Blue Read online

  Blue

  By

  Sarah Jayne Carr

  Published by

  Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly, LLC.

  Novi, Michigan 48374

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Blue

  Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Jayne Carr

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Artist:

  Pretty AF Designs

  Edited by:

  EAL Editing Services

  Published by:

  CHBB Publishing LLC.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  There are two angels who leave pocket change in random places to remind me they’re around. This book is for you.

  It’s also for the angel (who may still be alive and thriving) in Georgia. May you be carrying your trusty hatchet, eating a questionable bowl of Borscht, and speeding down residential streets in your blue convertible.

  Piper, this one’s for you too. Without you, there wouldn’t be a Trixie.

  Oh! That’s right! Hey, Christine? I’m going to borrow your words for three seconds: #sorrynotsorry

  This book ruined me. It ripped and tore into my soul in ways I couldn’t have imagined. There were times I had to put it away because I couldn’t handle the content. I’m not a sappy writer. Ask anyone I know. Love stories aren’t my niche. But this story? It was different. The characters were raw, passionate, and vivid to me. Each one had complicated issues and skeletons tumbling from their closets. When I thought I knew someone’s secrets? WHAM. Another twist revealed, devastating me all over again. As always, I fell hard for the cast within the pages, but this emotional roller coaster was an entirely different ride than what I’m used to.

  With that said…

  **Thank you to Clint. Every day, you put up with my updates on my word count, my chattering about the people who live inside my head, and my inconsistent bedtimes. It’s a wonder you haven’t had me committed yet. XXXOOO!!!

  **Thank you to Lyndsie. You’ve been my sounding board and my plot hole filler. Although we sometimes write at the speed of a turtle running through peanut butter, we have tiny humans thwarting our writing plans, and we have mountains of laundry piling up, you’ve still been my daily confidant. As my partner in crime, we’ve egged each other’s word counts onward and upward. You’ve helped poke and prod at me to get this book finished, whether you’ve realized it or not.

  **Thank you to Michelle. For wrangling the Kraken, and sometimes the Nugget, so I could sling words. The many escapes to the coffee shop were beyond appreciated.

  **Thank you to Fray. Your artwork for this book was on point, and there’s no one else I’d have trusted my book baby with. Not only are you an inspiration who makes me want to be a better writer, but you are also a phenomenal and talented artist—and a loyal friend. Never question any of that.

  **Thank you to Wonder. Your generosity over the years, endless creativity, and vision for writing music is incomprehensively beautiful. Your ability to sock me in the gut with all the feels by pouring any string of words into song is something I’ll treasure forever. Heck, you could probably make a grocery list sound incredible in song.

  **Thank you to my publisher. Sarah Davis Brandon, you’ve always believed in me even when I didn’t. Crushing Hearts & Black Butterfly is my home and my family.

  **Thank you to Sabina. You harbor my writing secrets, entertain my many book snippets, applaud my word count updates, endure my writing rants, and you are my cheerleader. A giant pond may separate us physically, but you are still, and will always be, my sister at heart.

  **Thank you to Christine. Had you not written Three Days of Rain and destroyed me for weeks (let’s face it, I still haven’t recovered fully), I wouldn’t have been inspired to make an attempt at annihilating your robotic heart.

  **Thank you to Trixie Taylor for allowing me to use a snippet of her story within the pages, even though I think Blue was mortified.

  **Thank you to Elizabeth Anne Lance for swashbuckling these pages with her red pen and making this baby shine like a star.

  **Thank you to my readers. Your endless and unwavering support makes writing stories my passion. I hope you enjoy reading Blue as much as I loved writing it.

  **Without any one of you being involved, this book wouldn’t be what it turned out to be—one of the most meaningful tales I’ve written yet.

  xoxo

  Steele Falls – Wonder

  Snuff – Slipknot

  Trust in Me –Mr. Fijiwiji, Holly Drummond, & Direct

  Drifting – Nathan Ball

  Wake Up Call – Theory of a Deadman

  Eventually Silence – Tuvaband

  Even in Death – Evanescence

  Rainy Days – Life On Planet 9

  Goodbye – Life On Planet 9

  Break Your Plans – The Fray

  Don’t Give Up On Me – RIVVRS

  I Want To Know What Love Is – Foreigner

  Where’s My Love? – SYML

  Hurts Like Hell – Fleurie

  If I Be Wrong – Wolf Larsen

  Scars – Boy Epic

  Up Down – Boy Epic

  Tell Me You Love Me – Boy Epic

  These Are The Lies – The Cab

  How Do You Say Goodbye? – The Engineers

  Oceans – Seafret

  Killing Me To Love You – Vancouver Sleep Clinic

  Come Back For Me – Jaymes Young

  Barely Breathing – Ghost Loft

  Without You – Oh Wonder

  Dark Bloom – Amber Run

  I Found – Amber Run

  White Lie – Amber Run

  No Answers – Amber Run

  Fickle Game – Amber Run

  You And I – PVRIS

  Winter – PVRIS

  The Wreck – Delta Spirit

  Seven – Revis

  Even If It Hurts – Sam Tinnesz

  When The Truth Hunts You Down – Sam Tinnesz

  Don’t Close Your Eyes – Sam Tinnesz

  Hold On For Your Life – Sam Tinnesz

  I Still Wait For You – XYLO

  Closer – Cape Cub

  You Should Be Here – Cole Swindell

  Our July In The Rain – He Is We

  Modern Flame – Emmit Fenn (Feat. Yuna)

  How To Disappear Completely – Ane Brun

  Every Moment – Dead Times

  Don’t Hold Me – Sandro Cavazza

  Losing You – Aquilo

  Sorry – Aquilo

  Human – Aquilo

  Gone – Michl

  Almost Over – Hedley

  Drown Pt. II – Squid the Whale

  Love Again – Hedley

  When You Can’t Sleep At Night – Of Mice & Men

  Before I Cave In – Too Close to Touch

  I Don’t Want to Lose
You – Aaron Krause

  Cash Jensen was a lousy lay at best, which was exactly how I wanted it. There was no doubt a dictionary existed in a corner of the world with his headshot next to the words: vain, arrogant, and hot-headed jerk. That laundry list of craptastic behaviors, along with being robbed of my third orgasm that week, helped keep my attachment to him at a bare minimum. It was perfect—a less than lukewarm connection, at least from my perspective. I called it my “five fingers” plan. As long as someone had a constancy of five or more shitty qualities, emotional investment was impossible. However, Cash was a special breed of asshole. He exceled at being part of my elite “ten fingers and ten toes” plan.

  “Oh, Cash.” Each pelvic thrust was monotonous as I rolled my eyes behind closed lids. The words I spoke were forced and detached. “Don’t. Stop.” I did my best to make it sound like “don’t stop”, more of a command than two separate sentences. But I failed. As usual, he was too wrapped up in himself to notice. Let’s call a dick a dick here. Cash was a speed fucker, a two-pump chump, a cock sneeze.

  Some girls would argue I settled for dating Cash and his silicone personality. Okay, I’ll be honest. Most girls wouldn’t even qualify what we did as “dating”. Any details I offered about my arrangement with him were vague and his identity kept under wraps. The responses I received were usually greeted with a disapproving head bob, a wince, or a consoling pat on the shoulder. Sometimes, I’d even get all three at the same time. I called that combination the She Has an Asshole Trifecta or SHAT. I’d lost count of how many times I’d been “SHAT” on, thanks to Cash Jensen. It was so bad, shots of alcohol were even offered my way at a bar one night by a nun who’d overheard one of my lame sauce stories. Now, if a bar-hopping nun’s pitying your sex life, something’s wrong. Really wrong. Why did I stick around? It was minimal effort because relationships were overrated. Every single one of them.

  “More.” I began creating a grocery list in my head as he grunted, pounding me into the mattress like a caffeinated jackhammer with a thirty-second battery life. Bread. Milk. Eggs. Tampons.

  Cash was good enough, a warm body for me to sleep next to a couple of nights per week, and he served as someone to give off the illusion of the R-word. Relationship. Yuck. I swear, those four syllables teamed up together gave me a case of hives. But it kept sleazy men at bay from asking me on dates, and it discouraged the few people from my pathetic excuse of an inner circle from playing matchmaker. Knowing there was “someone” in my life seemed to be the ticket, even though I could’ve bought an inflatable doll and passed it off as a significant other. Oh, wait. That was the equivalent of Cash.

  I shuddered at the thought of that stupid R-word. Never again.

  “Damn, I’m a motherfuckin’ stallion.” Cash growled as he rolled off my body, both sweaty and spent. He folded his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling with a satisfied smile. I knew that look all too well. His next words would be a confident, ‘“Wasn’t I incredible?”. He wasn’t asking for my opinion. He was informing me he’d scored his performance an A-plus grade.

  I parted my lips slightly and mouthed the phrase as he spoke it aloud.

  “Wasn’t I incredible?” he asked.

  I knitted my brow and pushed a stray lock of dark hair out of my face. “Yep. You’re a raging sex god.”

  My monotone response wasn’t lost on him, but don’t go thinking he was tuned in to my emotions on a regular basis or any similar bullshit. That wasn’t his style. Getting any level of sensitivity out of him was rare and only happened when pigs took flight. On most days, I was able to mask my dissatisfaction to stroke his ego. In turn, Cash was usually too focused on himself to notice.

  Rolling onto his side, he propped his head up with his hand, his elbow resting on the pillow. “C’mon, baby. You were good too. I could tell by the way you moaned my name at the end.” He paused for a fraction of a second. “Seriously though. What was your favorite part? Was it the thrusting to the beat while I sang the chorus of Mambo Number 5? That was great, wasn’t it?” There was no room for a response. “Either way, you were one lucky lady to be part of it.” He winked, made a clicking sound, and formed his thumb and index finger into a gun shape. Then, he offered me a cheesy grin while pulling the imaginary trigger.

  Be still my beating heart. Did he really do that? And if he did, why haven’t I noticed it before? I thought to myself as I opened my mouth to unleash a snarky comment, but Cash cut me off again.

  “It’s okay. If I were you, I probably wouldn’t be able to choose the numero uno momento either. See? Those Spanish courses from the late-night infomercial you made fun of are starting to pay off. Olé!”

  I withheld my glare, but it was my own fault I stayed with Cash; I knew that. Plus, faking my climax again didn’t help my mood. It hadn’t always been that way, or so I tried to convince my libido on multiple occasions. Call it lying to myself. Call it some masochistic form of self-punishment. Call me a martyr. Any way you looked at it, Cash’s ego had gone into overdrive and his sexual stamina into underdrive. I couldn’t break it off though. My life was complicated.

  He was Cash Jensen, what many would consider a trophy boyfriend. Yet, I felt like the loser. Irony at its finest. There was no secret; he was gorgeous. Anyone could see that. Piercing blue eyes. Tousled blond hair that looked great at any time of day. Dimples complementing a strong jaw. Tanned skin that made every suntan model in America jealous. Not to mention a muscular physique requiring few trips to the gym. It was enough to make most women’s ovaries swoon with excitement—but not mine. That’s where the vision faded. Skin deep. Cash was like a latex balloon. Thin-skinned. Empty up top. Full of hot air. Ready to pop at the first hint of penetration. It was transparent and shallow companionship. The greatest perk was it couldn’t lead anywhere serious.

  I was convinced our mediocre partnership was better than being alone where awful memories would hunt me down, screaming for my attention. And that same level of mediocre was more desirable than a healthy and stable relationship where I’d be emotionally invested. Mediocre was my theme, my safe zone, and that was okay. It was where I was protected, and I could never be broken again.

  Surfacing to the present, I shoved Cash’s egotistical behavior and his hand aside while looking at the clock. “Shit!” I sat upright in bed, tossing back the European down comforter. The damn thing was worth three months of my salary. For that price, I joked it had been stitched by unicorns and enchanted fairies. “It’s almost seven. I’m gonna be late.”

  As I hurried around the bedroom, rifling through the aftermath of the clothing tornado, Cash grabbed my waist and pulled me against him. The skin-to-skin contact made me cringe. “It’s fortunate you have an in with your boss.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Just because you sign my paycheck doesn’t mean there isn’t talk around the water cooler. I have to be on my A-game to avoid the whispers and the looks. Everyone’s so fucking nosy around there. Plus, your brother would nail my ass to the wall if he knew we—”

  “Whispering? Someone giving you grief at the office, baby?” A muscle clenched along Cash’s jaw. He was always looking for a reason to exercise his authority. “I’ll fire them. Give me names.”

  “Relax. I can fight my own lunchroom battles. Workplace relationships are frowned upon by—”

  Cash stifled a fake yawn. “What did you do? Memorize the employee handbook? It’s not very becoming on you.” He rolled his eyes before turning over to graze his fingertips along my thigh. “Now, if I were on you, I’d be coming—”

  I swatted his exploratory fingers away as they made a sudden grab for my tit. “Late. Remember?”

  “Besides, don’t forget I own half of that company.”

  “Forty-nine percent, if you want to be technical about it, Cash.”

  He held up his index finger to correct me. “Dr. Cash.”

  “I a
lready told you I’m not roleplaying and calling you ‘Dr. Cash’.”

  He sighed and crossed his beefy arms.

  “Look, your brother still outranks you by one percent, so he makes the final decisions around there. Case closed.”

  “Can we not talk about Price after the award-winning performance that occurred in this bed? Remember, I’m a sex god. Thanks to me, the star. And you, Blue, were my supporting role.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  My cell phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting our conversation. I was thankful. Scratch that. I was only appreciative until I saw who was calling.

  I glanced at the screen while Daveigh’s name flashed in bold red letters. “Ugh. Not today, drama queen,” I mumbled.

  “Problem?” Cash nibbled my shoulder, his facial stubble abrasive against my skin.

  I wriggled away from him. “I’ll deal with it later.”

  An envelope blinked in the upper corner. New voicemail. A few seconds later, a text message popped up in the center of the display.

  “For the love of…leave me alone.” I sighed.

  “Wait.” Cash grabbed the phone as he examined the screen. Who’s Davey, and why is he texting you this early in the morning?”

  I snatched it from his grip. “Stop pissing on me to mark your territory. Her name is Daveigh, and it’s pronounced Duh-VAY. She’s my sister. I’ve mentioned her to you a thousand times.”

  “Sister. Right,” he echoed, and I could almost see the mental sticky note he made for future reference. I was willing to bet it would flutter to the floor of his overinflated brain within a matter of minutes and we’d have a repeat of the same conversation within the next week.