Claim 3: Volume Three Read online

  Claim Volume 3

  Ashley Suzanne

  Ashley Suzanne

  Claim

  © 2015, Ashley Suzanne

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. 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 express written permission from the author / publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.

  Photographer – Toski Covey of Toski Covey Photography

  Cover Design – Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative Cover

  Editing – Tiffany Tillman of This Redhead Loves Books

  Dedication

  For anyone who ever put someone else first because they needed a win more than you did.

  Thank you.

  Chapter One

  Loren

  The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt Nolan. From the brief amount of time I’ve had with him, I knew he was exactly the kind of man I should be with—caring, charming and compassionate. He possesses every characteristic any woman in her right mind could dream of in a partner.

  Nolan’s perfect. Like God created him for a model for all other men to follow, and then he shattered that mold, leaving only one perfect man in the entire world. And I had the pleasure of getting to know him.

  But then there’s his text. “We need to talk.”

  Those four words, four simple words, are never good. Everyone’s heard those words in their lifetime and they’re usually meant to end something—a relationship, a friendship, a life. Very rarely are they ever spoken and life continues turning. Someone’s world is almost always turned upside down. And since it’s me who received those words, it’s more than likely going to be me that’s hurting.

  Unless.

  There are two sides to that coin. He could have found out about Jordan and the feelings I had for him that I had been trying to run from. Even then, it would break my heart knowing I hurt him when all I had to do was be honest with him, but then I would have had to be honest with myself, and that never was my strong suit. Or, it’s possible with my reluctance to move our relationship forward, he’s found someone else.

  I think I’d be more comfortable with the latter. At least then he wouldn’t be alone. Ending whatever it is we’d started would be his doing. He’d never know about the way I care for Jordan and no matter how hard I tried to run from said feelings, they always caught up to me. It won’t relieve any of my own guilt, but knowing he was happy would give me some peace.

  So, acting much like the coward I believe myself to be, I stare at the screen on my phone, pressing the side button to illuminate it, repeating this process until I find the courage to respond.

  “We need to talk.”

  With those words staring back at me, my fingers hover over the keypad for a few moments until they start moving, typing out a response message. I try a few times, nothing sounding right, the backspace button becoming a dear friend as I search for the right words.

  “Sure. What’s up?”… backspace

  “What’s going on?”… backspace

  “Is everything okay?”… backspace

  Finally, I stop overthinking and send something that sounds halfway decent. It does in my mind, anyway.

  Me – I think so, too.

  Pressing send, I clutch the phone to my chest, waiting for a response. Regardless of what Nolan needs to talk about, I need to tell him the full story, including the time Jordan and I have spent together recently. We never spoke about being exclusive, but I could have been more honest with Nolan when we spoke about my marriage. If you would have asked me a week ago to choose between Nolan and Jordan, I would have picked Nolan hands down, without a question. Now that the feelings I’ve been hiding from have found me, I honestly don’t know what I would do.

  Checking my phone every five minutes for a response from Nolan, including making sure I have service and even restarting my phone once just in case, my eyes begin to get heavy. The last few weeks have been so emotionally draining, I think the exhaustion is finally catching up with me. Resting my head on the pillow and pulling the blanket up to my chin, I place my phone on the nightstand, screen up, speaker facing the bed, just in case I fall asleep before he responds.

  *****

  It’s still dark when my phone starts vibrating against the wood of the nightstand. Without lifting my head, I reach my hand across the bed and feel around for the phone when I knock it to the ground. Groaning, I scoot to the edge of the bed and find it buried in the pile of clothes I took off when I got home from the concert with Jordan, the only indication it’s there is the flashing notification light on the top.

  Unlocking the phone, the brightness nearly blinding me, I adjust the settings to dim the screen before I’m able to open the unread message from Nolan. As soon as my eyes adjust, I read it.

  Nolan – Are you still up?

  The time stamp shows the text came in around two thirty and the current time is just after three. I must have been knocked out good to sleep through the first few times it went off.

  Assuming he’ll still be awake, I reply.

  Me – Yeah. Did you want to talk?

  I barely have enough time to back out of the messages and lock the screen before my phone starts ringing, a picture I took of Nolan at the bar lighting up the background. I’m really hoping he’s just calling for some casual conversation, because what I have to tell him should be said in person, but deep down I know that’s not the case.

  “Hello,” I answer, clearing my throat and clicking on the bedside lamp.

  “Thought you were awake? Hell, Loren, did I wake you up?”

  “Kinda, but it’s alright. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

  “You’ve told me about your past, but I didn’t tell you about mine,” he starts, and I cut him off.

  “You really don’t have to. We all have skeletons in the closet. You just happen to have had a sneak peek into mine.” I don’t need him telling me anything out of guilt. Especially if we’re going to end this. It needs to be as clean of a break as possible.

  “Yeah, well, mine is about to leap out. I know you didn’t want to tell me you were married. I really don’t think it’s because you were trying to deceive me. So, it’s only fair I tell you about my wife.”

  I gasp, unsure if he heard me, and lower the phone from my ear. Cradling it in both hands, I take a few deep breaths, not sure how to respond. I have absolutely no right to be upset with him, seeing as I have a husband and all, but it kind of makes sense. How could a man as perfect as Nolan be single?

  “Loren? Lo, are you there?” he yells, and I raise the phone back to my ear, still trying to process what he’s told me. Married? Wife?

  “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t see that one coming,” I respond honestly, still gathering my bearings before this conversation continues any further.

  “I know. I am really sorry I’m throwing all of this at you, over the phone no less, and considering how terribly I responded when you told me about your husband, I’d understand if you wanted to hang up on me right now, but I need you to know a few things first. Do you think you can let me explain them?”

  Karma would bitch slap me across the face with this, wouldn’t she? Suddenly those thoughts I had earlier in the night about wanting Nolan to be happy, even if it’s with someone else, seem irrelevant. I’m pissed.

  Like, really fucking angry. If he were here, I mig
ht hit him and I’m not a huge fan of violence. After I opened up to him about Jordan, he kept lying. He had every opportunity to speak up but he kept his coward mouth closed. This perfect man doesn’t seem so perfect anymore. His poor wife.

  Fuck. Him.

  “Actually, I bet your wife would like to have a few things explained to her. How about you press end and give her a call. I’m sure she’d be interested in what you’ve been doing behind her back,” I seethe, finally coming to my senses, no longer feeling bad for anything I’ve done or would do to him.

  “Loren, can you please let me explain? It’s not what you think. I have never, nor would I ever, cheat on someone I love.”

  “So, what? You’re really about to tell me that you don’t love her anymore? Then you met me and felt a connection? You just couldn’t break it off with her? End your marriage? Because, if you said those things to me, I’d probably say it’s a really shitty excuse.”

  “I’d have to agree with you. That does sound pretty terrible. Not something I’d ever say,” he says with a slight comedic undertone.

  Does he think this is funny? Luckily, I never had sex with him, so I have nothing to feel bad about, but I would have. He would have drug me into this affair, potentially hurting a woman who gave her heart, soul and life to him, dedicated herself to him, so he could have a quick romp with me?

  “Just spit it out already,” I quip, feeling every bit of stupid I actually am for allowing him to continue with this tale he’s about to weave.

  “I met Wendy in high school and we started dating almost immediately. After graduation, we got married, thought we had the world by the balls, then we grew apart.” Here’s what I was talking about. They grew apart. Fell out of love. Cue myself, playing the part of the unknowing home-wrecker, stage left.

  “We tried to make it work because we never stopped caring for each other, but somewhere around the time we were twenty-three, we knew there was nothing more we could do. Our marriage was over, so we divorced.”

  “You divorced? You just said you needed to tell me about your wife. Not an ex.”

  “I’m sorry. Calling someone an ex sounds so formal. Wendy was my wife, though I never stopped caring about her even though I didn’t love her the way a husband should love his spouse. An ex isn’t supposed to be a part of your life anymore and I would never abandon Wendy like that,” he explains and I understand. I’m suddenly feeling shitty for being such a bitch. This whole ‘act first, think second’ thing is getting old. I really need to work on this.

  “Okay, that makes sense. I’m sorry for assuming, but you did make it sound like you had a wife. I just pictured a girl sitting home night after night waiting on you to come home and automatically took her side without letting you explain.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Loren. But I need to tell you about what’s going on right now in Wendy’s life, because it affects my life as well. And since we’re kind of seeing each other, it could impact yours, too.”

  Taking a deep breath, preparing for the worst, I whisper, “I’m listening.”

  “Wendy’s sick. Very sick, actually. I spoke with her mother earlier in the night and she asked that I come up to Cloverton as soon as I could, Wendy needed me. So I got in my truck and drove the two hours up here.”

  “You’re in Cloverton right now?” I ask, confused since he had practice with the guys for the audition I set up for them this weekend. Oh, God, please don’t let him make me look like an asshole in front of Mr. Fletcher.

  “I am. I’ll be headed down tomorrow for the gig, don’t worry,” he reassures. My heart starts beating at normal rhythms again, and my head starts to ache from all this back and forth.

  “But I’ll be coming back up here after the show. I’m not sure for how long, but if Wendy needs me, I’ll be here for her.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I ask.

  “She’s got cancer, Loren. Pretty bad. They’ve got a nurse here with her. Hospice.”

  “Oh my God, Nolan, I’m so sorry. Please take all the time you need. If you need anything, I’m here.”

  “What was it you wanted to talk to me about? I get the feeling you had something to say.” Of all the times to tell Nolan about Jordan, this isn’t that time. Not when I just find out that his wife … errr ex wife … has cancer and could very well be dying. Think, Loren. Think of a decent enough lie.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay with the show for that software company. I feel like I just made the decision for you and didn’t give you a chance to say no. If you don’t want to do it, let me know and I won’t be upset. I just need to give Joel notice.”

  “That’s it,” he chuckles. “I thought you were going to tell me you met the lead singer of your favorite band and you were running off together.” No, Nolan, not a lead singer … my husband.

  “So you want to do the show?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll be sitting front row with him, right?”

  “This is completely the wrong time to ask, but I need to know where I stand with you.” Please say you’re going back to your wife. Please don’t make me be the one to have to hurt you. “With everything going on with Wendy and you going back to Cloverton, where does that leave us?” Please say it doesn’t leave us anywhere. That you have a commitment. Shit, am I going to like him more for putting her before anything? This is going downhill fast.

  “I still want to see you, if that’s what you’re asking. Wendy is an important part of my life, but one I walked away from years ago. I feel like you and I could have something really amazing, that is … if you want it? Do you want to end whatever this is?” he hesitates, and I imagine Nolan biting on his lower lip waiting for my answer.

  How exactly do I answer this? Do I want to end this? No, not really, but I can’t just turn off my feelings for Jordan and it’s not fair to Nolan to have to be second place until I can figure everything out … if he’s the one who ends up stealing my heart away. I also can’t hurt Nolan, not right now, anyway. He’s got so much going on with Wendy; I can’t do that to him.

  “I really like you,” I say honestly. “I just want to be sure you’re doing whatever you need to do. We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks and you’ve known her much longer. If you need to be with her, I understand.” God, Nolan, please take the out I’m giving you. Please walk away and this can be a clean break.

  “Is it weird that I like you a little more now that you’re so selfless? I appreciate that more than you know, but I could use you right now. I want to be there for Wendy for as long as she has, but I left because I needed to live my own life and I’d like you to be a part of that life. If you can be understanding that, for a while, my extra time will be spent in Cloverton, I’d really like to keep dating you, Loren.”

  My breath catches in my throat and I throw myself back on the pillows, preparing to say something that’s going to blow up in my face, I just know it.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, pulling the blanket over my head. I’m the worst kind of human being.

  Chapter Two

  Loren

  No matter how hard I try to fall asleep, the sandman never comes. Somewhere around five thirty, I declare the battle for rest a loss and jump in the shower. Standing under the spray, I take my time, letting the warmth of the water surround me, hoping it will calm my nerves and relax my overly tense body, but that’s a lost effort as well. I’m not sure anything can take away the tension I’m experiencing.

  I’m praying today, like most Thursdays, is busy. With the entire office preparing for the weekend and wanting Friday to be as easy as possible, the majority of us buckle down and hammer out jobs, finalize details and even work late on Thursday. Having had such a wonderful evening with Jordan the night before, then the unexpected news from Nolan, I’m not sure where I stand with either man.

  Let me rephrase that. I know exactly where I stand with both of them: they want to be with me. It’s me who’s having the problem. How do I pick one over the othe
r? Each one possesses exactly what I’ve been searching for. On one hand, Jordan is so perfect for me that I married the man … wanted to spend the rest of my life with him … but he hurt me. Granted, I now know the reasons why he did what he did, but does that erase the misery I felt all those months? That’s the question I keep asking myself.

  Then, on the other hand, I have this amazing, wonderful, kind and selfless man who’s asking me for a little bit of time. Without saying it, he’s asking that I wait for him. And I want to, but at what cost? Regardless if Nolan and Wendy are divorced, she’s still a large factor in his life. And when she dies, what then? Can I really just start up a relationship with a man who’s grieving the loss of the woman he chose to marry? I try to think of what I would do if the situation was reversed, and I can’t find the solution. Probably because there’s no right answer.

  When the water turns icy, I quickly turn the handles, wrap myself in a towel and begin my morning ritual. It’s about an hour and a half earlier than I usually start, but the sooner I get to work and drown myself in proposals and planning, the sooner I can distract myself, even for just a few hours.

  Drying my hair, I decide to leave it straight today—no need to curl or primp since I’ll likely be pulling it out by the end of the day. I apply makeup so light, it barely looks like I’m wearing any, and I also opt for my waterproof mascara, just in case I have a crying fit. Pulling out a black pencil skirt and the same color silk blouse and pumps, I dress myself in what I like to call my office camouflage. Shrugging into a matching blazer, and grabbing my purse and keys, I walk out the door an hour ahead of schedule and make my way to the office.

  Traffic this early is pretty light; the rest of the working community is probably just waking up from a great night’s sleep. Assholes. Pulling into the parking lot, I get to choose between the best spots available. Maybe there’s something to coming to work this early?

  Using my key-fab, I let myself into the main lobby, the security guard not yet on duty, and take the elevator to my floor. When the double glass doors to the office are open, I have to turn on the light switches. In all my time working here, I don’t think I’ve ever been the first one in, and I might like it.