by Joy Eileen
Breaking Faith
By
Joy Eileen
Breaking Faith
Copyright © 2015 Joy Eileen
Published by Joy Barnett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published: Joy Eileen 2015:
Cover Design: Kristen Hope Mazzola
Cover Images:
File ID: 67255319 © Anna Ismagilova/ Dollar Photo Club
File ID: 68128919 © Kserina/ Dollar Photo Club
Formatting by: Kristen Hope Mazzola
Editing by:
Tracie Roe: [email protected]
Kira Will: [email protected]
Dedication:
To anyone who was strong enough to survive, and the ones who haven't realized their strength.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
SNEAK PEEK
Surviving Faith
Acknowledgements
About the author
Chapter 1
“Oww, shit!” I cried as I pulled my oozing finger back and stuck it in my mouth.
Glaring at the offending messenger bag, or more specifically the felonious paper sticking out of it, I fought back the tears and expelled a bitter laugh.
My eyes stayed glued to the awful document that signified escape. How dare it hurt me! It was a paper replica of the person it was protecting me from, a façade of security, but in reality, nothing but pain.
I glanced back at my injured finger to see if any more blood had come trickling out. A thin red line appeared, nothing more. No rivulets of crimson, no summoning of vampires for an all-you-can-suck buffet, just a small droplet of blood, nothing major. I grabbed a tissue to wipe it away. Crisis averted. Life continued.
I snuggled further into my hoodie as the interior of my lime-green 67' Mustang cooled in the night air. My body begged me to turn on the heater. I refused, afraid of getting too comfortable.
I was parked in front of a typical biker bar. The wood exterior was stained with matter that would horrify even the most seasoned forensic team.
A large neon sign on the top of the bar announced its name, Ray’s. It ignited the parking lot, bathing the closer cars in red. A marquee in the front boasted that Ray’s was the home of the JackholeS, a popular Portland band.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to fill myself with fake confidence, hoping this time to succeed. I didn't.
I gave myself permission to dwell on Jason for five minutes. After that, I would file him away in the dark recesses of my mind, just like the paperwork for the restraining order buried in the county clerk’s office.
Leaning back in the driver’s seat, I welcomed the images of my past as they flashed through my mind. I watched my own personal horror movie. Significant moments were highlighted, giving insight on how I ended up sitting in my car, outside a bar, broken and bruised.
When I received a scholarship out of state, excitement and heartbreak coursed through me. Oregon State University offered me an escape. The payment they required? I had to leave my dad.
My dad is a retired police chief, and my biggest supporter. My mom was the complete opposite, and couldn’t handle motherhood. She was stuck in her high school mentality. On my fourth birthday she left, taking the amber-tinted bottles lining her bathroom sink with her.
After cleaning up my ruined party, my dad held me in a soul-crushing embrace, and told me it was us against the world. The older I became, the more responsibilities I shouldered, taking his statement to heart.
I could never be the typical teenager; my mommy-issues ran too deep. Parties, dances, and other rites of passage, which shepherd a teen into adulthood, were not high on my list of priorities.
Keeping busy with my school work, I avoided the pity-filled stares from my peers. I owned my pariah status with pride, never letting them know how self-conscious they made me.
My scholarship was awarded before graduation, mocking my life of teenage solitude. When I received the acceptance letter, panic sliced through me and I flat out refused to leave. After much coaxing and bribing, of the Mustang variety, I reluctantly agreed to go.
My freshman year was uneventful. Throughout the year I could be found in my dorm room studying. I wanted to make sure the university knew they weren’t wasting their time and money on me.
During summer break, I got a job at the local coffee shop, Cool Beans. The extra money assisted in my one non-school related obsession: shoes.
I had a savings account my dad had set up for me as soon as the flake showed him the positive pregnancy test, but I was paranoid to use it. Worried if I spent it on something frivolous, the universe would enact punishment. Guilt was not an emotion I wanted to surface when purchasing a new pair of heels; that would be tragic.
During my first shift at Cool Beans, I met Jason.
He had dark brown eyes that sparkled when he laughed, and sandy blonde hair chopped close to his head, reminiscent of newly sworn in police cadets.
I couldn't ogle the fine specimen in front of me since there was an irate middle-aged customer, with a raging case of short man syndrome, screaming at me. I accidentally put one shot of espresso in his coffee instead of the two he had ordered.
Gazing at the bulging veins popping out of the angry customer's neck, I remained patient, waiting for them to explode from the extreme strain they were under. His hair had successfully emulated a cul-de-sac, and the buttons around his enlarged middle, strained to stay together.
I apologized and remade his order when Jason came to my rescue. Jason spun Mr. One-Shot-Down around as if he weighed nothing. The guy spewed an anger-filled rant until he saw the size of Jason and reserved the rest of his words. His cowardliness caused me to stare at the floor to hide a smirk.
“Apologize to her,” Jason commanded through clenched teeth.
The man turned bright red, refusing to do as Jason demanded. Using the most convincing smile I could muster, I sputtered, “No, no it’s ok. I messed up his order.”
“No,” Jason declared, giving me a stern look, before turning hi
s gaze back to the man he still had by the shoulders. “A missing shot is no reason to yell at a beautiful girl. Hell, she did your poor heart a favor.”
The firm look Jason gave his prisoner made him turn an even brighter shade of red. Jason's hostage then noticed he held the attention of everyone in the coffee shop and struggled to get away. Jason just gripped him tighter.
I blushed after hearing this perfect specimen call me, of all people, beautiful. The captured customer muttered his apology, and only then did Jason release him. As soon as the apology left his mouth, my first angry customer turned around and fled, not bothering to take the cup containing his now correct order.
“Thank you,” I said to my hero, trying to stand up straight and exude fake confidence.
He smiled and I swear I heard angels sing, or orgasm, whatever fit. “You're welcome, but I don’t think your ‘thank you’ will be enough for what I just did.”
“Of course, your drink's on the house.”
I moved to make his drink, the one he hadn’t ordered yet. This made him throw back his head and laugh. The muscles in his neck bulged from his amusement, resembling the man he just released.
I gave him a puzzled look, confused by his laughter. He then asked me a question that threw my whole axis off balance. “What time do you get off...” He looked at my name tag and added, “Faith?”
“Uhmm, in four hours,” I replied, looking at the clock behind the espresso machine, still baffled as to what type of thanks he thought he was entitled to receive.
He nodded and walked away. Right before he stepped out of the shop, he glanced at me with a wicked grin. “I'll pick you up in four hours. My name's Jason, by the way.” He then winked and vanished.
My boss, Ginger, who had been watching with the rest of the customers, reached around to close my open mouth with her index finger.
“Did that just happen?” I whispered, ignoring everyone else, still looking at the empty doorway.
“Yep,” Ginger responded, laughing and telling me to take a break.
In the bathroom I splashed cold water on my face, obsessing over every detail of our encounter.
Why me? I studied my face, yearning to find something, anything to validate Jason's interest. I shook my head, assured the answer would continue to elude me.
My dark brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail, giving an unobstructed view of my face. Thanks to Portland's fantastic weather, my skin had a pale hue to it, making my green eyes stand out, large and uncertain. The smattering of freckles on my nose were prominent under the fluorescent lighting.
I shook my head in disgust. Hell, if my own mother couldn’t stand to be near me, there was no reason for someone like Jason to spend any time with me.
I left the bathroom frustrated. As the minutes ticked away, I found myself getting anxious. When my shift ended, I glanced around the coffee shop to check if he was there. I knew he wasn’t, because I had scanned the room every time someone entered.
Of course he wouldn’t show up. Someone as gorgeous as he was had no reason to go on a date with me. He was probably trying to get me to stop staring at him like some slack-jawed lackey.
I left the coffee shop feeling dejected and stupid for believing he meant what he said. As I headed to my car, I heard his deep voice behind me.
"Hey, you aren’t ditching me, are you?”
Stunned, I turned to see my knight in coffee justice, leaning by the back entrance of the shop, his muscles doing that delicious bulgy thing. "Uhmm, no,” I replied, while I face-palmed myself in my head.
I had a full scholarship, earned straight A’s with a full load in my double major of Biology and Literature, but around him I became a bumbling idiot.
He hooked his arm around my shoulders and steered me toward his car, a silver Honda Civic. I'll admit it made me sad when I saw his car; it felt somewhat anticlimactic.
We went to dinner and talked, well, he talked the majority of the time. He acted interested when asking me questions to see if I fit in with his life, which I was desperate to do.
I convinced myself I didn’t mind his hostile takeover of our dinner conversation. I'd never received attention from someone like Jason before. It was exhilarating and bewildering.
After dinner, we walked around. He became more interested in my life, allowing me to fill the rest of the walk with my interests. Driving back to the coffee shop, Jason's true personality surfaced. The moment I should have known I needed to end all contact with him.
A car cut him off and his face morphed into an angry red orb, the exact color of the guy he had berated that afternoon. He followed the wrongdoer, honking his horn, and screaming. The veins in his neck popped out so far I could almost trace the blood pumping through them.
The offender was an older gentleman. I knew this because when Jason drove on to the side walk, I got a good look at his terrified face. I was unsure which one I should have been more afraid for; they both looked as if they were on the verge of having a heart attack.
Once Jason had scolded the poor man, he calmed. He threw me a quick smile while turning the car around to head back to Cool Beans, which we had passed in the pursuit.
I had my hand poised on the door handle so I could get out as soon as we stopped. In the parking lot, I jumped out of his car and ran to mine, throwing the door open. My only thought was of escaping.
“Hey, wait!” He was quicker than I gave him credit for because he grabbed onto the door as soon as I had opened it, sandwiching me in between him and the car.
“I’m sorry. I overreacted. It just scared me; he could have hurt you.” He ran a finger down my cheek, and I leaned into his touch.
“Don’t do it again,” I tried to scold him. The fact that I leaned into him with a goofy smile on my face somewhat undermined the severity of the reprimand.
“Promise.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Can I see you tomorrow?” His brown eyes were making me weak in the knees, and hot everywhere else.
“Yeah, I get off at five.”
He leaned in closer, brushing his lips across mine. “I will see you at five tomorrow, Faith.”
I nodded, not wanting to contemplate what I was getting into, telling myself he had a reasonable reaction.
Once he pulled out of the parking lot, I sat in my car breathing in through my nose and out of my mouth. I had a hard time pushing down the dread flowing through me. I allowed the explanation he was worried for my safety keep my apprehension at bay. Even though in the back of my mind, I knew this was a bad sign.
Jason picked me up the next day, and the next several days after that. By the end of the week we were inseparable, and he had everyone in the coffee shop enamored.
I became swept up in the romance, and soon found myself unable to catch my breath from the whirlwind that was Jason. I pushed the road rage incident out of my head, convincing myself I overreacted.
The summer rushed by and I allowed myself to fall head over beautiful heels in love with Jason. It seemed we were together every waking moment.
When Jason's temper flared, I let him convince me it was because he thought I was in danger. I unplugged every bell and whistle going off in my head, blissful in their silence.
When summer ended, we were happy and in love. My mind refused to notice any other emotion.
We were registering for our classes when, I was on the receiving end of Jason's temper for the first time. Jason noticed the huge course load I signed up for, and he was furious. He screamed that I would never have time for him.
School, being important to me, made me stand my ground against Jason’s demands. I refused to let him sway me to take on a lighter load, not wanting to stray from the path I had methodically laid out.
Jason stopped showing up at the coffee shop. Upset he wanted me to give up my schooling for him, I refused to be sad about his absence, or so I told myself. His tantrum irritated me, and I allowed my anger to burn away the pain.
Jason showed up the day before school started
, carrying a bouquet of red roses. He fell to his knees, telling me how much he missed me and couldn’t be separated from me a second longer.
Every woman's panties in the coffee shop became wet when he strolled in carting the obscenely expensive roses.
I flipped the breaker to stop the warnings from shrieking. Running into his arms, I kissed him and told him how much I loved and missed him.
Watching the women swooning for Jason in the middle of the shop made me realize how lucky I was he picked me. That night, I apologized and explained my actions were for our future.
During the semester I allowed myself to get swept up in the Jason vortex. His charm and good looks had my head in the clouds most of the day.
My next encounter with Jason's temper happened one slow afternoon at Cool Beans. While waiting on the only customer in the store, a handsome college boy, Jason came in.
The grin on his face was quickly replaced. Icy dread ran through my veins from the look his face transformed in to. I gave him an encouraging smile, wanting to convey I saw nobody else but him, but Jason was beyond my assurances.
Jason forced his body between the customer and the counter. I caught a glimpse of the patron's stunned expression just before Jason grabbed my face.
His fingers ground the sensitive flesh of my cheeks into my teeth, until I tasted the hot metallic tang of blood. Not releasing his grip, he pulled me forward, until I leaned over the counter, and he kissed me fiercely. “Hey baby, see if you can get off early. Then we can go to my place, and I'll get you off again.”
Ginger chose that moment to walk in, oblivious to Jason's temper. She looked at the clock. “Go on, sweetie. We aren’t busy.”
Jason moved and smiled at Ginger, releasing my face at the same time. Glancing around, I noticed the accosted customer had vanished. The adoration on Ginger's face kept me silent. I felt like I was plunged into another reality, one where I was in the wrong instead of Jason.
Untying my apron, I decided I was done with this nonsense. Once outside, I was ready to unleash a fury-filled rant. Before I could expel my well thought out speech, Jason surprised me by asking me to move in with him.
