believed her if it weren’t for the small cringe she didn’t do a good enough job of masking. “We can totally make this work.” I couldn’t tell who she was trying to convince more, me or herself.

  Thank God for best friends who had fabulous fashion sense. “Strip,” she demanded. Not questioning Harlow’s brilliance when it came to clothes, I quickly divested myself of the hideous outfit so she could work her magic. Ten minutes later—with the help of about a thousand safety pins and some double sided tape—she’d done the best she could do. The outfit was still hideous, but at least it fit a tad bit better. I mixed in a few pieces of gold jewelry I’d made, a chunky necklace and a matching bracelet, and I was set.

  “That’s as good as it’s going to get, babe,” Harlow spoke apologetically.

  I moved my gaze from my reflection in the mirror to where she was standing behind me. “You can only do so much, sweets. It’s not like you can work miracles.”

  “Don’t worry about the outfit, babe. As soon as those people get to know you, you’re as good as in. Everyone who meets you falls in love with you. Just be your usual, charming self.”

  “Easier said than done, Harlow,” I muttered as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. “My usual, charming self doesn’t typically dress like a petrified Tootsie Roll that’s been under the car seat for the past year and a half.”

  “You don’t look like a—
you know what? I’m not even going to lie to you right now. You totally do. You look like shit… literally, and I mean that in the most loving, sincere way possible. Now, get your ass moving or you’re going to be late.”

  “Best pep-talk ever, Harlow,” I deadpanned as she shoved me toward the front door.

  “You know I’m always there for ya, babe. Now, go knock ‘em dead,” she said, giving me a hard slap on the ass. “I’ll have a pitcher of sangria ready for you when you get home.”

  I turned to yell over my shoulder as I scurried down the hall. “And that, right there, is why I love you. If va-jay-jays didn’t scare the living hell outta me, I’d totally wife you.”

  “And if I wasn’t terrified of suffocating to death in your cleavage, I’d totally wife you, too,” she called back down the hall just as our neighbor, Donald, opened his front door.

  “You know what’s worse than living across the hall from two hot chicks?” he asked, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Harlow and me. “Living across the hall from two hot chicks who joke about having lesbian tendencies. It’s wrong to toy with a man’s emotions like that, ladies. Just plain wrong.”

  With a loud laugh and a wave over my shoulder, I bolted down the hall, bypassing the elevator, which had been broken since we moved in four months ago, and pushed open the door to the stairwell. A sense of excitement began to build in my chest as I made my way down the five flights of stairs toward the street below. Despite the fashion mishap, I had a good feeling about my interview. Maybe things were finally starting to look up for me. The past four years had been eye opening for me. The culture shock of New York City after living in BFE, Texas, had been overwhelming, to say the least. It had taken some serious adjusting, but with Carson and Cassidy’s support, and the quick friendship I’d developed with Harlow, I’d managed to pave my way.

  I’d changed since leaving Willow Ranch. I was a different person. The timid, frightened girl who used to be bullied and picked on in high school was gone. Cassidy had been instrumental in helping me find my self-confidence. Having someone so amazing at my back gave me strength. There was more steel in my spine than there had ever been before. Life had given me thick skin, but I’d managed to build up my self-confidence in a way that made me stronger than I’d ever been before. I was no longer afraid to stand up for myself and what I believed in. I’d grown up. I’d overcome all the bad in my past, and I was finally ready to take on the world.