Rescued by Love Read online

  After surgery and six months of physical therapy, which only added to the pain and never actually helped alleviate it, I was released from the Royals team. Returning to Omaha, I was welcomed back to the car dealership where I’d worked from age fifteen until the day before I went to college. My love of cars had grown over the years, and when I returned, I easily stepped into the role of salesperson. That was almost two years ago and I’d ascended the ranks to be one of the best salespeople in the dealership. I still missed baseball and never thought I’d be back in Omaha, but shit happens. I do what I have to. That was how I approached everything in life, and that thinking had been my downfall more than once.

  During this past summer, I was having a significant amount of pain in my shoulder. When my doctors wouldn’t up dosage on my pain medications, I didn’t see any other choice but to source some additional relief from a local douchebag drug dealer who ended up making my life hell. In the beginning, I only purchased prescription pain meds, but soon the dealer was offering me samples of something a little stronger. The pain was unbearable.

  Like a pathetic loser, I caved. There was no other choice. But now I had no choice, I was at the mercy of a white God, calling me back to him over and over every day.

  I grabbed lunch on my way back to the apartment and while in a drive-thru my phone buzzed. Lifting it from the console the screen read, “Six new texts.”

  What the hell? I don’t get six texts in one day… or a week.

  Aurora: The truth is you’ll never get to see what my naked body looks like, but I think Jake did when he dropped me off last night.

  That she was trying to make me jealous was both amusing and irritating. That she didn’t remember last night concerned me. I didn’t know Jake that well, I mean, he seemed upstanding, but now I was twice as thankful I took her home.

  Aurora: As a matter of fact, I think I’ll call Jake today and see if he wants to get together for a long reminder of what my body looks like.

  Over my dead body.

  Aurora: Chloe just told me that Jake didn’t take me home. You did.

  That’s right. I did, princess.

  Aurora: Did you undress me?

  Aurora: Why aren’t you answering me? I don’t like being ignored.

  Aurora: Fine. You and your third leg can fuck off!

  Well fuck, that went downhill fast.

  “Hey, your food!”

  I turned my head to a bag being shoved in my face. I moved into a parking spot to respond to her craziness.

  Drexel: I was working out at Triple R and didn’t take my phone in. You took off your clothes and asked me to stay with you. I really wanted to stay, but I made the smart choice to leave. You weren’t in any shape to have sex—with anyone. Even yourself. No worries. After these texts, I’ll make sure to keep every part of me far away from you. Have a Merry fucking Christmas. Goodbye, Princess.

  Part of me had thought maybe she and I … could…

  Just let it go. Let her go.

  As much as I wanted to be firm in my decision to let this be my last interaction with Rory Jessen, a part of me regretted sending her the final text. Granted, the regret was a miniscule part of what I was feeling, but still, it chewed into my willpower. It made me want to do something I’d thought about avoiding for a while to see if I could live without my extra pain-management tool. For her… and maybe for me, too.

  I really wanted to drive to her house and help her understand why I was the way I was, but there was one big problem. I didn’t understand what we meant to each other or if we should even mean anything to each other. She had something special that I was attracted to. And it wasn’t only her fantastic supple ass and perky chest and hourglass figure and fathomless blue eyes. It was the feeling I got when I was around her. An annoyed, frustrated feeling that left me wanting a whole lot more and was fucking ridiculous and unexplainable. The realization made me feel like my nuts needed to be kicked to remind my head and gut I was a dude, not a chick.

  The truth was, she was the only girl who’d ever made my heart pound fast and my chest tighten when I was around her.

  I surveyed the parking lot. Although I usually tried to do my dirty little secret in private, I was pissed and needed to take away the feelings I couldn’t describe even with a thesaurus in front of me. The rush of the white powder flashed through my system faster since my heart was pounding from sending her that text. I leaned back against the headrest, and the smidgeon of regret disappeared as a flash of euphoria filled my head. Every moment stood in a clarity I’d never get any other way. This was my life and no one fit into it.

  My phone buzzed in the console and I turned it off.

  Fine on my own, have been for years.

  Chapter Six

  Aurora

  After helping Mom put up the Christmas tree, I made myself a cup of cocoa and headed back to my apartment. She kept asking me if there was something wrong, but I couldn’t admit that I’d cracked my own heart by being reckless and demanding and kind of bitchy. No mother wants to hear that her daughter acted like that.

  My impetuous side came out to spew words on Drexel that weren’t necessary or going to do anything to change the fact my heart had always held a special place for him. A place of hope and care and want that time and space hadn’t even come close to diminishing.

  I tried to keep a brave face for the holidays. Christmas Eve was only our family, opening gifts to each other. There were some joking ones and some really heartfelt ones, too. I appreciated when a gift said the person knew something about me no one else knew. Like my brother, Spencer—he gave me three new sappy chick flicks I’d missed with school commitments and he even promised he’d watch one with me. Only one. Watching those movies, absorbing the fantasy of all-consuming love, always inspired me to keep my head up for my own happily ever after. The prince was out there, but I needed to find him before a force of evil got to him first.

  I gave my parents a frame with a silly collage of selfies of my brother and me from the last few years. The amateur and goofy images said more about our relationship and probably meant more than if Annie Leibovitz herself had taken the photos. Mom’s eyes glassed over. The time for me to leave the house and start my own life was approaching. Thinking of that day made me a little emotional, too, but with this upcoming semester being my last, I was ready to take the next step in my life. The one that took me out the door permanently to my own home. This home had acted as a sanctuary more than I wanted to admit. I didn’t hide from reality, but it sheltered me when I needed the security most. This was the place my parents had shown me love was to be shared and given freely. Four walls and a roof—even as ridiculously massive, but inviting and charming as my parents’ home was—didn’t have the ability to give affection back, to share dreams and hopes and to dive into the deepest secrets the heart held onto. That place was reserved for someone special.

  New Year’s Eve, my birthday, came around and I’d stared at my cell phone for hours. My sleeping and eating had been sporadic, verifying how stressed and pissed off at myself I was. I wanted and needed to make amends. Being so dismissive to Drexel, my body ached every time I brought the memories back. From the moment I met him, I could tell there was a deep hurt in him. He’d shown me he could care and telling him to fuck off wasn’t showing him the same in return. For eleven days I’d imagined Drexel cursing my name over and over. Cursing instead of rolling it off his tongue in the way that made me almost crazy with need and hope. If I never heard that noise again, I deserved it.

  I picked up my phone.

  Aurora: I’m sorry. My last texts to you were juvenile and impulsive. And you have every right to be mad at me or never talk to me again. If you can let me apologize in person, I would appreciate the opportunity. I promise you, I didn’t mean those things.

  I was invited to join my parents to celebrate the New Year. I was positive there wasn’t anything on my end to celebrate, but they insisted my birthday was a special occasion worth having a drink or two.
After all, I would turn twenty-one right before midnight. Yay. Not.

  Around nine, I stood in the kitchen staring at the liquor choices. The few parties I’d attended in high school and college were either foamy keg beer or what they called “Trash can Punch”, which consisted of a jumble of alcohols, mostly stolen from parents’ stashes, and then either a fruit punch or a Kool-Aid added, all poured into a huge—and hopefully clean, but since it was alcohol we assumed it was self-sanitizing—trash can, add some ice, then dip a cup in. It wasn’t anything near tasty, but it did pack a punch as its name suggested.

  “Mom bought champagne. It’s in the fridge.” Dad’s voice pulled me from my daydream of a time when I seemed to have no worries and fewer wants.

  The light blinked on inside the fridge, illuminating the two emerald green bottles, standing out from the white backdrop of the milk containers.

  “Hand me one.” Dad stepped behind me. “Don’t think I didn’t see you have a glass or two … or was it more ... at Jude and Presley’s wedding?”

  “It ended up being four, wait … five, and I felt like crap the next day.”

  Dad shrugged. “Happens. But glad you didn’t drive.” He’d driven me to get my car the next afternoon. With my lack of conversation he knew something was up, but unlike usual, he kept the conversation minimal and light.

  I handed over a bottle. “But I didn’t just wallow in my crappy attitude. I kind of took it out on someone.”

  “Who?” Dad worked the cork and made a big deal out of letting it shoot across the room, hitting one of Mom’s prized Peggy Karr plates. We both sucked in a quick breath. The one of Omaha scenes wobbled against the wall, and we both released the breath as it settled back into place.

  “Oops.” Dad chuckled.

  I found three champagne flutes and the air filled with the tangy but sweet scent only champagne gives off.

  “Aurora, whoever received your hangover wrath didn’t deserve it, but I’m sure they understood what was going on. Apologize. If they don’t accept it, then that’s their problem.”

  “I tried. He hasn’t responded.”

  “He?” Dad turned his head and the champagne bubbled to the top of the glass, teetering on the edge. “Drexel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s a grown man. I’m sure he’s moved on from it. Never said a word to me at work and he’s been a selling robot since Presley’s been on her honeymoon. I’m not positive of this, but I think he was purposefully tanking his sales the last three months so Presley could earn extra money for her wedding. Charlie told me Jude and Presley paid for their wedding by themselves. Impressive young couple.”

  “And the love they have is so inspiring.”

  Dad clinked his glass against mine and took a sip, his face contorting. “I’ll be popping open that new bottle of scotch I bought today. You and your mother enjoy.” He kissed the top of my head and pulled a bottle from his cabinet. “Just call him and tell him you’re sorry if it’s weighing on your mind, but I guarantee he hasn’t given your behavior a second thought.”

  Great, even my father assumes I’m easily forgettable.

  We made our way into the family room. Overstuffed furniture, which basically acted as full-body pillows, filled the room. Mom had a talent for picking out museum quality but ultra-comfortable furniture. In five seconds, I settled into a trancelike state staring at the photos of my parents’ travels to Europe and Mexico and China. I decided to make a New Year’s resolution to travel this next year. I’d be in a teaching job in the fall and there would be breaks where I could get out and see the world. Jumping up, I grabbed a pen and pad from the kitchen desk and started contemplating a list of places I’d love to go.

  I labeled it “Where in the World is Rory?” and giggled. But my humor was soon replaced with horror. Those pictures of my parents smiling and holding each other—it was because they were there together, enjoying each other’s presence and the sights as a couple, experiencing life together. I would be traveling solo, and as much as I wanted to believe I could be independent, and I was positive I could be, I didn’t want to be.

  “Dad, how did you know Mom was the one?”

  “Wow, one glass of champagne and you’re already asking the hard-hitting questions.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, really. I’m curious.”

  He rocked his glass, clinking the two cubes of ice against each other, while contemplating his answer. “Because she never doubted me or my dreams. One day she asked me what my plans were for the future and when I told her I wanted to own the most successful car dealership in Omaha, she asked me how I was going to do that. She believed I could do it, so I did, too.”

  I’d never heard my father talk so reverently about my mother. The way they gazed at each other and how he made sure she was taken care of showed me he loved her, but I’d never considered that she was his muse.

  “She’s an inspiring woman. And very beautiful.” He raised his voice as we heard Mom’s steps on the staircase behind us.

  I laughed.

  “And he’s quite the handsome suck-up,” she said, leaning over the back of the sofa and planting a soft kiss on his lips.

  I wasn’t sure Drexel was the kind of guy to consider a woman his muse, but it might be possible, if he could just drop the brave façade covering whatever was truly consuming the real him. That he’d given Presley time to shine and earn extra money made me almost want to go to his house and tell him what I thought about him. The good things, not all those horrible things I’d cruelly threw in his face.

  My phone buzzed in my hoodie pocket. I’d opted for crappy casual over dressy done-up. No one to impress here, anyway.

  Drexel: Thanks. Enjoy your NYE and we’ll talk soon.

  Seriously, “thanks” and “we’ll talk”? I gritted my teeth. I’d apologized sincerely and…

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This man made me a special brand of crazy, but in every heart-pounding moment of irritation, there was a moment of hope and excitement.

  After refilling my glass, we watched the ball drop in New York City. We all agreed the moment wasn’t the same without Dick Clark wishing everyone “Happy New Year,” but it was a new year with new possibilities and dreams all the same. My parents were snuggling into the couch, enjoying a few first-of-the-year lip-to-lip moments, but I could tell if I left the room it would be a full-on make-out session.

  Disturbing. But awww.

  “I’m gonna head back to my place and watch one of those movies Spence gave me for Christmas.”

  Neither of them argued, which kind of cemented my third-wheel status again.

  “Happy birthday! Love you!” my parents called out as I walked past them to the kitchen.

  “Thank you. Love you too!”

  I grabbed the second bottle of champagne and headed up the back stairs. I had no plans to consume the second bottle, but after my DVD player decided to crap out, there wasn’t much else to do. I sipped the fizzy contents and imagined what my friends were doing tonight. Most had significant others. My head filled with romantic dinners and midnight kisses and ringing in the New Year in all the right ways—without picturing any of them actually getting it on.

  After half the bottle of champagne was down, confidence bubbled up in me. I grabbed my phone.

  Aurora: Happy New Year! Hope you had a good night. It’s just me and my champagne here … if you want to talk it out now.

  I shuffled to my bedroom and plopped down on my bed. Pajamas seemed like too much work. And who was I kidding? I was practically in pajamas with what I was wearing now.

  My phone buzzed next to my head as I was nodding off.

  Drexel: Champagne, again? Lesson NOT learned. Just kidding.

  Aurora: Do you hate me?

  Drexel: What would make you think I hate you? That text I sent you? Both of us can be a little impetuous.

  Aurora: Are you on a date?

  I cringed re-reading the sent text. If I couldn’t act mature, how would
he ever believe I was mature?

  Aurora: Just forget I asked. Not any of my business anyway.

  Drexel: I’m at home. Ollie and Holt invited me over for dinner, but I was afraid neither of them would kiss me at midnight so I declined.

  A smile pulled at the corners of my lips, but because of the alcohol, it was a crooked and drool-dribbling smile.

  Aurora: LOL. Come over and I’ll kiss you.

  I paused before hitting “send,” then deleted the message. If he didn’t suggest it, I didn’t want to be throwing myself at him. Maybe friends first. Real friends, and then we can be more.

  Aurora: LOL. Happy New Year :-)

  Drexel: Happy New Year

  I rolled over and hugged my phone to my chest as the alcohol relaxed me into dreamland. He didn’t hate me, didn’t mean he liked me.

  It was enough. For now.

  Chapter Seven

  Drexel

  I hated that I lied to her. But the truth was harder to admit.

  Plus, I wasn’t in any shape to see anyone. I’d taken a few days of vacation in an effort to get clean. This wasn’t the first time I’d tried. My first effort was back in October. If I’d thought that last time was a bitch, well then this time was a bitch with four-inch heels and she was stomping on both my brain and my manhood.

  Even the sound of my phone’s buzz was irritating the hell out of me.

  After the huge hit outside the restaurant in my car, out in the open, I’d realized what was supposed to be only for pain was used to numb my feelings, and it had been a wake-up moment. In an attempted payback for my reckless behavior, I’d worked my ass off at the dealership the last ten days of the year. I’d decimated Presley’s impressive monthly sales numbers, but since she was on her honeymoon and couldn’t fight back, it wasn’t that big of an achievement. Plus, I’d snorted through almost all of my stash in those ten days. With less than four hours of sleep each night, I’d be right back at the dealership each morning, in a frantic selling mode. It was a physical and mental payback for lots of things I couldn’t and didn’t want to face.