by Karen Lynn
A Sea of Smoke
Karen Lynn
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to everyone who has been consumed by the poison of obsessive love. There is always a cure.
Cover Design by: Sunset Rose Books
This book is protected by copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written consent of Karen Lynn Abreu.
Copyright 2017 by Karen Lynn Abreu.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CONTENTS
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
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Jette Harris for formatting.
CHAPTER 1
THURSDAY, WEEK 1
KRISTEN/LOGAN
I am not going crazy, I am not going crazy. The words haunted Kristen, playing over and over in her head until she was too weary to resist any longer. Still it wasn't sinking in. She was losing her mind.
Five months since she left New York with Logan and things were going from bad to worse, the life she loved long gone. Her friends, her job, Jake—all blurry, fading memories. Ones she found impossible to forget.
Miami was her home now. The blazing orange and red sunsets, amazing crystal clear aquamarine ocean, snow white beaches—all at her fingertips.
If it is such a magnificent dream life, why are my nerves always on edge?
The whole pregnancy thing? It was out of control. Almost six months pregnant now. It was supposed to be a fascinating turning point, a time to enjoy a rosy glow and shiny, flowing hair. Yet, in what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life, she was drowning in boredom.
On the rare occasions she set foot outside of the condo, the constant gaping and groping by strangers repulsed her. Everyone was so damn anxious to catch a feel of the baby bouncing around in her stomach. Why couldn’t they understand what a terrible invasion of privacy it was? Or how it was slowly destroying her already fragile confidence. The inevitable truth? It had been ages since she was proud of her body. She was fatter than ever, would only get bigger, slower, clumsier, and her self-esteem would take a rapid detour down the toilet.
The positive parts? Oh yes, an eternity of leisure time. No longer having to work should’ve been revitalizing. Certainly it played a major role in her speedy recovery from the hemorrhage disaster in New York. But the unfortunate part about her increasing strength was it helped her function. And when she could function, she could think clearly. And when she could think clearly, it increased the depression—an infuriating vicious cycle.
Then again, Logan always says I think way too much.
It would be hysterically funny if the endless vomiting bouts would stop for just one minute. She’d even crack up laughing if she wasn’t so weak and shaken.
Yet there were some bright spots in the bleak horizon they called her new life. In an amazing turn of events, Logan had become her savior. Who could have imagined he would keep his promise to take care of her? At least for the most part. His physical presence couldn’t be denied. But emotionally and mentally? That was another story. He was nonexistent.
Three months and counting until the baby was due. Then her life would be filled with bliss and happiness. Or so they said.
Maybe, just maybe, if she wasn’t so damn lonely she could believe it.
* * *
Life was one long, hopeless journey to nowhere, until one miraculous day, the frequent movement and kicking in her belly started and everything changed.
“Logan... I felt kicking! Oh my god!” she screeched with excitement, scrambling to him when he failed to respond. “Logan, did you hear me?”
It didn't seem to faze him. Sprawled out on the couch, he was too engrossed in his laptop to give a damn.
“Yeah…that's great.” His muttered response was more of a brush-off than a genuine show of interest.
Kristen felt like a lightning bolt struck her chest, wiping out the glow in her cheeks. This was her unique moment of bliss and he was deflating it.
“You don't even care, do you? What's wrong with you?”
His face set in an annoyed frown.
“I hate you!” she screamed, fleeing from the room.
I’m married to a monster! What if it is his baby? He doesn’t even care enough to fake an interest. Flinging herself sideways onto the bed, she curled up in a ball, sobbing without mercy.
Confused once again, Logan finally sat up. This whole baby thing—the unpredictable mood swings and crying fits—was really beginning to wear him out. He wanted to be excited, but the truth was he wasn’t stimulated by it. Whenever possible, he put on an act simply to avoid another one of her meltdowns. But he was constantly horny as hell, and fighting her didn’t cure it.
He approached with caution, sighing loudly. “Kristen, let me feel it.”
Her face lit up instantly. She stopped sobbing and propped her head on an elbow. “Really?”
Logan didn’t try to hide his amusement. “Yes, really. Come on, turn over.”
Her giggles grew louder as she flipped over, waiting for the kicking to start up again. He sat down next to her, his hand suspended in space above her stomach.
“You're not gonna feel it from there!” She grabbed his hand, placing it on her stomach.
They sat waiting. Nothing. Then a couple of sporadic mild jerks followed by a series of violent kicks hit his hand.
“Oh shit! I felt that!” His face went from red to chalk white, his eyes filled with a mix of exhilaration and alarm. He couldn’t jerk his hand away fast enough.
“Cool, huh? Don't worry, he's not gonna bite you!” Amused by his anxious expression, her face flushed with delight.
“He…you mean she.” He choked on the word.
This was the first time he had actually shown a preference, or any concern at all for that matter. She welcomed the change in attitude with a huge smile. “We'll find out when we go for the ultrasound.” She hurled herself up, falling into his lap.
“When's that?” A doomed expression took over his face.
“Monday morning!” Feeling rejuvenated, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Without another word, he broke free, brushed her cheek with a kiss, tripping over his own feet in his rush to return to his laptop.
SATURDAY
KRISTEN
An amazing positive energy overwhelmed her every time she reflected on the life blossoming inside. Becoming more and more consumed by it, she read everything she could get her hands on regarding the miracle of childbirth. With every word, an unexpected rebirth of sorts made her life truly worth living.
Then the kicking drastically intensified and it became very clear it wasn’t going to diminish. On a roll, the baby’s favorite time of attack was late at night when she ached for sleep. As soon as exhaustion became a way of life, Logan began distancing himself. She could taste his boredom, smell his growing repulsion, read his thoughts: Kristen is no longer sexy, and the worst
was yet to come.
The lame excuse about his super hectic workload failed to convince her. But since she was too tired to argue, he simply disappeared more often. And there she was alone, sinking deeper and deeper into the dark hole of depression.
She asked herself why—hadn’t he given her everything she needed? There was no longer stress from work, because she didn’t have to. He set her up, nice and cozy, in this beautiful Miami Beach condo, a few feet from the ocean.
She wanted to feel guilt, but couldn’t.
Instead, she concentrated on finding a solution. There were always art classes. At last, she could be around other artists and express herself through creativity like she used to. But with her back on fire all the time, there was no way she could stand in front of the easel for hours.
And the worst part of all? The days when there were friends to confide in were long gone. While Logan was running around with Nick working, or whatever he called it, staying out more and more, later and later, she could amuse herself by viewing her own deteriorating reflection in the mirror.
At a serious breaking point, she let out an anguished scream.
Think about the baby! Logan says it every fucking day—when he is around at least. The frustrating words played over and over in her head. She was going to explode from always thinking about the damn baby. Why couldn’t she think about herself for a change.
When was the last time I got laid? Or went out for a nice dinner. Or to listen to music and dance. When did all those things become irrelevant?
That Saturday morning, she had a major panic attack. Unable to control herself any longer, she grabbed her keys and headed to the elevator. Logan’s voice echoed in her mind. He hated it when she went outside by herself. Or was it really that he was back to his old tricks, trying to possess her mind, to make her paranoid? All his nagging bullshit about how unsafe it was go outside alone in her delicate condition drove her mad.
The hell with him, and the hell with my delicate condition.
Another typical day in paradise—high eighties, cloudless blue sky, huge steamy sun, humidity that poured down her body, creating an irritating shine on her face and making her shirt cling even tighter to her protruding stomach. The kind of day she could expect like clockwork in South Florida, except of course when it was rainy season. Then the torrential downpours barricaded you inside. Or it was hurricane season. Then the tropical storms and hurricanes could sweep you away.
Actually, being swept away into oblivion wouldn’t be that bad. It couldn’t be worse than being nonexistent in an uncaring world.
The warm sand trickled between her toes as she strolled along the beach. How overdramatic she had become in such a short time crossed her mind. She pushed it away. An unexpected peacefulness spread through her—therapeutic and invigorating. Not a full speed ahead I’m doing great kind of feeling, but more of I may not kill myself today feeling. Maybe she would even venture down to the ocean, tread through the tepid water, pick up some sea shells.
The condo wasn't too far from the section of A1A lined with bars and small cafes—places she hadn't been to in months. Happy places where there were people laughing, having fun. Walking by the first beachside bar, she could taste the beer, smell the delicious aromas. So hypnotic, she longed to enjoy it all. It seemed like forever since she'd had a drink. Of course she couldn't now, because, like everything she loved to do, it was bad for the baby.
Her spirits lifted slightly when she slipped her feet back into her flip flops and left the sand. The hint of a breeze brushing her skin was just enough to help dissolve a few drops of sweat.
A beautiful Saturday afternoon meant a lot of action on A1A with tons of cars cruising. The blaring car horn, followed by whistling startled her as she waddled across the street. Turning back, prepared to curse out some half blind old guy for practically running her over, she was surprised to find two younger guys in a red convertible smiling at her.
They most likely can’t see my bulging belly. Or are they crazy also? She laughed, settling down at a street-side table covered by a huge umbrella. At least she could enjoy a strawberry ice tea and get some relief from the sun for a few minutes.
She sat patiently waiting for the tea, enjoying the half-naked sun worshipers parading by, when she saw him. Stiffening, she blinked, thinking the harsh glare of the sun was effecting her eyesight. Pushing her sunglasses higher on her nose, she leaned back into the shade to take a closer look. Her heart stopped. It really was Logan, hand in hand with a tall, familiar looking Latina. They walked right by without ever noticing her sitting there. All alone. They never even saw her mouth flop open in shock, or her face go deathly white. Without a sound, she turned her head, her eyes following them down the block.
“Here's your tea, miss.” The soft spoken waiter’s voice was lost in a swirl of wind.
Her lips parted, but the words wouldn't roll off of her tongue. A sudden gust of wind whirled across the table, sending the napkins flying onto the ground. For a few seconds her eyes fixed on them, but all she saw was black.
He won’t get away with it this time.
The words continued to play over and over in her mind. She couldn’t turn them off. Or control the quivering that wracked her body.
LOGAN
He really had good intentions when they came to Miami. Build a life with Kristen, rekindle their original passion. It was there—they both felt the undeniable chemistry. The three weeks in New York when she had abandoned him now a faded star in the darkness. That was why he'd ended it with Gina—not that it was a hard a decision. He never loved her. In fact, he barely liked her. The sex was good, but nothing compared to how he felt with Kristen.
It wasn't his fault if it wasn't working out the way he'd planned. Her unwanted pregnancy brought her back to his bed, then something went astray, something he'd never expected.
The first three months meant no sex—it was too risky. By the time her second trimester started, his fear of hurting her prevented him from even trying. Once or twice during the fourth month she had insisted. She wasn't big yet, still very sexy, and being seduced by her was easy.
He remembered their last try like it was yesterday. A big let down from the start. His nervous tension from worrying about losing control and hurting her, forced him to have an immediate orgasm. When she looked at him with those disappointed, big green eyes, he felt emasculated and tried to defend himself.
“I didn’t wanna hurt you, baby. Aren't you always telling me I'm too rough? Then you're gonna be mad at me.”
She’d showered him with kisses, he gave in, and then she cried he was hurting her and got mad. He couldn't win, so he gave up.
Then he ran into Gina at a restaurant and she was all over him. That was about a month ago. If he felt any guilt at all it was washed away by the fact he'd been a good boy for an intolerable four-month period.
When he returned to the condo that Saturday afternoon, it was eerily dark and quiet. He went from room to room calling out to Kristen without response. Suddenly, he sensed her behind him and a smile began to etch into his face. With a slow, confident movement, he turned to face her. There was no need for words. He was sure the soft glimmer in his eyes would speak to her. But this time, she couldn’t see them through the blind vengeance raging in her own.
For a second he went rigid, consumed by that rage, the intensity of which he had never seen in her before. “Krissy…” His hand reached out tentatively for her face.
Before he could utter another word, she let out a horrifying wail, raised her hand, and brought the beer bottle crashing down on the side of his head.
The deafening crack of shattered glass tapered off to a steady ringing in his ears. Dazed from the impact, a bright blinding light flashed before his eyes. Unable to speak, he wobbled backwards against the wall, his mouth hanging open. His eyes widened further as liquid trickled down his face. On impulse, he reached up to it. When he brought his hand down it was covered in blood.
The glimmer in h
is eyes faded to a cloud of despair as he raised them to Kristen’s deathly pale face. She stood frozen in front of him, the rage in her eyes replaced by a crazed, vacant stare. Blinking his face into focus, she gaped at him in shock. Without a word, she began to cry, then sank to the floor in anguish.
* * *
They stitched his head up, gave him a bottle of Percocet, and released him with discharge instructions. Ever so slowly, the meds started to kick in, but he was so dizzy and spaced out he could hardly walk. After five torturous hours in the emergency room, they were finally going home.
Still astonished by her violent behavior, Kristen clung to him, helping him into the car. The deadly silence between them continued as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the car seat. After being in an almost hysterical state, her driving ability was questionable. But he was too messed up to worry about it or even notice when she ran a red light. When they pulled up to the condo, he sank his full weight onto her shoulder, ignoring her wincing. She almost killed me, the least she could do is suffer a little and get me inside.
Without a word, he watched her undress him, help him up onto the bed, and settle in next to him.
“Why'd you hit me?”
She gave him a strange look, recalling how she lied to the emergency room intake woman and doctor. Something about a drunken friend getting out of hand, but they had decided not to press charges. If there were any suspicions, they hadn’t indicated it. And like usual, Logan kept his mouth shut the entire time.
“I saw you with that slut.” She didn’t bother to look at him.
“What happened to talking about it?” Still in a state of shock, Logan whimpered as he tried to deal with the spurts of pain radiating from his eyes to his head.
“There's nothing to talk about, Logan. You promised me we would start over, and you lied!” She glared at him, vowing not to let those hypnotic blood-shot baby blues weaken her.
