Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
From the Author
Holding On
By Allie Everhart
Holding On
By Allie Everhart
Copyright © 2017 Allie Everhart
All rights reserved.
Published by Waltham Publishing, LLC
Cover Design by Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, things, and events are fictitious, and any similarities to real persons (live or dead), things, or events are coincidental and not intended by the author. Brand names of products mentioned in this book are used for reference only and the author acknowledges that any trademarks and product names are the property of their respective owners.
The author holds exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book is to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.
Chapter One
Ethan
"Watch out, babe," I say as Kasey crawls on my lap in the back seat of the white Suburban. "You don't want to damage the goods."
She smiles, a lazy, drunk smile. "If I do any damage, I promise to kiss it and make it better."
I press my mouth to hers, and when she parts her lips, I taste the whiskey on her tongue. We just left a party and were downing shots like there's no tomorrow.
"What else you gonna do to me?" I ask.
Her mouth moves to my ear and she whispers the answer, every dirty detail. Looks like I made the right choice tonight.
When I first saw Kasey at the party, she looked all sweet and innocent in her pink cardigan sweater, tiny white t-shirt, and short black skirt. She looked like the virgin co-ed, waiting to be deflowered. But her eyes told a different story. She spotted me as soon as I walked in and gave me a look that told me she'd make my night if I gave her the chance. And from her words just now, I'm glad I did. This girl isn't one to hold back and neither am I. It's going to be a good night.
She hikes up her skirt and sinks down on my crotch, grinding against me. I'm straining against my jeans, ready to burst.
"Hurry your ass up," I yell at Jason as he gets in the front seat. "We need to get to the cabin."
He fumbles with the keys, trying to get them in the ignition. It makes me wonder if he's not sober enough to drive. He said he was fine but I saw him take a shot right before we left the party and I know he had a few beers before that.
I lean forward toward Jason. "You sure you're good to drive?"
"Yeah, Dad, I'm good," he says sarcastically.
"Just a question, asshole." I nudge the back of his seat with my knee. "Don't need to get all bent out of shape over it."
Lyndsay runs out of the frat house where the party's going on and hops in the front seat next to Jason. "Are we leaving or what?"
He leans over and kisses her. "We couldn't exactly leave until you were done in the bathroom."
She smiles. "I was fixing my makeup."
"You don't need makeup." He kisses her again.
"We seriously need to get going," I say to Jason as Kasey undoes my belt. "Otherwise I'm going to be doing shit back here I'm pretty sure you don't want me doing."
Jason's head whips back as he puts the car into drive. "You get any bodily fluids back there and you'll be buying me a new Suburban."
I laugh. He's obsessed with keeping this thing clean. If he ever got a scratch on it, he'd have a damn heart attack.
"I'm not kidding, man." He takes off down the road. "I'm keeping my eye on you." He glances at me in the rearview mirror but all he can see is the back of Kasey, who continues to grind into my lap, her hand now down my jeans.
"Slow down," I say, pulling her hand away.
"Why?" She pouts. "You don't like it?"
I nod toward Jason. "He wasn't kidding. He'll kill me if we do anything back here."
The Suburban is Jason's baby. He loves it about as much as he loves Lyndsay, his girlfriend of almost three years. They met at freshman orientation and have been together ever since. The guys on the team always give him shit, saying he's missing out on all the girls ready and willing to give themselves to him. He's our star running back so girls are always trying to get with him, hoping to lure him away from Lyndsay. But he's never cheated on her. He's loved her since the day they met, and now he's talking about marriage, saying he's going to propose next year.
I think he's fucking crazy. We're only 21. Who the hell even thinks about marriage at our age? This is the time to be carefree and reckless. Make bad decisions and chalk it up to life experience. Live like today's your last.
That's how I approach life, but it wasn't always that way. Growing up, I did what I was told. I lived dutifully under my parents' dictatorship, following their rules, being the perfect son. But after 18 years, I couldn't take it anymore. I went behind their backs and secretly applied to Laytham, a private college in small town Ohio, thousands of miles from L.A.
It wasn't the plan. Not even close. I was supposed to go to UCLA or USC, both close to home and highly rated football schools. I'd hone my skills on the field while my controlling father watched me with a critical eye, outlining everything I did wrong and what I'd need to do to get better. As if he had any clue how to coach someone in football. Being a sports agent doesn't make you a goddamn expert in the game. It just means you know how to be enough of an asshole in negotiations to get your clients what they want.
When my dad found out about Laytham, he was pissed. He called up the president of the school and demanded they rescind their offer. But it was too late. I'd already accepted and signed on to play quarterback in exchange for a full ride scholarship. A few months earlier, I'd met with the coach. He flew out to L.A. just to meet with me. Normally, he'd talk to a recruit's parents before giving an offer but I warned him that doing so would mean I'd never play for his team. My dad would do everything in his power to stop it. My only option was to go behind their backs, which was allowed because I was 18, so technically an adult.
Despite it being a done deal, my dad did everything he could think of to change my mind. Bought me a shiny new red Ferrari. An apartment in Malibu. Even set me up with one of the high end prostitutes he hires for his clients when they need to de-stress.
That's how he treated me. Like a client, trying to win me over with gifts and money and girls. But it didn't work. I was determined to get far away from him.
Now, three years later, he's accepted my decision but only because I've excelled on the football field and because Laytham is a top football school among small colleges. The past three years, I've led the team to more wins than the school has ever had, boosting our rankings and getting me noticed by League scouts. That last part is all my dad cares about. Getting me in the pros. It's been his dream since I was a
kid and now it's going to be a reality. Next spring I'll get drafted and my career as a professional athlete will begin.
Jason glances at his phone. He swerves in the other lane, then quickly rights the car back to the proper lane.
"Maybe you should keep your eyes on the road," I say.
"Baby, you okay?" Lyndsay rubs Jason's neck. "Maybe you shouldn't be driving."
"Why is everyone getting on my case? I had two beers. That's nothing. I feel fine."
Kasey scoots back on my lap and lowers her head like she's about to go down on me. I pull her face back to mine. "Not here."
"I'll get on the floor," she whispers. "He won't even see."
"Believe me, he'll know."
I look at her, so willing and eager to please me. I just met this girl. I know nothing about her, and yet she still wants to be with me. Just like every other girl on campus.
Her green eyes are taking me in like I'm a prize she's won for the night.
Ethan Baxter. Star quarterback. Soon-to-be professional athlete. Future millionaire.
Just as Kasey leans in for a kiss, I turn my head and yell up to Jason. "Are the guys there yet?"
"Brent and Jackson got there an hour ago. Sounded wasted when I called them." He chuckles. "Brent couldn't even remember the name of the girl he was with."
Brent is a tight end and a year older than me. He graduates next week. He's headed for a career in pharmaceutical sales, which he's not happy about but it's the only job he could find. He starts in a couple weeks and has promised to party nonstop up until then.
Jackson is a running back. We both just finished our junior year. He's a psychology major, like me. We picked psychology because we thought it'd be easy. A throwaway degree, since we both figured we'd end up with a career in the pros. But so far, it's not looking good for Jackson. He didn't play well his first couple years and spent most of last year on the bench.
The cabin we're going to belongs to Jackson's parents. They live a couple hours away and use the cabin during the summers. During the school year, we use it as a place to party. It's nothing great but it's big, with four bedrooms and a large open living room.
"Babe, can you find my phone?" Jason says to Lyndsay. "I dropped it between the seat."
She reaches over and starts searching the area between his seat and the middle console. "I don't feel it."
"I think it fell closer to the front." He looks down and I feel the car swerve.
"Jason, watch it," I tell him as a car approaches.
He looks up. "Yeah, I got it."
It's dark and we're on a two-lane road and he keeps swerving in the other lane, crossing the center line. Now I'm convinced he's had too much to drink, but the rest of us have had even more so it's not like we can take his place at the wheel.
Maybe I should say something. Ask him to pull over. Except I know he won't do it. He'll insist he's okay to drive.
"Baby, what's wrong?" Kasey asks.
I glance back at her and see her frowning, her lips coated in bright pink lipstick that I'm surprised hasn't rubbed off from all the kissing we've done.
"Nothing's wrong," I tell her.
But it is. Something doesn't feel right.
Kasey kisses me but I break from her lips and look around her to the front seat. "Jason, maybe you should pull over."
"Pull over?" He laughs. "Why the hell would I pull over? You two planning on doing it in the woods? You seriously can't wait till we get to the cabin?"
"It's not that. I just think maybe you—"
"Found it!" Lyndsay holds up his cell phone.
"Thanks, babe." He takes it from her and gives her a kiss.
"Jason!" I yell as I feel the car veering toward the shoulder.
"Got it," he says, getting us back on the road.
"Seriously, dude, you shouldn't be driving," I say.
"You need to relax." He points to the glove compartment. "Babe, get him a drink."
"I don't need a drink," I say.
Lyndsay opens the compartment and takes out a bottle of vodka and holds it over the seat.
"I don't want it," I tell her.
"I do." Kasey takes the bottle, opens it, and swigs down a shot or two. "Come on." She holds the bottle up to me. "Have some."
I ignore her, my eyes on the road as I see a car approaching.
Jason says something to Lyndsay. I'm not sure what. I'm not listening, my attention focused on the approaching car. Lyndsay says something back to Jason and he laughs. He reaches over for her hand and I feel us swerve onto the shoulder.
But this time Jason doesn't swerve back on the road.
The next few seconds play out in slow motion. I feel each and every movement. I see it like it's happening frame-by-frame, like when coach analyzes our plays after a game.
The front of the SUV lifts up, up, up...then comes crashing down. Down, down, down. It hits something hard and I watch, helplessly, as Kasey flies out of my arms, her head banging against the side window. I reach for her just as the SUV shoots up again, up in the air, then flips on its side, then the roof. It flips again and the interior lights flash on just long enough for me to see Kasey's body being tossed around like a rag doll as blood splatters everywhere.
The sounds echo in my head. The blare of a car horn when the SUV first careened off the road. The crunch of the metal as it landed, then flipped. The screams. The high-pitched screams coming from one or both of the girls. And then...
Silence. I'm left with deafening silence. Blackness. The smell of smoke, gasoline, rubber. And a numbness coming from my leg. I try to move it but can't. It's stuck. All of me is stuck. There's a heavy weight on top of me, a warm liquid trickling down my arm. My vision fades as I go in and out of consciousness, but in my semi-conscious state, I know the weight I feel is Kasey. Her lifeless body. And the liquid I feel is blood.
"Help!" I cry out. My voice is weak, hoarse...and yet I try again. "Help! Someone please help!"
I feel my mind drifting off. My eyes falling shut.
And then the darkness takes over.
Chapter Two
Eight Weeks Later
Ethan
My mother walks briskly through the living room to the kitchen, then back to where I'm sitting on the couch. She puts her hands on her bony hips. "Ethan, this house is a disaster. Haven't you cleaned even once since you moved in?"
I point to my leg, which is still in a cast. "How do you expect me to clean? I can't even walk."
She sighs, then shakes her head. "Then I'll have to hire someone to do it. You can't live like this."
She takes off down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. She'll be even more upset when she sees my room. There are dirty clothes scattered everywhere, a few half eaten sandwiches, empty soda bottles.
When I rented this house it was spotless, but it took less than a week for it to become a mess. That's only partially due to my lack of mobility. The other reason is because I just don't care.
I don't care about anything right now.
I've shut down. Completely shut down in an attempt to protect myself from the excruciating pain I would feel if I even let myself go back to that night and the days that followed.
They were all killed. Jason, Lyndsay, and Kasey. They were dead by the time the ambulance arrived. I was the only survivor, and that's only because of Kasey. The SUV finally stopped rolling that night when it hit a tree. A large branch shot through the window and impaled Kasey's body. If she hadn't been on top of me, the branch would've gone right through my chest, killing me.
She saved my life. A girl I'd known for less than an hour saved my life. And in saving my life, she lost hers.
I passed out before the ambulance arrived but I've been told it took firefighters almost an hour to get her body off me. She was pinned in place, her legs tangled in the crushed metal, the tree branch wedged in her torso.
Thank God I wasn't conscious to see that. I don't think I'd be able to live with that image in my head. The memories I alrea
dy have of that night are horrific enough. I can't escape them. They fill my dreams in the few hours of sleep I manage to get each night. And when I'm awake, they consume my thoughts. The only way I'm able to survive the memories is to detach all emotion from them, leaving me numb. Lifeless.
My father paces the floor, his phone pressed to his ear. "We are NOT going below ten mil. Tell them we're done negotiating if they toss out another lowball offer like that."
He's been on the phone since he walked in the door. There was no quick hello or wave of his hand. Not even a nod in my direction. He completely ignored me.
I'm dead to him. Worthless, now that I can't play football. That's the only reason he ever paid attention to me. I was his ticket to even greater wealth and success. He'd planned to be my agent, representing the young rookie that everyone said was 'the one to watch' come draft time. First round pick. Set to make millions. My dad would be there by my side through it all, smiling for the cameras, his hand cupped around my shoulder in an attempt to convince the public we had the perfect father-son relationship.
It was his dream for me to play in the pros. A dream he's had since I was a kid. But now, that dream may be over.
The accident crushed my leg. Fractured my femur so badly it damaged the surrounding tissue. I had surgery right after it happened and might need another if my leg doesn't heal right.
As for my other injuries? I cracked a few ribs and got some scrapes and bruises, basically minor injuries considering how bad it could've been. At least I'm alive.
You'd think my dad would be happy about that. Happy I'm alive when I could've easily been killed. But he's not, because my leg affects my career and that's all he cares about.
After the accident, he made sure to tell me how pissed he was, and then he blamed me for what happened. I was in the hospital and had just woken from surgery, and there was my dad, standing over my bed, yelling at me for fucking up my career. Telling me it was my fault. That I never should've got in the car with a drunk driver. That he taught me better than that, and that now we both have to pay the price for my mistake.
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