This Is Wild

by Natasha Madison

  This Is Wild

  Natasha Madison

  Copyright © 2019 Natasha Madison. E-Book and Print Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved

  * * *

  Cover Design: Jay Aheer https://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Editing done by Jenny Sims Editing4Indies

  Proofing Julie Deaton by Deaton Author Services https://www.facebook.com/jdproofs/

  Created with Vellum

  To everyone who struggles and fights for tomorrow.

  * * *

  Serenity Prayer

  Reinhold Niebuhr

  God grant me the serenity

  to accept the things I cannot change;

  courage to change the things I can;

  and wisdom to know the difference.

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  This Is Love- SNEAK PEAK

  About the Author

  Books By Natasha Madison

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Viktor

  “And they said you couldn’t do it.” I look up at the door to the voice of reason. My therapist, Alain, comes into the room where I’ve stayed for the past ninety days. The only thing in this room is a king-size bed, a six-drawer oak dresser, and a side table that holds a nightlight. Don’t get me wrong, it’s the classiest rehab facility I’ve seen, and one I never thought I would be in. I even have my own private bathroom. I look back down at the cream-colored marble floor. My black boots a stark comparison to the lightness. I’m sitting on my bed with so many things going through my head. “You look deep in thought. What are you thinking about?”

  I shake my head and laugh. “Is this another session?” My tone is definitely sarcastic.

  “Nope.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me exactly like he does in his office and in group therapy. “This one is totally free.”

  I roll my eyes. “Nothing about this place is free.”

  Now he’s the one laughing. “This is true, but this, right here, is all free. You did it, Viktor. That ninety-day chip you earned, is all you.”

  I think of the chip in my pocket that I got at the end of the group meeting. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Everyone has a choice,” he says, his voice calming. “You had a choice every single day. You could have walked out of here at any given time.”

  “Then I would have lost everything.” I sigh.

  “So you chose not to lose,” he says, and I swear, sometimes I just want to tell him to fuck off. Actually, most times.

  “You chose to get up and fight.” He slides his hands in his pockets. “Don’t ever forget that. You have the tools you need to be successful.”

  He looks at his watch. “I have to go, but I wanted to come and wish you well. And to tell you that I am here for whenever you need me.” He smirks, leaning in and whispering, “For free.” I laugh as he turns and walks out of the room.

  I still have so much I need to get off my chest, so much I need help with, and fear is the first thing. Fear that I will fuck it all up, fear that I am not strong enough to fight the urges, fear that I will see the disappointment in my parents’ eyes. My phone beeps, letting me know it’s time to check out. The car will be here in ten minutes, so I make my way to the common area.

  If I wasn’t in therapy or doing my daily plan, I was hitting the gym. I wouldn’t let anything hold me back. They already had enough on me not to believe in me, so showing up for preseason and not being able to skate would have been just another reason to toss me aside and cross me off the list. Gone was the scrawny little guy when I started; I was now thirty pounds heavier, and it was all muscle.

  The room is almost empty, which is no surprise since it’s almost eleven o’clock, and everyone is probably in class. Only two people are watching television, and they are both new here.

  I walk over to one of the empty seats and sit down, plopping my bag beside me. I don’t know what else to do. If I was still in rehab, I would head over to the treadmill and jog out the anxiety I feel creeping up. I know how to recognize it now and know what to do with it, or at least what not to do with it. I can’t get on the phone and call my dealer. I can’t go to my secret stash and take a hit. No, not this time. I look at the door, waiting for my car to arrive, and then I spot him. Matthew Grant.

  “Well, look at this. I get the VIP treatment.” I smile and get up, holding my hand out to him. The nerves appear in full force. I wait for the inner doubt to creep in also, telling me I’ll never be good enough.

  “Figured I’d give you a lift home,” he tells me, and I just nod as I turn and pick up my bag. It holds the clothes I have here that fit me, and from the time I started, the pile got smaller and smaller. My mother did send me a couple of pairs of jeans but nothing more than that. I told her not to bother, and I would get everything once I got to New York. My new home.

  “Have you been discharged?” he asks, and I nod at him again. “Then let’s hit the road. The plane is waiting.”

  We pass the receptionist on our way out, and I give her a smile and a nod. When I see her sigh, I know I’ve still got it. I knew I always had it, but it’s just a little confirmation that everyone looks for. I get into the black truck right next to Matthew, and we stay silent. When the truck takes off from the facility, my heart hammers in my chest. It’s so loud I look over and see if Matthew can hear it. When I see him looking out of the window, I know it’s just the echoing in my ears. I take a deep breath in and then exhale, counting to ten in my head, then to twenty, and then finally to a hundred. The beating slows to a normal pace, and I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking about how I just saved face from having a full-blown panic attack in the front of my new boss.

  The car ride to the plane is silent, and when we get on the plane, I take the seat in front of Matthew. The attendant comes over and asks if we would like something to drink.

  “Water, please,�
�� I answer. She just smiles at me and then turns her attention to Matthew, who orders the same.

  I’m not expecting Matthew to say anything, or at least to wait until we are in the air, but again he throws me for a loop. “I bet you’re wondering why I signed you?” he asks me, and I just stare at him.

  “I know why you signed me,” I tell him, trying to hide the fact that I am, in fact, wondering why in the world he actually signed me. “You’d be a fool not to sign me.”

  I look at him while he puts his head back and laughs out loud. “You think very highly of yourself,” he says, and I just shrug. “But I can’t ignore that when you’re on fire, you are on fire.”

  My thumb taps the table “And that’s why you signed me.” The plane finally takes off, and I look outside and then look back at him. Sitting there in his suit, the new general manager of the New York Stingers has been on the job for two years. Before retirement, he was the captain of the team. If you ask me, he still had a couple more years left in him. The attendant comes and places two glasses of water on the table. I pick up my glass and pray that my hand doesn’t shake.

  “You’re right, but I didn’t sign you for the bullshit you’ve been pulling for the past two years,” he tells me, leaning back in his seat. “Listen, I’ve been down. Fuck, my career was nonexistent when I went back home with my tail between my legs, but I got a second chance.” I don’t say anything as he spills his story. “And now I’m giving you yours.” I don’t know what he expects me to say, so I just wait for him to finish. “We are piss testing you weekly until I think it’s good enough. If you don’t like the terms, you can leave now.” I glare at him.

  “I need to find a realtor,” I tell him. “I have my stuff waiting to be shipped from LA.”

  “Already ahead of you there. My sister Zoe will meet with you tomorrow afternoon,” he tells me. “She is the best there is, and if there is a house out there, she knows about it. You can stay in Max’s loft for the next month until you get your stuff settled.” I nod my head and then turn to the attendant as she comes over and places two plates on the table. Each of them contains a steak with potatoes and a side of lobster tail. We don’t talk while we eat because, really, what more is there to say?

  When the wheels finally touch down, I look at Matthew. “Welcome home, Viktor. Welcome to New York.”

  What he doesn’t add, but I can hear loud and clear is don’t fuck this up.

  Chapter Two

  Zoe

  “I have three houses to show you tomorrow.” Pressing my shoulder to the phone, I say, “All are in your budget.” I make sure to mention that since it’s the first question he’ll ask me.

  “I will tell the missus,” he says gruffly. “She was talking about switching firms and maybe having better luck with someone else.” I roll my lips and say a silent prayer to whoever is listening at this point. This will be the seventh time we are seeing houses, and they have said no to the previous twenty listings I’ve shown them.

  “That would be a shame.” I pinch my nose, closing my eyes. “I have one that was just emailed to me. It’s not even listed yet, and it’s in the exact neighborhood you wanted.”

  “Okay, dear, we’ll give you another shot,” he mumbles, and I open the listing that came to me two hours ago that I was going to turn down.

  “Perfect. I will see you tomorrow.” Hanging up, I toss my phone on the desk, then lean back and stretch. It’s almost five o’clock. I can’t believe the day is almost over.

  Looking out the little window in my home office, I close my eyes for just a second, but my mind doesn’t shut down. Instead, it makes mental notes on what I have to do next. My job is my number-one priority in my life, and I work my ass off. Four months ago, I closed on twenty-two houses in one month, a top record for my firm. I’m one of the top players in the real estate game in New York City. It’s fucking cutthroat, harsh, and it’s anyone’s game. I may look nice with my long strawberry blond hair and angelic blue eyes, but you fuck with me, and I’ll cut your balls off. I will also use my charm to get the deal and close it. I will flip my hair if you want and bat my eyes as long as I know you will be signing on the dotted line.

  The house I live in has gone from one family member to the next, starting first with Karrie and Matthew, who fell in love at first sight. Then Allison took it over only to fall in love with Matthew’s enemy, Max. Finally ending with Zara, my twin, who ended up with Evan and lives in Long Island in the mansion I found them. Now not only does she live an hour away from me, but she’s also expecting her own baby. We can’t explain our bond. It just is. Pushing off the desk, I grab my phone and make my way downstairs to the kitchen.

  A collection of photos of all of us line the whole wall going downstairs. It started with Matthew and Karrie and slowly got filled up with everyone who’s lived here.

  Walking into the kitchen, I open the fridge and find it half empty. I take my phone out and order a pizza.

  My phone buzzes in my hand the minute I press confirm. “I swear I didn’t do anything.” I smile, grabbing a bottle of water and walking to the couch.

  Matthew’s laughter fills my ear. “Hey, squirt.”

  “You know I’m almost twenty-four, right?” I make my way to the living room throwing myself on the couch, sinking in, and then reach over to grab one of the throw covers to cover my bare feet.

  “Almost twenty-four is still in squirt age,” he says, and I hear honking in the background. My brother is seventeen years older than us. My dad fell in love with our mom when he showed up at her arena to train. From all the stories they’ve told us over the years, it was one look and he was gone. Matthew was fifteen, and Allison was five. Their father is long gone, out of the picture, but no one will ever tell me or my family that my father isn’t his father. Blood or not, they are the same person. “I need a favor.”

  “Holy shit, is hell freezing over?” I laugh, grabbing the remote. “Remember last year when you got mad at me and said you weren’t ever asking me for anything again?”

  “You put Karrie in a bikini and had her pose next to a pool for one of your real estate ads,” he hisses. “You made it sound like she was single.”

  I roll my eyes; my brother is a caveman. Actually, all the men in my family are a bit to the extreme. “I’m surprised you didn’t walk around town with her beating a hand to your chest saying mine.”

  “I thought of doing a billboard of us in Times Square,” he says quietly. “But she vetoed it.”

  I roll over in laughter. “Why am I not surprised you would suggest that?”

  “Anyway, I have a huge favor.” His tone turns serious, but with him, you never know.

  “What now?” I ask him.

  “Can you come to the arena tomorrow at three?” he asks me, and now he’s piqued my curiosity. “I’m working with our new guy tomorrow, and it’s the perfect time for you to meet him.” Matthew is or was the hockey “It” guy until he retired two years ago. He hung up his skates, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the game anymore. He’s now the general manager for the New York Stingers. Where Matthew was the “It” guy in hockey, our father is the hockey god. He still holds some of the highest titles, and everyone wants to be him.

  “Are you setting me up on a date?” I ask him, knowing that’ll irritate him. He hates the fact we, his sisters, date. He hates the fact we have sex, and if it was up to him, we would live in a bubble. “I haven’t been out in forever.”

  “Are you crazy?” he hisses. “Don’t even talk like that, especially when you are here. The last thing I need are the rookies going apeshit over you.”

  “You are such a buzzkill, Matthew,” I moan. The doorbell rings, so I get up and walk to the door. “So what do you need me for if it isn’t to rock his world?”

  “Jesus Christ,” he groans. “You are going to give me a heart attack.” I smile, knowing he is probably standing wherever he is and rubbing his chest, believing this. “The new guy needs a realtor,” he says. I open the door, sm
iling at the guy, and grab my pizza.

  “Thank you.” I block the phone while greeting the six-foot-three hunk in front of me. He just nods and turns to walk down the stairs. I stand here appreciating his backside. Hey, men aren’t the only ones who can look.

  Matthew’s voice brings me back from my daydream. “Anyway, he’s living in the loft for now,” he mentions. I lived in the loft my brother-in-law Max owns before I moved in here. It was amazing until the guy upstairs left his water running and ruined everything. It’s now back to what it was, if not better, but I’m in the brownstone in Brooklyn now.

  “What budget do you think I’m working with?” I ask him.

  “I have no fucking idea,” he says. “Don’t ask me anything. Just can you please help me?”

  “Okay,” I say, putting the pizza on the table in the living room. “But it’s going to cost you.”

  “Remember when I got the hottest guys in hockey to take you and Zara to prom?” he says, thinking he’s smart.

  “They wouldn’t even hold our hands,” I snap at him. “We had plans to lose our virginity that night.”

  He laughs. “You’re lucky they sat next to you.”