Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
Coming soon...
Let Me Save You
By Samantha Wolfe
Copyright © 2015 Samantha Wolfe
All rights reserved.
Just because you feel broken that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be loved. You don't earn love; you just accept it and be thankful for it. - This one is for you, Mandy.
CHAPTER ONE
Jensen
It was the same nightmare again. The same one I had every night since I left Sydney a week ago. Every night I relived my brother's death, the metal fence post protruding from his chest, the blood pouring from his mouth. However, now his face always morphed into Sydney's, and I watched her die every night with my hands around her neck, strangling the life out of her. This one was no different as I jerked awake with a gasp to find myself slumped on my couch where I passed out earlier in the evening. The half-empty bottle of vodka still sat on the coffee table in front of me. I'd been drinking myself to sleep every night, desperately trying to stop the nightmares, but it was taking more and more alcohol to knock me out. I don't know why I bothered; they kept happening anyway.
I felt like shit and my head fucking hurt. I'd been going to work hung over everyday and going home to drink every night. My body was starting to protest all the abuse, but I didn't dare to try to sleep sober. Not after that first damn night when I woke up screaming and crying in a corner of my room. I spent every day numb and empty inside, not even remembering most of them, by the time I got home from work. At night, I sat staring blankly at the television and drinking until I passed out. Most days I couldn't remember if I had eaten or not. I just didn't care. Without her, what was the point of anything?
Sydney called and texted me multiple times the first few days, but I had ignored all of them, and eventually she stopped trying. I missed her so much, but she was better off without me. If this dark gaping hole inside me was what I had to suffer with to keep her safe from me, then so be it. I started thinking about her again, remembering her beautiful face and those brilliant gray eyes. I missed the feel of her skin on mine and the sound of her voice. I still fucking loved her so much it hurt.
My eyes started to sting with unshed tears and with a deep sigh I sat up and reached for the vodka bottle, skipping the shot glass next to it. I knocked back as much as I could get in one big swallow. I grimaced as it burned down my throat, it's warmth radiating out from my stomach and into my limbs. I stood and started staggering toward the stairs with the bottle still in my hand, thinking I should probably get in bed before I passed out again. Spending last night on the couch made my neck hurt all the next day.
The doorbell rang, and I paused with my foot on the first step. "What the fuck?" I mumbled in irritation as I turned. I headed down the short hallway and down the stairs to my front door. The doorbell rang again as I was halfway down the steps. "I'm coming, goddamn it." I growled with annoyance. I unlocked the door and opened it to see Andy staring back at me with a smile that faltered when he got a good look at me.
"Fuck, dude!" he exclaimed. "You look like shit!" He glanced down at the bottle in my hand and back up to my face. "What the fuck are you doing to yourself?"
"I'm getting drunk in my own damn house," I said defensively. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I came to check on your sorry ass!" he growled back and pushed past me into the foyer. "Apparently, I needed to!"
I watched him go up the steps and sighed as I followed him. He turned right into my kitchen, headed over to the sink, and opened the cupboard door underneath it. Andy pulled the trash can out and looked at its contents. His eyes came up to meet mine, and I saw anger and worry in them. I looked away in shame, knowing the trash was full of empty bottles of alcohol. I really wished I had remembered to take the trash out earlier.
"What are you trying to do?" he asked as he shook his head. "Drink yourself to death?"
"I'm just trying to fucking sleep, Andy."
"Passing out is not sleeping, brother."
I looked away again, having nothing to say.
"When was the last time you ate something?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
"I don't fucking know." I shrugged one shoulder and mumbled quietly, still not meeting his eyes and wishing he would just go away. Andy took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff.
"Go upstairs and put a clean shirt on."
"Why?" I asked in confusion and looked at him. He looked exasperated with me.
"I'm taking you to get some fucking food, you idiot," he answered.
"I don't need your fucking charity!" I snarled at him.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, then you can fucking pay for it!" he snarled back.
I pressed my lips together and glared at him. Andy crossed his arms and glared right back at me. We stared at each other like that for a moment, and I looked away first. "Fine." I turned to go to my room and change shirts. He cleared his throat loudly. I paused and turned back to him. His hand was stretched out toward me with his palm up, an expectant look on his face. I rolled my eyes with a sigh and handed him the bottle of vodka. I stomped out of the room in irritation, feeling like a kid being sent to their room by their father.
"And put some deodorant on too!" Andy yelled down the hallway. I raised my hand above my head and flipped him off as I walked away, not bothering to see if he noticed me do it or not.
When I came back downstairs, with a clean blue T-shirt and deodorant, I found Andy sitting on my couch with his feet up on the coffee table. He was feverishly texting on his phone.
"Well?" I asked with my arms spread out. He glanced up and looked me up and down.
"Good. Now I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you in public."
I rolled my eyes. I couldn't have looked that bad. I had only been wearing the shirt I wore to work that day. So it was a little dirty? Who cared? "Who are you texting?"
"Lydia," he answered as he stood and put his phone in his pocket. "I'm just warning her about our unexpected dinner guest."
"Are you on a fucking date?" I asked incredulously. My head started throbbing again. Fuck, I needed another drink.
"We were just going to get something to eat when I decided to check on you," he answered then suddenly his eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe I can talk Lydia into a three-way?" He waggled his eyebrows at me and grinned salaciously.
"Do you want me to throw up in your car?" I asked with a grimace of disgust.
"I'm going to tell Lydia that you said that," he said in mock offense.
"She's not the one I don't want to see naked."
"Touche'," he said, still smiling. "Let's go. I'm starving."
I followed him out of the living room, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. Lucky me, I got to be the third wheel on a Friday night date. Suddenly, I was really missing my vodka bottle.
I sat brooding in the backseat all the way to dinner, watching Andy and Lydia chat about a whole lot of nothing. Okay, I wasn't even listening, so I couldn't say if it was really nothing or not, but seeing them together made me realize what I lost. Blocking them out was my only defense. They were good together, always had been. Their connection was real and genuine, and it was something that I had hoped I had found with Sydney. The two of them had been dating for almost a year now, and they had moved in together
about a month ago. I'd never seen Andy happier than when he was with Lydia. She was gorgeous, with long dark wavy, red hair and aqua-blue eyes, and Andy would kill me for thinking it, but her tits were amazing. Not as beautiful as Sydney's, I thought with a pang of longing, but still amazing nonetheless.
"Jensen?" Lydia asked from the passenger seat of Andy's hideous yellow 4-door Mitsubishi Evo as she turned to look at me. "I hope Mexican is okay with you."
"That's fine," I wasn't hungry and still drunk, so I really didn't care where we went. Her face turned sympathetic as she looked at me. I'm sure Andy told her about my recent breakup with Sydney. I hoped to God that she didn't want to talk about it. Sometimes she was a little too involved in my love life, but unlike her boyfriend who just wanted to live vicariously through mine, she wanted to fix what she thought was wrong with it. I could only imagine the conversations the two of them had about me. Thankfully, we pulled up to the restaurant before she could say anything about Sydney. Andy parked the car, and we all climbed out. I noticed the new spoiler on the back of the car.
"You know that spoiler doesn't actually do anything on this car, right?" I asked Andy snidely, realizing I was still slurring my words a little.
"Not everything is about function," he responded in an irritated tone. This was an old argument we had been having for years.
"It looks like you fucking stole it off the set of The Fast and the Furious," I sneered.
"You're a real dick when you're drunk, you know that?" he responded with annoyance as we glared at each other over the roof of the car.
"Boys!" Lydia interjected. "If you want to fight, do it on your own time. I'm hungry and not in the mood." She turned facing us with her hands on her hips, her long royal blue strapless maxi dress billowing out around her as she moved. Her blue eyes flashed with anger, and I realized she was probably mad that I was tagging along with them tonight.
"Sorry, babe," Andy told her as he put his arm around her waist. He pulled her close as we started walking toward the front door of the restaurant.
"Sorry, Lydia," I told her sincerely, feeling bad about my behavior. I'd always been kind of an asshole when I drank, which was why I usually didn't do it very often.
We walked into the restaurant, and since it was after nine and past the busiest time for a Friday night, we were seated immediately. The waiter brought us chips and salsa, and when I started eating to humor Andy, I realized I was actually hungry. When I tried to order a shot of tequila, Andy interrupted and said I'd have water instead. We ended up glaring at each other again across the table as the waiter left to fill our drink orders.
"Are you going to order my fucking dinner for me too?" I asked Andy, narrowing my eyes.
"I don't know, are you too drunk to read the fucking menu?" he asked sarcastically.
"Am I going to have to separate you two?" Lydia asked in exasperation, looking up at the ceiling and shaking her head as she sat next to Andy. I hung my head sheepishly and tried to focus on the menu in front of me, which was kind of a problem since I was still drunk. I'd be damned if I admitted that to Andy. When the waiter came back I just ordered the same thing as Andy and tried to ignore the knowing smirk on his face.
Lydia started talking about her week and how stressed she was at the restaurant she worked at, and I tuned it all out, not even caring how rude I was being. Hell, I didn't want to be here anyway. When I couldn't take it anymore, I excused myself to use the bathroom and then made a beeline for the bar when I was out of sight from our table. I ordered two shots of tequila and knocked the first one back immediately. Fuck, I had forgotten how much that I hated tequila, but drunk was still drunk no matter how you got there. I picked up the second one and was about to drink it when I heard a familiar voice.
"Jensen?" a female voice asked incredulously. "Jensen Hayes?"
My heart literally stuttered in my chest. It was a voice I never thought I would hear again. I put the still full shot glass down and turned away from the bar, looking down into a familiar set of deep brown eyes. Eyes I thought at one time I would spend the rest of my life looking at.
"Delaney?" I asked in complete shock. She smiled up at me, tucking one side of her long straight blond hair behind her left ear. Her dark-brown eyes lit up as I met her gaze. A flood of memories flashed through my mind as I stared down at my first love and the first woman to tear out a piece of my heart. I was speechless and thankfully it was her turn to carry on the conversation.
"Wow," she said in that sultry alto voice I used to love. "You look great."
"Uh, thanks." I replied, shocked I could get one word out and glad I had put on a clean shirt. "So do you." She did. In fact, she looked amazing. She was wearing a knee-length white sleeveless crochet dress setting off her curves and making her appear sweet and innocent, but I knew she was anything but that. It was a look she had always cultivated to great effect.
"Oh, my God," she exclaimed, her flawless oval face open and friendly. "It's so good to see you. What's it been, eight years?"
"That sounds about right," I answered her, still unsure what we were doing here. She was acting like we were old friends, and a feeling of annoyance started creeping into me. Like I could ever fucking forget what she did to me.
"So," she said as she touched my arm lightly, her full red lips twisting seductively. "What have you been up to all this time?" She was actually trying to flirt with me. I practically gaped in disbelief. My annoyance was starting to turn into anger. My alcohol addled brain started considering getting even with the bitch.
"Well," I put my hand on top of hers, watching her eyes brighten with her perceived victory. "After getting my business degree, I've been working for my family's construction company. It's doing fairly well, what about you?" I cringed inwardly as I feigned interest in anything she had to say.
"After I got my business degree, I went back to become a paralegal," she answered as she caressed her fingers lightly along my forearm. I shivered in disgust and she misinterpreted it as something else entirely. Her tongue licked along her lips in a slow deliberate manner. "I just moved here a few months ago. I work as a corporate paralegal downtown."
"That's great," I said, unsettled at the thought of seeing her around town. I liked it better when she was a distant memory I'd just as soon forget, but here she was, and I couldn't help wondering if I could use this situation to my advantage. A little revenge sounded pretty good right about now. I guess I hadn't realized I was still carrying so much anger and resentment toward this woman. "Are you here with someone?" I asked with a smile as I gently ran my finger across the back of her hand where it was still touching my arm.
"I'm here with a few co-workers," she answered. "We needed some margaritas after a rough week. Are you here alone?"
"I'm here with Andy and his girlfriend." I stepped closer to her, and she didn't back away. She smelled like apples and I almost recoiled because what I really wanted to smell was Sydney's coconut body spray. A deep painful throb of longing for Sydney threatened to overwhelm me. I let out a ragged breath and Delaney's eyes dilated with lust as she misinterpreted yet another of my actions. It made me angry.
"Maybe we could get together and catch up?" she asked as she squeezed my arm.
I leaned close until my mouth was next to her ear. "Maybe we could catch up right now?" I whispered into her ear and watched as she shivered in reaction. Maybe some angry revenge sex would make me feel better, bitch. I glanced around and noticed we were near the restrooms. "Why don't you go wait for me in the lady's room?"
Delaney sucked in a sudden breath and let it out with a shudder. Her smile widened, and her eyes darkened as I leaned back and looked at her. She bit her lower lip and I growled as I fought the urge to tell her I found her repulsive. When I looked at her all that I could think about was everything she wasn't and everything I had lost when I gave up my Sydney. It made me hate Delaney even more.
"Okay," she said salaciously and trailed her fingers down my arm as she started walking way,
her eyes still fixed on mine. I watched her disappear down the short hallway that led to the bathrooms. For a second, I considered actually going after her. It would have served the bitch right for someone to fuck her in a bathroom like the dirty whore she was, but I just couldn't do it. Not when every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sydney's face, and I still had to fight the urge to go back to her everyday. I felt a sudden painful twist in my gut. I turned back to the bar with a sigh and picked up my last shot of tequila. I tossed it down with a grimace. I was starting to wonder if there was enough alcohol in the world to numb this pain.
"What the hell are you doing?"
I startled and turned seeing that Lydia had come up behind me. She stood there glaring at me with her hands on her hips, her entire demeanor filled with annoyance. "I'm having a shot of tequila," I told her flatly as I set the shot glass on the bar. Her eyes darted to the other empty shot glass next to it and back up to my face. Her face abruptly changed to concern. She dropped her hands back down to her sides and walked closer to me. I watched in discomfort as she grabbed my hands and looked up at me.
"Jensen, what are you doing to yourself?" she asked gently. "This isn't like you at all."
"I don't fucking know," I whispered and looked aside. I fought the urge to pull my hands away, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable. I clenched my jaw and tried to force down the sorrow that threatened to unman me.
"Have you even talked to her?" she asked. I shook my head, staring blankly over the top of her head. "You seem so miserable without her. Isn't there some way you could work it out with Sydney? Whatever happened can't be worth all this misery you're going through."
"I don't want to talk about this, Lydia," I said and closed my eyes with a sigh. Neither Andy nor Lydia knew the real reason I had left Sydney. They didn't know that I was so fucked up that I had tried to kill her in my sleep. I couldn't be with her, no matter how much it hurt, or how much I needed her. The drinking was my only escape. I just didn't know what else to do.
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