Tangled: Emerson Falls, Book 1

by Harlow James

  Tangled

  Emerson Falls, Book 1

  By Harlow James

  Copyright © 2019 Harlow James

  Tangled

  Emerson Falls, Book 1

  Cover Design: NET Hook & Line Design

  All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The eBook may not be re-sold or given away to another person except when loaned out per Amazon’s lending program. If you’re reading this book and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then it was pirated illegally. Please purchase a copy of your own and respect the hard work of this author.

  “Trust is like a mirror, you can fix it if it's broken, but you can still see the crack in that mother fucker's reflection.” ― Lady Gaga

  Contents

  Title Page

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Kane

  3 Years Earlier

  My brown leather combat boot thumped steadily on the floorboard in the back of my Uber, keeping the rhythm with the song playing from the radio, but also the nervous beating of my heart in my chest. My left hand clutched my duffle bag next to me, fighting to keep the shaking at bay that I felt the moment I stepped off the plane and back on American soil.

  “Coming home?” My driver asked, glancing back at me in the rear-view mirror.

  “Yup,” I curtly reply, too anxious to offer up more words.

  It had been six months.

  Six months since I’d been home—seen her face, kissed her lips, and felt like everything was right in the world. Natasha would be ecstatic to see me. I could already hear her scream of excitement, the jump in my arms she would complete the minute I opened the door and she saw my face, and the insane sex that would commence once we both came down from the thrill of the surprise and finally being back in each other’s arms.

  The brakes on the car screech as the driver eases to a stop in front of our apartment complex, the one I can’t wait to leave in search of the home we’ll raise our family in. My time away has been difficult, but the monetary compensation has been welcome as I’ve saved every dime I could for a down payment on our future home. The long list of things to accomplish now that I’m home for good has been running through my mind since I boarded the plane, but all of those things can wait until after I surprise my girl.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I acknowledge the driver, adding a more than generous tip for his time, reach for my duffle on the seat, and hoist myself up and out of the car, staring at the two-story building in front of me.

  My palms are sweaty as I trek up the sidewalk and two flights of steps, the brush of my Army greens creating friction and background noise before turning the corner and gliding down the balcony of the tan building before arriving in front of our door.

  I’m home, back in Oregon, a place I never plan on leaving again.

  I put in my eight years in the Army but ultimately decided the military life wasn’t for me. Natasha begged me to leave after four years, but I didn’t feel like it was the right time. Plus, I wasn’t finished with my teaching degree and my unit needed me still. We were knee-deep in operations overseas, and if I had left them four years ago, I know I would have regretted it and I would have let them down. Instead, I re-enlisted, much to the frustration of Natasha, but I promised her when those four years were up, so was my time in the Army.

  And I kept my promise.

  The only thing I asked for her was to understand and stand by my side, and also to marry me, so I knew she wouldn’t doubt my commitment to her.

  And here we are. I’m a bundle of nerves and longing as I find my key, turn it in the lock, and push open the door to the rest of my life.

  The silence that fills the apartment is unsettling, especially because I know she’s home. I checked to make sure her car was in her parking space as I walked up to the building. Then I think, she’s probably in the bath or at least in our bedroom binge-watching a Netflix show in bed, so I set my bag down by the front door and make my way down the hall.

  “Yes…”

  I stop, dead in my tracks with the sound of her moans, the moans I know all too well with every touch I’ve given her body.

  “You like that, baby?”

  A man’s voice rings this time, eerily familiar, yet equally unsettling. My stomach instantly drops, fearful that what I think I’m about to walk in on, is in fact, true.

  “More…” Natasha encourages, letting out a small shriek that lets me know she’s enjoying the activities that are ripping a gaping hole in my chest as I come up to the door to our bedroom and hear the unmistakable sounds of slapping skin.

  “Take it all, babe…. Fuck yeah…”

  That voice. I swallow hard, knowing now with no doubt that I’m about to walk in on my best friend fucking my fiancé.

  Sweat beads on my forehead, my palms instantly fold into fists at my sides, and the war of emotion I’m feeling in my chest makes the thump of my heart shake my entire body.

  Do I let them finish? Or do I interrupt what I’m sure will be a blissful climax?

  What do you think I did?

  I slam my fist into the door, the echo of my hand hitting the hardwood booming off the walls.

  “What the fuck?!” I shout as I get an eyeful of my best friend’s ass as he slams into my fiancé beneath him.

  “Kane!” Natasha shouts, pushing T.J. off of her and rushing to find the blankets to cover her naked body. Sure, now she opts for modesty.

  “What the fuck is going on here? Seriously? What the fuck, man?” My eyebrows draw together in confusion and rage, my hands are thrown up in the air in question, the adrenaline roaring through my body takes on a life of its own as I rush towards him while he’s standing there butt-naked, and slam my fist into his jaw.

  The crack of my knuckles hitting his face mimics my fist hitting the door just moments ago as he folds down onto the ground, clutching his jaw in his hands and curling up into the fetal position.

  “Kane, stop!” Natasha yells as she scrambles out of the bed, wrapping the blanket around her, her long blonde hair a wild mess around her flushed cheeks.

  I turn to her next. “Stop what? Sorry I
didn’t let you finish.” I grit through my teeth as I watch her eyes fill with tears.

  “I’m so sorry, Kane,” she pleads as beads of moisture leak down her face.

  “Sorry for what? Breaking your promise to marry me? Fucking my best friend? Sorry that you got caught?”

  I look down at her hand clutching the sheet, the engagement ring I gave her shimmering in the light from the bedside lamp.

  “You were gone. I got lonely. You brought this on yourself, you know! I asked you not to re-enlist, but…”

  “So that gives you the right to cheat on me? Let alone, with my best fucking friend?” I turn and bend down to look T.J. in the eyes, right as he opens his to meet the rage on my face.

  “You are a piece of shit!” I yell in his face while pressing my finger into his chest. “You are dead to me, you hear? Never contact me again. Both of you,” I state finally, looking back at Natasha as I stand.

  Her lips tremble as she studies me and then her eyes move to T.J., still cowering on the floor. She hurries to his side to check his face, which gives me no remorse in turning away and walking back down the hall.

  “Fuck you both. Enjoy your life together,” I wave over my shoulder with my hand as my boots stomp down the carpeted hall and back to the front door, retrieving my duffle and bursting through the door, leaving behind everything and everyone I’ve ever given two shits about besides my family and the men standing beside me in uniform.

  I fumble to retrieve my phone from my pocket, my hands shaking so violently as the rush of emotions over what just happened flow through my mind and my body.

  I order another Uber, the same driver as before since he’s still close by, and wait on the curb, not bothering to look back at the apartment that I thought would hold a much different memory for me ten minutes ago.

  I can’t look back. I won’t look back.

  Only forward.

  And I vow, right then and there, never to let anyone into my heart again.

  Chapter 2

  Kane

  Present Day

  “Alright, class. Simmer down, please. The bell is about to ring, so please make sure your classwork is turned in and you’ve copied down the pages you need to read over the weekend,” I project over the chatter filtering through my classroom.

  “Mr. G., no one writes down the homework anymore. We just take a picture of it,” Daisy replies with a roll of her eyes as she saunters up to the whiteboard and snaps a picture of the homework assignment written there with her phone.

  I shake my head. I swear, these teenagers have been programmed to look for the path of least work possible in everything they do.

  “As long as it gets done, I don’t care how you remember,” I tell her before making my way around the room to verify everything is in its place. Books are returned to the shelves, trash has been picked up off of the floor, and the desks are pushed into their rightful position.

  The sharp ring of the bell through the speakers is like music to my ears as the kids beeline for the door, signaling the end of another grueling week. It’s the end of September and we’ve been back in school for four weeks now. The honeymoon period has worn off, and the kids and teachers are all feeling the exhaustion.

  “Have a good weekend, you guys. Make good choices,” I shout as my juniors in U.S. History filter out of the doors.

  “Have a good weekend, Mr. G!” A few of them call out behind them just as the last kid leaves and I slump down in the chair at my desk.

  I think back to three years ago when I first started teaching and how it was nothing like I thought it would be. Of course, I had just found my fiancé in bed with my best friend, so nothing in my life made sense. And even though that first year was hell, it gave me purpose at a time in my life when I really needed it. Everything I had been working toward was pulled out from underneath me, except for teaching. I always knew this was what I wanted to do, and the Army was a way for me to make it happen.

  My parents—bless them both—were hardworking people, but couldn’t afford to pay for me to go to college. And I didn’t want to take out thousands of dollars in loans to then turn around and work to the bone to pay them off. So when the Army recruiters came to the high school and offered to pay for my degree in exchange for serving my country, I jumped at the opportunity. Most of my friends, T.J. included, didn’t understand, but they didn’t face the same monetary dilemma I did. And Natasha hated the idea of me leaving her after graduation, but she understood my reasons for the decision and promised to wait for me.

  My high school sweetheart was supposed to wait for me and we were going to end up together… What a crock of shit that ended up being.

  I stand from my desk, put out the papers I’ll need for Monday, change the date on the board and erase the notes from today, grab my coffee mug and my lunch box, and head for the cafeteria where our principal has asked us to gather for a brief staff meeting at the end of the day.

  Opening up the solid metal doors, I’m greeted with a gush of cool air and the faint scent of what the cafeteria served for lunch. My guess is pizza.

  “Who schedules a staff meeting on a Friday?”

  Mrs. Waterman sits down next to me on the bench of one of the cafeteria tables where I found a seat in the back, giving everyone the silent sign that says to leave me alone. However, I must have a beacon flashing above my head that says, “Here! Come vent to me about how the entire world pisses you off!”

  “Mmmm,” I mumble back, learning that fewer words in response to her make the conversation end much faster. I contemplate moving my seat just as she continues on with her rant.

  “We spend all week at this damn school, so when two-o’clock on a Friday hits, we’re done! The last thing we want to do is sit around and listen to an entire meeting that could have been summed up in an email.”

  I chuckle at that last point. The woman isn’t wrong. I’ve lost count of how many meetings I’ve sat in that could have been communicated with a few sentences and the click of a button.

  “Hey, Garrison.” Drew comes up beside me, taking the seat to my right, giving me the perfect reason to turn my back to Mrs. Waterman. All that woman does is bitch about anything and everything related to her job and education. She’s an emotional vampire and the type of teacher that gives good teachers a bad name. I can’t believe she’s married either. I feel terrible for her husband.

  “Drew, how’s it going, man? I haven’t seen you much this week.”

  Drew Phillips is one of the most respected English teachers at Emerson Falls High School, and one of my best friends and colleagues. After what happened with my former best friend, I hadn’t been too keen to extend olive branches of friendship. But Drew weaseled his way in during my first year of teaching, and the truth is, I wouldn’t have survived without him.

  “Yeah, well, between football practice and Tammy ovulating, I haven’t had much of a life,” he sighs, running his hands through his blonde hair. The bags beneath his blue eyes only confirm his level of exhaustion.

  “You guys trying again?”

  “Yeah. After the miscarriage, I wasn’t sure she’d want to. But we both agreed to keep trying to move forward. At least we know she can get pregnant. I just hope it sticks this time,” he whispers, a hint of despair in his voice.

  Drew’s words hit me hard in the chest. His wife, Tammy, is one of the science teachers here at the school, and they’ve been married for a few years now. They met here when she got hired and Drew fell hard. A few months ago, they found out they were expecting and were beyond thrilled until she miscarried ten weeks in. It was a long summer for them, nursing the heartache of losing the possibility of the family they want so desperately. But they’re both strong people and I have faith that things will work out for them.

  But supporting Drew through his life challenges just reminds me that I should be in that same boat right now too—married, having children, being so disgustingly happy that nothing else matters in this world. Funny how things don’t always
work out the way we plan. I declared I would move on and not look back—that’s what I vowed to myself to do three years ago. So why does it still feel like I’m hanging onto the pain like a grudge I refuse to drop?

  “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, man,” I pat him on the shoulder. “You and Tammy are meant to be parents. I whole-heartedly believe that.”

  “Thanks, Kane. I just don’t think I’ve needed sleep this badly in my life.”

  “Oh, come on. There had to be one point in college where you stayed up too late drinking and partying and didn’t sleep until the next night?” I tease him, trying to distract him from the worry in his life, although I can’t relate to the feeling of nursing a hangover and still having to function. I worked on my degree while stationed in a desert with limited wi-fi and no parties in sight. Sometimes I feel regretful that I didn’t get the typical college experience, but I wouldn’t change my time in the Army for anything.

  He smiles at the thought. “Yeah, but I’m not twenty anymore. I’m thirty-one, and I swear, the thirties are great except for the depletion in your energy. If I didn’t have to help coach a football game tonight, I’d be in bed at seven!”

  “Just wait until you have a kid. I hear you really lose sleep then.”

  Drew stares blankly at me as he processes my words then mutters, “Fuck.”

  “Good afternoon, everyone!” Principal North addresses the room of disgruntled teachers, exhausted from another long week of work, effectively ending our conversation. “I’ll try to make this quick since I know you’re all eager to get your weekend started,” she beams, surveying the teachers who look more like students trying to stay awake during class right now.

  “Damn right. Make this quick, woman,” Mrs. Waterman mumbles behind me, earning an eye roll from me that thankfully she can’t see.

  “As you know, Mr. Kirk left us a few weeks ago, leaving a huge vacancy in our math department.”

  “Yeah, well, if I’d won the lottery, I would have left too!” Another teacher shouts across the cafeteria, garnering murmurs of agreement and chuckles from the crowd of almost seventy of us.