Finding Forgiveness

By J B Glazer

Two scorned lovers. One chance at redemption.

Melanie Baxter was betrayed by those closest to her. She wants to believe in love, but everything she held true was an illusion. And if she’s learned anything, it’s putting your trust in someone only leads to heartbreak. Then she meets a man determined to break down the walls she carefully constructed. A man who makes her heart race with just one look. Who understands her and fulfills her deepest desires. A man who challenges her and brings out a passion she didn’t know existed. This man manages to seep into the cracks and chip away at her armor. While he may seem perfect for her, he’s the one man she can’t fall for.

James Larson met the woman he thought he was going to marry. Now he’s a man with a broken heart. A health fanatic and avid runner, he pushes himself to the limit. Anything to keep his mind focused on something other than Lucy. He runs to forget her. He runs to escape the pain. Then James meets Nicole and they bond over their similar pasts. James finally has something he wants to run toward. She is the one woman who understands him and what he’s going through. But when her ex walks back into her life, he realizes she’s the one woman who can also break him.

Both betrayed by the ones they loved, Melanie and James embark on an emotional journey to let go of the past. They soon realize that to move forward they need to look back. Because finding love again starts with finding forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J B Glazer
• Release date: Jul 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370841882

J B Glazer

J B Glazer has always been an avid reader and loves nothing more than getting lost in a good book. A Chick Lit and Romance author, she believes in writing books about real characters and issues that women will relate to, dramatic happy endings, and that a daily dose of chocolate is one of life’s necessities. She’s also a wife, mom, marketer, referee, short-order cook, maid, shopaholic, and multitasker extraordinaire. She loves hearing from readers, so visit jbglazer.com to get in touch.

Book preview

Chapter 1

James

There’s a famous saying that one can forgive but one should never forget. I’ve been thinking about that sentiment, and I decided whoever said it got it wrong. Because in my case, all I want to do is forget. I guess when you’re hurt or betrayed by the ones you love there’s a desire to numb the pain. People use whatever outlets they need to cope—drugs, alcohol, or lashing out at the ones who least deserve it. Pain can cloud your judgement and take on a life of its own, becoming this living, breathing thing you want to shake but don’t know how. And that often leads to unhealthy habits. That’s the one thing I have going for me: I take my aggression out on my body and I’ve never been in better shape. After Lucy, my ex-girlfriend, broke up with me I hit the gym. Night after night I pushed my body to the limit. I welcomed the pain that burned through my veins because at least I could feel something.

I’m an optimist by nature. But she really tested my faith—in others and myself. I’m trying to get back to the man I once was. A situation like this changes you, and I fear that man doesn’t exist anymore. Winston Churchill once said, A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty. I wish I could find the opportunity in my situation. I’m still looking.

Over time her face has haunted me less. Of course the memory is always there, but it has become a shadow instead of the sun. Until this afternoon. After work I had a dental appointment. I was in the waiting room sitting next to a woman flipping through a magazine. I never look through magazines at my dentist’s office because they’re all at least six months old. I was playing on my phone when I happened to glance up as she was turning the page. And there, in the engagement section, was a photo of Lucy and Luke. It was like a punch to the gut. Lucy believes in things being fated, but I disagree. Fate is cruel—as in this situation was a really cruel twist of fate. She chose him over me, and here is the proof in print staring me right in the face.

I don’t remember much after that. The doc could’ve given me a root canal for all I know. Somehow I made it home, and now here I am on my porch drowning my sorrows in an ice cold beer. It feels fitting as the bitter flavor goes down my throat, though I wish I had something stronger to warm my insides. But I have work tomorrow and I need to keep my head in the game. I’ve already let my team down once because of her and I vow not to let it happen again. It’s just all the old feelings I had tried to bury resurfaced with a vengeance. The pain and resentment. The disbelief and shock. The fury and fire. I know I need to channel it into something else. If it weren’t for the late hour I’d take it to the batting cages, my other place of salvation.

Just as I close my eyes I get a text notification.

Wes:  The Drifters are playing at Callahan’s on Sat nite. You in?

I don’t respond. My first inclination is to say no because I’m feeling anything but social. But I know Wes will ride me about it at work tomorrow. Jimmy’s a mutual friend and the lead guitarist with The Drifters. It’s a recent gig so I know I should go out and support him. My fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of what to type. There’s this vortex of warring emotions swirling through my head. Lucy is the eye of the storm, demanding my attention, and everything else fades into the background. With all my thoughts focused on Lucy, it’s hard to think about anything else. Frustrated, I down the rest of my beer and slam the empty bottle on the table. Sampson, who was asleep at my feet, trembles and lets out a whimper. Sorry boy, I say, rubbing him behind the ears.

For so long I’ve tried to forget but, just for tonight, I want to remember. Maybe it’s the nostalgia of seeing her face again. Or maybe I’ve had one beer too many. Whatever the reason, I can’t shake the urge. So my hope is if I indulge in remembering and let the memories I’ve fought to keep down come to the surface, it will help me to forget. I scroll through my albums until I find the photo of Lucy and me from my cousin’s wedding. She’s smiling and her pale eyes hold a sparkle I didn’t imagine. She looks happy. We look happy. I study it, looking for clues that maybe I missed before when I was in a state of ignorant bliss. Whatever I’m looking for I don’t find it.

I absently run my fingers over the lettering on the label of my IPA bottle. That’s when it hits me: Lucy’s letter. I head inside and rummage in my desk until I find it. She mailed it to me shortly after we ended things. I don’t remember much of what it said—I wasn’t in the best frame of mind back then. But for whatever reason I held onto it. I haven’t looked at it since, but I’m overcome with a need to reread her words. I grab my favorite fleece hoodie before heading back outside. The sun is making a slow descent, taking the heat with it.

I settle back into my chair and smooth out the paper, which is neatly folded in thirds. Her script is feminine, beautiful, and seemingly perfect. But upon further inspection, I notice she hasn’t connected all of her letters and they aren’t uniform in height. While things may look perfect at a glance, if you dig deeper you often uncover those imperfections people try to hide. My eyes skim the page, taking in the words as though I’m reading them for the first time.

Dear James,

I’m sorry doesn’t begin to describe the depths of my regret. I know I hurt you deeply and I have to live with that. But you didn’t deserve it—any of it. When we met I was in a dark place. I was burned by Luke and it left me feeling cynical and jaded. You managed to see past all that to what lies beneath. You chipped away at my armor until there was nothing left of the wall that I built. A wall to my heart. I let you in, not because you asked, but because I chose to. You earned that place and that spot in my heart will always be filled by you.

When we were together I realized happiness is possible. Piece by piece, you brought me back to life. Until there was only one piece that remained untouchable. I wish I could’ve given it to you. You deserve more. So much more than what I could give.

Every relationship leaves its mark. We go into the next with all the baggage of our prior relationships. I wish we could have started with a clean slate. If we had, things would have been different. That’s what I want for you. To start with a clean slate. Don’t let my baggage weigh you down. You have so much heart to give. I hope I only took a little piece with me.

As for Melanie, I know you think I lied to protect myself. But I lied to protect her. I wanted her to find happiness, even at the expense of my own. I’m not making my actions out to be noble, but I wanted you to know I was trying to do the right thing by her. I know now that it wasn’t. And it wasn’t right by you either. When you said I was more worried about Melanie finding out than hurting you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Because I owe you everything. You helped put me back together. You were the best kind of medicine. But I never treated the root of the problem. It’s a journey I need to go through on my own. I’ve realized we can’t rely on others to fix us. We first need to fix ourselves. And I’m trying. I’ve been trying.

I want you to take all the qualities I love about you and embrace them. Keep your heart open. Don’t let how things ended between us guide your path. Because it’s not the one you’re meant for.

Thank you for everything. And for the forgiveness I hope you’ll someday find in your heart for me.

Lucy

She included a poem called Sandcastles. Lucy never showed me any of her poetry while we were together. It’s about two friends who meet at the beach. They want to build the biggest sandcastle ever. They dig and dig until a storm rolls in. One wants to give up, the other doesn’t. A few days later the boy, the optimistic one I might add, makes a new friend. She too wants to build a sandcastle. The boy says it’s too much work. But look, she tells him. We can build one right here. She points to the very spot where the old sandcastle stood. She brushes aside the top layer of sand to reveal the deep trench that lies beneath. You see? There’s already a foundation. The boy picks up his shovel and digs.

So that’s her answer? I’m supposed to start digging. The irony is I have dug myself into quite a hole. I haven’t dated anyone since we ended things and it’s as though I’ve wrapped a protective shell around myself that’s hard to climb out of. It’s easy advice for her to give, what with her being the wrecking ball that came in and destroyed what we built. She didn’t stick around to clean up the pieces.

It’s been six long months. I’m so damn tired of carrying around the resentment. It ebbs and flows, but I vow not to let it pull me under. I vow to come out stronger and find a new path. I take another long pull of my beer. Call it liquid courage, but as I stare at Wes’s text I decide a night out is just what I need. I type I’m in then hit send. Satisfied, I decide to call it a night. I grab the empty bottles and switch off my porch light. Come on, buddy. Let’s go inside. Sampson follows me, tail wagging. Looks like I’m back in the game. Yes, I will try to move on. Look toward the future. But I can’t start with a clean slate. As much as I want to, I can’t forget. Because when I saw my future, I saw Lucy.

Chapter 2

Nicole

Icreep across the floor of the darkened room, gathering my clothes as I go. The moonlight filtering in through the windows acts a beacon, guiding my way. I slip into the bathroom and peer at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my blond hair that I painstakingly flat ironed is a wild mess. At least I won’t be seeing anyone at this late hour. Still, I attempt to tame it with my fingers then give up and pull it back into a ponytail using the hair tie I always have secured around my wrist. Once I’m dressed I grab my purse and make my way toward the door, turning the handle as quietly as I can.

Going somewhere?

Startled, my hand flies to my chest and I let out a yelp.

I turn around and face the source of the noise. I thought you were asleep.

He quirks a brow at me.

And I thought I waited long enough so you would be.

Nicole, contrary to what you believe, you can stay.

I remain at the door, my hand still gripping the handle. He knows the rules. So I’m not sure what he’s playing at. I let out an exhale of breath and turn away. Thanks, but I’m going to catch a cab.

At this hour? Just stay.

Ross, you know that’s not going to happen. Besides, I have an early meeting.

Fine, he says as he steps into a pair of boxers. I’ll drive you. I wait in the hallway while he finishes getting dressed. I don’t know why I feel the need to give him privacy—it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. The more likely reason is that I’m trying to put some distance between us. It makes saying goodbye easier. He comes out and runs a hand through his short, mussed up hair. Let’s go.

Ross throws on a jacket and grabs his keys. After locking up he takes my hand, humming to himself. I look at our joined fingers as we ride the elevator to the parking garage in silence. Did he hold my hand because he felt like he should? Is it out of habit? It’s such a simple gesture, but I love what it symbolizes: we’re together. Growing up my dad always held my hand wherever we went. We had so many special outings, just the two of us, and with my hand in his large one, it made me feel like we could take on the world. A feeling of bitterness creeps in and I unravel my fingers from Ross’s, folding my arms across my chest. It’s as though I’ve cut off the warmth that was connecting us because goosebumps break out on my skin. I rub my arms in attempt to stay warm. He places his jacket over my shoulders and I’m grateful for the gesture.

The silence stretches between us until it feels like a third passenger. I always hate this part: the awkward aftermath. It’s funny how you can be intimate with someone one minute, and the next you’re perfect strangers. The quiet makes me uncomfortable, but he seems unfazed by it. I steal a glance at him and he’s checking his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys and a smile on his face. I wonder what made him smile. A joke? A text message? And does it have to do with me? I want to ask but find it best not to delve into details about his personal life. Knowing him and understanding what makes him tick makes what we’re doing more complicated. When I start to ask questions I become invested. And I don’t want to become invested in Ross.

The doors open and I follow him to his car. He opens my door for me and I slide in, shivering against the cold leather interior. It’s been an unseasonably chilly spring. I’m a California girl, so Chicago weather is still an adjustment for me. Ross cranks up the heat, but it does nothing to warm my insides. I’ve been cold for a long time. I look out the window as he backs out, not wanting to face him or this pattern I keep repeating.

Lately Ross and I have been getting reacquainted. It’s funny how I know every plane of his body, his facial expressions when he’s on the edge of pleasure, all the ways I can drive him crazy with my hands and my mouth, yet there’s so little I know about him outside of the bedroom. I prefer to keep things that way, as does he. That’s why our arrangement works. Who am I kidding? It works because I know he’ll never want anything more. Any hopes I had of expecting more were quashed when Leo left. That’s why Ross is a safe bet.

I hate being this kind of girl. The kind of girl who lowers her expectations and settles for what she can have right now instead of going after what she really wants. That never used to be me. I steal a glance at Ross and feel a slight pang. Why did I do this again? I know he’s bad for me, yet I keep coming back for more. OK, maybe bad isn’t the right word. Unhealthy is more like it. And for someone as health conscious as I am, my decision to be with someone who is unhealthy for me is an interesting choice.

Ross and I work together at Hartman & Taylor, one of the biggest advertising agencies in Chicago. I’m in Account Management and he’s in Finance. So the good news is our paths don’t cross on a daily basis. Ross is one of a handful of straight, eligible men at the agency, and a known womanizer. I had a thing for him when I first joined Hartman & Taylor. I knew about his reputation, but I told myself I was OK with a casual fling. As it turns out, I was not. When it became clear he wasn’t going to commit I ended things.

I did the dating scene for the next six months—until I met Leo. Leo was the first man I saw a future with. We had so much in common and he reminded me of all the qualities I loved about my dad. I’m sure timing played a role, with him being the hero who swept in when it seemed everything else was falling apart. So when things between us ended I was in a bad place. And I resumed some of my bad habits: mainly, Ross. I don’t want anyone at the office to know about our arrangement. Perhaps it’s because I’m embarrassed. Or perhaps I feel like I’m selling out by going back to him. While both are true, mainly I don’t want to be the source of gossip or speculation—again. And to be honest I don’t want people chiming in with their opinions on how I’m making a mistake. I’ve already made plenty of those, the biggest being Leo. Scratch that. He comes in second to idolizing my father, a man I adored my whole life who I’ve come to hate.

I close my eyes as a picture of him comes to the surface. I immediately push the thought away and look over at Ross, humming along to the radio and tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. He catches my eye and smiles at me.

I return his though it’s mechanical. A lot of our relationship feels as if I’m on autopilot—going through the motions without the emotion behind it.

Tomorrow night? he asks as he pulls up to my building.

I’m going out with the girls.

After?

I nod as I close the door. Wait, your coat!

He rolls down the window. Keep it. Let’s just call it leverage.

I watch him drive off before heading inside. I promised myself tonight would be the last time. This isn’t a healthy relationship and I know I need to spend time on my own. Being with him makes me feel good physically, of course. And mentally it’s nice to feel desired even though I know it’s for the wrong reasons. So I’m trying to have some fun. I deserve fun. But my friend Lexi’s words echo in my head, Nicole, I’m worried about you. I think you need to focus on looking ahead, and not behind you. That’s good advice, but I don’t know what I want my future to be anymore. Yes, going backward is a mistake. But right now it’s the easiest direction to take. And after what I’ve been through, I’m inclined to take the path of least resistance.

But apparently I haven’t learned from my mistakes yet. So my plan is to keep going back for more until the lesson sinks in.

Chapter 3

Patrick

My phone rings as I’m about to step into the shower. I check the screen and see that it’s my asshole brother, Luke. I hit ignore and step under the scalding water. Shit! I adjust the temperature to something my body can tolerate. As I let the water pound over my back and shoulders I attempt to calm myself down. I know why Luke is calling me—at least he hasn’t ignored that fact. I’m thirty years old today. Happy fucking birthday.

People say age is just a number. But man, I’m freaking out. Thirty just seems old. Like it’s time to trade in the car for a minivan and coach little league. I shudder at the thought. My life is not headed down the family man track. I love women and women seem to love me. So why should I take myself out of the game? I’m OK with not settling down. What I’m not OK with is the fact that my brother hasn’t asked me to join the family business. He left my dad’s media firm, WH Holdings, when he and my dad were on the outs. He insisted I come with him to Brampton Hardy. Like a fool, I did. I thought I was being loyal at the time. But now that he and good ol’ dad have reconciled, where does that leave me? You’d think they would have asked me back. But there’s been not a single word mentioned about it. At first I thought it was because he was getting his feet wet, re-learning the business or some shit like that. But he’s been there for almost nine months already. So I’m pissed. I’ve been stewing about it but don’t want to say anything. For starters I don’t feel like I should have to ask. And secondly Luke is getting married on New Year’s Eve and I’m the best man. That’s still another seven months away, but now isn’t the time to rock the boat. Come January second there’s going to be hell to pay.

He’s probably pissed I haven’t invited him for drinks tonight. But he has Lucy so I’m sure they’re doing whatever coupley shit they do on a Saturday night. My buddies Colt and Nick are coming over to pre-party, then we’re headed to a bar called Blu to meet up with the rest of the gang.

Enough brooding. I need to finish getting ready and make sure my room is presentable enough for whatever lucky lady comes home with me. That’s my mission for tonight: get drunk and get laid. A guy’s gotta have a goal, and it’s as good as any.

I step out of the shower and run some product through my hair to tame the unruly curls. I hate them, but women seem to find them adorable. I’ve discovered that by growing my hair out they’re tamer, so I’ve learned to embrace it. I throw on my favorite black Penguin button-down and a pair of distressed gray jeans. My phone rings just as someone bangs on my door. I glance at the screen and see it’s my dad—I’ll deal with him later. This is his third attempt to reach me today. You’d think he’d take the hint. I’m pissed at him too. He and Luke are my only family, and right now they’re not the company I want to keep.

Yo, Nick! I say as I open the door.

He slaps my back in greeting. My man! Happy birthday, he says as he hands me a bottle of Dewar’s, my favorite.

Thanks, Nicky.

He heads inside and we watch the Cubs play the Astros over beers until Colt arrives. I have three big screen TVs at my place, so it’s become game day central. I’m a huge sports fanatic and this lets me watch different games at once. I’ve also got a bit of a side business going with bets, which has really taken off. Hell, I should probably quit my job and become a full-time bookie. That would make dear old dad really proud, I’m sure. At the end of the quarter we head out to Blu to start my thirtieth birthday bash.

Nick’s brother Jake has connections, so we skip the line and head straight downstairs to the VIP lounge. The waitresses hug me and hand out shots. I tell the guys my plan is to get rip-roaring drunk and take home a beautiful girl. Not that the plan is that different from any other weekend, but it’s my night so they’re my wingmen. It’s just after ten o’clock. The drinks are flowing and it’s helping to lift my mood. That’s when I spot her: a striking brunette perched on the edge of her barstool. Her long, golden-brown hair falls in loose curls down her back. She turns her head to laugh at something her friend said and I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her shoulder. Normally I don’t like tattoos, but hers is sexy. I can’t make out what it is because it’s hidden under the silky fabric of her tank top. But now that I’ve gotten a peek, I want to see more. Fascinated, I watch her and her friends, who are oblivious to my sudden interest. She seems to be holding court, gesturing wildly with her hands, and they hang on her every word. Colt catches my eye and I nod. Our waitress, Zoe, comes over and I order a round of drinks for tattoo girl and her friends.

She’s smiling as Zoe sets down their drinks and nods in my direction. Tattoo girl follows her finger, which is pointing in my direction. She looks at me and I catch a spark of something in her eyes. The strangest feeling comes over me. My buzz fades and with startling clarity I feel this imaginary line pulling me toward her. Then, like a magician who’s just waved his wand, her smile disappears and the feeling is gone. What the fuck was that? Not one to be deterred, I make my way over.

Her friends giggle as they thank me for the drinks. I give them my most charming smile but tattoo girl isn’t impressed. She just watches me with a stoic expression as I talk with her friends. I’m confused because I swear something passed between us. While I felt some kind of force pulling me toward her, there was also a pull on her end from the invisible thread. If she hadn’t fought it we would have met in the middle. Maybe it was my imagination—or the shots warping my view of reality. I shake my head to clear it and the nice buzz I had going is back. Everything is a little blurred around the edges, but she’s in sharp focus. I entertain them with a story and attempt to bring her into the conversation. I’ve always had a way with women, but she’s having none of it. Then I notice the look she’s giving her friends and something unspoken passes between them. A warning, perhaps? What the fuck?

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I lean in and inhale her scent. A trace of vanilla with something spicy. Interesting. I get the spice, but not the sweet. This girl is one mixed metaphor.

That’s because I didn’t share it. She returns her attention to her friends, turning her back to me in the process.

Ouch.

I’m saved by Nick, who pulls me over for another shot. Tattoo girl looks at me over her shoulder and starts whispering with her friends. All eyes are on me, their previously open expressions now leery. Something’s going on, and I’m not leaving until I get to the bottom of it.

As the night wears on I’m surrounded by beautiful women. Women who laugh at my jokes, flirt shamelessly, and brush their bodies up against mine. I could have my pick of any of them to take home. Normally my biggest problem would be deciding which one. But I’ve found who I want, and she doesn’t seem interested. Figures I pick the woman who has to be a challenge. It’s a good thing I like challenges. She gives my goal for the evening a new dimension. And when I score, the victory will be that much sweeter.

My strategy is that I will ignore her, perhaps ignite a bit of jealousy. I zero in on a new target: Kat. She is more than happy to oblige. And unlike tattoo girl, she responds well to my charms. But I’m aware of tattoo girl’s every move. She and her friends remain in their same spot, so it’s easy to keep tabs. She’s smiling and laughing again. Her face changes when she smiles, and her beauty takes on a new dimension. I take a sip of my drink and our eyes meet over my glass. Hers are a golden brown. Big and beautiful. I’m rooted to the spot and can’t look away even if I wanted to. The strangest sensation comes over me as our gazes remain locked. The imaginary line is back, pulling me toward her. Kat grabs my glass and tattoo girl blinks several times. The moment is broken. But I swear she felt it too, this pull between us.

You’re done with your drink. Let me take you home and give you a present, Kat whispers in my ear.

In a minute. I’ll meet you out front, OK?

She nods. I wrap things up with the guys. Tattoo girl is watching me.

I approach her, knowing I’ll ditch Kat in a heartbeat if things go my way. I offer her a slow, seductive smile.

She doesn’t return it.

It was nice meeting you, ladies, I say to the group.

Heading out? one of them asks. I think her name was Emily.

Yeah, I’m going home.

It would appear not alone, tattoo girl observes.

I’m about to make a witty retort but her friend interrupts.

Bye! Happy birthday. Tattoo girl looks at me and says nothing. Her other friend just smiles.

I’m about to walk away but turn around. I have to know why she’s denying this connection between us.

Tell me this. Did you feel it?

Feel what?

I take a step closer to her, invading her personal space. I lean down and say in a low voice, The force that’s pulling us together.

Her eyes rake over my face. For a moment she seems open and innocent. I have no clue what she’s looking for, but when I attempt to take her hand her features shift. And boy does she look angry.

You must be imagining things. I think you’re mistaking the force that’s repelling me away. From you. Her retort makes me think of two ends of a magnet. The same sides repel, but if you flip one they inevitably will attract. That about perfectly sums up our situation.

I’m baffled. Did I do something to offend you?

She looks at me with those golden eyes of hers. And down at my hand which I didn’t realize I’d put on her arm. If looks could kill.

She sighs. Not directly. You’re just a casualty by being born into the same family, she says as she removes my hand.

Excuse me?

She turns her back on me and that’s when I see it: her phoenix tattoo.

Not you, she sighs, looking back at me over her shoulder. Your brother.

Our eyes meet and once she sees understanding dawn in mine she turns away.

Goddamn it, Luke! A chance with her is yet another thing he’s taken from me.

Happy fucking birthday.

Chapter 4

Melanie

Of all the bars in Chicago, he had to walk into Blu. Patrick Harrison. Fate just keeps on delivering me blows. His resemblance to Luke is uncanny, though Patrick has lighter, curlier hair and a leaner build. But he has those same dark eyes, eyes that still haunt me.

I thought I was over him. But seeing Patrick was like reopening the wound. It’s easier to pretend you’re over someone when you don’t have to see them. I’ve spent countless months healing my broken heart. And in one instant Patrick has managed to put a crack in the