Choosing Forever: Book 2 in the Torn Duet Read online

  Choosing Forever

  Book Two in the Torn Duet

  Mia Kayla

  MAM BOOKS LLC

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Thank you!

  Marry Me for Money Prologue

  Also by MIA KAYLA

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by Mia Kayla

  www.authormiakayla.com

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at

  Cover Designer: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pair Creative

  www.perfectpearcreative.com

  Cover Photography: © 2017 Scott Hoover

  Interior Design & Formatting: Christine Borgford

  www.typeaformatting.com

  Developmental Editor: Megan Hand www.meganhandwrites.com

  Copy Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind the Writer www.facebook.com/behindthewriter

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9863593-9-2

  To my writer and reader and blogger friends…

  Thank you for believing in me, lifting me up, sending me sweet PMs and continuing to read my books. I’ve met some great people in this book world and am forever grateful.

  Chapter 1

  “Hawke.” I kissed his face to wake him. “Are you okay?”

  No response.

  All my muscles tensed. Everything in my body screamed to push the panic button, but I kept steady.

  I lifted his head, but it dropped against the pillow.

  Then, pure hysteria slapped me in the face. My heartbeat raced. Full-body tremors overtook me.

  My hands shook him as I said his name, slowly at first, but then my voice heightened to a crazed tone. “Hawke!”

  My head dropped to his chest.

  Hearing nothing.

  But cold, dead silence.

  Something was wrong. Tears coursed down my face as I pushed at his shoulders, the bed shaking from my movements. For a brief moment, I flashed back to my mother’s room, trying to get her to wake up but it wasn’t working. Wasn’t working because she was already dead.

  Tilton busted into our bedroom, like a man charging into a heist.

  My vision was blurry from my tears. My breathing was raging from my panic. My hearing was muffled from my screams.

  His eyes assessed the situation in two seconds before he stormed out of the room.

  Hysteria inside me climbed to an uncontrollable state. “Hawke!” I cried, trying to revive him.

  Suddenly, multiple people rushed into the area at once.

  I heard someone say, “Call Alan.” Like Alan was God or something.

  My eyes, my focus, my hands were all on Hawke.

  I pounded into his flesh, words slurring through my dread. I told him not to leave. I told him I needed him. I told him I was here for him. But I couldn’t shake this fear, this horror I felt in my gut.

  Strong arms wrapped around my waist. Familiar arms. But my hands were outstretched, reaching for my boyfriend. A woman, Alan, and another tall male I didn’t recognize now surrounded Hawke as I was being pulled away. Away from my man. The tall male had medical gloves, but he wasn’t in scrubs. They propped Hawke up against the headboard, but he was still unresponsive. In the next second, the taller male took out a long syringe.

  I screamed for them to stop because I didn’t know what was going on. I kicked and yelled and fought the arms that were slowly taking me from the room. Before the door shut, I saw the tall male in jeans and a button-down shoot the syringe into Hawke’s thigh.

  Soft, muffled words were uttered above my head, “He’ll be okay.” The phrase was spoken over and over.

  Two other bodyguards I recognized were pushing people out the door.

  And then clarity hit me through all the fog.

  This was the cleanup crew.

  “Call Alan,” someone had said.

  He was the head janitor, cleaning up the mess.

  The bouncers were clearing out the party.

  The medical team surrounded Hawke’s body.

  And that syringe.

  They were trying to save his life.

  Tilton ushered me down the hall to another suite. The water works would not stop and no sounds left my mouth. I felt like one of those crying baby dolls you fed water to, face devoid of emotion but tears streaming down the cheeks.

  By this time, I was hiccuping, and all Tilton could do was stand beside me, witnessing my breakdown.

  Who knew how much time had passed, but when I peered up, Alan walked into the suite, smiling, as though nothing had happened. I wanted to ask if Hawke was okay. I wanted to beg him to let me see him, but I didn’t want to talk to Alan directly. Because I was disgusted. I couldn’t believe someone who was supposed to keep them together and safe would allow this.

  Alan ran one hand through his curly dark hair, strolled to the bar, and poured some copper-colored liquor into a glass. “Drink?” he asked me.

  All I could do was glare at him, inhaling and exhaling to calm myself. I had no words for him. None.

  “He’s okay,” he said, shrugging, as if everything was fine.

  I still hated him, but the relief that came over me was overpowering. I cowered into myself, dropping my head into my hands. My whole body visibly trembled with relief.

  I’d had an inkling that Hawke was okay, but now that I was sure, all my emotions poured out in tears for Alan and Tilton to witness. The situation reminded me of my mother. The memories of her and the pain I’d felt burned brightly in my brain. I was reliving the past—only, this time, my loved one was okay. He was alive.

  “Sam.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to know what Alan had to say.

  “You’re going home, Sam.”

  I lifted my head and sucked in a breath when Alan threw a stack of hundreds onto the bed. It was held together by a single rubber band.

  “Just don’t make contact. Don’t talk to the press, and we’re good.” He gulped back his drink, his eyes studying me.

  I blinked a couple of times before finding the ability to speak. “Are you paying me off?” I hiccuped. “For what?”

  “To keep your mouth shut and leave him alone.” He turned away from me and poured some powdered substance into his glass.

  What is wrong with the people here?

  How could they throw people away like trash when it didn’t suit them anymore?

  Their money and power had no limits.

  The drugs. The partying. The lies.

  I guessed he would allow the band to live this sort of lifestyle as long as their talents fed his pockets.


  “Sam, Sam, Sam,” he said, his tone low and condescending, “do you think this is the first time I’ve been down this road with Hawke?”

  His words confirmed my doubts, and I bit my tongue to prevent any emotions from showing on my face. If he was bluffing, I wanted to keep my best poker face on.

  “He’s like this every weekend.” He let out a cynical laugh that had invisible spiders biting every inch of my skin with venom so strong, it kept me from moving. “Except when you’re around,” he muttered under his breath.

  “You’re lying.” My voice was steady, my eyes firmly on his, assessing his reaction.

  He shook his head and tipped his chin toward Tilton behind me. “These chicks, they always think they’re special, don’t they? One of a kind, that our boys will change their ways for them. If you think you’re the only one, honey, I hate to break it to you”—he let out a bitter laugh—“but you’re not.”

  He tipped back his drink, finished it off, and then met my stare. “But there is something about you. Yes, I’ll admit that. Hawke has never been as hung up on anyone as he’s been with you. But, still, it hasn’t stopped him from screwing anything with two legs and big tits.”

  I stood, my fists clenched at my sides, all self-control gone. “You’re a liar!” I shouted. “You’re probably their dealer, aren’t you? If they’re so high on whatever you gave them, then they’ll do as you say.”

  He chuckled darkly. “You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you? That I’m their master, and they’re my puppets? So that when he’s inside another woman, it’s my fault, not his? Dumb girls.” He nodded at Tilton. “Get her out of here. First flight back to wherever she’s from.”

  Then, he stalked out of the room, leaving me an emotional, manic mess.

  My hands shook and all I felt was numbness from the tips of my fingers to the middle of my chest. My breathing came in big, broken puffs. I needed a bag to hyperventilate into.

  Alan was lying; he had to be.

  “Miss Clarke.”

  When I glanced at Tilton, he held the door open, waiting for me to make my exit. From the slight movement of his mouth, I knew he felt sorry for me. But he didn’t have to because, for the first time since I had been thrown into this love affair, I felt sorry for myself.

  Alan’s words had been like a sledgehammer to my heart, but I had made the choice to come here. I had chosen to be Hawke’s girlfriend when I knew what his life was like. I knew how many girls threw themselves at him every day.

  Pushing down the pain, I followed Tilton out and took the walk of shame down to the lobby. I’d left my backpack in Hawke’s room, the money on the bed, and my heart in Seattle as I headed back home because I no longer cared.

  I walked through my apartment door in a daze, my cheeks still stained with dry tears. The morning sun was shining through our curtains, indicating the beginning of a new day, and my heart constricted. Because the beginning of one day meant the end of another.

  My lips quivered, and my mind flew to the night before, seeing Hawke’s unresponsive body lying on the silky satin beneath him. Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks as I trudged to my best friend’s room.

  When I opened the door, Chloe lifted her head from her pillow.

  One look at my face had her jumping up and wrapping her arms around me. “Oh, Sam. What happened?”

  Sobs shook my shoulders as I collapsed into her arms. Being in her arms brought me back to years ago. Chloe had held me during my darkest moments when my mother had fallen into a deep depression, and I couldn’t deal. Chloe had held me then, and she was holding me now.

  She pulled me down to the edge of the bed and then went to grab some tissues on her desk by the window as I cowered into myself.

  “What happened?” she asked, her face filled with concern. “What did he do?”

  I cupped my hand to my mouth, not knowing where I should begin. Talking about it would make it more real. The reality of my situation was that my relationship with Hawke had been a made-up lie, but more than that was his condition.

  I reached into my back pocket and pulled out his phone.

  “What’s going on, Sam?”

  I shook my head and brought the phone to my ear. The call went to an automated voice mail, and dread washed over me. I knew he was most likely unconscious or recovering, but the insane part of me just wanted to hear his voice for myself to know that he was okay.

  “What did the asshole do now?” she asked, her tone inflamed with anger, her expression clouded with rage.

  I hung up and called again. The ringing in my ear drowned out my friend’s voice.

  After she grabbed the phone and threw it on the bed, she framed my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  Looking into her concerned hazel eyes broke the silence within me. “I just need to know that he’s okay. They said he’s okay, but I need to hear him for myself.” My breathing slowed as I recalled the male shooting a syringe into Hawke’s body. “I just need to know. He needs to be okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” She shook my shoulders. “Sam! Why wouldn’t he be?”

  My hands flew to my ravaged heart as I tried to take deep breaths through my nose to calm down.

  “Sam! Look at me!” Her eyes blazed, her tone bristling with building hysteria.

  “Because he died. It felt like he did.”

  I fell to my knees, and Chloe dropped beside me, taking both of my hands into hers.

  “Hawke isn’t dead, Sam. He can’t be.”

  “He was dying, Chloe. He was unresponsive.” I hiccupped and closed my eyes to drown out the havoc in my thoughts.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “He was on something. I don’t know what.”

  I swiped at my wet eyes and reached for the phone again, but Chloe blocked me.

  “No, you don’t.” Fierce determination was in her tone. “He was high on something he had taken. It was his choice, and as mean as it sounds, it’s not your problem.”

  I threw both hands in the air. “How can you say that?”

  “Because he probably does this every weekend!” Her eyes dimmed like dark and angry thunderclouds.

  “Then, I have to help him.” The need to be there, to stop history from repeating itself, was eating at my core.

  “Stop right there,” Chloe ordered, squeezing my hand. “You think this is a repeat of the past, and it’s not.” Chloe’s voice softened as she ducked and leaned in closer. “You couldn’t save your mom because she didn’t want to be saved. Hawke is not suicidal, Sam. Maybe he was dealt some bad cards with his mother, but it’s his choice how he handles it, not yours.”

  “Chloe,” I begged, trying to reach around her for the phone.

  She shook her head, her face resolute. “No, I’m not letting you do this to yourself all over again. I love you too much.”

  She chucked the phone toward the other end of the room. The thud against her floor resonated in my ears.

  She tugged my hand, bringing me into one of her signature warm embraces. “He’s going to be okay, but what matters most is that you’re okay. And, as your best friend, I’m going to personally make sure that happens.”

  I fell into her arms, exhausted, as she uttered over and over that everything would be okay.

  I didn’t go after my phone again. I simply let her consoling tone calm me.

  But I couldn’t help but wonder, Will it all be okay?

  Chapter 2

  Every hour, every minute, every second dragged on like a painful surgery. Except, this time, there was nothing that could fix my broken heart.

  A week later, I watched Hawke on my flat screen television. He was sitting on a chair, surrounded by his band members, laughing and answering the interviewer’s questions, as though everything were right with the world. His face was flushed with color, opposite to the man I’d left unresponsive in his bed in Seattle. The only indication that anything was wrong was the dullness in his green eyes that were normally full of life.

&
nbsp; Knowing he was alive and breathing helped my mind, but it didn’t curb the pain in the center of my chest. Pain from our breakup and pain from my past.

  Chloe had confiscated my secret phone so that, if Hawke called, I wouldn’t know. She’d reiterated that I had to stop this crazy obsession I had with him. Though I cared for him, a part of me knew she was right.

  Seeing the booze and the hard-core drugs had told me he was playing with a whole different crowd that I had no business dealing with. At first, I had been with him for the adventure, to live out of my comfort zone. To embrace my life in my twenties because I’d grown up quickly after taking care of my mother for so long. But that life in the fast lane was just not me.

  I was heartbroken but not dumb. I wasn’t so naive as to believe that a stable life of marriage and children would happen with him.

  I stretched my arms over my head as the sun seeped in through Chloe’s curtains. I’d been sleeping in her room these past couple of nights because the nightmares had returned. The ones where I was back in Carbarny, shaking my mom’s lifeless body.

  I had called off work these last few days because I was sick. Bundled up under the covers, tissues in my hand, and snot in my nose. I was at home, sick from a broken heart and from memories that continued to haunt me. No amount of medicine or doctors could fix that, only time. I knew this. I’d been down this road before.

  “I have to get to work and meet some clients. Are you going to be okay?” Chloe asked before lifting the covers over my head. “I called in food-forcements.” Her word for reinforcements.

  She opened her door but not before glancing back and saying, “Brush your teeth, okay? It’s been a while.” She was dressed in a fitted pinstriped skirt suit and ruffle-collared blouse—what I’d call business cute and casual. “Love you. I’ll be in the living room.”

  When she exited the room, I blew out a long breath and stared blankly at the ceiling above me. I needed to move on with my life, and it needed to start now.