Be Your Savior: The Be Yours Trilogy #2

by Fox, Lizzie

  Be Your Savior

  The Be Yours Trilogy #2

  Lizzie Fox

  Copyright © 2019 by Lizzie Fox

  Cover design by LKO Designs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Seth Lewis Archer

  2. Jessalie Lightman-Reynolds

  3. Seth

  4. Jessalie

  5. Jessalie

  6. Seth

  7. Jessalie

  8. Seth

  9. Seth

  10. Jessalie

  11. Seth

  12. Jessalie

  13. Seth

  14. Jessalie

  15. Jessalie

  16. Seth

  17. Seth

  18. Jessalie

  19. Jessalie

  20. Seth

  21. Jessalie

  22. Seth

  23. Jessalie

  24. Seth

  25. Jessalie

  26. Seth

  27. Jessalie

  28. Seth

  29. Jessalie

  30. Seth

  31. Jessalie

  32. Jessalie

  33. Seth

  34. Jessalie Archer

  35. Jessalie

  Afterword

  PLAYLIST for the ‘BE YOURS’ trilogy

  About the Author

  Also by Lizzie Fox/Sariah Skye

  For Mimi and Pawtom, who swooped in and saved me at a time I needed it the most. Face forward to the stars so you can’t see the night, right?

  Quick note from the author…

  Dear Reader,

  Be Your Savior, the second book in the Be Yours trilogy contains themes dealing with addiction, suicide, self-harm, loss, and depression. If any of these are triggering, please proceed with caution.

  The addiction portion was inspired by a close friend who battled her demons in secret. Many of the elements portrayed are based on actual experiences of my own. They may or may not be relatable to your own because every path is different. No two illnesses are totally the same.

  With that said, happy reading!

  Xoxo,

  Lizzie

  When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.

  —William Shakespeare

  Prologue

  Seth

  “Well, you’ve certainly been busy since I’ve seen you last.”

  “Uhh… yeah. You could say that,” I replied, as I attempted not to shrink under the stern gaze of Doctor Rand, my therapist since I’d been here in Independence Point. He appeared to be in his early fifties, with brown hair, graying at the temples, a friendly face, and rimless glasses he was currently peering over after he finished scouring the notes the other interim therapist made.

  “Yes. I certainly would.” He chuckled lightly but there was a skepticism in his tone that led me to believe he was about to say I’d lost my mind. He set the yellow notepad in his lap, and raised a brow at me, taking off his glasses and setting them on the desk next to him. “So, let me get this right. In the month since I’ve seen you last, you moved out of your bandmate’s place, found the girl you’ve been lusting over for over a year that you met at your first performance, moved in with her, started a relationship with her, confronted your father, had a meltdown, and gotten engaged? That about cover it?”

  I leaned back against the stiff sofa, stretching out an arm over the back of it, and lifting my leg to set it on my opposite knee, clearly avoiding his question. Drawing out a slow breath, I laughed shortly and finally answered. “When you say it like that it sounds like a bad thing.”

  “No, no not at all. Just…surprising,” he said, with a careful smile. “This isn’t a—”

  “—no, it’s not what you think,” I cut him off rudely, trying to resist rolling my eyes. “I wasn’t manic when I made all the decisions with Jessie. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, point blank.”

  He glanced down at his notes again. “Doctor Ubach said… she stopped you from hurting yourself? Can you tell me about that? In your own words, of course.”

  I tried not to groan; I was waiting for this. While the therapist that filled in for him was quite good, and very laid back…Doctor Rand was very much no-nonsense and blunt, sort of what I needed since that’s how I was myself. I didn’t think he’d scold me… but I figured I’d get a “look”.

  “Yeah…” I began slowly. “My father was in town and confronted me. Wanted to see Lily.”

  Doctor Rand’s blue eyes widened some. “Jeez.” He was well aware of my father’s… uh… shortcomings, let’s just say.

  “Yeah. So he was knocking on the door one morning and Jessie answered it and when I came down stairs he had his hands on her arms and I fucking lost it. Just… freaked.” I said darkly, feeling my fists clench at the very idea.

  “I…can imagine. Go on…”

  “Long story short I guess,” I continued with a sigh, shifting my legs, one over the other again. Telling the story again made me nervous. “I just sort of flipped after that, and I accidentally grabbed Jess. Not hard—but I think I freaked her out for a minute, or maybe I just freaked out myself, but she swears it was just because she was weirded out from my dad. I’d never, never hit her, I swear—”

  “—I know you wouldn’t,” he assured me, and I smiled appreciatively at him.

  “Thank you for saying so. Anyhow…after that I lost it some more, locked myself in the bathroom and kept picturing my dad’s face and punched out the mirror.” I lifted my hand and turned it over. The wound had healed, but jagged red lines still remained from when the shards of the glass cut into it. “I came out when I cut it, she tried to tie it up and fix it, wanted me to go to the ER but… well…I didn’t want to. She went upstairs for something and I bolted on my bike. I didn’t really even realize what I was doing, I just…flipped and needed to get away. I…might have gone a little too fast.”

  “You were reckless?” He asked, and reluctantly, I nodded.

  “But… you were okay?”

  “Only because Jessie hopped in her car and followed me the entire way. Ten miles of hundred-mile-an hour chase.” I gave him a wry, sheepish smile, and his eyes widened.

  “Jeez…” he shook his head in shock. “So…what made you stop?”

  “It started storming,” I arched my brow—the one that had once been pierced and was always somewhat quirked anyway—and he nodded empathetically, “and suddenly I realized that Jessie could get hurt.”

  “You didn’t care that you could get hurt?”

  “No…at the time I didn’t even think about it; I just needed to…feel something else.” I exhaled tensely. “When I finally pulled over she got out of the car, shoved me, swore at me, told me she loved me and I…sorta came back to the present, I guess you could say.”

  He nodded slowly. “I see. And…” he glanced down at his notes again. “This is the time you proposed to her? After you’d been together for—how long?”

  “Three weeks?” I attempted to grin innocently. I was expecting to get scolded, but to my surprise, he held out his hand in congratulations.

  “Well, Mr. Archer…if this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.” I shook his hand once, shocked. He laughed quietly. “I’m not entirely unromantic, Seth. I think it sounds like a very sweet story, and I hope sometime you’ll bring her in?”

  I nodded vigorously. “Of course. She’s been very involved with all my meds
and shit and calling me out when I start doing dumb things. It’s been…” I started to grin, blushing. “Really great.”

  “That’s fantastic, really.” He smiled once more before continuing on. “Tell me about the music? You are performing at the…Wisconsin Summerfest?” He asked rhetorically, sounding genuinely impressed. “That’s… sounds great!”

  “Mostly it is, thank you,” I replied. “A little nerve wracking. But… it’ll be okay.”

  “I’m sure it will,” he assured me. We sat in a moment of relative silence before he spoke next. “So, is there anything else you want to talk about while we’re here today?”

  I blew out a breath. Yeah, there was, but… “Not sure we have time for this one…”

  Doctor Rand gave a friendly grin. “Well, there’s always next time, right?”

  “Right.” I sighed. There was always a next time when it came to my crazy and therapy. Sigh.

  1

  Seth Lewis Archer

  “I think you should go to Hawaii. I always wanted a beach wedding.”

  “Meh.” I exchanged a glance with Jessalie, my fiancée. She just shrugged, subtly pulling a sour face behind Sabrina’s back.

  “Meh? Hawaii isn’t meh!” Sabrina protested, setting her beer on the counter and frowning at me.

  “Maybe your next wedding will be in Hawaii.” Her husband, Ian Mitchell, whispered to her as he passed her to get to the fridge for his own beer.

  She slapped him on the back. “Maybe it will be. Dick.” Ian, my friend and the lead guitarist and keyboardist for our band, Night Addiction, cackled mischievously as he emerged from the fridge. He had begun to speak when there was a high-pitched shriek, and a yell from somewhere in the house that made me visibly cringe. Ian rolled his eyes.

  “Goddammit.” Ian gritted his teeth in exasperation. “I’ll be back. Bethany, don’t hit your sister with your doll, how many times—” He started to yell, stalking off through the kitchen, assumedly to deal with his kids.

  “See what you’re missing?” Sabrina asked Jessie and me rhetorically, with a grumble. Setting her beer on the counter, she stalked off after her husband.

  “Yeah, I’m sure they’re real upset.” Anthony Flannery, the bassist for the band, entered the kitchen with his husband, Shane, just behind him. Anthony scowled at the mere idea of children.

  “Huh. Maybe they are.” Shane nudged me and pointed to Jessie; she had turned and her back was facing us as she pretended to pick at her plate of sandwiches and chips. She hung her head, and her golden-brown hair cascaded over her face, blocking it from view. I cocked a brow, wincing at Shane, and sidled over to her, gently pushing her hair aside to see her face. There was a definite distant expression there that made me frown.

  “Jessie?” I asked her quietly, and she lifted her head and forced a smile.

  “I’m fine. Really. Just been… thinking…” She drew in a quick breath, lifted her hand to my cheek, and rubbed the edge of her thumb over it as she tilted her head to the side. I eyed her inquisitively, and she shook her head gently, indicating that here, at Sabrina and Ian’s, was not the right place to talk about it. So I acknowledged her request with barely a bob of my head, clutched her hand in mine, and turned my head to kiss her fingers before releasing her. Her cheeks flushed lightly and the hint of a real smile appeared on her heart-shaped lips.

  “Ugh, you guys are sickening,” Anthony quipped, with mock disdain. Shane slugged him square in the chest.

  “Stop it; don’t push the writer away. Maybe she’ll put me in her next book?” Shane asked hopefully and Jessie turned to face him, leaning against me as I leaned back against the cabinets.

  “I bet she’ll kill you off,” Anthony joked. Shane feigned a look of shock at his husband and proceeded to pummel him with a fist in his shoulder.

  “Ow. Shit, you’re cut off,” Anthony insisted, but Shane smirked unconvincingly.

  Jessie ignored their exchange, shrugging instead. “I have to write one, first.”

  “Oh, you will. I know you will.” Shane smiled brightly, and Anthony nudged him pointedly, motioning his head gently towards us. Shane suddenly seemed to remember something and snapped his fingers.

  “Oh, I have an idea for you. Something Sabrina and I have been working on—but mainly me,” he said, with an exaggerated wink.

  “What’s that?” I asked cautiously. If the idea involved Shane…it could be either the best or the worst thing in the world; there was no in between with him.

  “Recently, I was contacted by the organizer of a rock festival in Florida, near Orlando,” he began. “They’re pulling in bands to join, and he asked if Night Addiction would be interested.”

  My mouth fell open. “Are you shitting me? Florida? Who is in Florida who knows us?” I looked at Jessie who was just as confused as I was.

  “He said he really liked your sound, and you’d be one of the headliners one night. I guess someone part of the festival is a big fan of yours,” Shane said with a big wink.

  “That’s awesome, though, right?” Anthony asked hopefully. “A lot of exposure for us. It’s a huge festival.”

  I swallowed thickly. “How many people are we talking?”

  “Bigger than Summerfest.” Oh fuck…

  “But catch this. Oblivion Orange Zero is going to be there,” Shane said, almost gleefully. And now my eyes really widened.

  “No. Are you—no?” I stammered. Oblivion Orange Zero was a Grammy-award winning rock band with a huge following. My body tensed immediately. Jessie snaked her hand over my stomach, glancing up at me, knowing fully well that while the idea was awesome—it also terrified me.

  “Yes!” Shane insisted excitedly.

  I blew out a terse breath. “That’s a huge opportunity.”

  “Hotel, rental car—everything paid for. Like a vacation. There is even…” Shane exchanged a sly look with Anthony, “…a beach nearby where tons of weddings are performed all the time, and they have openings on the weekend we’d be there.”

  “So—” I began to protest, but I watched Jessie’s face light up, washing away any sadness she had been feeling—for whatever reason—and I stopped. “You like that idea?”

  She shrugged, but kept smiling. “It’s not a bad idea. Depending on when it is.”

  “Ah, see…that’s where the catch is.” Shane said, with a guilty look. “Last week of July.”

  My mouth dropped open. “But—that’s just a little over a month from now?”

  “That’s really short notice. Why are they still looking for bands for this festival? Shouldn’t that be all booked up?” Jessie inquired.

  “I’m not sure, but the organizer—Henry Martinson—said that Miles Madison asked for you specifically to be fit in,” Shane said, trying to hide a huge smile by biting his lip.

  “You’re shitting me?”

  “Who’s that?” Jessie asked, and I snorted.

  “Lead singer of Oblivion Orange Zero. Holy shit…” I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the anxiety rise inside in the form of a roiling stomach and jittery limbs.

  “Here, I’ll show you who he is. You have probably heard their stuff before and not realized it.” Shane was on his phone in a heartbeat going through his Spotify. The rock-pop hybrid song called “No Not Ever” started playing and Jessie’s eyes widened slightly.

  “I have heard this—a lot actually. That’s him?” She asked me, and I nodded vigorously. Now it was her turn for her mouth to drop open. “Holy crap…” Jessie looked up at me expectantly; she knew I had issues with stage fright—of all things. I was a damn musician in a semi-popular regional band and I still get nervous on big stages of huge groups of people. How ridiculous.

  “Yeah, they won a Grammy for best new song for this one last year,” Anthony said. He raised a brow at me. “So, what do you think? I know this is a lot of pressure, but it’s…” he trailed off, realizing he didn’t need to say it. And he didn’t.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face and sighed. “Can I th
ink about it for a bit? I mean…” I exchanged a look with Jessie and she smiled sympathetically, like she knew exactly what I was thinking, and she probably did.

  Over the past two months, I’d become very reliant on Jessie’s input. She was like my anchor to the world, the lighthouse on a dark sea when I felt my mind start going dark. The medication helped—immensely. But Jessie was definitely the missing piece of the puzzle I hadn’t realized I needed.

  It was a bit terrifying saying that: I needed her. She matched my crazy with her own brand of loyalty and determination and pulled me back from the ledge when things got hectic in my mind. I hoped someday I could repay her for all she’d done for me.

  “Yeah, man, you got it.” Anthony looked between us cautiously, and I gave him a wry smile. He knew exactly what I meant but didn’t say it out loud. I was grateful.

  “Oh crap…”

  We all turned and eyed Christi Greenway, Quin’s wife who was pregnant with their second child. She was past her due date and very uncomfortable.

  We’d gathered at the Mitchells’—where we recorded all of our music in cramped quarters—and hung out afterward for a barbecue since it was so nice out, being that it was June and all. Quin had tried to bow out, but Christi said she couldn’t handle another minute trapped in that house, and she was going stir crazy.