Gilded Promise

By J. Woods

Drowning endlessly in her sorrow, Chloe Collins tries desperately to breathe life back into the lost girl Cole has become. But as she refuses to let go of memories past, her journal remains the only escape from her constant inner turmoil.
In the midst of it all Chloe is enchanted in her own passionate romance with the rogue and untamed Tommy. Their love is tested against the uprising of demons from the past in a time where it seems everyone is hiding secrets.
Captivated in the battle between love and betrayal Chloe faces new obstacles and the undulating force of a gilded promise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Woods
• Release date: Nov 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311484499

J. Woods

J. Woods is a Toronto based writer, mother, and non-conformist. She lives between the space of her green tea and humming laptop when she isn’t chasing after her free spirited daughter. She has studied too many things to count including radio broadcasting and entrepreneurship. Grasping at sanity, she realized writing stories about her insane thoughts was easier than explaining them to a doctor. Not to mention cheaper.

Book preview

GILDED PROMISE

BOOK III

J. Woods

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

INFINITELY GILDED

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT

Gilded Promise

J. Woods

Copyright 2013 J. Woods

Smashwords Edition

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

Discover other titles by J. Woods at Smashwords.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For those willing to reach past the warmth of the sun into the twilight, using the stars to find their gilded promise.

I’d like to thank my friends and family for their support.

And for refilling my wine whenever I rang the bell.

CHAPTER ONE

I stared at myself in the full length heavily framed mirror thinking I looked like something from outer space – my entire head covered in tin foil as my hair dresser folded the last pieces in. Lowlights and highlights would cover the platinum blonde ombre that seemed to shadow my identity for the last two years. It would be a welcome change. Different was what I wanted and away was what I needed – just for a few hours; away from Cole’s sadness and away from Tommy’s sporadic moments of silent brooding. It had been over nine months and I still felt it down to my very bones. I was tired and I just needed an escape. So I booked my hair appointment and decided some waxing and a manicure would give me sufficient time away from returning to the house that wasn’t mine. I claimed it as my own at the same time felt it was sucking the life right out of me. I was the glue, that was the burden that was thrust upon me. And I was okay with the responsibilities of keeping it all together even if that meant I needed to keep my own emotions in check, but even the person holding everything together needed a sense of reprieve sometimes. This was what I reminded myself of as I pushed my guilt to the very back of my mind to where it was almost unreachable, almost. George, my fabulously gay hairdresser finished applying the darker blonde that was closer to my more natural colour over the tresses that were not encumbered by foil.

Why don’t you rest sweetie, you’re looking tired, he said patting my shoulder before he left to tend to another client. I stared in the mirror watching him retreat. Yes, I was tired but I didn’t understand why people thought it was okay to point it out – it’s not. Meant to be sweet but actually pointing out my flaws, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes before agreeing with him.

Days and nights I watched as life started returning to the warming spring; spring bloomed into a hot summer, summer was turned into a colourful fall, fall was turning into a cold winter. The leaves on the trees attempted to flourish in the remaining warmth of the sun’s rays before they retreated behind harsh cold winds.

I closed my eyes as the warm bursts of hot air from the dome over my head encompassed me in a cloud of calm. A calm that didn’t last very long as my mind drifted off into memories that made the hot blasts of air from the dryer above me seem cool. A delicious shiver of sensation stole over me while I remembered touch and feel, at some point there was a blindfold; it was almost too much, the remembered thoughts too steamy for an afternoon of lazy reminiscences. I floated farther back to the darker place where memories of Tommy’s angry words clashed with mine, the words that were thrown spurning the heated night.

You did what?

I got a tattoo, I said meekly, not understanding his reaction. I went with Cole, she got one too.

Why the hell would you get a tattoo? he all but yelled. I reared back as if he’d slapped me.

Because I wanted to! I told him hearing my own voice rising. Because it means a lot to me! I remembered when Cole came into my room, her sketchpad in her hand looking apprehensive. I quickly finished braiding my hair and patted the spot next to me on the bed. She scrambled into place.

What’s up chick?

I wanted to talk to you about something, she started.

Anything, you know that. What is it? I asked concerned.

"I need a change Chlo. I need to do... something," she admitted.

And what did you have in mind doll?

This, she breathed placing the pad in front of us. She opened to the page she had been working on and what I saw had understanding dawning. The image that stared back at me was the Sagittarius and Gemini astrology signs intricately woven together in a beautifully feminine design.

It’s beautiful, I told her. My sign and hers so intertwined with endless little details it was entrancing. You want me to get this too? I asked her not sure if she just wanted me to go with her to hold her hand or at some point she would be holding mine as well.

Only if you want.

I want, I smiled. The look of relief that cleared her eyes was almost comical. She should have known by now I would have done anything she wanted me too, including get a tattoo, especially one as significantly beautiful as the one she created. I knew on the surface what she was going through, she was finally starting to rejoin the land of the living and she was feeling restless, needed a change and a permanent one. The feel of the needle would ensure herself she was still alive and capable of making such decisions. She was taking her life back into her own hands one step at a time and I was damn sure I was going to be there for every one of them.

Ok good, because we have an appointment in an hour. I let out a whoop of excitement that had her laughing.

I sat with Cole as she leaned against the chair with her arm up while the artist inked her side. My turn was next, the gentleman with the tattoo gun and more art than bare skin informed me I needed to pull my hair back so he could place the stencil behind my ear. I heard the buzz of the machine come to life as I sat with my head at a most uncomfortable angle watching Cole laugh at me while my eyes widened impossibly at the first bite of the ink piercing my skin. She was like Cole 2.0. She listened attentively while the tattoo artist complimented her endlessly on her design and kept going with anything and everything it seemed just to see her smile. I didn’t blame him; I wanted him to continue his droning on just to see that smile myself, finally embracing the art of her creativity. It was what made her who she was. She needed to start breaking down the walls of the fortress she built so solidly around herself and start accepting her circumstances. She deserved wonderment and everything she could ever hope for and with the words of encouragement from the stranger who drew on our bodies, it may have just given her a glimpse into just how awe-inspiring she truly was. She needed to show the world her dream, her brilliance as an artist and I would wear her ingenuity proudly. There were too many nights spent over the bottle of tequila with the same conversation;

What do you feel?

Nothing.

Nothing? and she would shake her head.

Just numb.

Numb is okay. Numb means you won’t feel the burn of the tequila, I would say passing her the shot glass.

I was tired of those nights and I knew she was becoming tired of them as well. I wanted her to so desperately believe in love again but she was so stuck in her mind where her problem was lying in believing love for her, didn’t exist without him.

We left the tattoo shop both high on the idea that we were rebels without a cause with our new tats, now we needed to stop off and grab some leathers, maybe hop on the back of a heavily muscled motorcycle. I heard laughter in my head at the ridiculous notion. Those little voices who live inside you, Cole calls them her shoulder angel and devil; I call them Naughty and Nice - Nice doesn’t show her face very often to my own peril. If there was ever an angel that sat there, she ran away a long time ago. Sometimes they take the side of conscience but more often than not lead me toward temptation. I hadn’t decided which I liked better most of the time only piping up when they were sniping their most non-helpful unwanted opinions.

Tommy met us in the living room and almost as if sensing the imminent outburst Naughty and Nice darted behind the nearest door leaving me narrowing my eyes at their retreating behinds.

I stared at him shooting daggers, how dare he be mad at me for getting a tattoo! He ran a hand over his face in an attempt to calm his fraying nerves.

Tommy, what’s wrong? I asked knowing this couldn’t be about me getting a tattoo. I took a tentative step toward him hoping he would tell me the real reason behind his argument and knowing he wouldn’t.

Let me see it, he demanded through gritted teeth. I frowned with disappointment when his arms didn’t encircle me keeping his distance. I allowed my hurt to show in my eyes before I pulled my hair back and showed him the small design behind my ear. I heard his audible breath of defeat as the fight left him. Grabbing my elbow he pulled me into his warmth, his strong arms surrounding me vanishing the cold desolation I felt just moments before.

Cole designed it, I explained, my words muffled by his chest. She got the same one.

It’s beautiful baby, he admitted.

Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I asked pulling back just enough to look in his face. Instead of responding he bent his head to pepper kisses over my lips, from one corner to the other and I knew distraction was his answer. He pulled me up the stairs behind him, his movements fast and jerky, made in want but more in need. Naughty grinned like a Cheshire cat; I guess I could settle for distraction.

***

February 16, 2013

The only way I can connect to you is through the journals my grandfather gave to me - the same ones that my mother possessed. I leave mine sitting beside hers so hers don’t become lonely. I haven’t been able to pick them up because her stories pull me into her world and it’s a world I’m not yet ready to be a part of again. Whereas if I write to you in mine, I can almost pretend you are coming back.

I feel like I’m living in an almost constant state of painful anxiety. I sit here and try to conjure up something within the complete hollowness inside of me. I’m depleted. There isn’t one part of me that isn’t encompassed in sorrow while I float, stuck in a night that never ends.

I’m sitting here in my childhood bedroom, a place that used to bring me serenity and security – I feel nothing of that as I sit here today, only empty.

I woke up yesterday morning not to find Chloe but my Mom. After ensuring I ate a banana – I wasn’t willing to eat more than that – she got me dressed and packed into her car for the weekend. The car ride was relatively silent but she held my hand the entire way as I stared out the window. When we arrived my grandfather was on the driveway opening my door before I could get my seatbelt unbuckled. He hoisted me out and wrapped me in his arms, a place I found so much comfort in. He smelled of clean laundry and pipe smoke and it was the soothing aroma that released the feeble hold I had on my emotions. I pressed my face into his chest as violent sobs were torn from my chest; his arms tightened around me almost as if he knew my knees were too weak to hold me up. After standing for long moments he dragged me, still in his arms, toward the swing that was hung from the covered front porch. A red plaid blanket lay waiting to provide warmth as we sat down and he wrapped it tightly around us, my head on his shoulder as he rocked back and forth in silence allowing all my pain and hurt to fall from my eyes. My eyes felt so heavy with the weight of emotion, I just wanted to fall into the merciful darkness where I felt nothing, where I didn’t have to face anyone including myself. The repetitive back and forth of the swing lulled me into that space where I floated between consciousness and sleep. I heard my mother’s sweet voice.

"How is she?"

"Broken," my grandfather replied on a sigh.

I woke up to my mother’s fingers running through my hair. My grandfather must have moved me into the living room, my head now resting in her lap.

"Sweetheart? Are you hungry? she asked quietly. I shook my head no, the thought of food turning my stomach. You need to eat something my love. If I bring you a yogurt can you eat that for me?" she pleaded. Knowing Chloe had spoken to her and confessed she has had to force feed me at times I didn’t want that embarrassment with my mom; I nodded my head to placate her. Before she could get up my dad bent down in front of me, a bowl and spoon in his hand. After moving through the motions, not actually tasting anything I pushed myself up, said a quiet goodnight and dragged myself up the stairs to my bedroom. I pulled back the covers and didn’t bother undressing before I crawled into bed, pulling the comforter over my head encasing myself into darkness. My eyes burned with emotion begging for sleep. I fought it knowing my subconscious was itching to travel into the shadowy depths of a gloomy nightmare – I could feel it. Unable to stop it my lids fell under the weight of exhaustion and into a torturous slumber where my dreams continued the pain of my reality just in a different form down the following desolate path:

I crouched down behind a dumpster to catch my breath. I needed a shower desperately; my skin was caked in dirt and sweat, my hair hadn’t met a hairbrush in days. Not only did I need a shower but I needed a bed, not having slept in over seventy two hours. The alley was a safe cover allowing me to catch my breath; I evaded the two goons chasing me – they attempted to conceal themselves, blending in with the crowds but I felt them, I always felt their eyes on me which kept me moving, pushing the exhaustion down to a place I wouldn’t feel it. Running on pure adrenaline, I would need to find a place to rest my head soon. My mind was too weak to reach out to the two men tracking me the only thing my mind was able to conjure up in fatigue was the very thing I was being chased for – murder. I leaned my head against the brick wall behind me as the scene replayed before my eyes over and over again. It was five nights ago, the day I was supposed to leave to visit my family. My train was delayed, an accident on the tracks pushed back times until the day after. Not realizing I was home, my fiancé came bustling in with another man I had never seen. Hanging up his trench coat, his voice travelled angrily throughout the house. I paused in the kitchen wondering what the cause of his animosity was. The other man’s voice carried with a soft determined tone that had the hackles rising on the back of my neck. I moved toward the doorway in an attempt to listen closer against my better judgement. I watched as time seemed to slow, the stranger reached into the pocket of his khaki jacket pulling out a deadly knife. I felt my eyes widen as the sun caught the gleam of the blade. The knife didn’t seem to frighten off my fiancé, only anger him further as he raised his voice to a yell that was permanently cut off as the knife was lodged quickly and efficiently in his chest. My gasp was obviously audible as the stranger turned in surprise to stare at me before the little voice in my head screamed at me to run. I pushed out of the back door hearing the shouts of the man who just committed murder in my home, a home I instinctively knew I wouldn’t be returning to. My feet were bare as I ran through neighboring yards in an attempt to evade the man I knew would be after me. I ran and ran not stopping, my feet raw and cracked, my lips chapped as my body craved a drop of water and a slice of bread.

I felt my eyes drooping and knowing I couldn’t fall asleep beside this dumpster I pushed myself up from the dingy pavement. I moved through the broken chain link fence at the back of the alley and like a beacon of security I found myself on the back step of a homeless shelter. With no questions asked, I was given a designated cot for the night along with the knowledge that dinner would be served within the next thirty minutes. I moved into the women’s bathroom and ran the tap in an effort to clean some of the dirt and grime from my body. Removing my shirt I placed it in the bin of dirty clothes and pulled a large t shirt that was freshly cleaned from the take away bin. I did the same with my pants after washing myself quickly and efficiently in the sink. Without a tie for my hair it hung loose and tangled around my shoulders. Running my fingers painfully through the knots, I was able to pull it back and tie it in its own knot at the base of my neck. Hearing the rumble of my stomach I moved into the large dining area and grabbed a tray as I waited in line for the first hot meal I had in days. I sat at a solitary table that looked out onto the entire room as well as the door. After eating quickly I was able to drag myself to my cot letting out a breath of relief as my head hit the pillow. Knowing I was too weak to control my mind I resigned to the fact that it would lead me to places I didn’t want to go as I closed my eyes and succumbed to exhaustion.

A flash of light and I found myself peering in through the small square window of the modern building. Confused at first as to where I was and what I saw I chanced a look around me only to find myself in a dark and gloomy forest. The trees bore no sign of life, the water churned in the distance in a black rage. The grey cloud covered most of the sky adding to the atmosphere of what could only be considered evil. Peeking through the window again I found myself staring at rows and rows of creatures I had never imagined before. The air around them, although separated by a window pane reached out to me, sinister and malicious. They wore black but their, albeit impressive, physiques were hard, untouchable and scarred. Black eyes stared at their commander whose back was to me, cold chips of ice completely devoid of any emotion awaited their next order. I stared, utterly fixed on faces that one could not conjure up in their wildest fantasies – hybrid creatures, half beasts half man stood like robots. Instantly I knew these were not an army put together for the security of any one country, these were feral rebel soldiers. The commander swung his head around, his eyes meeting mine. Such a contrary to his army, his eyes, gold, held a deceptive allure of warmth. My heart stuck in my throat, my body frozen, held paralyzed by fear.

In another flash and harder hands I was jerked awake to find myself back in the homeless shelter by a young girl.

"You must get up and go. I don’t know what kind of trouble you are in but there are two men tearing this place apart looking for you," she whispered earnestly. I pushed myself off the cot feeling rested but still leaning toward exhaustion. I found myself on wobbly legs even as she pushed me through the back door of which I came and directed me toward another maze of alleys. She bent down and took off her shoes, noticing I wore none and pushed them at me. I thanked her desperately shoving them on my feet before I bolted out the back door into the dark of the night. Flashbacks of my minds intermediate travels flowed over me like a kaleidoscope of images but it wasn’t gold eyes that stayed with me for some strange reason they were a familiar green. Before I could round the next corner I ran into a wall of hard chest that knocked me to the ground. A third man was waiting for me in the darkness. Gripping my arm he hoisted me back to my feet. Without a word he dragged me further into the shadows until we emerged onto the street front and to a waiting car. Instead of the back seat, I was forced into the overly large trunk of the sedan. Unfortunately at the early morning hours the streets were deserted, no one to hear my screams. I felt the rumble of the engine and felt myself start to tremble as I lay in terrifying fear. Knowing I was too stubborn no matter what situation I found myself in to drop to my knees and beg for mercy, I needed to come up with another plan. My fears were immediately put to the test when I was flung against the back wall of the trunk, my back hitting the unforgiving metal with a loud thud. I heard myself groan in pain as the undisputed sound of water washed over me. My heart started beating manically against my chest while my mind refused to believe they drove the car off the docks into the relentless ocean. Water started seeping in through the seams of metal. Knowing I didn’t have much time before I was fully engulfed in cold water my shivering legs kicked against the trunk door in an effort to free it. My legs soon lost strength beating against a relentless piece of unmoveable metal when suddenly I found myself free from the confines of the small dark space but breathing in the salty water causing my throat to burn. Warm hands pushed me upward; I felt my head break the surface but exhaustion and the sea took me under another blanket of shadows and I knew even after being freed I would become lost within the water, my body relinquished to the hungry waves. I distantly heard someone yelling my name at the same time I felt the hard planks of a wooden dock against my bruised back. Warm lips covered mine breathing new life into my lungs. I coughed and sputtered and found myself rolled onto my side. Turning back I was surprised to be alone, my saviour gone, disappeared into the night. I pushed myself to my feet and dragged my sodden body to the end of the pier finding a waiting taxi for me. Not seeing another choice I climbed in and found myself being taken to the train station. I closed my eyes and found for the first time in days a thin blanket of security that I wrapped around myself tightly.

I opened my eyes to find my grandfather sitting beside my bed going through one of my sketchbooks. Our eyes met, a solid understanding settled in his warm gaze.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

"Alright," I replied.

"You always were an awful liar."

"I always thought I was an outstanding liar, I said, attempting a small smirk. He shook his head in saddened disapproval. Why didn’t you ever re-marry?" I asked him impulsively. I almost regretted my question when a sudden wash of grief and misery clouded is aged eyes.

"Because I had my one love. She held my heart and when she left me I knew I would never get it back. I knew if I was to love another it would never come close to my love for your grandmother and I wasn’t selfish enough to put another through living as second best. He shrugged as I knew memories flooded his mind of the woman I never met. I know what you’re feeling darling, I do. And some unbidden advice for you that I learned all too well - being angry is not going to bring him back. It’s okay to be sad and to feel like your world has collapsed on you, but know you have wonderful friends and family to hold you up when you can’t do it yourself. And never forget how to smile my darling, because in the short time I knew him I know for a fact that is something he would want you to do." I nodded my head while an unwanted flood of tears blurred my vision. He bent down pressing his lips to my forehead before he retreated quietly out of the room leaving me here awake and writing in this journal that always brings me back to you. I look everywhere and there you are. I can see you lying in this bed with me and for a moment I can almost believe it’s real until the image of you disintegrates and floats away on a breeze leaving me cold and lonely. I have no desire to do anything other than sleep, maybe that way I will wake up and find it was all just a dream. I should be mad at myself for allowing myself to behave this way, I know you would be furious but I don’t have the strength to do anything else.

I miss you. I miss all of you. I miss all the little things and the big ones too. I miss the sparkle in your eyes and the curve of your lips. I miss the warmth of your embrace and the security it provided. I miss the beat of your heart and the spirit of your soul. I miss how you could so easily make me smile but most of all I miss that you took it with you.

I love you. I need you. I miss you. Always.

CHAPTER TWO

I walked through the door feeling new and fresh as I padded down the hallway coming to a stop in the doorway to the kitchen. The sight before me had me biting down on my lower lip containing the grin that wanted to tug at the corners of my mouth. Tommy had his back turned to me, chopping and throwing food into a pot that sat on the heat of the burner. He had let his blonde hair grow a little longer to where it reached just to his shoulders with layers of darks and lights that was completely natural, something of course I just paid two hundred dollars for. His skin held a natural tan that stretched over his powerful 6’4 frame but his most discerning feature was the midnight, navy blue of his eyes that a girl just found herself falling into, drowning helplessly in the charm and mischief they always seemed to carry. He was a pirate – rugged and masculine and every woman’s fantasy. He was too masculine, too arrogant, too sexy for anyone’s own good even his own but I felt I possessed enough sass, enough of my own arrogance to handle it as I put my hand up to the rest of the female population, and some of the male, saying don’t worry ladies, I got this one. I watched as his muscles bunched and flexed with male power; his strength weren’t defined from lifting weights in a gym, he was heavily chiselled with raw masculinity from the outdoors; his back was strong and formed, his biceps bulged and held strength unlike anything I had ever known, his derriere was just simply delicious, toned and muscular, his thighs, powerful and perfect. His body was marred with a few white scars from a history that was buried deep, telling a story of pain and eventually triumph but other than that, his skin held only the result of a warm sun. The first time I laid eyes on Tommy Anderson was a day I would never forget, it was a moment that had me questioning every action in my past and considering every one of the future. It was Frosh week of my first year at college and at the fresh age of twenty one, Cole and I pulled into the Quarters parking lot