Summer

By Frankie Rose

Avery Patterson’s literally not the girl she used to be.

A past that haunted her for years turned out to be based on a lie. Her father was not an evil man. He loved Avery enough to die for her, and now she’s determined to live for him. She owes him that much, and so much more. Ever since she was fourteen, Avery’s been running and hiding from every challenge she’s faced with, but this time she’s determined not to run. She’s going to fight for the broken boy who not only helped to unveil the truth about her family’s past, but also showed her there was hope for the future.

The only problem is that winter is over. Spring is almost through, and Avery’s New York Cop has turned in his badge and taken up his guitar. It’s been three months without contact. Three months without a single word.

Where on earth is Lucas Reid?

It’s amazing how quickly your life can change. One minute you’re patrolling the streets in one of the world’s craziest cities, arresting felons, and the next you’re singing something you came up with in the shower to fifteen thousand people. It’s easy to forget what life was like before. Easy to blur out the events of a childhood that feels like it happened to someone else.
But it didn’t happen to someone else. It happened to him. Luke knows that in order to move forward with Avery, he needs to come clean. But how best to do that, when his demons are so dirty?

It’s easy to write a song. It’s easy to make a crowd chant your name. But finding the right words to tell a horrible truth?

Nothing’s ever been harder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frankie Rose
• Release date: Feb 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310608636

Frankie Rose

Frankie Rose is a British expat, who is currently enjoying the perks of living in Australia- her awesome husband, sunshine, and vitamin D. She spends her time creating fictional universes in which the guy sometimes gets the girl, the heros occasionally die, and the endings aren't always happy. But they usually are.

Book preview

ONE

AVERY

One more time, beautiful. I need to make you come one more time before I go. Luke pulls me close, his hands sliding down to cup my ass. He leans in and drags his nose from the skin on my shoulder up to my neck, his hot breath leaving a trail of desire on my skin. I groan softly, reaching up and sliding my fingers through his hair before pulling back on the black locks. His brown eyes are warm. His smile is killer. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he wets them, as if savoring how good I taste. My stomach twists as he growls softly.

I don’t want to go, I whisper, leaning in, pressing my lips to his. The firm brush of his tongue beckons me to open up to him, to hand myself over to him unconditionally. His mouth tastes sweet from the cinnamon bagels we ate for breakfast. I suck softly on his tongue, and he groans, his fingers tightening on me. He pulls away, reaching behind me to clear the counter in the bathroom, and toothbrushes, hair gel, ear buds and cans of shaving foam all crash to the floor. I focus on him, reaching to tug his shirt off as he glances up toward the clock.

Time’s your flight again? he pants.

Cab’s coming in forty minutes. I start to take off my shirt, but he stops me, shaking his head.

I want to do it. You’re mine to undress. He takes my wrists and stretches my arms high over my head, leaning in to kiss me as the air rushes from my lungs. He smells so good, like fresh laundry and spicy cologne. My body reacts violently to his nearness, my pulse throbbing in my temple, my wrists, my neck.

"Hurry. You’re taking far too long here. Time is not our friend," I complain. He chuckles. The sound is delightful. My lips turn up in a smile as I watch him; I’m not used to smiling this much. It feels strange. Alien. Unnatural and wonderful at the same time. Lust burns in Luke’s gaze, and I’m struck by the same unnerving thought I’m hit with every time he looks at me this way: how can a man so beautiful, so good, so right want me?

Because we’re both broken. We’re as healed as either of us could ever hope to be, a small voice whispers in my ear.

He tugs me off the counter and kneels before me, working me out of my jeans. He slows as he moves past the scar on my thigh, the bullet wound gifted to me by Chloe Mathers—a clean through and through. My life almost ended over the Christmas break. Not from the injury that caused my scar, but from the poison in my veins, the water in my lungs.

Luke leans forward and presses his lips against my thigh. My eyes close as my head tilts back a little. God, I want him so badly. Gripping hold of his hair a little tighter, I tug him gently higher up my leg.

Oh really? he says breathlessly. I see someone knows what she wants today. He leans into me and presses a kiss against my panties, giving me what I want, and a violent shiver ricochets around my body. He’s so perfect. I used to be so scared of him, so intimidated by how he made me feel. For the longest time I couldn’t even admit my feelings to myself, but now everything has changed. All bets are off when it comes to my dark-haired boy.

I like bossy, Avery, he says, grinning up at me. She should come out to play more often.

Avery.

After everything that happened last year, I had hoped to go back to the name I was given by my parents, but it didn’t stick. I’d moved on, become someone else. I’d become Avery. I’ve finally gotten used to my new name, and Luke seems to have as well. He hesitated in the past, but recently he doesn’t miss a beat. Iris Breslin died in that ghost-filled house back in Breakwater—the one her father left her when he died. I need her to rest in peace so I can live again. She deserves that, and so do I.

Luke makes a raw, sex-crazed sound as he stands and begins to unbutton his jeans, and I find myself welling up all of a sudden. My emotions seem to run riot whenever I’m around him. Tears prick at my eyes as he kicks his pants off and picks me up, sitting me back on the cold counter. His expression changes instantly when he sees I’m upset.

"Hey. He cups my face in his hands. Hey, what’s the matter?" His fingers slide into my hair, tilting my head back so I don’t have a choice but to look him in the eye. His erection presses against me, the warmth of his chest against mine, driving me mad.

I just don’t want to think about us not being together in your bed later. I’m on the verge of breaking down. I hate feeling so weak. This is a different kind of weakness, though. So long as I’m not crying for my father anymore, I’m okay. Tears for Luke are all right. With anyone else I’m still guarded, learning how to let them in, but not with him. Luke destroys all the walls I construct, tears down the strongholds I’ve clung to for years.

I know, beautiful. It’s going to be weird for me, too. First night in the new place, he says. He’s been staying at Coles thus far, but Luke’s been living alone for years now, ever since he arrived in New York. Crashing with three other guys was driving him crazy, so he’s moving a few streets away in order to get some peace and quiet. He gives me a reassuring smile. Not much longer ‘til you can come check it out, Ave. You shouldn’t be thinking about that, though. Stay right here with me. He leans down and kisses me, breathing in deeply. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he bends over me, pulling panties to one side, exposing my pussy. He hums with pleasure, and my body reacts to his as he dips low to slide his cock deep inside of me. The pressure is delicious, the sensation of my body forming around his never ceasing to amaze me. I try to suck in a breath, try to focus on the feeling of him inside me, around me, filling my senses, and little by little my sadness ebbs. I rock forward, unable to help myself, and Luke tightens his grip on me as a warning. The strength in his hands and the fierce dominance in his eyes almost tears me apart before we can even begin.

Oh, fuck, I groan, looking down to watch him work himself in and out of me. No matter how many times I witness this, the sight never loses its thrill. He’s so big. The strong muscles of his stomach and chest flex, shaking slightly as he slowly thrusts into me. Moving my hands behind me, I arch my back, showcasing my breasts.

Goddamn, woman. You’re shameless. Luke leans down and takes my left breasts in his hand, cupping and then licking softly. He brushes the rough pad of his thumb over my nipple while he continues to fuck me slowly, his motions wickedly torturous. Wickedly hot. I pant uncontrollably as I watch him enjoy me. So beautiful, Ave.

I reach up and grab the back of his neck, rolling my hips to massage his cock. His eyes shutter closed as he moves both hands to my hips.

Wrap your legs around me, baby. He takes a firm hold on my ass and lifts, my body slamming into his as I wrap my other arm around him. I pull up and push down as he shows me the rhythm he needs. The smell of sex is thick in the small bathroom, the sound of his friends laughing in the living room of Cole’s apartment lost under the sweet things we whisper to one another. I want him to consume me, to set fire to my soul and then put out the burn with the wetness of his tongue.

Good, beautiful? You like how deep I fuck you? He never used to talk to me like that. He always used to be such a gentleman. I loved that Luke, but I love this new, dirty version, too. He melts my insides. The rock star life has begun a transformation in him. He’s so much more sensual, so sleek and sexy. That side of him was always there, even when he was an NYPD cop. This lifestyle just allows the wicked side of him free rein.

Mmm hmm, I moan, leaning forward, pressing my tongue to his D.M.F. tattoo, licking over the ink and then sinking my teeth into his nipple. Faster.

Oh? Faster? So greedy. He responds in kind to my desire, lifting me and using my body to bring himself to the edge of ecstasy. Heat bubbles up in the center of me, the slick wetness where our bodies meet increasing our connection every time his pelvis presses against mine. It’s enough to send me over the edge. I’m pulled back suddenly by the shadow that flashes across Luke’s features, though. It sends a wave of worry through me as I dig my fingers into his flesh, working to keep him in here in the moment with me.

The consuming sadness that lingered on him after the events of last year is finally gone, and for that I’ve been overwhelmingly grateful. To see it resurfacing now, while we’re intertwined like this, is heartbreaking. I get it, though. It nearly broke him not knowing if I would wake up after the attack. I was dying, and he had to place his hands on my chest, lock his fingers together, and compress over and over again, screaming, desperately working to keep me alive until help arrived. Having taken a bullet to his own chest, he almost lost his life that day, too. Without him, I most definitely would have.

I’m going to come. Don’t stop, I whisper, moving faster, trying to draw him back into the moment. I want nothing more than to disappear into the oncoming orgasm, to vanish inside it, to become mindless and simply nothing as the world explodes around me, but I need him with me. Le petit mort, the French call it. The little death. Luke groans loudly as he thrusts fast and deep inside me. The look on his handsome face flips something inside me. I throw my head back and scream, every nerve in my body consumed in the fire of his attack.

That’s it, beautiful. Come all over me, Ave. Mark me. I wanna smell you on me when you’re gone. He leans in, pulling me closer as his teeth graze my collarbone. I scream again, riding out the pleasure until my mind can’t take it anymore.

He holds me close, moving to sit me back on the counter. Clinging to me, he leaves a trail of kisses on my face and neck. God, I love you. I love you so much. This isn’t enough. I need more. He moves his hands to hold my face as he slides out of me.

I wrap my arms around him, shifting my hands up his strong back, enjoying the tension in his muscles from working so hard for our sex. I love you with all of me, Luke. You’re all that matters. You have my heart. My soul. Everything. He has as much as I can give. The events of last winter left us clinging together, scared and unsure of life in general. After my father was acquitted of both the Wyoming ripper case and the four-person murder he was accused of back when I was a kid, I thought everything would fall into place. It did to some degree, but I am still me and honestly, he is still him.

We have a lot of healing to do. I just pray we can do it together.

TWO

AVERY

Heaviness sits on me like a well-worn cloak after leaving LA. I know it was unavoidable—Columbia is on break for the summer, but I still have projects that need to be completed and handed in. I have to go back to New York. There’s no getting out of it. Something isn’t right, though. I just can’t shake the look on Luke’s face when I left. He stoically refused to admit there was something wrong when I asked him what was troubling him. He’s far too selfless to clue me in when something’s on his mind most of the time, but it’s not just that. He’s growing a little stubborn.

The rock star life fits him well, but like anyone, it’s changing him. Will he still be the boy I grew up with after staying in Cali for the rest of the year? And, most importantly, the thing that worries me the most: What if it isn’t just a year? What if it’s much, much longer?

I pull my phone from my back pocket as I shut the door to Luke’s apartment. Breathing in deep, I try and catch a subtle hint of him on the air, but the place smells like laundry detergent and old books. He hasn’t been here in so long that the scent of him has all but vanished. It would be impossible to choose a favorite of my senses when it comes to Lucas—he tastes, feels, looks, sounds and smells amazing in equal measure—but up until now it’s been reassuring to have the faint echo of him hit the back of nose every once in a while. I guess until he comes home next, I’ll have to make do with being surrounded by his belongings instead. Anything to feel a little closer to him. I collapse onto the black leather sofa where Luke and I kissed for the first time, and I pull my phone out, unable to stop myself.

Me: I’m home. Well, back in your apartment. Flight was good. Miss you already.

I wait a few minutes. Usually, when I text him the small bubble pops up below my message immediately, showing that he’s writing something. Not this time, though. The little text bubble is painfully absent. He’s working. He’s meeting with the guys. He’s writing something. He’s sleeping. He’s busy, and that’s totally fine. I repeat this over and over again, but sometimes it’s hard to accept. It would be remiss of me not to mention that my boyfriend has to be one of the sexiest guys in LA. Nowhere is safe for him. Not with hordes of girls following him so closely all the time, which they apparently do now that the band’s popularity is picking up.

Will I lose him to this new life of his? I can’t contemplate that. I’ve lost far too much already. Wouldn’t that be ironic, though? We both survive near death experiences together. We survive our awful pasts, only to be separated by something as fleeting and shallow as fame. I eject that thought from my brain, physically forcing it out of my head as I slide my phone away. I can’t worry about that. I won’t. It will only serve to drive me crazy, and I have months and months to go before Luke returns to New York.

When I first moved to New York, the constant hum of the activity in the background whenever I was trying to eat, sleep, or study would be really distracting. After a few weeks, I became attuned to the music of the city, though. I hardly hear the loud slams and police sirens that seemed to be wailing twenty-four seven. Blocking out the sound of Morgan hammering on my front door is another thing entirely, though. I’m deep in thought, trying to reassure myself that this whole Luke situation is going to be just fine, when the loud slam of her open palm against the wood nearly has me jumping out of my skin.

{Jesus. I hold my hand to my chest, adrenalin coursing through me, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat.

Avery, hurry the fuck up. It’s hot out here.

All right. All right, I’m coming! I open the door and my best friend practically jumps into my arms, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh my god. You were gone forever. Next time I’m coming with you." She moves into the apartment as I shut the door, slowly spinning to face her.

Three days. I was only gone for three days. I kick the door closed behind her, wondering briefly why time seems to go so fast when I’m with Luke, and yet painfully slowly whenever he’s not around.

And? Morgan leans her weight on one side and places her hand on her hip, eyebrows listing. I know exactly what she wants.

And it was good. I had a fun time. I really needed a beat to hang out and spend some time with Luke.

Shit. Everyone needs to see Luke. How you scored such a hot piece of a— She pauses, her grin growing even more fiendish. Sorry. I know. Don’t worry. As you can see, I’m learning the art of keeping my damn mouth shut.

Pssshhh. At this point, why bother? I laugh. And you can say it. My boyfriend is hot, and he’s all the way over on the other side of the country, in LA along with perhaps ninety percent of the world’s most beautiful women. I stick my tongue out at her, heading toward the kitchen. I don’t want to seem like a crazy, jealous girlfriend, though, so I brush the thought away. I just walked through the door. Have you been watching the place? Or did you implant me with a personal tracker or something?

Morgan’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "After the innumerable fights you get yourself into, maybe I should. And no, I was not watching the place, smart-ass. I was just doing an assignment. In my car. Outside the apartment."

Right. You just so happened to be doing an assignment in your car. You’ve officially ventured into stalker territory, you know.

That’s not the worst thing I’ve been accused of. She winks and beelines for the refrigerator, pulling the door open and leaning down to stick her head in.

Morgan’s doing better with her drug addiction. The thought of her even having to struggle with something so foreign is still pretty difficult to understand. Like all addicts, she’s very good at hiding her problems until she physically can’t hide them any longer. Never in a million years would anyone guess that she’s attending counseling for drug abuse these days, under the strict and watchful eyes of her parents. The almost fatal overdose that she went through last semester was a blessing in disguise. She was found and rushed to the hospital just in time, thank god. Luke was still a cop then. He was summoned to the scene, and he kept her calm until the ambulance arrived. He rode with her to the hospital. He came and found me, broke the news to me, was there for me in the same way he’s always been there for whenever I’ve needed him in the past.

I lean against the counter, waiting for the barrage of questions I’m sure is about to commence any second now. Morgan straightens and looks over her shoulder, one perfectly plucked eyebrow lifting. How was it? How was Luke? You guys good?

Yeah. He has a tan.

Sweet Jesus. Luke Reid with a tan. There should be a law against anything that will make that man more attractive to the opposite sex.

Yeah, it’s…it’s pretty disarming. I grab some glasses, doing my best not to remember how amazing Luke looked when he tore his clothes off three days ago after I walked through the door of Cole’s apartment. Morgan tosses me a soda, which I barely catch.

Something’s wrong, she says. You’re normally quiet, but this, she waves a hand in my general direction, "is too quiet. Even for you. Spill."

I pour the soda out for us, feeling itchy and uncomfortable even admitting this out loud. I guess I  just hate knowing that girls are hitting on him every night of the week.

Every night of the week? Fuck. Yeah, that’s gotta be exhausting.

You’re not helping.

Sorry, babe. Morgan accepts the drink I hold out for her, slinging her arm around my shoulder, and then planting a wet kiss against my temple. I’m the worst. Tell me.

I shrug. It was hard enough thinking about him being a cop back in New York, in danger of getting shot and stabbed every five minutes.

And now he’s in danger of severe alcohol poisoning and ball-withering STIs? She grins like a mad woman. "He’s totally in love with you. I’ve never seen a guy so in love. You have nothing to worry about. I mean, how many girls can say their man gave them CPR for forty-five minutes while they were dying themselves?"

Yeah. True. Great. That’s the last thing I need to be thinking about. Other girls may need help moving heavy furniture in their apartments. Their cars might break down and they might need a ride. My life is so filled with drama that I needed rescuing from a crazed psychopath.

He’s one of the last good guys out there, Morgan continues. He’s more concerned with love than lust.

I don’t know. He can be pretty focused on lust when the mood takes him.

Morgan starts to glow in that odd way she does when she’s excited about something. "Details. Give me every last moment. Now."

"No. Hell no, I tell her, shaking my head. It suddenly dawns on me that she’s dressed up, her black shirt dipping into her breasts, her jeans white and classy. Wait...where are you going after this?"

"Where are we going?"

Morgan, I’m exhausted. I’ve been travelling all day. I’m not going anywhere.

My friend bounces on the balls of her feet, a wild glint in her eye. "Yes, we are. I met a new guy, and you know me. I am not a lone wolf. I need my wing woman." She takes a long drink of her soda before belching in a way that would make my Uncle Brandon quite proud. My father’s best friend, Brandon, raised me after the events of my childhood caught up to me. He’s crude, hilarious and just about the most spectacular man I know. I should really let him know I’ve arrived home safe and sound.

Hey! I’m talking to you! Morgan snaps her fingers in front of my face. Stop disappearing into your porno daydreams and get dressed. Think of us poor serfs who aren’t lucky enough to have porno dreams of their own to relive. Morgan waves in front of my face, her smile wide. Her eyes contain promises of debauchery and a bad hangover tomorrow morning.

The hell are you talking about, woman? You came out of the womb with porno dreams.

We. Are. Going. Out. To. Night. The bar on sixth and Jefferson is featuring my new guy’s band. I’m not going alone. You’re coming with—

"No, I’m not."

Morgan folds her arms across her chest. I went with you to see Luke when he played. Now it’s your turn. She lifts an eyebrow, as if daring me to defy her.

I sigh, trying to meld myself with the couch so she can’t possibly drag me away from it. You think this place still smells like Luke? I ask quietly.

No, I think it smells of laziness and terrible friendship. Come on, Avery. You’re my best friend. She sticks out her bottom lip, and I instantly feel sorry for her parents. Morgan really does get what Morgan wants. She must have been impossible to say no to as a child.

It’s no wonder she has a new boyfriend. With her dark auburn hair and piercing gray eyes, by rights she should be on the covers of magazines all over the country. Too bad she’s bat-shit crazy most days. Fine. But I’m not drinking, and we’re not staying out all night. I’m exhausted and I have assignments to do.

We’re on summer break, Avery! No one actually does those assignments.

Yes. Yes, they do. That’s what mandatory means, babe. They’re non-negotiable.

Morgan pouts. You’re obviously just not as good as negotiating as I am. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about school. We are about to have the best fucking night of our lives.

Ugh. Fine. I groan as I reluctantly stand. Do I even know this guy? I place my drink down on the counter, fighting the need to locate a coaster. My mom would always flip her shit if I put a glass down without one. Abandoning my drink without resting it on something seems like a form of rebellion. My mother’s a self-serving, class-A bitch. After my father’s death, she abandoned me with my Uncle Brandon and changed everything about herself but her face. New name, new city, new life and a new girlfriend. Have I told Morgan about Mom being a lesbian now? Probably not. I sure as hell don’t feel like bringing it up now, that’s for sure.

I’ve mentioned him, but you’ve been pre-occupied. Morgan shrugs, pointing toward the bedroom. "Go. Hurry. They’re the opening act tonight. They go on