Faith

by Lisa Helen Gray

  Now cooking school is on the agenda for this coming September, since I finished half the course this past April.

  The banging reminds me of why I’m lying on my bed, wishing someone would put me out of my misery.

  I groan, rolling over till my hands hit a warm body. I scrub the sleep out of my eyes, glancing at the naked female lying next me.

  Holy fuck!

  I don’t even remember picking up some chick at the bar last night, let alone the girl’s name. Even with a pounding headache I want to smack my head against the wall for being so careless.

  One thing my dad drilled into me was to respect women who respect themselves and not to have time for those who don’t.

  It’s easier said than done when you’re a hormonal teenager with a constant boner. But I always made sure I knew something about the chick I banged—unless I get drunk, like I did last night, and don’t bother even remembering how we met.

  As if not knowing her name wasn’t bad enough, she isn’t even my type. For one, she’s too fucking skinny, all bone and skin. It’s fucking gross, and I cringe a little at the sight of her.

  I like my women with meat on them, something I can grab hold of when I’m fucking them. I’m also a cuddlier, even if I don’t fuck the same girl twice―unless she’s lucky. And when I cuddle, I like to actually have something to cuddle, and a little bit of meat and soft skin goes a long fucking way. It also makes me hard as a rock.

  The woman rolls over and I bite back a string of curses when I see she’s probably the same age as my fucking mum.

  Seriously gross, dude.

  The lads are going to fucking rip into me when they see me. I can see it. There’s no way they didn’t see me leave with her or take pictures of my shameful one-night stand.

  The builders next door start hammering away again, and I glance at the clock, my anger fuelling. Not only is it fucking Sunday, but it’s seven in the goddamn morning.

  Pissed that I have to spend another weekend listening to them fix her roof and whatever else the pile of rubble needs doing, I poke the old lady in the shoulder.

  “Get up, you need to go,” I bark out, pretending to be panicked.

  I’m usually the happy, approachable one, but for some reason, my neighbour is getting to me. And it’s not because of anything she’s done directly.

  It’s because I’ve never fucking met her. I’ve only ever managed to get glimpses of her through the windows. It’s like she’s a vampire, because I’ve never seen her once come out in the day, not even to answer the door.

  For the past eight months of living here, she has never, not once, answered her door to me, and I’m fucking awesome. Everybody loves me. I wouldn’t even know she was a she if it weren’t for Maggie. She still speaks to the owners and they filled her in on their granddaughter moving in.

  Maggie also explained that her grandparents haven’t lived in the house for years. They moved to a remote location, needing to get away to somewhere quiet with no neighbours.

  I’ve left notes for her, even offered to mow her overgrown lawn and put up a fence between her and Maggie’s property.

  Not once has she answered any of them. Not even a thank you, or baked goods as a gesture of goodwill for even offering.

  I’d thought maybe she was shy, so I went over again with some pasta bake and left it on her doorstep. But I found it there three days later when I got back from a trip with my family. That was the end for me. No one turns down my cooking, I’m a fucking master at it. She hadn’t even taken the pot inside or cleaned the dish―which I had to soak for half the day to get the dried food off.

  But that’s not even why she’s annoyed me―not entirely anyway.

  I’m pissed because I love my sleep. A lot of it. I don’t do well without it, never have done. It would take my mum hours to get me up and ready for school, and even then I was guaranteed to turn up late. It was such a given that even the teachers gave up trying to tell me to get up earlier to be on time.

  “Excuse me?”

  I glance back down at the woman sharing my bed and cringe once again, forgetting all about her as my mind drifted. Not only is she older, but she has the most nasally voice I’ve ever heard. I’d rather hear a fork on a plate than keep listening to that in my bed.

  “I need you to get dressed and leave. My mum will be back any minute with Dad.”

  “Your mum?” she squeaks, getting up with the sheet still around her.

  I shrug. “Yeah. She goes out of town for the night with my dad, so I get to do what I want. They come back early because they miss me and want to make sure I’ve done my homework for school.” The lie easily rolls off my tongue, having been in similar situations before.

  Her eyes widen. and her mouth falls open. “What?”

  I should feel bad for the look of horror on her face, but I don’t. I’m eighteen, basically a kid still, and she willingly slept with me. Not that I look eighteen, I don’t. I look a lot older, always have.

  I wink, getting up from the bed to pull my boxers on, even as I wince at the sound coming from next door.

  “Don’t worry, Mummy will love you. I can’t wait to tell her we’re getting married, but I think it’s best I do it alone. She can be real protective of me.”

  It didn’t escape my notice she’s already married, and it’s another thing I’m kicking myself for. I don’t fuck around with someone who is in a relationship, no matter what this town thinks of me. I may like sex, but not enough to do that.

  It seems last night I got more drunk than usual.

  I hear her rushing to pull her clothes back on as I grab a pair of jogging bottoms off the chair.

  “Look, I didn’t know you were a kid. Last night was a drunken mistake. My husband forgot our anniversary and I just wanted to forget about it.”

  I spin around, feigning hurt. “What? You don’t love me?”

  She looks around the room for a means of escape, finding my door. “I’m going to go. I’ll call a taxi from outside.”

  As soon as she’s gone, I pull on my shoes, grab my phone and then run down the stairs, ignoring her squeak of surprise when she hears me coming. I ignore her as she runs down the path, her shoes in her hand and her shirt still untucked.

  I rush over to next door, banging on the door so loud I instantly regret it. The pounding in my head just gets worse.

  As usual, no one answers, but I didn’t expect her to.

  “Open the door!” I yell, looking up at the windows for any movements. I see the curtain twitch from the corner of my eye and growl, walking over to the window.

  I knock on it, hearing a hiss behind the curtain.

  “Go away,” a soft voice says with a bite. She sounds young, which surprises me. I thought because her grandparents had basically given her a house, she’d be older.

  “No, not until you tell those fucking builders to go away so I can get some fucking sleep.”

  When I get no reply, I growl. I hate rude and inconsiderate people.

  My phone starts to ring in my hand, and seeing a number I don’t recognise, I immediately answer, my tone sharper than usual.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Mr. Aiden Carter?”

  “It is,” I answer, relaxing immediately when I realise it’s just someone from college.

  “I’m Doctor Howard calling from Hillsborough General hospital. I’m sorry to inform you, but last night Miss Giles died giving birth to a baby girl. She wrote her wishes down in case anything was to happen to her, as she knew the pregnancy was high risk. With her family no longer with us, custody will go to you, her father.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear, blood rushing from my face as I look at the screen. It has to be a family member fucking with me. It has to be.

  “I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

  “You are Aiden Carter, correct?”

  “Yes,” I tell him, no longer recognising my own voice.

  “We have DNA proof that you are th
e father.”

  “And I’m telling you, I have no idea what you are talking about. What DNA test?”

  “Casey Giles took a paternity test to confirm the father. You are listed as the baby’s biological father.”

  I feel my face drain at hearing Casey’s name.

  Casey was a chick I hooked up with last year at Party in the Park. It had been the triplets’ birthday and we’d got free tickets from my sister’s boyfriend, Beau.

  Anyway, I got so wasted I hooked up with a girl I met there, and in the midst of fucking her, the condom split and got stuck somewhere up inside her.

  I’d panicked, calling everyone in my family to come and help with the situation. But the girl had fucked off the minute I shot my load, tapping me on the shoulder and thanking me for a good time. Before I had a chance to tell her the condom wasn’t around my dick, she was gone.

  She also took my wallet, keys and everything else with her.

  The only thing I had at the time was my phone.

  A few months after it happened, she turned up at my doorstep with my wallet and a sheepish look on her face. I hadn’t recognised her at first, until she refreshed my memory and showed me the small rounded bump she was sporting.

  Even though I knew there was a possibility―okay, a strong one―I didn’t believe her. The chick had fucked me, thanked me, then run off. She’d treated me like a slab of meat. It was degrading as hell and if I’m honest, I was pissed she didn’t want to cuddle.

  She’d started crying and left after using the toilet, saying she’d be back to get a DNA test done once the baby was born.

  I’d pushed the whole thing from my memory because, even though I knew there was a chance, I didn’t want to believe it, not with the way things went down with us. How was I meant to know she didn’t fuck other guys that night? It wasn’t like she stuck around to ask me what my favourite colour was.

  “Aiden, are you there?”

  I clear my throat, moving away from the window, no longer caring about the builders or my mysterious neighbour. “Yeah.”

  “We will need you to come to the hospital. To be cleared to take the baby home she will need a safely fitted car seat. Will you have that?”

  “Yeah,” I rasp out.

  “See you soon.”

  He hangs up and I can do nothing but stare at the phone.

  I’m a father.

  At eighteen.

  The heavy weight of what’s just been handed to me forces me to my knees in the overgrown grass of my neighbour’s front garden.

  Stinging nettles burn into the palm of my hands and my bare chest, but I ignore the pain, once again reaching for my phone and dialling the one person on Earth who can help me.

  “Hey.”

  “Mum, I need you.”

  TO BE CONTINUED

  Look out for Aiden’s book coming 2018

  Author’s note

  I want to thank all my readers for being patient with me while they waited for me to get this book out. They kept me motivated through the entire writing process, and if it wasn’t for them, it wouldn’t have been finished.

  I’m itching to start on Aiden’s book straight away, but I do have other projects that I’m currently working on, so as much as I’d like to give a release date, I can’t.

  The Next Generation series was something I wanted to do whilst writing Max’s book. It was hard knowing I only had one more book left to write before I had to say goodbye. It got to a point during Maverick’s book that I knew I couldn’t let these characters go. Fans of the series had hinted that they would like to see more Carter books, and I knew this would be perfect.

  I hope you enjoyed reading Faith’s book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  I would also like to give a massive thank you to my three children. Towards the end of writing Faith, something happened that nearly delayed publication, but my three beautiful, caring children did something amazing.

  My daughter, Ellie-Mai, broke her wrist and had to go through surgery for it to be repaired. For the first few days, I couldn’t even get my laptop out. Nothing could have pulled me away from her.

  Then one night, when she couldn’t sleep, she asked me why I wasn’t working. I told her I didn’t want to be distracted, in case she needed me.

  My brave little girl got into my bed, curled up beside me and told me she’d sleep there so I would know she was okay.

  It warmed my heart.

  Not only that, but my other two children did everything they could to help her and give me more time to finish Faith. So instead of cleaning up any mess they left behind, I got to finish her book.

  Also, Stephanie Farrant, you are a godsend. Even busy with other edits, your course and home life, you still managed to fit me in. I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for completing another book of mine. Your work is amazing.

  OTHER TITLES by Lisa Helen Gray

  FORGIVEN SERIES

  Better Left Forgotten

  Obsession

  Forgiven

  CARTER BROTHERS SERIES

  Malik

  Mason

  Myles

  Evan

  Max

  Maverick

  A NEXT GENERATION CARTER NOVEL SERIES

  Faith – Available now

  Aiden – Coming 2018

  WHITHALL UNIVERSITY SERIES

  Foul Play

  Almost Free ~ STANDALONE ~ Coming soon

  Game Over ~ Coming 2018

  I WISH SERIES

  If I Could I’d Wish It All Away

  Wishing For A Happily Ever After

  Wishing For A Dream Come True ~ Coming Soon

  About the Author

  Lisa Helen Gray is Amazon's best-selling author of the Forgotten Series and the Carter Brothers series.

  She loves hanging out, but most of all, curling up with a good book or watching movies. When she's not being a mum, she's a writer and a blogger.

  She loves writing romance novels with a HEA and has a thing for alpha males.

  I mean, who doesn't!

  Just an ordinary girl surrounded by extraordinary books.