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Synopsis
My life ended the day I answered the door and found
out James had died. Writing has become my only release and secluding myself from the people
who constantly judge me for my way of grieving has made me famous. I'm not ready to love
again, in fact it's not even a thought. Someone needs to tell that to Liam. He's breaking
through all of the walls I've worked so hard to create. How can one man be so intriguing?
He just gets me, maybe a little too well.
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Chapter One
Olivia
These
bags are extremely
heavy. I should've asked Michael to help
me, but I'd hate to inconvenience him and his new wife. There really isn't anyone else to call for
help since they've all stepped out of my 'crazy' world; the sudden changes I
made scared everyone off. I can still
hear their comments about how unstable I am.
'Who quits their job to write a book?'
Yeah, well bitches, I did. I've
written five novels in a series and I have plans for so many more, but none of
them know that. They seriously think I
sit here in my apartment and grieve.
I didn't
become a New York
Times bestselling author by crying myself to sleep at night. I don't have time for tears; there are
places
to go and people to meet. I'm headed to
a book signing in New York City
I just
wish I could have
one more day with him. I'd love to show
him that I'm doing it, even though our friends and family have zero faith in
me. He always believed in me and
supported me in everything I set out to do.
Very few people find a person who truly comes through for them when they
have off the wall ideas. You know, like
work as an accountant for six years and then one day decide you'd like to write
a book. I guess it didn't help that I
decided to do that exactly one month from the day he died.
He
would’ve been one
hundred percent behind me, but he's not here, so I go it alone. Don't get me wrong, I miss him
like crazy,
but that won’t bring him back to me. As
for everyone else, they stepped away from me when I needed the support the
most. They got off this crazy train and
it doesn't circle back around to pick up passengers who jump ship. Michael’s the only one who
has had much to do
with me since I 'went crazy'.
To be
honest, my emotions
were so out of control that it took me spilling it all onto paper for me to be
able to cope with everything. I miss him
so much and everyone wants me to 'talk' about it. I just can't and it's easier to work through my
demons on my own.
I finally
work my way past
airport security after checking my luggage.
Obviously, security isn't getting any easier to pass through because I had
to be scanned separately from the others.
It's probably because they sense the 'crazy' that the others speak
of. This loneliness is partly my fault,
but it would've been nice for them to believe in me a little.
The
flight is full of
people and should be interesting. I
haven't been in a crowd of people since the funeral almost a year ago. This is a big step for me,
though. A book signing in New York
City
I sit in
my window seat
and hope for the peace I need to stay focused on my inner strength to get
through this weekend. My ear buds begin
to blare one of my favorite Hinder songs and I pull my magazine out of my bag
to stay entertained for the non-stop flight across the states.
The
passengers keep piling
in and I begin to wonder just how large this airplane is. I paid extra money to fly First Class in
hopes of staying under the radar of any chatty passengers and kids that don't
mind their parents.
I’m
trying to stay focused
on my article while someone is reaching over my head to load his luggage, completely
distracting me. I really should’ve
purchased the seat next to me. Why didn't I think of that before now? Even with
the help of the flight attendant he
has to force the bags into the compartment.
How the hell much stuff does he
have?
I
purposely don't make eye
contact with him after he flops into the seat right beside mine. His leg pushes against mine a few
times and
he seems extremely restless. I'm not
sure if it's intentional, but it seems that way.
We
begin to prepare for
take off so I pull out my ear buds to hear all of the safety information. Watching and listening to
the flight
attendant give her instructions kind of overwhelms me, but I'm sure it'll all
come to me in case of a true emergency.
It's not like we'll survive if this huge bird has a real emergency
anyway.
I slip the
buds back in
for take off and begin to read again. It
isn't until he presses his leg into mine again that I begin to get
irritated. His posture is slouched and
he's noticeably oblivious to the fact that he's invading my space with his huge
legs spread open like that.
"Excuse
me." I yank out an ear bud and let
it fall against my chest while I use my hand to gesture toward his leg. I'm sure my face is telling
him exactly how I
feel, because it never lies. I have a
very shitty poker face.
"No
worries. You're not bothering me." The shock on my face from his audacity has
him smiling.
"You're
bothering
me. So if you don't mind, please move
your leg." I sit back in hopes of
him doing as I ask and grab the ear bud to reposition.
"Nah. I don't mind.
Sorry, ma'am." Ah HELL NO.
He did NOT just call me ma'am.
That makes me feel so damn old. I
choose to attempt to ignore him and move to plug my ear again, but hell if it doesn't bother
me. His stare begins to heat my skin—you know,
like the weird feeling you get when you can tell someone is watching you. I shift so that I'm
turned more toward the
window and try to enjoy the view of the landscape below. The feel of his leg brushing up against
mine
again causes me to pull further away from him.
I notice the touch of his finger on my shoulder and everything inside of
me wants to stand up and scream for this creep to get off of me. My head whips around to glare
at him when I
notice the attendant staring at me in the aisle.
"Would
you care for
something to drink?"
"Yes, I'll
take a
water, please."
"One
water, one Jack
and Coke. I'll be right back." Why do I let it shock me that this character
is drinking at 8:30 in the morning? It
really shouldn't shock me at all.
"Don't
you think it's
kind of early to be drinking like that?"
"It's
okay. I drink Coke any time of day!"
"Right....
Well, good
luck with that."
"You're
pretty
stiff. You could probably use a drink
like that yourself!"
"I'm not
stiff, so
keep your comments to yourself, if you don't mind."
"I think
you are stiff and you have to live a little,
but I’ll work on keeping that to myself."
Who does he think he is? He doesn't get to judge me after only sitting
beside me for a couple of minutes.
"You
have no idea
what I'm going through, so don't try to judge me based on the few minutes
you've seen me today."
"Touché. Let me apologize and maybe we can start
over." I wait for his actual
apology and find myself waiting too long.
My impatience grows wild and I can't believe I'm letting this guy really
get to me. He enjoys my silence a little
longer before he finally speaks.
"I’m
truly sorry for
calling you stiff. Please accept my
apology and let me buy you a drink."
He watches my face very closely and must finally get a clue that he’s
pissing on a ticking time bomb. He
extends his hand in an introduction-like stance.
"Liam
Bryant." The disgust on my face has to be obvious as I refuse to shake his hand or willingly
touch
anything of his. His sexy as hell grin
flashes across his face and damn if my eyes don't betray me. Those lips are the kind you want to
watch
someone run their tongue over. There is
an awkward silence before I begin to reach out to accept his
introduction.
"Olivia
Drake." My eyes get caught up in
his gorgeous baby blues for a few seconds before I realize our hands are still touching. I pull back
slowly and shift back in my
seat.
"Olivia
Drake, what
has you headed to New York
City
"Business trip."
"Me,
too. Do you travel there often?"
"No, this
is my first
time."
The
drinks arrive and he
immediately asks for a second drink of the same. "The lady will have what I'm
having." His persistence is such a
pain in my ass. This flight is going to
be torture if I continue to let him get to me so I send the flight attendant a
smile in agreement.
He leans
back in his seat
in such a relaxed state next to my very straight, upright and uptight
posture. Taking note of that makes me
realize I am stiff and tense. I prefer to call it focused and driven, but
those words don't really explain my posture.
I try to
relax a bit by
leaning the seat back and decide to prove to myself that I'm not stiff.
He offers me the Jack and Coke just as I have this epiphany, so I gladly
accept his challenge.
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About the Author
Hilary Storm lives with her high school sweetheart and three children in Enid,
Oklahoma. She drives her husband crazy talking about book characters everyday like they are real
people. She graduated from Southwestern Oklahoma State University with an MBA in Accounting. Her
passions include being a mom, writing, reading, photography, music, mocha coffee, and spending time
with friends and family. She is the international best selling author of the Rebel Walking
Series.
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