Out of Love Page 24
There are so many things I’m going to miss and I hate it. I don’t want to close this chapter—don’t want to move on. I’m not ready. More glaring proof that I’m not ready is the fact that it’s taking every single ounce of willpower to resist walking over to Foster’s desk and curling into his chair. Just to feel closer to him.
But I know I have to do this; I have to move on. It’s what’s best for my heart—and soul. I have to break free and only then will I be able to start healing and getting over Foster Kavanaugh.
Yeah, this didn’t sound remotely believable to me, either.
Chapter Sixty-One
Foster
It’s Friday evening at around seven when I pull up my truck and park right beside Noelle’s vehicle. The lights are on inside, and I know what she’s doing. Packing up. Because she’s leaving this job—leaving me. I shouldn’t be doing this—shouldn’t be showing up like this, bombarding her unexpectedly—but I can’t help myself. I have to see her one last time and get things off my chest. I have to give it my best shot.
My only options are success, I remind myself, or going out in a blaze of glory and heartache.
Punching in the code on the alarm keypad beside the door, it clicks quietly, unlocking and granting me access. Once I enter the office, I make out the faint sound of music coming from Noelle’s computer speakers. Spotting her standing beside her desk, placing her belongings into a box, I take in the sight before me since she evidently didn’t hear me enter. Her blond hair is twisted up in a clip, and she’s wearing a pair of light blue drawstring linen pants paired with a fitted gray tank top and a pair of simple flip-flops on her feet. Nothing fancy about her attire, yet she still manages to take my breath away.
“You just going to slip away quietly in the night? Never to be heard from again?”
Startled, her head whips around, hand going to her chest, before she collects herself, refocusing on her task. “Please don’t do this.”
“You can’t take that with you.”
“What?” She stares at me in confusion. She’s holding a marble paperweight that has her name engraved on it.
“That. You can’t take it with you.” I wave my hand, gesturing to the surface of her desk, now cluttered with her belongings she’s planning to pack up. “Any of that, really.”
She stares at me like I’m crazy. “This stuff is mine.”
“Right. You can’t take it.” She continues staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “It’s yours, right? So, no, you can’t take it. I’ll be lost without that stapler.” I wave to another item. “Or that notepad that has your initials on it. Or just … you.”
I pause, my eyes burning with intensity. “Especially you. I’ll be lost without you. If you leave.”
Giving me a cool, dismissive look before turning her eyes away, she tosses out, “I’m sure you’ll find another—or maybe you’ve already found a new fuck buddy. You’ll be just fine.”
“You’re wrong.” My quiet but firm response makes her eyes snap up to meet mine. “I don’t want another woman. I want you.”
“It’s too late.”
Fuck. I close my eyes at her words, at the finality of them, the way they pierce my heart and soul. I knew there was a good chance it would be too late, damn it.
“Well,” I offer a shrug, “if it’s too late, I’ve really got nothing to lose. Might as well say what I came to say.”
“Oh, and what might that be?” Her sarcasm isn’t lost on me as she focuses on collecting the stray staples that fell out messily into her desk drawer.
“That I’m an ass, and stupid. That I’m sorry I got spooked and lashed out at you. That I’m sorry I pushed you away. That you’re the first woman I’ve ever actually loved.” At that last part, her eyes fly up to meet mine, and I see the shock in them.
“That I’ve been seeing someone. A therapist who helps combat veterans with things like I’ve been dealing with. And it’s been helping. A lot.” There’s a slight softening in her features at this and it gives me a glimmer of hope. Tentatively, I take a step closer to her.
“I love you so damn much it scares the hell out of me. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, and I love that you give as good as you get.” Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I continue. “And if you stay, I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make you fall back in love with me. To show you how much I love you. To show you that I can be worth—”
“Stop.” She’s shaking her head, tears trickling down her cheeks. And that’s the moment that I realize it’s too late. My entire face falls, my shoulders slumping in defeat.
Blaze of glory and heartache? Check.
Nodding, I drop my gaze. “I understand. I’ll, uh, leave you to your packing.”
Just as I begin to swivel around to leave, she speaks. “Stop.”
My eyes meet hers and I don’t give a shit if she notices they’re shiny. Because I’ve already lost everything. I don’t have a fucking heart anymore since she’s got it. So it doesn’t matter if she sees me on the verge of tears.
Taking a step toward me, maintaining eye contact, she continues advancing until coming to a stop before me. “Now, you should know better than to break out the kryptonite on me.”
“Kryptonite?” I’m confused as hell and can’t begin to decipher her expression right now.
Sliding a hand up around the back of my head, she gives me the first smile I’ve seen in far too long. “Yeah. My kryptonite. Your heart.” Her head tips to the side, her voice growing softer. “Your love.”
Relief barrels through me. “Is that so? That’s not how I recall that story going.”
Rising up on her tiptoes, her lips barely brush mine. “Then it’s a good thing I’m the brains behind this operation, Kav—”
She doesn’t get any further, my hands reaching out to cradle the sides of her face, my lips crashing down on hers in a kiss that’s passionate, deep, and wet.
And perfect.
After a moment, I break the kiss, easing away to look down at her. “So. You planning to admit that you love me, too?”
Her face drops, nose wrinkling with an expression of faux indecision. “Meh. Not too sure it’s love. Kind of feels more like indigestion.”
Tugging her closer—close enough to feel the heat of her body pressed against mine—I flash her a smug grin. “Come on, now. Is that any way to treat the man who loves you, No’?”
She squints. “Did you just shorten my name to an answer possibility?”
There’s no way in hell I can stifle my widening smile. God, I’ve missed this—missed her. “Yep. Got a problem with it?”
Letting out a long sigh, she shrugs. “I guess it could be worse.” The corners of her lips twitch in an attempt to restrain a smile.
“Hey,” I whisper softly. “I love you.”
“For real?” she whispers in return.
“For real.” The brightness of her smile does something to me and I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do to ensure that smile stays in place.
A beat of silence passes. Then another. Until finally, my eyes narrow. “Are you planning on telling me something?”
“What?” she feigns confusion. “Oh! Yes, I’m starving.”
“Nice try.” She must see the smallest hint of worry in my expression because she reaches up to press a soft kiss to my lips.
“Hey, Kavanaugh. Have I told yet today how much I love you?”
“No.” I’m trying to resist a smile. Trying really damn hard.
“Well, I do.” Her eyes hold mine and I see the love shining in the depths of them. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Epilogue
Foster
“Seriously, Kavanaugh? Karaoke for our anniversary? That’s the best you can do?”
Noelle eyes me and, let me tell you, this woman can give some serious side eye. But I love it. I love her. Sarcasm, side eye, and all.
“Would you prefer naked karaoke?”
“Uh, let me think about that for
a minute.” There’s a millisecond of a pause. “Yes.”
Throwing my head back in a laugh, she matches it with her own. I love my horndog of a woman, and thank God for whatever miracle happened to make her love me back.
Noelle has been coming with me to a few of my sessions with Dr. Givens, and I can honestly say I feel better, lighter, and closer to being the man she deserves. Not only am I doing well—hell, great even—but TriShield Protection is doing pretty great, too. Word has been getting around about our firm and we are in more demand now than ever before. The only thing that could make this better would be if Mercer and Doc managed to get a lead on whatever the hell is going on with the call I got a while back from what was supposedly Hendy’s lawyer’s office.
As I park the truck, walking around to the other side to help Noelle out, I can’t help but be amazed at how much my life has changed in such a seemingly short amount of time.
Healthier mindset? Check.
Healthy relationship? Check.
Incredible woman by my side? Check.
In love? Check.
Ready to make it official?
I’m unable to resist smiling at that last part. The hand not linked with Noelle’s as we walk into Shenanigans to join the rest of our friends pats the front pocket of my khaki pants.
Right over top the diamond ring that’s there.
THE END
Note From The Author
Abuse isn’t always physical. It can be in numerous forms, whether verbal, emotional or mental. One thing remains certain:
You. Deserve. Better.
Sometimes, we find ourselves at a place in our lives where we stop and think, “How the hell did I get here?”, “I’m smarter than this!” or “How did I let this happen?” It’s understandable. There are individuals who thrive on manipulating others, chipping away until the other person’s confidence is gone. They put on an impressive facade, reel you in and then, BAM! Once they’ve got you hooked, they start with their evil manipulation.
To the worthless individual who once thought he could manipulate and break a kind, sweet girl long ago, the last laugh’s on you. You’re extremely lucky I didn’t have a Foster Kavanaugh and crew back then.
If you are currently in an abusive relationship, you can get out. I am living proof that it’s possible. Please don’t let another day go by without making a move to escape your “prison”.
The National Domestic Violence Hotline www.thehotline.org
or find them on Facebook www.facebook.com/NationalDomesticViolenceHotline
National Coalition Against Domestic Violence www.ncadv.org
Safe Horizon www.safehorizon.org/page/call-our-hotlines-9.html
* * *
For those suffering from PTSD, please know that you are not alone. It’s estimated that 22—twenty-two!—veterans take their own lives each day. Please don’t make that same choice. You have options (the information below is from the National Center for PTSD website):
-Call 911
-Go to the nearest Emergency Room
-Call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255
-Contact the Veterans Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255, press 1 (text 838255)
There are numerous foundations/nonprofits who provide assistance to these men and women who have sacrificed so much for our country and its people. The Battle Buddy Foundation www.tbbf.org and Irreverent Warriors www.irreverentwarriors.com are two I’m most familiar with and each do a stellar job at creating awareness as well as organizing activities/outings for our war veterans.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this book! I’d love to hear what you thought about Foster and Noelle’s story. If you would be so kind as to leave a review on the site where you purchased the book, it would be appreciated beyond words. And if you send me an email at rcboldtbooks@gmail.com with the link to your review, I’ll send you a personal ‘thank you’!
Please know that I truly appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to read this book! If you’d like to stay up to date on my future releases, you can sign up for my mailing list via this link.
Also by RC Boldt
The Teach Me Series:
Wildest Dream (Book One)
Hard To Handle (Book Two)
Remember When (Book Three)
Laws of Attraction (Book Four)
Stay Connected to RC Boldt:
Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
Website: www.rcboldtbooks.com
Coming in 2017…
Clam Jam
“Clam Jam”
Definition: the female equivalent of a cock block.
Example: You’re chatting with a guy you’re interested in and your friend comes along and lays claim to him.
Maggie
That’s my life—except it’s worse. My friend who keeps “jamming” me is my gay roommate and if that isn’t a W.T.F. moment, I’m not sure what is.
Fact: He went home with three—yes, three—of the guys I had been so sure were into me.
Fact: He’s really pissing me off. I mean, hello? I’m trying to get back in the saddle, but I’ll never manage to get a boyfriend before the age of fifty if he keeps this up.
Fact: Secretly, I wonder what it would be like if he weren’t gay. Why do all the hot, sweet, tender-hearted guys have to be gay?
Fact: My gay-dar needs a serious tune-up.
Ry
The day I interviewed for the room to rent, everything changed. I knew I had met “the girl”, except there was one small problem: she didn’t want anything to do with men. I recognized a top-notch force field when I saw one. She’d been burned badly and didn’t want to deal with a heterosexual guy as a roommate. I could’ve turned around and found another place to live, but I wanted to live there—with her.
So I had to go “undercover”.
Fact: I’m in love with my roommate.
Fact: I’m a likely candidate for carpal tunnel surgery since all the action I’ve had for the past year has been my hand.
Fact: She’s going to hate me if I come clean now.
Fact: I’m not giving up. Which means, I’ll just have to continue to run defense until I figure out a way to get Maggie to see the “real” me.
The me that loves her.
The me that would never do her wrong.
Until then, I’ll keep running off every guy who shows any interest.
Until then, I’ll continue to Clam Jam.
Click here to add CLAM JAM to your Goodreads bookshelf.
Acknowledgments
This book would have never been possible if it weren’t for the following individuals (in no particular order):
My readers! The fact that I actually have readers is just … incredible!! Thank you for choosing to read these books. Without your support, your sweet emails and reviews, none of this would be possible. I am forever grateful.
My husband, for being my everything.
Sarah, my Australian BFF. Seriously. I don’t think I could’ve made it this far without you. Thanks for letting me vent and brainstorm ideas with you. When we do finally get together, it’ll be go-time. I love you. Long time. ;)
To my incredible ‘pimpers’ galore and my street team—thank you for everything you do!!! You ladies are the best!!
Amber G., I adore you and your gracious generosity! I’m so incredibly grateful for all of your help!!
Boldt’s Beach Babes—you ladies are the most stellar individuals! I am beyond grateful for your support, excitement, and feedback when I share my ideas with you. I love you all!!
All the book bloggers out there who have been so wonderful to me! I could never manage to truly show my gratitude for all of your support. Please know that the time you take to read and review my books and/or do promo posts is appreciated beyond words.
My beta readers who spent their own time to comb through my book and help me refine it! You all are freaking stellar and I’m so grateful for your help!!
Ms. An
ja at Hourglass Editing for helping to fine-tune this book.
Ms. Marla at Proofing with Style for ensuring this book is as perfect as possible.
Ms. Robin at Wicked By Design for creating such gorgeous covers … again and again!!
Ms. Stacey at Champagne Formats for being so awesome, answering my 5.578 trillion questions and having such a quick turnaround!
My parents for making me. It was the highlight of your life, I’m sure. Now, you can go ahead and admit I’m your favorite. I won’t tell my brother. Promise.
To all who have served and continue to serve in our military, I salute you. My books might gloss over much of what you do on a daily basis (and insert some hot sex in the mix, too) but I am ever so grateful for your courageousness and sacrifices. Thank you for fighting for the freedoms many of us take for granted on a daily basis.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen