Promise to Keep
Promise to Keep
(Promises, #2)
Jessica Wood
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Wood
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
ERH Press
ISBN-13 978-1-940285-14-6
First Edition: February 2015
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ABOUT
Promise to Keep
I’ve loved her since we were seven. We were best friends. We even made a pact to marry each other if we were both still single at thirty. I grew up thinking I would always love her for the rest of my life.
But I was proven wrong. Because the first time I made love to her turned out to be the first time I hated her. It became the first time she hurt me, and the first time I wanted nothing to do with her.
Today, nine years after the day that broke us apart, we are both thirty and single, and fate decided to intervene. I finally discovered that the reasons behind her betrayal were far different from the ones I’d created years ago in my mind.
Now I’m torn between my hatred over what she did and my undying love for the one girl who I’ve held close to my heart for most of my life.
But is the truth enough for me to forgive her?
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ALSO BY JES
SICA WOOD
Emma’s Story Series
A Night to Forget
– Book One
The Day to Remember
– Book Two
Emma’s Story
Box Set
– Contains Book One & Book Two
The Heartbreaker Series
This is an
Emma’s Story
spin-off series featuring Damian Castillo, a supporting character in
The Day to Remember
. This is a standalone series and does not need to be read with
Emma’s Story
series.
Damian
–
Book One
The Heartbreaker
– Prequel Novella to
DAMIAN
– can be read before or after
Damian.
Taming Damian
–
Book Two
The Chase Series
This is a standalone series with cameo appearances from Damian Castillo (
The Heartbreaker series
).
The Chase: The Complete Series Box Set
– Contains All Four Volumes
Oblivion
This is a standalone full-length book unrelated to other series by Jessica Wood.
Promises Series
This is a standalone series unrelated to other series by Jessica Wood.
Promise to Marry
–
Book One
Promise to Keep
–
Book Two
Promise of Forever –
Book Three
***
Pre-Orders Currently Available
Promise of Forever
– March 31, 2015
“Forgiveness is me giving up my right to hurt you for hurting me.”
Anonymous
PROL
OGUE
CHLOE
Jackson Pierce. The man I loved. The man I betrayed. The man who hated me.
But he had every right to hate me as much as he did. The secret I’d kept from him was unforgivable, and the untimely way he’d discovered that secret had only strengthened the seed of that hatred, allowing that emotion to deeply root itself inside of him.
But no matter how much he hated me, there would always be someone else who hated me even more. Myself.
For as long as I could remember, my life hadn’t been a perfect one. It’d been the opposite of perfect. Things were never black and white, but more gradients of gray—and many ugly fucking grays. When I’d met Jackson, he had become the one part of my life that had been different—the one part of my life that’d been perfect and uncomplicated. The one part of my life that’d made me happy.
But I hadn’t expected to ever meet someone like Jackson. I’d grown up thinking that I didn’t deserve much happiness—I had no idea what happiness really felt like. So I hadn’t allowed myself to believe I deserved a person like him to care for me. I hadn’t dared to wish for anything as good as him to happen in my life. Subconsciously, I’d always kept him in the friend-zone, kept him at a safe distance for fear that if I gave in to my feelings for him, I’d somehow inevitably lose him.
In a way, that was exactly what had happened in college. I’d started to imagine the possibilities of something beyond our friendship. And it was then that I’d lost him.
A series of events had led me down a dark path, and I ended up doing something unforgivable. I’d tried to convince myself that it’d only been sex, but I knew deep down that it’d felt wrong, almost forbidden. I’d wanted to tell Jackson everything as soon as it’d happened, but fate had other plans in mind and intervened. And then somehow along the way, I’d somehow convinced myself that he didn’t need to know—that he didn’t deserve to know. And over time, as it’d become harder and harder to get up the courage to tell him about that part of my life, it’d become easier and easier to compartmentalize my two separate lives. And for over a year, I’d been both the girl Jackson knew as his best friend and the escort he was a stranger to.
It was the one big secret I’d ever kept from Jackson. But like many big secrets, they always had a way of revealing themselves.
And this one had. In possibly the worst way imaginable. My big secret ended up being the thing that tore us apart and ended our friendship.
But how had I fallen down that rabbit hole? And how had I not realized that my actions would inevitably hurt the one person who’d been there for me all these years?
I could try to blame fate or life, but the truth was no one forced me into these choices. I was a flawed person, broken in many ways. It had been my decision and I chose to go down that path.
But I also hadn’t sought out the choices I’d made. I hadn’t wanted to be an escort. It was one of the hardest decisions I’d ever had to make. And there was a reason for this decision—maybe not a perfect one, in hindsight, but during that moment in time, when push came to shove, when the lives of the people I cared about the most were on the line, and when time was running out, that was when my decision to be an escort seemed like the
only
option.
But was it worth the betrayal, the disgust, and the hurt that filled Jackson’s eyes that day when he’d discovered my secret in the way he did?
No.
No matter how much time had distanced me from that moment—the lowest of my lows—the look on his face when I’d removed my blindfold and saw that it was him had been forever etched into my memory. And every time that memory flashed in my mind, I found it hard to breathe as I felt all the regret and anguish flood back to me, taking me back to that moment.
Maybe I deserved losing Jackson for what I’d done. I had thought that myself many times over. I never even thought I’d deserved him in my life to begin with. But as unrealistic as it was for me to think he’d ever forgive me, a part of me wasn’t able to let go of the desperate hope that somehow, by some miracle, he would. And I knew deep down that as long as my heart continued to beat, it couldn’t escape the hold he had on me, it couldn’t escape the truth I’d tried to ignore. Jackson was a part of me, forever and always.
CHAPT
ER ONE
Present Day
Thirty Years Old
JACKSON
Chloe Sinclair. The woman I hated. The woman who’d hurt me in the worst way possible. The woman who I tried so hard to forget over the last nine years.
Since the night I’d stormed out of her apartment nine years ago, I thought I’d never see her again. But when I received the wedding invitation from our mutual high school friend Clara, I knew that I was wrong.
I initially planned on skipping the wedding so I didn’t have to see Chloe, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that in order to really move on with my life, I had to move on from her. Hating her, purposely avoiding her, and allowing her to be the deciding factor in whether or not I attended a friend’s wedding didn’t feel like actions of someone who’d moved on. I knew I had to go to the wedding and face the situation head on.
But as the weekend of the wedding approached, I realized that I wasn’t sure how I felt about seeing her again. I knew a part of me still hated her. I knew our friendship could never be repaired and put back together. But, as much as I wanted to deny it, I also knew that a part of me felt an excited anticipation at seeing her again.
When I arrived in our hometown days before the wedding, the memories of our childhood and friendship were everywhere and unavoidable. As the images of our past came flooding back to me, I was reminded that there was a time when I’d loved her.
If I was completely honest, I think I fell in love with her since as early as first grade. I could still remember that hot summer day when she’d moved in next door. I’d called her Pippi Longstocking and she’d called me a “big meanie,” and those had been our first words to one another. I remember thinking that she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and this was during an age when I didn’t like girls. In fact, I’d thought girls were really annoying because they giggled about everything and talked too much.
But she had been different from the other girls in school. She hadn’t giggled or talked too much. And she had even loved watching
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
almost as much as I had. Before her, I hadn’t known any girl who even watched it, let alone loved watching it.
So it wasn’t surprising that we quickly became best friends. And from pretty early on, I think I’d wanted us to be something more. But I was young and didn’t really understand what it was that I’d been feeling or what it was that I’d wanted more of between us. All I knew then was that I’d wanted to be the most important person in her life, because she was somehow the most important person in mine.
When we were thirteen, she’d lost her mom, and I think it wasn’t until then that I’d realized how much I’d cared about her. Watching her in so much pain while pretending to be okay was more than I’d been able to bear. Even though I couldn’t take away her pain, I had wanted to make sure she knew that I was going to be there for her. That was when I’d promised her that she’d never have to be alone, and that was when we made our pact to marry each other if we were both single when we turned thirty. That was when we shared our first kiss—my first kiss.
After that first kiss, it became clear to me that I’d wanted more out of our friendship. But because her mom’s death had been so recent, I’d decided it wasn’t the right time to tell her how I’d felt. I knew that being there for her as her friend was more important. And as time passed, it had become harder to tell her how I felt. I’d been scared that if I told her how I felt and she hadn’t felt the same way, things would become awkward and it’d jeopardize our friendship.
So I chickened out and never did tell her how I truly felt.
As I thought back to our childhood together and how close we’d been, I wondered if I was ready to finally face her at the wedding. But I got my answer a day early when I unexpectedly bumped into her during my early morning jog around the neighborhood.
“Hi,” she said casually with a bright smile as our eyes met.
“Hey.” My voice was flat in contrast to hers. My chest tightened at the sight of her. She was more beautiful than my clearest memories of her. But I couldn’t return her smile.
“How are you?” she asked me cheerfully. “Can you believe how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other?”
“Right.”
“Nine years, but who’s counting?” she continued with a laugh.
I stared at her, unable to respond, let alone laugh.
How can she stand there and laugh? How can she pretend like there wasn’t a reason why we haven’t seen each other?
I realized then that I wasn’t ready for this. Suddenly all the images and emotions from the last time I’d seen her came rushing back and consumed my every thought.
It was nine years ago during our junior year of college. We were attending different colleges, six hours away from each other. Our friendship had remained strong, and my feelings for her had never changed. But for one reason or another, I’d never let it show that I’d liked her in that way. In fact, there’d been times I’d encouraged her to go out with men and have some fun. Maybe I was a masochist when it came to love?
But it hadn’t been until our junior year that our friendship changed. I’d started to notice that she seemed jealous over the girls I’d been seeing, something I hadn’t noticed before. Pretty quickly, our phone calls became more flirtatious and sexually charged. It wasn’t until then that I’d finally gotten up the courage to tell her how I’d felt. I decided to visit her. She’d visited me a few times in college, but somehow, I’d never taken the trip down to visit her. When I’d told her I wanted to visit for the weekend, I could tell she was beyond thrilled about it, which only fueled my anticipation for our weekend together. I knew it’d be a weekend I wouldn’t forget. It’d be a weekend that’d forever change our relationship.
Because my only Friday class had been cancelled that week, I’d decided to surprise Chloe and take an earlier train down to see her. But when I got off the train in Philadelphia, I realized that I should probably have told her I was coming over and tried to call her. Her phone had been turned off, so I’d decided to text her in case she was in class and told her I’d stop by her apartment to see if she was there. What I hadn’t expected was what happened next.
She had been home, and she’d been waiting in her bedroom, blind-folded and with nothing on but a sexy, red-laced lingerie number that’d left nothing to the imagination. She’d invited me into her bed, and that was the first time I’d made love to her. I’d remembered how soft and deliciously sweet she’d been on my tongue as I’d explored her with abandonment. I’d remembered the sheer ecstasy of finally being inside of her as she cried out, begging for more, urging me to go even deeper and harder inside her. I’d been more than willing to oblige. And I’d remembered as I reached the peak of my climax, a thought as clear as day crossed my mind:
She feels the same about me as I do about her. Why wait until we’re thirty? I want her to be mine now.
But I couldn’t have been more wrong. It’d been only seconds after I had had that thought that my world came crashing down on me when Chloe said,
“That was incredible! Especially that thing you did at the very end. How come you’ve never done that before?”
I’d felt my chest constrict as I realized that it hadn’t been me she thought was making love to her. She’d been expecting someone else. As my body reeled from the shock of the truth, a man—the one she’d been expecting instead of me—came barging through the door, and suddenly all the air was sucked out of the room as I’d found myself face-to-face with the last person I’d expected to see.
My own father.
For one split all-consuming second after I’d seen that it’d been my father she’d been waiting on and not me, rage had filled me to my very core and all I wanted to do was grab this stranger that was in my father’s body and beat the living shit out of him. But I hadn’t acted on that rage against that man. Instead I’d taken it all out on Chloe, and the minutes that followed have since become a blur in my memories. I remembered pushing my way out of her apartment as she’d tried so desperately to stop me, to tell me why she’d done what she’d done. But I couldn’t see the tears that were falling down her cheeks and I didn’t care to hear anything that she had had to say. All I had been able to hear was the ringing in my ears as the rage gripped my every thought, and all I’d wanted to do was get as far away from her as I could.
So I’d been right. That weekend was one I’d never forget. That weekend did forever change my relationship with Chloe. But what I hadn’t expected was how
wrong
I’d been in how things would change. It’d turned out that the first time I’d made love to the girl who’d possessed my heart turned out to be the first time I’d ever hated her. It was the first time she’d ever hurt me. It was the first time I’d wanted nothing to do with her.
Now, nine years later, as we stood in front of each other for the first time since that night, I realized that I hadn’t gotten over what’d happened years ago. I hadn’t forgiven her for sleeping with my father, and I wasn’t ready to forgive her. When I looked at her, all I could think about was the fact that she hadn’t made love to me or had those same feelings for me that I’d had for her. All I could think about was the fact that of all the guys she could have slept with instead of me, she’d chosen to sleep with my father.
So the more she tried to apologize and beg for my forgiveness that morning and then at the wedding reception the next day, the colder I was toward her. I thought that there was nothing she could say that would push away the hatred I had for her. But I was wrong. At the wedding reception, I’d asked her in spite why she’d insisted on sitting right next to me when our table had eight other empty seats. She’d said:
“Because you won’t talk to me, you won’t look at me, and you won’t forgive me. Because I miss you. Very much. And every single day. Because for the last nine years, there hasn’t been a single day that I didn’t hate myself for hurting you. Because I lost my first and only best friend in the world, the man I recently realized that I love and want a life with. And because if I didn’t at least tell you all this when I had the chance, there’d be another reason to hate myself every day.”
Her words caught me by surprise. I knew they were genuine and I felt my will power to stay angry at her begin to crumble. As I took in her words, I wasn’t able to react or respond. Everything she just confessed to feeling were feelings I’d had for her, and I’d longed to hear her tell me she loved me and wanted a future with me. But as I sat there, I was torn between my hatred and my love for the best friend I’d known since I was eight—the girl I had made a pact to marry.
But before I had time to process my own thoughts, to figure out if my feelings for her were enough to overcome the hatred inside me, I heard her get up and rush out of the reception hall. I resisted the urge to run after her. I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk to her, to admit to her my feelings, to admit how much she’d hurt me, to admit to myself that I still cared for her. But as I sat there alone, I felt my resolve start to waver. As much as I wanted to hold on to the anger that tainted my memories of her, I knew I had to see her. I wasn’t sure what I’d say to her, or if I’d even say anything at all. But her last words echoed in my mind,
“…if I didn’t at least tell you all this when I had the chance, there’d be another reason to hate myself every day.”
I realized that this could be the last time I’d ever see her, and I knew that this wasn’t the way I wanted our last conversation to end.
Without giving it another thought, I got up quickly and went after her. I caught a glimpse of her standing outside talking on the phone. Just as I pushed through the front door leading out of the building, I saw Chloe faint and fall lifelessly onto the ground.
