The Risk: Scott's Story (Runaway Love Series Book 2)

by Washington, Pamela

  Copyright © 2015 Pamela Washington

  Published October 2015

  Editing by Tina Donaldson

  Formatting by Angela Shockley, That Formatting Lady

  Cover Design by Just Write. Creations

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Dedication

  Disclaimer

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to my mother, Candace.

  Thank you for being you and putting up with my craziness.

  You’re an amazing woman and a beautiful angel.

  Thanks for reading my stories and telling me to write, even when I wasn’t in the mood.

  Follow your dreams! It’s never too early, and it’s never too late!

  Take a chance and the rest will follow.

  Hey readers, I just wanted to share this before you start reading The Risk…

  I highly recommend that you have read Runaway Love before you start the journey of reading The Risk. Runaway Love gives you Grace’s perspective of how she feels about the two loves in her life: Scott and Tony. The Risk is Scott’s story and tells his perspective on the happenings in Runaway Love before it breaks off into his own personal story.

  I hope you enjoyed Runaway Love. Are you ready to take The Risk?

  ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK…

  RUNAWAY LOVE SERIES CONTINUES NOW…

  Teen Years

  Childhood? What was that? I never knew what it was like to just be a kid. I had to grow up and face the harsh realities of life well before I should’ve had to. I never knew what it was like to feel safe or loved or taken care of. Hell, I didn’t even know what a full belly felt like! All I knew in life was to fight. I knew nothing would even be given to me – I had to fight for anything and everything I wanted; I had to fight to survive.

  When my mother passed away, I wasn’t sad. Truthfully, I felt relieved. Nobody knows the struggle of having a junkie for a mother… But, you know what? I don’t want to talk about her! I’m a man of few words. I don’t like thinking about my past or worrying about my future. I’m content to live in the present. Yes, I had a fucked up childhood. Yes, my mother loved drugs more than me and my father –pffft- I never even met him. I was on a dangerous path in life, heading toward being just another statistic, but I was willing to take a risk - a risk that led me to knowing the love of my life…

  I was filled with so much anger that fighting became my main outlet. When I fought, I was the stronger one - I was the winner. I didn’t feel worthless or depressed when I fought, so I’d always look for the littlest reasons to start fights. Because of this, though, I went from foster home to foster home for several years. No one let me stay long, though, because I was too violent. Why couldn’t anyone understand I just wanted to escape all the negativity that was flowing through me? Didn’t anyone realize I just wanted to feel love and acceptance? Needless to say, when I arrived at Ms. Allen’s group home, I didn’t expect to be there very long. But, I took a risk and controlled my anger, and that run-down, horrible house introduced me to the two things that would eventually save my life: soccer and Grace.

  One day as I was showing Paul, a fellow foster kid, around, I noticed a new red haired girl staring out the window. I was immediately drawn to her even though she was obviously younger than I. She had the same look in her eyes that I imagined my eyes held – hopelessness, despair, longing, and loneliness. I wanted to go over and talk to her right away, but I knew I needed to wait for her to get comfortable with the place first. Foster kids don’t usually warm up to each other right away – we all have to gain each other’s trust a little bit. I kept making excuses to avoid talking to her because I was afraid of her rejecting my attempt at friendship.

  Days turned into weeks and my need to talk to her finally overweighed my fear. I began noticing that she wasn’t eating and was losing weight, and I knew she couldn’t keep going like that or she’d get sick. I didn’t know where that caring side of me came from – maybe from when I had to take care of my mother. Regardless, I felt the need to make sure this girl was okay. One morning, I took a deep breath, grabbed two plates and filled them with food, and went to sit next to her by her usual window spot.

  “You don’t have to talk to me, but you will eat this food. I’m not leaving until you eat all of it,” I informed her rather gruffly. I was surprised by the roughness in my demeanor, but it wasn’t like I was used to taking care of someone else. She looked up at me with her beautiful grey eyes before staring down at her plate. With a sigh of resignation, she began to eat. My heart warmed and soared because I was actually having a positive impact on someone! I didn’t move until she finished her plate. I then slid my plate in front of her, but she shook her head no. Feeling awkward all of a sudden, I took my plate and headed toward the kitchen. I had to force myself to keep walking when I heard her speak for the first time. A soft thank you caused my heart to do flips and butterflies to flutter in my stomach. What was that crazy feeling?

  The following day, I was playing soccer outside with Paul when I saw her looking at me out the window. Knowing she was caught, she quickly turned her head. My mind was focused on her when I accidentally kicked Paul instead of the ball. He ran and told Ms. Allen right away, so of course I got in trouble and wasn’t able to see Grace for a while. A few weeks passed before I started to interact with Grace a little bit more. Yes, she finally told me her name! I loved her name - it fit her so well.

  Grace and I became inseparable. I suppose we had fallen in love, but we were both so emotionally damaged that we didn’t really know what love was. All we knew for certain was that we were part of each other and nothing could ever tear us apart. We talked about everything and anything. We shared our plans for our future and promised to make better lives for ourselves than our parents did.

  Grace and I were each other’s biggest supporters. I’d sit and watch her draw, and she watched me play soccer. My soccer abilities greatly improved during this time because I was determined to impress her and make her smile; however, I always made sure to let the other kids shine as well during our informal games. I also tried my best to protect Grace from Ms. Allen. I hated to see Grace in pain – when she hurt, I hurt even more for her.

  The day before my seventeenth birthday, I panicked at the realization that I was leaving and wouldn’t see Grace every day. I begged her to come with me, but she rationally reminded me she was too young to leave. I looked into her eyes and promised I’d be back for her. Grace cried as I tenderly wiped the tears that were running down her cheeks. I asked her to draw a picture of her name for me so I could have it tattooed close to my heart. I wanted her name on my body so everyone would know that she was mine.

&n
bsp; The next morning I promised Grace again that I’d be back for her. I listened to her quiet sobs as I walked out the door as an independent man. Before I got in the waiting taxi, I looked up at Grace standing at her window. I mouthed, I love you, Grace as she mouthed back to me, I love you, Scott. Life was never the same after I closed the taxi door.

  Life was anything but easy after I left Ms. Allen’s, but I didn’t mind it. I loved feeling independent and making my own decisions! I stayed with different friends from high school and worked odd jobs as my time allowed. I didn’t think finishing school was going to help me out much, but I was determined to be the best man I could be for Grace and knew having a high school diploma was the first step in the right direction. The best decision I made was to join the local soccer team.

  I felt truly alive every time I stepped onto the soccer field. I felt like I belonged to a family within the comradery of my team. I thrived on the energy, strategy, and competition that each game offered. All my worries and fears slipped away as soon as my feet tuned into the soccer ball. Soccer became my life; yes, Grace was still on my mind, but soccer was my outlet, my savior.

  Playing professional soccer never crossed my mind until a recruiter, Mr. Rivers, invited me out to lunch. He offered me a spot on his team after he spent the first part of our meeting telling me how amazing of a player he thought I was. Mr. Rivers definitely knew how to play me, even though I didn’t realize his manipulations at the time. Hell, I ate his shit up - hook, line, and sinker. I jumped at the chance to be his new star, and I didn’t even care that I’d have to move to England. I told myself that this was the best way for me and Grace to have a chance at a great life together.

  Mr. Rivers not only offered me a great job, but he also offered me a new beginning at life. He said I could change who and what I was. I no longer had to be the poor foster kid – I could be anyone I wanted to be. My greatest desire was to change my last name. I didn’t want any link to my parents to exist – I didn’t want to think about them whenever I heard my name called. So, after filling out some paperwork after I turned eighteen, I became Scott Peters and left my past in the past.

  Mr. Rivers only gave me a week to get my affairs in order before I had to move to England. Luckily, I only had a couple days left of school, so I could at least graduate. Between the name change, finals, getting a passport, packing, and practicing, I never took the time to tell Grace that I was going to move to England to play soccer. I didn’t know why I didn’t inform her of my plans, but I did make many excuses for my actions. In a way, I felt good just living for myself for a change. Yes, I knew that made me a selfish asshole after all the promises I made to Grace.

  I waited until Mr. Rivers and I were on our way to the airport before I went to Ms. Allen’s to tell Grace that I was going to England and that I’d be back for her. Mr. Rivers was slightly annoyed at our detour, but I told him I had to let my friend know I was leaving or I wasn’t going to go. As we pulled up to Ms. Allen’s, I was shockingly appalled by the deplorable conditions of the house and the neighborhood. Did I really live here? Getting Grace out of that house became a top priority again. I noticed Paul hanging out outside, looking like he was up to no good. He was older than I was, so I couldn’t understand why he didn’t just move the hell on.

  “What’s up, Paul? Is Grace around? I need to see her.” I greeted him with a handshake while taking note of him enviously eyeing the BMW I just came out of.

  “No, she’s not here. She went with Ms. Allen to the grocery store. You can wait for her if you want.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. Let me tell my ride.”

  I told Mr. Rivers that my friend wasn’t there and that I needed to wait a few more minutes. Mr. Rivers, obviously nervous about being in my old neighborhood, said we needed to leave right away or we’d miss our flight. He didn’t say it, but I knew that if I caused us to miss our flight, I would be cut from the team before I even began. I ran my fingers through my hair as I blew out a big breath and turned back to Paul.

  “Hey, Paul, can you do me a huge favor? I don’t have time to wait, so tell Grace that I’m going to England to play soccer, but I’ll be back for her. Tell her I’m going to keep my promise to her. Okay?”

  “Oh, wow! Congrats, man! It’s amazing someone recognized your talent! Yeah, sure, I’ll let her know.”

  I gave Paul another hand shake as he continued to offer praise and congratulations. I broke away and got into the BMW. I should’ve stayed and waited for Grace, but I didn’t. I should’ve talked to her earlier, but I didn’t. I couldn’t change anything at that point, but I would’ve had I known I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

  Early Years in England

  Soccer ruled my life the moment I disembarked the plane in England. My life became a whirlwind of activity, and I was easily caught up in the excitement of creating a new life. I thought of Grace often, but my primary focus was always soccer. I never took the time to reach out to her – not even a phone call. I knew I was being a douchebag, but I couldn’t help myself. I still loved Grace, but I didn’t contact her, and I sure as hell didn’t worry about her either. I didn’t understand my decisions, but I didn’t question them. The first thing I did with my first paycheck, though, was to get Grace’s drawing of her name tattooed on my chest so I could have her close to my heart. I wanted to let the world know she belonged to me and I to her, even though I continued to live my life for myself. I became a man of contradictions that I never took the time to figure out, and eventually, I became too selfish to care.

  As my soccer career took off, things started to change quickly for me. The money came, the fame and adoration came, and the females came and went. I didn’t care about any of the women – they were just there to help me pass the time until I could get back to Grace. I never considered it as cheating on her – more like I was satisfying a need. I thought of her often, but I always came up with excuses to avoid contacting her.

  After a night of drinking, I decided to search for Grace on the Internet shortly before her twenty-first birthday. To my horrific surprise, I discovered she was pregnant and married. I felt like the air was taken out of my body while my heart was smashed into a million pieces. Why hadn’t my Grace waited for me? She knew I was going to come back for her like I had promised. How could she have been so selfish to leave me behind and move on with her own life? I refused to accept any responsibility for what happened, even though my actions were nagging me in the back of my mind. Grace should’ve waited for me, no matter what. She promised me!

  I should’ve never looked for her. I let my self-pity take over my life as I turned to alcohol to dull my pain. I reveled in my I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and almost got kicked off my team. I looked at my Grace tattoo every day and traced each line, remembering when she drew it for me. This was all I had of her and this was what I’d always have of her.

  I continued my downward spiral until I received a shocking phone call.

  “Hey, is this Scott?”

  “Yeah, who the fuck is this?”

  “My name is Tony. I believe you know my wife, Grace.”

  What the hell? Why the fuck was Grace’s husband calling me? I tossed back all the whiskey in my glass and prepared myself to hear what this man had to say.

  “Is everything okay with Grace?” Even in my drunken haze, Grace’s well-being was my top priority.

  “Everything is fine, but she’s in a special place right now that her doctors and I are trying to figure out. She recently gave birth to our son. She was so excited to bring him into the world so she could be the best mom. But instead of celebrating, she went into a deep depression that she can’t fight her way out of yet. Even though she uses a different last name, her therapist and I realized it’s you whom she keeps mentioning in thoughts that really don’t make much sense during our sessions. I looked you up and your publicist gave me your number.” Thankfully, I’d told my publicist if anyone claimed to be, or called about, Grace to
give them my direct number.

  “Okay, so what’s wrong with her?”

  “I’m not quite sure, but the doctors wanted me to ask you if something ever happened to Grace?”

  I stood up and paced the floor. What the fuck was he asking me?

  “What the fuck are you trying to imply? Nothing ever happened to Grace! She was, and still is, the love of my life even though she couldn’t wait for me!” I hear him breathe into the phone.

  “Okay, I just needed to know. Sorry to bother you, Scott. Please continue staying away from Grace.”

  I stared at the phone until I realized Tony had hung up on me, ending my last connection to Grace for several years.

  I am loving my Grace-free life in England. Well, at least that’s what I keep telling myself because I really don’t have any other choice. So, when my publicist informs me that I have a message from a woman named Grace on my website, I won’t allow myself to believe that my Grace is reaching out to me. This woman has to be someone else! But, my curiosity and hopefulness get the best of me, and I tell my publicist to have Grace call me on my private phone line.

  My life changes when I’m woken in the early morning hours by some noise I don’t immediately recognize. I’m lying in bed with my favorite friend-with-benefits Maxine, having just enjoyed an incredible night of sex, when I realize my phone is ringing from an unknown number. Who in the world would call me at this God-awful hour?

  “Hello. This is Scott.” I try to sound professional even though my voice is filled with sleepiness.

  “Hello? Hello?” I repeat as I prepare to disconnect the call.

  “Me, Grace.” Then silence. What the hell is going on?

  “Hi, Scott. This is Grace. Do you remember me?” Oh my God, my heart begins racing and my face flushes as I realize who I’m speaking to. I’ve never heard anything more perfect or melodic than Grace’s sweet voice.