Almost Me: Rook & Raven, #1

By K. Leigh Winters

Claire is the consummate performer, she does as she's told without question, with a smile that only touches her lips. 

 

But through the gilded cage there is always a trapped bird. 
 

Liam to some may just be a bartender, but he is the only one who sees what lies behind those beautiful emerald eyes. 

 

He would give anything to be the one to take away what haunts Claire. 

 

Will she let him in or will it be too late? 

 

***Some content matter may be difficult for some readers***

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kimberly Minton Abeele
• Release date: Oct 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533784858

K. Leigh Winters

I am a mother, a wife, a friend. I live in Florida with my beautiful family and enjoy writing while people watching at local coffee shops. I work as a nurse but some days I am surprised I am paid to do something I truly adore. I write because I have something to say and I am ok when I have nothing, I write because I love to, I enjoy the vacations in my head and don't mind sharing, in fact I love imput both good, bad, and indifferent so please don't hesitate to drop a line on my website and don't forget to check out my latest playlist. To me music and writing go hand and hand, they inspire eachother.  Follow me on; Facebook; K Leigh Winters Twitter; @K_Leigh_Winters Instagram; K.leighwinters Wattpad; @kleighwinters goodreads; kleighwinters

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

AND THE TEARS come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

Fix you by; Coldplay

Claire

It’s Mid-August in the sunshine state and the sun is just getting started, slowly burning the skin off of the translucent tourist. But here in this decrepit and forgotten building a mere block from the ramped tourist hordes marauding the T-shirt streets of International Drive, I hide. My own little place of refuge from the sun. Cold air pinks my cheeks before the sun has a chance to greet the morning. Droplets of frozen moisture hover low to the ice like a soft cloud blanket shielding me, embracing me. My cheeks prickle with tiny frosty kisses as I glide across the smooth morning ice. A loud lone groan emits from the ice and echos off the rust laden walls that surround it, my skillful blades carve out in deep flowing edges eliciting more of the deep guttural sounds, reminiscent of a lover's moan.

I love that sound.

All movements are of pure muscle memory, my body enjoying the peacefulness that's cloaking over me protecting me from the world outside, but most importantly from myself, from my personal demons. This is my moment, my time, the only time during the day I feel complete and my mind is truly at peace.

This is my sanctuary. 

In the next hour the other sleepy skaters will be dragged in here by their starry eyed mothers and my peaceful fog will dissipate with the erratic movements of their little bodies. Their incessant and mindless chatter invading the quiet stillness of my mind. They'll overrun my safe haven, scribbling through my beautiful scrollwork that I have spent hours etching out in the virgin morning ice. I usually leave when the others arrive, and for that reason I have the reputation of being the ice queen, which is fine by me if that's what it takes for them to keep their distance. I have no time to play with these kids who will never truly love this place as I do. This is my home. And I am no child, not like them. Besides I wouldn't even know how to begin socializing with my own age let alone make friends with them, no it's better this way. My parents kept me isolated for so long with only the company of adults, that I have nothing in common with them anyway. So no, I am no child, not now, not ever. I would mourn the loss but one cannot mourn what one never had to begin with.

I hated crowds and being around so many people was mentally exhausting, no one understands the effort it takes for me on a daily basis to be their 'normal'. That is my biggest performance, the only time I really even get butterflies. Throw the stage lights on and darken the theater and let me loose, for I am fierce, when I control the audience, the crowd.

I slow my breathing and enjoy every bit of cold air that fills my lungs as I stretch out my long edge performing a single stretch and holding onto the edge and speed for as long as the ice will allow me. Building my speed up once again I step onto my left skate stretching out into a perfect spiral, a standing split, my right toe pointing perfectly to the collapsing ceiling that's pock marked from the hockey player's pucks. Completely stretched out like this I can lean deeper on the outer edge of my blades and caress the ice with my left hand. It's my morning routine, showing my appreciation for not only the ability for my body to move so languidly but to the ice for allowing me to do so. My first and last love, the ice will never abandon me. It may bring me pain but it is a pain I welcome with open arms, as in my audience, the pain from the ice I control. This is the most control I feel I have in my life.

Somewhere in the distance a door slams interrupting my peace a little too soon. Squinting in the direction of the sound I see a large figure emerging from the fog moving closer to me, his Timberland boots crunching across my ice. I grit my teeth ready to launch into one of my infamous tirades at the intruder. That's when the shape of a perfect muscular body begins to materialize through the dense fog. He's well over six feet tall, wide as a door thus very intimidating, he dominates over all the other players, this is one of the reasons he is captain of our hockey team. He doesn't intimidate me though. I haven't seen him in months, not since I last walked away from him. It wasn't that I didn't love him but I was scared and I wanted to prove to myself, for some sadistic reason, that I could do the leaving this time. Although it could have all just been the result of one of my self-destructive mood swings. Things were going too perfectly so of course I had to destroy it before I could get hurt. Again it's about control. Sick I know but I really can't help it.

I knew I'd find you here. His deep voice echoes across my sanctuary causing me to bite harder on the inside of my check in an effort to keep my calm.

Everyday. He flinches at my response, which I guess sounded a little harsh but this is 'me' time and of all people he should know better. I really don't want to do this now. Alex is running his hands through his sandy blond hair, his light blue eyes darting around the rink nervously. Is he looking for the nearest exit or a witnesses? I hope it's the latter. I don't make a single move to skate closer to him. If he was dumb enough to bother me and even dumber to come tromping across the ice in his boots he can come to me, and if he fell, well all the better.

Yeah I guess I deserved that. Alex is rubbing his hand across the back of his neck nervously.

Who let you in? I was going to give them hell for this.

Don't blame Brian, I begged. He said you've been... My lips press into a thin line and I start chewing on my cheek harder to distract myself and ebb the anger that's building inside me. Alex seems to be trying to find his confidence, he takes in a slow measured breath.

...Distant, on edge. You know, it's just that I miss you and I still care. We all care, Claire

Oh no, he does not get to do this, not now, not while I was just getting myself under control. Whoever the 'we' he is referring too probably had their own selfish reasons for being worried about my behavior. My explosive temper and self-destructive tendencies have been well checked lately. I feel the heat creep into my cheeks, the fire that burns inside me stoked with this intruders assumptions, how dare he, how dare them. Can I not just get a moment’s reprieve?

Claire please let me in, let someone in, anybody. You can't bear whatever this is inside you, alone. I know you don't believe me, I see that look in your eyes, and you’re suspicious of everyone. He moves forward raising his hand as if to touch my face.

This isn't coming from your parents. I honestly wanted to see you and when I heard the boys' talk about how distant you've been I just got scared, I still love you. You have to know that.

How dare you! I screech throwing myself into a blind rage. I look around me, I don't care if I have witnesses, and I need to throw something. I need to physically exert my anger, and in that moment my black veil of anger descends over my eyes. I am lost to all rational thought.

Alex

I step back and withdraw my hand, which was still extended, hopelessly between us. The distance is not only physical but emotionally. I have done this and I need to fix it. It wasn't just one of my steps, this was important. I know that wild look in her eyes; she's like a caged animal ready to pounce as soon as some fool opens the door. Her highs and lows hit massive extremes sometimes and apparently she has been unusually quite since returning from a week away. Although strangely none of the rink rats or her coaches seem to know where she went off too. There really is only two answers, both of which won't be good.

Claire, please, just answer me one thing.

She's vibrating with rage, I knew this was a bold move coming at this time and I can only hope she'll forget to be mad at Brian. But she is really good about pushing people away. She also has a strange sixth sense, anytime I come close it's like she can feel me and then runs. Of course calling or going to her home never worked so I knew it would be useless to try them this time.

She gives me a curt nod to acknowledge my question and allow me to continue. I take a deep breath to steel my nerves and maybe give me some courage to hear her answer. Where did you go? When I see her emerald eyes glass over and her fist ball, it is all the answer I need. Her delusional parents must have sent her out to 'The Beach House', she hates that place, it would answer why she's been quiet but something had to have set her off bad enough to warrant her being dumped off at the mental hospital for some R&R. Son of a bitch! Her Uncle. I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing, 'In. Out. In. Out'. It all makes sense now. But it's too late, I hear a locker room door slam somewhere in the distance, the sound reverberates around the massive space. Shit! I try to run off the ice only to slip and fall on my ass. Fuck that hurts thank god no one is here to witness it but I'll probably be nursing my hip for the rest of the week.

I get to the locker room door that I know is hers and find it locked. I start slamming my fist against the heavy metal door and screaming, Claire, baby please! Claire open the door! Open the door Claire! Please we need to talk! Please tell me what I can do, Claire! I'm getting nowhere and it suddenly hits me, locker room nine that she uses has two doors she always needs two exits. Fuck! I run the length of the rink to get to the one door to the lobby and the exit doors only in time to see her Audi TT peel out of the parking lot in a streak of gunmetal silver. My first instinct is to hit something I turn and punch the door to The Pro Shop and hear, no, felt a crunch, it's a fucking fire door. Two fingers are set at an odd angle. Just FanFuckingTastic!

Dude, I take it that it didn't go so well? Brian's head is sheepishly poking out of the office's Dutch door. The bastard is scared of her. He puppy dogged after her for the last 2 years but the only attention she gave him was when he opened the door to the rink for her in the mornings. Poor guy. I grunt out a response but not able to muster the strength to verbalize any further than that.

Come on man, let’s go see Dr. Ferro and get your fingers set. We can figure out what to do next while we wait in the ER waiting room. Oh hey, I think the remodel is finally finished. It's funny how well we all know the local ER so well. I had one question for Brian and I could only hope he knew the answer.

Hey man, before she disappeared anything happen, any changes here? Brian takes his ball cap off and starts scratching at his stubble. As much as he pays attention to her I am surprised he is not quicker with a response. Oh Yeah! She went to see that choreographer up in Jacksonville came back with this hot new program, man you should see the costume Anna is making her, damn. Brian is still rambling and I can feel the color leave my face.

Some hot song you know from the 90's I think something about being the only one, damn the shit she can do with her body on those...Hey man you look like you're going to be sick, come on I'll drive you. No fucking shit Sherlock if Brian only knew half of what I knew, but he doesn't and no one will cause it's not my story to tell. I promised her. 

Brian did she go up for the day?

No, she stayed a week up there with her uncle in that fancy condo of his. Son of a bitch, it's worse than I thought. I really feel sick now.

Hey dude let's go before you pass out on me, your looking worse by the minute.

Four hours later and 2mg of IV Dilaudid plus a shit ton of Lidocaine injections and my damn fingers are set. My cell has been blowing up with messages, fucking nosey rink rats, but that's when I notice a message from Claire.

Claire; I need to see you

I can't type my response fast enough.

Alex; When? Where?

I wait but no response; eventually minutes turn into hours and then days. Three days later in my drunken stupor I get a response.

Claire; Leaving for Nevada will be back in 3 weeks. Meet me at the bar 7pm, Friday

It's a start; I just need to find the strength to wait and most of all the strength to be there for her. Can I be enough for her? Am I even strong enough to try again? Not in this state. It's time a made a call I only have 3 weeks to get my shit together. It was easy for me to fall though. Maybe I really wasn’t good enough for her. Maybe I need to let someone else take care of her. I'm not exactly the best example of stability for her. There's too many 'maybe's' rolling around in my head and honestly the only fix for that was my good friend Jack D.

Where did she go?

CHAPTER TWO

CLAIRE

I’m sitting outside my favorite coffee shop, Living Bean Cafe, trying to calm my nerves. Alex always has a way of setting me off like no one else can and I really can’t afford to get myself off kilter today. It’s bad enough I stormed out of the rink before my coaches even had a chance to walk in the door, no doubt there’ll be consequences. I really wasn’t worried about any punishment my coach, Robert, would inevitably dole out for me but my parents on the other hand that was something else entirely. I shudder just thinking of all the possible scenarios all ending with me breaking just a little more. Just four more months. Saying it out loud makes the statement feel closer, real, almost tangible. I just need a plan, but right now I need coffee, delicious gourmet pour over coffee. Yes I know I am a coffee snob and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

I know the owner of LBC and he is so obsessed with the quality of his coffee that he roasts his own beans. One would think that someone so meticulous about something so insane that he would be some debonaire three piece suit wearing prick, but he’s not, he’s actually kind of a sloppy hipster geek. Joe is on the patio delivering some handcrafted lattes to two young blond girls that look way out of his league, you really have to give him credit for trying though. Joe is a little fluffy in the middle, more to love he always says, he has large black rimmed glasses, a mop of dark unruly hair and a bushy beard. Today he is sporting sloppy jeans with a once stylish plaid button up shirt that looks like it was pulled out of the bottom of his laundry basket and ten year old Van’s sneakers. I can’t help but laugh to myself, he is such a mess but you can’t help but to love him, like a brother of course.

Poor Joe is always asking me to set him up with one of my so called hot skater ‘friends’ too funny cause I don’t have any, friends at the rink that is but I’ll not admit that one out loud. I’m sure he’d consider some of the girls hot but like I said they’re not my friends and it’s not for a lack of trying but I am basically a social pariah and I got tired a long time ago of trying to fit in with my peers. So I have resigned myself to be forever on the outside looking in. I’m ok with that though.

I’m not getting any closer to my coffee fix by sitting here watching the world move around me, not that that’s any different then my usual but at least I’ll have my caffeine fix in hand before I settle into a morning of people watching. I turn the engine of my Audi TT off, check my reflection in the mirror, I’m passable with a dab of lipstick and I’ll be good to go. Except I am still in my black leotard and black tights with ballet flats and sweater leggings, those are gray so I’m not a complete goth. Today is a hot one, August is the worst in Florida and I always keep a beach bag in the car cause you never know. Hopefully I have a cover up stashed in there. I pop the trunk and fish around my bag and find an elegant bohemian wrap around robe, this will work. It’s white with black paisley prints and splashes of purple, pinks and teals. I double check myself in the reflection of a black Suburban and deem myself as passable for a hipster coffee shop.

LBC is in one of the old quaint citrus towns that no tourist would deign to visit since it’s a whole 15 minutes off the beaten path. Fine by me and apparently to all the other locals that are overflowing out of the cafe doors. Instead of falling ruin to the loss of their biggest money maker, citrus, the towns council came together and made a plan to move with the times converting the old business buildings that lined Main street into trendy bistros, shops, cafes and of course loft apartments. Even the train tracks that ran down the middle of the street got a face lift, the tracks were pulled up and a wide bicycle/ walking path was created that linked up with the network of Rails to Trails that ran up and down the length of Florida. No longer forgotten and left to the decaying disease of the unwanted.

The bell on the cafe door jingles and I can barely see over the person in front of me, I’m just five feet tall so this of course isn’t a new feeling but at this moment it irks. The place is packed. I stomp my foot in frustration letting loose a very unladylike growl, it’s 9 o’clock shouldn’t these people be at work already? The deep timber of a man’s voice tickles my ear, I’m glad to know I’m not the only one you growl at. Liam, my breath catches as I turn and look up and up into his steal gray eyes, his smile is so genuine even the corners of his eyes crinkle. I’m just not a very patient person. Wow, that came out really bitchy. I’ve known Liam for a few years, my lazy parents don’t cook but prefer to blow there money on fancy