formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs
Out of Line Series
Out of Line
Out of Time
Out of Mind
Between Us
Written as Diane Alberts:
Take a Chance Series
Try Me (Take a Chance #1)
Love Me (Take a Chance #2)
Play Me (Take a Chance #3)
Take Me (Take a Chance #4)
Falling for the Groomsman
Faking It
Divinely Ruined
On One Condition
Broken
Kiss Me At Midnight
Kill Me Tomorrow
Temporarily Yours
Reclaimed
Superstars in Love Series
Captivated by You
One Night
The lines we once crossed so easily have widened and torn us apart…
Once upon a time I thought Finn and I would live happily ever after, but real life doesn't always have a happy ending. He's testing my trust, and I'm losing faith in the man I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with, and there’s nothing I do can stop it. He’s the one I trusted to keep me safe, but now he’s the source of my greatest pain…
Forgiveness is fragile, and some fractures never fully heal...
One mistake—a slip in a moment of weakness—might cost me everything I've worked so hard for. The thing about trust is that it's a lot easier to lose than it is to build. Just as I'm about to give up and surrender to the demons from my past, an unexpected threat reminds me what I'm best at: protecting the woman I love. Whether or not she wants me, I will fight for Carrie and our daughter, and I will keep them safe—no matter the cost.
Even if I have to put my life and my heart on the line.
An Excerpt from Fractured Lines…
I lowered my face even more. “I need you so damn bad. Let me kiss you. Let me make it better. I know how to make it all better.”
I brushed my lips across hers gently, testing her reaction. She kissed me back. So soft I barely felt it, and yet I somehow felt it down to my soul.
With a small groan, I closed my mouth over hers, crushing her against my chest and holding her so tightly I might have broken a rib. Man, I’d been waiting for this moment. For her to stop shutting me out. For her to want me as much as I needed her.
And now it was happening.
I slanted my mouth over hers, taking full control of the kiss. Backing her up against the wall, my tongue glided inside her mouth at the same time I slipped my leg in between hers. She gasped and opened her mouth wider, granting me full access.
Without hesitation, I took it, and then I took some more.
Like the greedy asshole I really was.
Part of me knew I should stop kissing her until I was better, but the other part of me wanted her too damn badly to give a shit about anything else. When I closed my hands around her hips, my fingers digging into the soft sides of her ass, she broke off the kiss and took a shaky breath.
I latched onto her neck, biting with just enough pressure to sting. It had been too long since I’d had her. Too long since I’d held her. Too long for everything. My injured leg protested against the weight I put on it, but I ignored the cry of protest it gave. Any pain I had to suffer was worth it, as long as Carrie was in my arms again, making those small sounds that drove me fucking insane.
“I need you.” I hauled her leg up around my waist, pressing my cock against her hot pussy. “I need you naked, screaming, and crying out my name. Now.”
This one goes out to all the Finn and Carrie fans out there. This one’s for you.
Carrie
At seven o’clock sharp, I closed the door behind my last patient of the day, collapsed against it, and removed my glasses, swiping my forearm across my forehead while letting out an exhausted sigh. It had been a longer day than usual, probably because of how incredibly crappy I felt.
I’d thrown up three times today, and I had a feeling I was about to do it a fourth. All I wanted was to get home to my husband and my daughter, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed. Finn would be there waiting for me with a smile and a hug, and Susan would babble happily as I walked in the door. God, I needed that right now.
Pushing off the door, I swiped my hands on my pencil skirt and crossed the room, my mind solely fixed on home. I’d been working extra hours the past two weeks, fitting in more patients for some extra cash. I’d been happily married to my husband, Finn, for three years, and life couldn’t be better…but he’d been home from work for the past few days because he’d been in a car accident.
The doctor wouldn’t clear him to go back for at least another six days. For both of our sakes, I hoped those six days passed quickly. He needed to get back to work. He’d been restless and shaky lately. Finn had never done well with inactivity, and this was no exception. He needed to get back to normal.
And so did I.
I gathered my phone, MacBook Air, and notebook off my desk. As I shoved the phone into my purse, it lit up. I picked it up, narrowing my eyes when I saw it was the pharmacy calling. I hadn’t called anything in, so why would they be calling me now?
“Hello?” I said, juggling my bag and my briefcase and the phone on my shoulder.
“Mrs. Coram?”
“Yes, this is she.” I headed for the door, shutting the light off as I went. “How can I help you?”
“This is Trish from Good Health Pharmacy. I’m calling about your husband’s prescription.” I could hear the smile in her voice. That’s how cheerful this woman sounded. She had no idea the dread her words sent through me, or how much she was about to ruin my life. “It’s ready to be picked up. I tried calling him too, but it went right to voicemail. I understand he’s in a lot of pain, so I figured I’d try to catch you.”
My bags hit the floor, and so did my internal organs.
Finn had been in an accident, but he’d refused pain medication. He hadn’t wanted to tempt a relapse since he’d once used the pills to self-medicate his way out of PTSD all those years ago. Back when we’d been dating, and he’d been a Marine. Long story short, his unit had been ambushed, and he’d been the only one to survive. After that, he hadn’t been the same. It had taken him months to feel normal again, and part of that process had involved pain pills, sleepless nights, and a breakup.
He’d told me he didn’t trust himself to go down that road again, and that he’d just take off work for a few weeks and recover. When I’d asked him if he was sure, he’d smiled and said, “Positive as a proton, Ginger.”
I’d believed him.
“Mrs. Coram? Are you there?”
I snapped out of my shock, gripping the phone. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Will you be picking them up tonight? We close at nine.”
“Yes. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady, even though I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. The last thing I needed was the local pharmacist thinking I was a banshee. “Thank you.”
I hung up without waiting for a reply and collapsed against the wall, my breathing coming out uneven. Probably because of the piercing pain in my chest where my heart was supposed to be. He’d lied to me. Hidden the need for pain pills from me. Why? I could have helped him. I was here for him, no matter what.
Why had he felt the need to hide his pain from me?
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Maybe there was a perfectly logical explanation for this. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he hadn’t slipped back into old habits, and he wasn’t lying about taking pills again. Maybe my life, my love, wasn’t crumbling around my feet all over again.
But then again, maybe it was.
Holding a hand to my stomach, I bolted for the bathroom.
I barely made it in time. The contents of my stomach came hurling out Exorcist style, and by the time I was finished I shook uncontrollably. I’d been so worried that this accident might cause a relapse of sorts, especially since it had happened right around the anniversary of his father’s death. But he’d seemed so strong. So invincible.
I’d had faith that he would come to me if he were having issues.
As a general rule, I tried to give him privacy when it came to his mental health. He’d married me for me, not because I was a therapist. The last thing he needed was me poking around in his brain, trying to analyze him and tell him how to fix himself. It would only cause unresolved hatred and anger. But maybe I’d given him too much space.
Maybe I’d missed the warning signs.
Hugging the toilet, scared to move, I closed my eyes and thought back. He hadn’t been sleeping in bed with me, and had taken to sleeping on the couch with some football on in the background, but I’d thought it was due to the lack of pain pills, and the impossibility to sleep well with me rolling around kicking him in my sleep. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe it was something else entirely.
And I hadn’t known it.
With shaking legs, I made my way to the car. The whole time I drove to the pharmacy, my mind went a million miles a minute. I thought of how he’d started acting more jittery a week or so ago. How he’d been flushed when I came home every day instead of pale. And his shifty eyes when I’d asked him how the pain was.
He’d been more active, too, instead of resting. I’d thought it had been a good sign of his improvement. Instead, it might have been the first indicator of his downfall.
How had I missed it?
Walking to the counter, I plastered a shaky smile on my face. “Hello. I’m picking up for Finn—er, Griffin Coram.”
The pharmacist smiled and pulled the bag off the rung. “I’m glad I caught you before we closed. When he called earlier, he sounded as if he was really suffering. It took a few calls, but I managed to get his prescription refilled. Tell him to be more careful with his pills next time, and to keep track of where he put the bottle. I won’t be able to get an early refill again.”
Early refills.
Just like the last time he’d been taking them.
Back then, I’d been the one making the phone calls for him. I’d have to make up excuses about missed pills and extreme pain. Now he was doing it again, behind my back. “How many refills has he had so far?”
“It’s been three or four now, I think.” The pharmacist studied me. “Is there a problem?”
I wanted to tell her not to give Finn any more meds, but I knew it was a Band-Aid fix. If I told her about his history, he’d just go somewhere else. Another doctor. Another pharmacy. The streets. I couldn’t stop that. If he wanted to get better, well, he had to want to get better. I could help. I would help, but ultimately…
It would be up to him. And only him.
I forced a smile. I swore I heard my face crack. “I knew. I’m just trying to keep track of it all.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Right.”
She rang me out, and I made one more stop in aisle ten. By the time I walked outside, I felt like things had gone from bad to worse. The niggling suspicion in the back of my mind had been confirmed, and instead of filling me with joy, it terrified me.
My foundation was cracking, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. If Finn was lying to me again, hiding his problems from me again, then I knew from my work that there was only so much I could do. He had to want to help himself…
Or he’d have to go.
I’d forgiven him thousands of times for thousands of things, but this time was different. As much as I loved him—and I did, with all of my heart—he needed to get better. This wasn’t just my heart and my emotions he was playing with.
We had a family now.
Everything had changed.
Finn
I rolled over on the cold, hard ground, the sound of someone crying breaking through the haze of sleep hovering over me. I’d been lying in this damned bloody field for hours, waiting for rescue. I’d been left for dead, and soon I would be. I just wished death would hurry his ass up, grab his scepter, and come claim me already.
I was ready.
The crying got louder, and I groaned. Hadn’t everyone died yet? I’d thought I was the only one left here alive. Hell, Dotter had bled out in my arms hours ago. I’d tasted his blood on my tongue, in my throat, had it all over my face. I’d never forget that horror for as long as I lived.
Which, ironically enough, wouldn’t be very long.
The crying continued, and I forced my eyes open. Instead of the dark, cloudy skies I remembered, I saw a white ceiling and heard the vague noises of a football game.
Blinking, I remembered. The attack had been years ago. I was home, alive and safe. I was no longer a Marine, but a computer engineer. I was happily married, with a lovely daughter. I wasn’t dead. I was alive.
Sighing, my eyes drifted shut, and I fell back into slumber.
But the crying didn’t stop…
Carrie
When I got home, I sat in my car for a minute, gripping the wheel so tightly my fingers ached. He should have told me, damn it.
If he’d come to me, and asked me to help him keep track of pills, this wouldn’t be happening. I wouldn’t be flashing back in time to a place I’d rather forget. To a time when Finn had fallen apart in front of my eyes.
And I’d had to let him go. I didn’t want to let him go again. I didn’t want to, but if it was better for my family, I would. I wanted to take care of him like I did before, yes.
But I had to take care of my daughter, too. Susan.
After taking a deep breath, I pushed the car door open, slamming it shut behind me, and made my way up the driveway. I opened the front door and studied the foyer, expecting to find Finn filling it with his presence, smiling at me like usual. Acting as if nothing was wrong. It was empty.
My heart twisted and sped up painfully. Why wasn’t he there? Where was he? His rental had been out front, so he had to be here. “Finn?”
Nothing. Oh my God, what if he’d taken too many pills?
What if he was dead?
What if it wasn’t just the pills? What if he’d been having flashbacks from his PTSD again? And, oh my God, what about Susan? Where was our daughter?
The possibilities were endless, and they all swam through my mind in vivid detail as I ran through the house frantically, checking each room. The kitchen was empty, where Finn should have been cooking dinner for us.
As was the dining room, where Susan should have been sitting in her high chair, eating her nighttime snack of Cheerios. I skidded into the living room, tears filling my eyes and sweat coating my palms.
The first thing I saw was Susan, awake and sitting up in her playpen. Her face was red, as if she’d been crying, and she rubbed her eyes sleepily. When she saw me, the look of relief in her eyes was equal parts disturbing and satisfying. She was alive and safe, which sent satisfaction shooting through me, but she’d been crying.
And Finn hadn’t come to her side.
I forced my eyes off her for a second. The next thing I saw was Finn. He was prone on the couch, his head turned into the cushions so I couldn’t see his face. For a horrible, terrifying second I thought he was dead.
But then he moved, scratching his cheek, and rolled onto his side. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding and picked up Susan, tears streaming down my face. A mixture of relief, anger, betrayal, and protectiveness warred within me—fighting with my concern for the man I loved.
He’d passed out, and neglected our child. Finn would never do that. Ever. Who was this man in my living room? Where was my Finn? And how could I get him back?
I walked into the kitchen, kissing Susan’s forehead as I went. She tugged on my hair and snuggled close, rubbing her forehead against my cheek. Her universal sign for sleepiness. No wonder, since it was her bedtime. I
surveyed the counters.
Nothing had changed from earlier, when I’d cleaned up after breakfast and gone to work. Finn had kissed me goodbye. Then what? He’d gotten high?
I swallowed hard and opened the dishwasher. The dishes were still clean, and the sink was empty. He hadn’t cooked dinner.
He hadn’t fed Susan her dinner, let alone a snack.
On the counter, a blank notepad sat next to the phone. Slowly, I walked to the trash can and stepped on the lever to open the lid. With one hand, I dug around a bit. Inside, buried underneath three plastic bags and tucked inside an empty can, I found the empty pill bottle. I found the evidence I’d known I would find, deep down in my soul.
He’d gotten high, stuck our thirteen-month-old in a playpen, and passed out. Anything could have happened. She could have climbed out and gotten into trouble. She was getting better at climbing. Or there could have been a fire. A burglar. An earthquake…
And he’d left Susan alone.
Who was he?
Forcing a calm breath, I kissed Susan’s cheek and whispered, “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”
Even though I knew it wasn’t.
After I fed Susan and put her to bed, I checked on Finn again.
He was still asleep, and still breathing. I took the opportunity to search the truck he’d rented after the accident, and found another empty bottle in his glove box, hidden under a few pamphlets. Each discovery I made hurt even more than the last. I knew what I would say to a client, and I knew how I would counsel someone else, but I was lost here.
This was my husband.
I’d been nothing but supportive to him for the last eight years, and this is what I got in return? More lies and secrets? I didn’t know what my next step should be. What the best thing for all of us would be. I didn’t just have me to think about. I pressed a hand to my stomach and swallowed hard. I had to think about our family.
Fractured Lines Page 1
