Borrowed Tyme

By S.L. Ziegler

Off Limits.
I shouldn't touch her.
It's forbidden, wrong,
And dangerous.

Naomi Minter is my best friend's daughter.
I'm supposed to be looking out for her,
Keeping her safe,
While getting ready to take the music industry by storm.

It seemed like a perfect plan,
An easy task--anything I could do for a friend.

Until I saw her,
Watched her,
And began to want her in ways that I can't ignore,
Won't ignore.
Nothing can keep me away,
From her body,
Her life,
Her heart.

But once he finds out,
I'm done,
Finished,
Playing with borrowed tyme.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.L. Ziegler
• Release date: Dec 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370086788

Book preview

Chapter 1

The rays from the setting sun bring attention to the dark wood of the cabin. The hot summer air lingers longer tonight. A twinge of true happiness hits me in the gut for my oldest friend, Lock. He finally got everything he’s ever wanted. From his shop to his house, he deserves it all, and probably then some.

When Lock was seventeen, he’d met some random chick at a party. Nine months and two DNA tests later, he had a daughter to live for. The mother flaked two months into parenthood, but it didn’t stop him. Lock stepped up to the plate and he did it by himself. He raised his daughter with no help from his parents, or the bitch who gave birth to her and should’ve been a mother to that little girl. Even with all the mess of dropping out of high school, he managed to figure out how to have his hope of opening his own custom bike shop here in Atlanta come true.

He’s living the damn dream now.

Ironically, it wouldn’t have been Lock I pictured becoming this man in school, though. Things are different now.

We are different.

I was ten, just some loner kid who one day tripped over his feet in the lunchroom, and Lock—who, even at nine, towered over me—helped me up. Our friendship never made sense, and still doesn’t. We’ve always been completely opposite of each other. Lock was the free one, starting fights—ending them. He was the one having sex with random girls, drinking, and more. I was the dork who pretty much kept to myself; Lock and my ex, Zoey, being my only friends. I stayed clear of everything and everyone. Where Lock’s idea of a good night was a party with free beer, mine was staying away from all that shit, holed up in my basement with my guitar in my hands and a notebook at my side to ensure I never missed the lyrics that flowed through me whenever I hit that certain—perfect—note. I grew up with one thing on my mind: music. I bled for it, cried over it, hoped for it, fought above it. And I thought nothing would be a cloud over my future.

I moved to LA to make music the day I turned twenty, Zoey followed, and we got married before the ink dried on my first deal. For a while, it was everything I dreamed of…‘til the late night parties and early mornings at the studio wore me out. That’s when I found the wake-up I needed. Drugs. Coke was my drug of choice. By the end, I would’ve done anything to chase the damn high. Even when Zoey was pregnant, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop. And because of it, I’d lost my wife, my daughter Charlie, my band, and my career. I’d fallen victim to the damn Hollywood curse.

Losing all that still hadn’t stopped me.

My rock bottom came in the form of an overdose in a hotel bathroom. Alone. And ever since that night, I’ve been clean. Thanks to three months in rehab, another nine months in a sober living home, and many grueling hours each week spent in groups, I finally have my shit together. At least in this moment I do.

It’s always one day at a time. Sometimes one hour, other times one minute. But sober me is someone I like and I will fight the demons head on to stay that way.

Lock may not have as much money as I do in the bank, but that’s not what life is about. He’s got his damn family, which is far more than I can say for myself.

The sound of the heavy door opening pulls my attention from the long road that brought me here. In front of me, I find Lock, huge as ever, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. He looks almost the same as the day he kicked me out, except for a few more grays mixed with his black beard, and what’s now balding on his head. If it wasn’t for the biggest lopsided grin on his face, I’d be scared.

Holy shit, X. It’s great to have you back. It’s been fucking ages.

Ages? It might as well be a damn lifetime ago. For me anyway.

Seems like that. I think Naomi was nine maybe. My stomach turns to knots. I didn’t need to say—add—maybe. She was nine. It had been her damn birthday, I’d came home just for it and I’d fucked it all up.

Damn, it was. I wish she was still that fucking age. I survived all her tween years, the high school boys that were knocking at the door, but now that she’s nineteen, I swear she gets off on almost giving me a heart attack. You have a few years yet before that. Turning away, he glances over his shoulder. Come in. Excuse all the shit around. I had some massive deadlines at the shop. Hope you still like pizza, because that’s the only thing I have to eat here.

As I step inside his old cabin, I’m instantly hit with a familiarity between us. The ease in which we walk together to the kitchen astounds me, and I’m glad I finally picked up the phone to call him. I’ve been hiding from people for far too long. Two years of being the loner was enough.