Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
She left behind the betrayal, pain, and man who shattered her heart.
Travis Phoenix.
Once her safe place.
Now a world-famous rockstar drowning in fame, addiction, and regret.
For two years she tried to forget him. Tried to rebuild herself far away from the life that nearly destroyed her.
But some ghosts refuse to stay buried.
Now she’s coming home after an accident gives her no other choice.
She tells herself it’s for closure. Just to make sure he’s okay.
To face the past and move on.
But the moment she sees Travis again, she realizes something has changed.
He’s darker.
More dangerous.
And harder to resist than ever.
The boy she loved is gone, replaced by a man battling demons he can barely control
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
They say the dying don’t feel the cold. Maybe the body saves its last energy for shock, a neat evolutionary trick. My body seems to have missed that memo, because I feel everything—the rain stinging my face, the warm blood soaking my shirt, the clanging of steel doors when the ambulance crew pulls them open, shouts echoing through the night. Someone with cigarette hands drags me onto a plastic sheet.
I try to blink, but it would seem my eyes have forgotten how to work. Instead, I lie there, piercing droplets of rain hammering into my eyeballs as I stare blankly up at the buzzing neon sign. They’re asking my name, repeatedly, and I know the answer, it’s in there somewhere, but my mouth refuses to cooperate.
I’m surprised how much this doesn’t scare me.
Somehow, my dad found out what happened, because suddenly he’s there, howling, “You better let me see my fuckin’ daughter or so help me God, I will fuckin’ make a scene you won’t forget.”
“Sir! Step back!” a cop, or maybe EMS, bellows back.
I want to tell him it’s okay, but the words keep slapping against the back of my teeth, refusing to escape.
They pack me into the ambulance, and my body feels strangely limp, as if my muscles have just forgotten how to work. My arm slides off the gurney and flops. The paramedic beside me, a young lady who barely looks older than me, smiles down as she takes my hand and continues talking, trying to get answers that I am still unable to give.
Eventually, she works a needle into my vein and I half-laugh, because I can feel the sting of the needle far more than the pain of the bullet that ripped through me only moments ago. My father is still roaring outside, louder than the rain. I wonder if they will let him in. I wouldn’t put it past him to shoot his way in, if need be.
That wouldn’t end well for any of us.
I shift—at least, I try to. My pulse is thumping, relentless. My body wants to give in, float away like the rain over the highway, but I dig in. I don’t want the easy way. I want the part where people are proud of me for surviving.
“Violet, can you squeeze my hand?”
The paramedic is back to attempting questions that I am still not answering.
I imagine what Dad will say when he finally reaches me. I can almost hear his voice, hoarse and bruised, promising he’ll get his shit together. He won’t. It’s not how we’re built. I wonder if Travis knows I’m here. Is he driving recklessly down the road right now, desperate to reach me?
My heart sinks.
Because I already know Travis and my story is over.
They slam the ambulance doors. My gurney rattles, and I can’t tell if I black out again or just lose my grip on the moment, because the next thing I know, I’m being pushed quickly down a hall, the blazing white light above me burning my eyes. Then, there are more hands, more voices, far too much chaos.
“She’s a lucky girl,” someone says, “she should have died instantly from a shot like that.”
I want to say I’m not lucky. Not even unlucky. I just am.
The gurney jerks left and we push through swinging doors. My cheeks prickle with sudden warmth, and my body suddenly feels very alive, like every nerve ending is on fire. Two people descend at once. I fixate on the name stitched onto the taller one’s jacket and try to get my brain to remember it: Jacob. That’s not so hard. His hands move fast, peeling away my layers, until there’s nothing left but the sticky t-shirt and my broken skin.
I hear Chief’s voice again. Of course it didn’t take him long to arrive and make his presence known once more.
They say, “Sir, you have to wait outside,” and the words he throws back at them are enough to make the room fall silent.
They let him in.
“Baby, I’m here. I’m right here. Look at me.”
His eyes scan my face, and his hands keep flexing open and shut around mine. He leans in close, pressing his forehead to mine. He whispers, “Stay with me, kid. Don’t you pull any of that bullshit, you hear me? You’re gonna get through this and tell me all about it on the other side.”
The doctor tells him that he needs to go now, time is up, but he ignores him. Chief’s voice is gravelly as he presses his lips to my forehead. “I love you, Violet. I’m so goddamn sorry.”
I blink—just once, because it feels like it takes every single ounce of strength to pull my eyelids down and shove them back up. I want to grab his arm, or squeeze his hand, or just simply smile, but nothing is working.