Rush Into You
Rush into You
A Rush Novel
Copyright © 2014 by Brianna Lee
Cover design by © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations /
www.okaycreations.com
Cover Art by © Toski Covey Photography /
https://www.facebook.com/toskicoveyphotography
Formatting by JT Formatting
Editing by Jennifer Roberts-Hall of Indie After Hours
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
WARNING: “
Rush Into You
” contains adult content and has scenes that may be considered triggers including graphic drug use and alcohol abuse.
Table of Contents
Isabella:
Everything I do, I do for you.
Mom:
Everything I do is possible because of you.
THE SCREAMING THAT surrounded me stopped, but its unrelenting echo rang clear in my head. I didn’t know if it was better that the painful cries ceased, or worse. Screaming meant Madison was still alive. Silence meant she was no longer suffering.
Kasey didn’t have a chance to suffer.
My legs were pinned beneath the steering wheel, and my car was crushed around me. I was unable to move, powerless to help my friends. My physical pain was insignificant, mere scratches and heavy pressure, but looking into Madison’s eyes while she died just a foot away from me?
That gutted me.
It was my fault my best friends were dead.
A part of me died with them, but the part that lived might as well be dead.
My life was over anyway.
WALKING INTO MAX’S Pub always felt like walking into a pit of venomous snakes. Everyone sat up straighter on the edge of their seats as they prepared to strike at a second’s notice—their hatred and disgust evident.
“Killers aren’t welcome here, Gabby. Get the fuck out!” a vicious voice growled.
I forced myself to keep walking with my chin held high, when all I really wanted to do was curl up and cry.
No one tried to hide their feelings. They always made sure I knew just how much they hated me. It would have been their dream come true to sentence me to a slow and painful death by stoning until I was a lifeless, bloody heap on the ground.
I sat down on the uncomfortable wooden barstool and pulled out my cell phone. I knew it would be a while before the old man behind the bar brought me a drink. He always took his sweet time, purposely avoiding me. He refused to take my order and give me the tequila that I wanted, only serving me their cheapest beer instead, but I should consider myself lucky that he even served me that piss warm and foul tasting stuff. Like the rest of the people living in Breckston, he didn’t respect me, but I didn’t respect myself, so it didn’t bother me.
Nothing bothered me.
Nothing mattered.
My thoughts ran back to earlier today when I proved how little respect I had for myself. A shiver worked its way up my spine as bile pooled at the base of my throat. Remembering what I allowed David to do to me, what I initiated, made me want to vomit. At the time, I didn’t care. Standing before him, my body shaking and drenched with cold sweat, my mind was only focused on the heroin he promised in exchange for my body. I didn’t care about anything except the drug that had the power to ease withdrawal’s hold on me, but sitting here now, I was disgusted with myself. I always felt filthy after I sold my body, and not even a scalding hot shower where I scrubbed my skin raw could make me feel clean.
I despised being a prisoner to my addiction, but when withdrawal hit, I would do anything to feel better. I had miserably failed each time that I attempted to detox, and knew that I’d forever be a heroin addict—chasing the rush the drug brought me, and hating myself after I got high.
My addiction started when I got jumped by five girls and a guy—a baseball bat can do some serious damage to the human body, especially when the person wielding it holds a serious grudge against you. The hospital I was treated at pumped me full of Dilaudid, then sent me home with a prescription of Percocet. I was addicted to the narcotic by the time the pills were gone, even though I took each pill at the time the doctor ordered. The withdrawal was so intense that I’d searched the streets for pain pills that would make me feel better. Instead, I’d found heroin.
Loud laughter broke me from my thoughts, and I swiped the touch screen on my phone. I opened the app to an addicting candy game I liked to play when I saw the date on my mobile calendar. My heart stopped beating, and my blood ran cold.
June thirteenth.
How had I not realized before now that it was June thirteenth? I almost laughed out loud, though absolutely nothing was funny. Of course, I wouldn’t have noticed. I had almost no reason to keep track of the days besides the rare occasion I worked at a catering company. My days and nights were filled with only two things. Getting drugs, and getting high.
Today was the five year anniversary for the death of my two best friends, and a family of three. It was also my twenty-third birthday. Five long, horrible years since they had died because of me.
My already bad mood turned worse.
I looked up from my phone when the bartender finally brought over my beer, careful to avoid touching me when I handed him the money. I heard him mutter “dumb bitch” as he walked back over to the group of people he had been talking to.
I heard the whispers and the not so quiet remarks from everyone throughout the bar. People loved to gossip about me, and the significance of today gave them plenty to talk about.
I drained the warm beer moments after it arrived, wanting to push the memories of that fateful night back. I started playing my game again, knowing I wouldn’t be served another beer for a while, if at all.
“What can I get you, babe?” a surprisingly warm and masculine voice asked from behind the bar.
I kept fiddling with my phone knowing the man wasn’t speaking to me.
“Babe?” he pressed.
Confused, I looked up and sucked in a sharp breath. The sexiest eyes I had ever seen were locked on mine. They were a breathtaking sapphire color with a unique ring of gold surrounding the pupils. I knew no one was sitting near me, everyone avoided me like the plague, but I looked around just to be sure. Confirming it was just me, my spirits began to lift. I opened my mouth to respond to the bartender, but caught myself in time. People didn’t talk to me nicely, especially not handsome men. It just didn’t happen anymore.