Read The Path to James Online

Authors: Jane Radford

The Path to James

Contents

Title Page

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

Follow The Author

Bullying Nicolas

Cat with Glasses

catwithglasses.com

 

Copyright © 2013 by Jane Radford

All Rights Reserved.

 

Edited by Diane Kimura

Small World Editing, Salt Lake City

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, businesses and incidents are either the product of

the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

The Path to James is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or copied for redistribution without permission. If you would like to share this book with another individual, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it—that's awesome—you just got your hands on a free copy of this fine work. If you read and enjoy it, we encourage you to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 


What did he say?” Kara—my best friend since elementary school—looks up at me from the coffeemaker. Her dark brown eyes narrow, her asymmetrical hair is a bit mussed up. She scowls in anticipation of my answer.

“He said I was 'so fucking selfish.'” My eyes roll as I quote my ex verbatim, which is the exact gesture I had given when the sentiment was uttered. Jaren has said that phrase so many times it no longer has any effect on me.

My phone lights up with another missed call—that's number twenty-seven for tonight. My phone is perpetually set to silent mode.

“Seriously, he's an idiot.” Kara saunters over with our mugs of coffee. She hands me one as she says, “Promise me you won't get back together.”

“Absolutely not,” I blow on the hot liquid, the mug warms my hands. “he cheated on me.”

“Twice.”

“Exactly.” I glare at the reminder.

We're sitting in Kara's living room in our pajamas. I'm on the floor with my back leaning against the side of the couch. A fish tank gargles in one corner of the room. I've been staying the night here the past few weeks. Since my breakup with Jaren he has had a tendency to break into my little rambler while I have been sleeping. I would either wake up to his hot embrace or the sound of him sobbing next to me. I can't seem to figure out which is more unsettling.

Kara keeps urging me to get a restraining order, and I'm starting to think she is right. It has been a month since our breakup, since I caught him with his pants around his ankles, receiving a blow job from his “best friend.” In MY house.

“Does he know you're finished? I mean, truly finished.” Kara interrupts my introspection.

My eyes refocus on my friend, “I told him 'never again,' I can't stand the sight of him.”

I'm so bitter. He was the first long term relationship I had ever been in. Two years of my life wasted on that asshole. The first year was mediocre at best. The second year was spent, at least from my point of view, against my will. When I had caught him cheating the first time, I'd broken things off, and he had managed to get me back with the threat of suicide.

Then, I was so afraid he might do something to hurt himself that I stayed. Now...all I feel for him is resentment and bitterness.

I take a gulp of my coffee, it is the perfect temperature with just the right amount of honey and almond milk. Its warmth spreads through me as I drink. It's wonderful. Kara's whole house feels like one big cup of coffee. It's comforting and inviting, smells delicious. I frown. But I would much rather be able to return home. I hate the fact that Jaren has made me afraid to go back to the one place I can really relax.

I look at Kara. I wish I could go home. “His last words to me were 'you'll regret this.'” I try to imitate the same ominous tone he'd employed.

“Please get a restraining order,” Kara looks worried. “I'm begging you.” For that exact reason I leave out the part where he punched the wall right next to me, leaving a fist-sized hole. He wasn't psychotic for the first year of the relationship. In fact, he had hidden that side of himself pretty well.

I sigh. “I probably should.”

“You definitely should.”

We both stop to take another sip of our drinks. I have missed spending time with Kara, we don't do this nearly enough. I just wish it were under better circumstances.

“What time do you have work in the morning?” Kara stifles a yawn. It's almost midnight.

“Seven-thirty.” Kara's yawn is contagious.

“What about the diner?” Kara asks regarding my second job. I work as a medical transcriptionist by day, and an exhausted waitress by night.

“Five p.m.”

I'm killing myself now so that I can live life later.

By working two jobs, along with the nest egg I had inherited from my grandparents, I'm getting ready to travel. I have always wanted to be a travel writer. The person who writes those books about the Grand Canyon, and hiking hotspots, and national forests. The books that are covered in dust on bookshelves or sit unopened on coffee tables. The books that are given as gifts but no one actually reads them all the way through. I want to write those.

It's not much, but that's my dream.

“I don't know how you do this to yourself,” my friend looks at me disapprovingly. Sometimes I don't know how I manage either. “Are you ready for bed?”

I glance over my shoulder. The couch is made up with a folded blanket and a pillow resting over it. My friend is too good to me.

I impulsively lean forward to hug her. “No, let's vent some more.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 


You're so fucking selfish!”

Oh, here we go again. I roll my eyes. I come back from work and Jaren is in my home, ready to greet me. I've taken my key back, but I suspect he keeps breaking in through one of my windows. I'm selfish because I won't take him back. Because I won't return his calls, answer his text messages, listen to his voice mails.

“Get out of my house.” My tone is calm, my voice is level, but my hands are shaking.

“Jesus, Alex, would you just fucking talk to me?”

“I have nothing left to say to you,” I cross my arms. I am exhausted. My wrists and fingers ache from typing for eight hours, and my feet and hips hurt from serving food after that. My long, wavy hair is pulled back into a ponytail. I'm still wearing my apron.

“You can't do this to me!” Jaren snarls.

“I don't want to do anything to you. Please, leave.”

He moves from his side of the counter, walking toward me. I begin retreating. He corners me against the wall and starts fiddling with my apron. The strings are too long around my waist, I have them doubled around me and knotted in front.

“Please, leave.”

“What is wrong with you?” He throws the apron strings from his hand. I jump when they snap against me.

“You! You are everything that is wrong with me! Get out of my house!” I'm shaking so hard. I'm trying not to cry. I am way too tired for this.

“I'm not fucking leaving!”

“Fine, I'll go.” I turn to leave and his fist slams into the wall, right by my face. I jump back.

“You're not going anywhere.”

I look up into his blue eyes, his short black hair. His muscled arm flexes in front of me. I can't believe I once found him attractive.

 

“Alex, wake up!”

I startle awake. Kara is staring down at me, my phone is in her hand. She is fully dressed in black slacks and a green blouse. The apartment smells like coffee, she must have brewed a fresh pot. Her boyfriend is in the kitchen, still in his bathrobe.

“You slept through your alarm.” My best friend hands the phone over to me.

“Morning!” Kara's boyfriend calls from the kitchen. He's chipper.

I look at my phone. 7:00 AM lights up on the main screen. “Shit!” I jump from the couch. “Shit, shit, shit.” I'm hauling my change of clothes with me to the bathroom.

“There is toast and a thermos of coffee on the table!” Kara shouts after me.

“I love you!” my reply is muffled through the bathroom door.

A glance in the mirror shows me what a mess I am. I make an attempt to straighten out most of the major problems with my appearance, but I’m in a hurry. My blonde, streaked hair is rumpled and my hazel eyes are all puffy.

“Oh, whatever,” I mutter to myself.

I throw on my clothes and rush out the door. I'm going through a rough time right now, I can afford to look like a disaster.

“Bye, I love you both!” I'm grabbing my coffee and breakfast from the table. “I'll see you tonight!”

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