RECKLESS - Part 5 (The RECKLESS Series) Read online

  RECKLESS

  PART 5

  By Alice Ward

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 Alice Ward

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  THANK YOU!

  THE RECKLESS SERIES IS NOW COMPLETE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER

  THE RECKLESS SERIES IS NOW COMPLETE

  Read PART 1 Here

  Read PART 2 Here

  Read PART 3 Here

  Read PART 4 Here

  This is PART 5

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  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  This is the fifth and final part of RECKLESS - a five part steamy new adult series by Alice Ward. You should start with part 1.

  Some breaks just don’t heal right.

  Andrea Mercer was devastated to learn the truth about Jace Richardson. Broken, she returns home and tries to start her life over. But things just aren’t going her way, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to escape the ghosts of her past.

  Even as she starts a new job, searches for a new place, she can’t help but feel empty and alone. But then, just when she starts to feel like she’s got a handle on things, all the choices she’s made come crashing down.

  Will her broken heart ever heal? Or will she learn that there are some things in life that you just can’t plan for or predict?

  Find out in the final installment of Reckless!

  The RECKLESS Series is intended for a mature audience, 18+ only.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I’m not sure how long I sat there on the concrete, sobbing with my arms wrapped around my knees, but by the time I got up, the sun had started to set. I trudged to the dorms, more dead than alive, the emptiness and despair swallowing me whole. Met by an empty room, I fell onto my bed in a heap of broken, betrayed nothingness.

  I’d lost my fiancé, my best friend, and the man that I thought I loved, all in one fail swoop. My career was the only thing I had left, the only thing I could cling to, but even that seemed to have been sucked down the drain, thanks to all the personal issues during my last semester of college. I’d lost my position on the paper and my grades were teetering on the edge of failing.

  I couldn’t do this anymore.

  I pulled myself out of bed, made my way to my desk, and powered on my computer. After a few quick searches and clicks, I started to pack my things. Once I’d tossed everything I had into trash bags, duffel bags, and whatever else I had on hand, I sat down to scrawl a note to Becca. It hurt, not saying goodbye in person, but I had to do this before I changed my mind.

  Becca,

  I’m so sorry I left this way, but I couldn’t stay here another minute, not when everywhere I look, I see his face, hear his voice. I’m angry and hurt still, but please let him know that I wish him and his family all the best. Maybe he can actually focus his attention where it should be with me now gone. I love you and I’ll be in touch soon.

  Your bestie forever,

  Andy.

  P.S. Keep the ring from Sean. Hock it, sell it, wear it. It’s yours.

  xoxo

  With tears in my eyes, I placed the letter in an envelope, sealed it up, and then placed it on Becca’s pillow. I only hoped she didn’t return before I made it back in the rental care to pick up my things. As much as I did want to see her one last time, I knew she’d try to talk me out of leaving, and at that point my mind was made up.

  I just wanted to go home.

  ***

  I had never made a cross country drive in my life, and I was starting to wish I hadn’t decided to give it a try. Not that I’d really had a choice; since I had way more stuff then than I had when I’d started college, it was either drive or stick around another day to ship it all home.

  I’d opted for driving.

  Unfortunately, I had been completely oblivious just how taxing driving across country could be. And I’d sorely underestimated the size of Texas; I had tried to make it to New Mexico, but I started feeling like I might fall asleep at the wheel if I didn’t stop soon. So, exhausted, grungy feeling, and still a little numb from all that I’d been through that day, I found the first hotel off the highway in Lubbok.

  The Days Inn boasted a bigger-than-life advertisement of an indoor pool and free Wi-Fi. I didn’t really care about either, to be honest. A shower, clean towels, and a bed were the only things that mattered to me at that point because, first thing in the morning, I’d hit the continental breakfast and be on my way. The more distance I could put between me and Jace Richardson, the less I’d think about turning back around . . .

  I hoped.

  ***

  I called my parents from a Boise, Idaho hotel room. The entire drive, I had fought with the conflicted feelings—the pain of my choice to leave paralleled by the excitement to be heading home—and had put it off until then. Maybe I’d finally decided to call because, with its greenery and mountain ranges, the place kind of reminded me of home. Or maybe it was just because I was well over halfway there, and so no one—not even my mom and dad—could convince me to turn back.

  But they hadn’t tried to, not even a little, which was a little strange to me.

  “Oh, no, sweetie,” my mother had said. “We completely understand. You can always repeat your last semester here, if you want. And of course you can come home until you get on your feet.”

  Essentially, I had ended the conversation feeling even more confused and conflicted than I had when it began. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it would distract me from the sick feeling twisting in my gut, the one that told me I’d made a mistake, that I never should have left, that I should have talked to Becca, or Jace, or anybody before driving away.

  That feeling had started somewhere between Albuquerque and Salt Lake City. Ironically, that was also about the time that Becca and Jace’s calls had started flooding in. I’d shut my phone off and stuffed the feelings as best as I could, but they were still there, tugging at the back of my head and my heart.

  I couldn’t count how many times I’d almost given in, turned around, headed back to Texas, but I knew those nagging thoughts and feelings were wrong. What could I have misinterpreted about what I’d seen? Jace’s lips had clearly been on that woman. So what if it was just her cheek. The way he looked at her . . . he definitely loved her.

  Just like he’d said he loved me.

  He’d lied. Plain and simple. There was no getting around that, just like there was no way of getting around the fact that I’d given up my entire life for a man I’d barely known, for a man that had mislead me and used me.

  I didn’t love Jace Richardson.

  I hated him.

  ***

  I pulled into my parent’s empty driveway, killed the ignition on my rental car and sat there, staring up at the blue and white two-story house. This place, the one that I had grown up in, somehow felt d
ifferent. Maybe because I was starting over. Maybe because I felt like I didn’t belonged there. But it didn’t matter anymore; I was home now, and it was time to start figuring out what I was going to do from there.

  But first, I needed a drink.

  I didn’t even bother with grabbing my boxes out of the car before heading up the walkway to the front door. I didn’t shower. I didn’t do anything but flip on a few lights on my way to grab a bottle of wine from my parent’s cupboard. Not even bothering with the glass, I headed up to my bedroom, shut the door, climbed under the covers and browsed Netflix for something with a lot of action and blood.

  The last thing I wanted right then and there was to feel, to cry over some sappy, romantic girl movie. Fuck Sleepless in Seattle. Give me Black Death, Cabin in the Woods, or Here Comes the Devil. Movies that would scare the romantic out of me, that would make me forget the ache in my chest and the writhing in my gut, even if only for a little while.

  I didn’t even make it halfway through my movie before I’d finished the bottle of wine so I headed downstairs for another. I could definitely feel it the evidence that I’d had enough—the warmth flooding through my body, the swaying of the stairs as I went down them, an almost giddy feeling trying to break through my melancholy—but I needed oblivion. I needed sleep.

  Instead, I found my parents.

  “Hi, honey,” my mom said, standing from the couch to greet me. She shot my dad a quick glance before wrapping me in a hug. “Sorry we weren’t here to greet you when you made it in. We weren’t sure what time you’d get here since we couldn’t reach you.”

  “Yeah, I turned off my phone,” I said, feigning for nonchalant. I think it might have come out bitter instead, but who knew with how fuzzy my head felt. When my mother’s brow crinkled in question, apparently wanting an explanation, I shrugged. “I had to concentrate on driving.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding, but that crease in her forehead stayed.

  Dad cleared his throat and then stood up to hug me. “Do you need help getting your things inside?” he asked, releasing me.

  “No, it’s okay. You guys look wiped,” I said, a little surprised that I’d actually noticed, given my current state. “I’ll just go and get it all in the morning.”

  After a few moments of awkward silence, I finally realized where my parents were coming from, why they were so tired. “How’s Cole?” I asked, not completely sure whether or not I wanted the answer.

  “Better,” Mom said, a tired smile barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “We’re discussing physical therapy options now, things he can do to get back to walking again.”

  “Oh,” I said, breathlessly, hand on my chest. “He-he can’t walk?”

  Mom looked back at dad once again. “Not yet, sweetheart. But the doctors are optimistic.”

  Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. How could I have forgotten how much of a mess my family was already in? And now I was adding my relationship issues to the mix, as if that somehow actually mattered in the grand scheme of things. I suddenly felt pretty guilty for falling apart and drinking an entire bottle of wine. And over what? Some guy that I’d known for just a few short weeks?

  No one needed that, including me. So, right then and there, I committed to pulling myself together and moving on with my life, even if my life didn’t look a damn thing like I thought it would the day I’d left for college.

  After all, I only had myself to blame.

  ***

  Day three of being home and my phone had hardly stopped ringing. If it wasn’t Jace, it was Becca trying to reach me. At first, I just silenced the calls. Then, when the ringing bled through into the late night and early morning hours, I started shutting my phone off. I probably would have kept it that way, just left my phone off all the time, but if I was going to get a job, I needed a means of contact.

  I’d have to change my number.

  It was a little bittersweet since I’d had the same number since my parents had given me my first phone. I also felt a little guilty for changing my number on Becca. But I just couldn’t take another sleepless night. I couldn’t spend any more time dreading my ringtone.

  If I was going to move on with my life, I would have to let go—even if that meant letting go of my best friend, a friend that I missed horribly and wished was there with me . . . but I knew what she’d say. I couldn’t face that either. So, on day four, I had a new number.

  The silence was almost eerie as soon as the change went through, but it was also a bit of relief. Maybe now I could focus on getting my life back on track . . . even if I wasn’t really sure what that really meant.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two weeks and I had found a job at one of the local magazine publications. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but considering my decision to leave college just weeks before graduation, I couldn’t complain. And today was my first day.

  It hadn’t gotten off to a good start.

  I’d gone online for the first time since returning home, only to find several dozen messages from both Becca and Jace. I also had a new friend request from Zane. I blocked Jace, declined the friend request and then closed the browser before even reading Becca’s messages.

  Those messages stuck with me like garlic breath as I primped and prepped myself in the mirror of my bathroom. No matter how much you tried to cover it up, you just couldn’t get rid of it. To make matters worse, I’d be writing entertainment pieces for the publication, which was a bit ironic. I’d met Jace doing exactly that, and now, here I was, trying to get over him and had been given the exact same position at another job—a job that I had probably landed solely on Marcus’s recommendation.

  At least I wouldn’t have to worry about writing a story on Reckless anytime soon. Even if it came up at some time in the future, I’d be done and over him by then. Who knows? I might even be in another relationship by then. I only knew that I’d stopped planning for the future and had committed to living in the moment. This was my moment, my first day on the job.

  Only, as I took the light rail to get there, I ended up tripping over my own damn feet. Probably because I’d been trying not to think about all the messages from earlier that morning. Or maybe it was just a poor choice in shoes. Whatever the reason, I had coffee all down the front of my blouse.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  I didn’t have time to go home and change, and I certainly didn’t want start my first day looking like I couldn’t drink coffee and walk at the same time. Maybe I still had enough time to dart into one of the shops downtown before heading to work.

  Nordstrom was right outside my stop on the light rail. I wasn’t thrilled with paying almost sixty dollars for a brand new top, not when I’d already blown through the majority of my savings, just to get home, but what other choice did I have? No way in hell was I walking into my first day looking anything other than my best.

  After making my purchase, I headed into the coffee shop just down the street. In the women’s bathroom, I pulled the new top on, rinsed my soiled one the best I could in the sink, and then wrung it out. I carried it out of the restroom in my hand, asked the barista for a plastic trash bag, wrapped the wet blouse and then tossed it into my purse. On my way out the door, I checked my phone for the time. Fifteen minutes. That’s how long I had to walk the next six blocks.

  I just might make it, if I hurried.

  I ended up making it to work only four minutes late. My hair was probably a mess and my feet already felt like they were going to fall off from practically sprinting up and down the hills in my ridiculous choice of shoes that day, but I was there.

  A woman about my age, blonde with green eyes, sat at the receptionist desk just inside the doors of entrance. She lifted her head when I entered the room and immediately, her ruby red lips pulled into a smile. “You must be Andy,” she said, her long face tilting to the side.

  “How’d you guess?” I asked, meeting her warm smile with one of my own. It felt forced, but polite.

  “Not ma
ny people come barreling through the door at this hour unless they’re supposed to be here. Everyone else is accounted for.” She tucked some of her wavy, shoulder length hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry though, you’re not technically late since no one but me knows you weren’t here.”

  I nodded and gave her another smile. “Am I supposed to meet with someone first?” I asked, looking around the entrance area for the woman who had interviewed me (Amy was her name, I think), but there was no sign of her tall, slender frame.

  “Yes,” the girl behind the desk said with a nod. “Amy will be out shortly. She just went back to go and handle a crisis, but I’ll let her know you’re here. In the meantime, I’ll get your employee badge ready and you can have a seat over there.” She nodded to a set of chairs lined up against the wall, the same chairs that I had sat in before my interview just days before.

  As I took a seat, I wondered what kind of crisis there could for a women’s magazine company. Maybe someone had mixed up the spring and fall color palates. Or maybe there was more to choosing a shade of lipstick than I’d previously realized. Whatever the case, I figured it didn’t matter. That crisis had probably saved my ass.

  Amy came out about twenty minutes later. Her heels clacked against the floor as she made her way across the tiled floor. “Andy.” She smiled and extended her hand. I stood, put on the biggest smile I could muster, and shook it. “So sorry I’m late in getting you started. But, such is the life of running media.”

  I thought about asking what the emergency had been, but I wasn’t sure I could get it out without sounding condescending or sarcastic so I decided against it and, instead, followed the swish of Amy’s two-piece dress suit into the media room.

  The entire area was bustling with women moving from one cubicle to the next. Some were headed to the printers. Others to the coffee machine. Still others to another cubicle, likely to talk about fashion or makeup or some other trivial thing.