Another Virtue: The University Alley Duet, #2

By Paige Lynn Hill

Are they better together or apart?

 

Lane Orr finds herself losing her job permanently after her final appeal. This sends her on a downward spiral that lands her in rehab after she suffers an overdose.

 

When Lane temporarily goes missing, the last place Clay Hearst expects to find her is in rehab. He's especially thrown when he finds out his mother is the reason she's there. But he never thought Lane would pull away.

 

Their love is temporarily pushed aside as they battle sobriety in rehab. But as they find themselves, they may end up seeing less in each other. Will, they finally be able to answer the question: Can we be sober together?

 

Or will this rehab center make quick work with their love life?

 

Another Virtue is the engaging last installment in the NA DARK ROMANCE Duet, The University Alley Novels. If you like recovering, transformative characters with a lot of heart, you'll love Paige Lynn Hill's intense novels.

 

This is one book you'll want to become addicted too. Buy now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: TRS Books
• Release date: Jul 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393920885

Book preview

Another Virtue

The University Alley Duet Book 2

Paige Lynn Hill

TRS BOOKS

Copyright © 2022 by Paige Lynn Hill

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written

permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post

it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without

permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and

incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or

localities is entirely coincidental.

First

Edition

Cover Art by EmCat Designs

This book was professionally typeset by Atticus.io

The inevitable discovery of what we would rather not know; the opposite of serendipity.

Zemblanity (n.)

Contents

Also By TRS BOOKS

1. Lane

2. Clay

3. Lane

4. Clay

5. Lane

6. Clay

7. Lane

8. Clay

9. Lane

10. Clay

11. Lane

12. Lane

13. Lane

14. Clay

15. Lane

16. Clay

17. Lane

18. Clay

19. Lane

20. Clay

21. Lane

22. Clay

23. Lane

Epilogue

Afterword

Excerpt: Ashes and Wine

About Author

Also By TRS BOOKS

PARANORMAL ROMANCE

A Bite Lurkers Novel series is a heartfelt vampiric romance about love, loss, and a hard look at that poignant phrase, I’ll love you forever.

Dark Flames

Dark Modern

Dark Trade

ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

The Perilous Trust duet deals with one woman’s plunge into murder and despair when her sister is killed and the men that help her through it.

Ashes and Wine

Poison and Wine

STANDALONES

A contemporary rockstar romance, where Tina and Michael both have been bitten by the fame bug. But when one reaches the promise land first it calls into questions their whole relationship and their life.

A Songwriter’s Death

AND MORE BOOKS TO COME!

Chapter one

Lane

Two Year's Later

"M y life has become this one big; I don’t know, " I said, leaning back on my therapist’s couch.

Dr. Lisa Howey, my psychologist, apparently liked that statement because she wrote it down. I looked up at the ceiling, trying not to bolt for the door. There was no way that I was ever going to get used to her randomly scribbling notes down about me. But I could feel the pull of her gaze and reluctantly looked back at her. By now, I was used to that curious stare from everyone. Part of being the infamous Lane Orr was the strange stares I received from men wanting to know what kind of sexual freak of nature I was.

But there was something different about this stare. And it’s not just because Dr. Howey’s a doctor, who looked like she had written a best-selling novel on how to love yourself. She just looked like one of those women who had the world figured out. I save the whales in between my empowerment speeches for women’s rights kind of thing.

The intensity of her gaze scared me as if she would somehow know that I was a fraud. There was no emotion in them. Instead, they were packed with depth as if she were a cave of bottomless knowledge.

She arched an eyebrow at me when I refused to elaborate.

The silent treatment was score one for me.

Dr. Howey knew I was running out the clock. I dropped little nuggets of truth so that I wouldn’t be accused of not participating. It’s not like I hadn’t been through this before. Her casual stance in the way the clipboard rested over the doctor’s white ankle pants, showing off her white pair of canvas leisure shoes, was all the confirmation I needed.

When she pulled out a pamphlet from underneath that clipboard, my nerves immediately stood on edge.

Let’s go back to basics. Her calm voice immediately commanded attention.

What does that look like? My heart raced, and immediately the palm of my hand began to itch.

She looked up and smiled. A reminder of what you got yourself into.

I exhaled loudly. My mother-in-law got me into this.

Once she knew that Clay was using again, she came to me for help. I suppose I wasn’t that good at lying the way the media would lead me to believe. She quickly ascertained that I was using as well. However, her jump to the conclusion that this was my fault was also of her making. No one confirmed it for her. I couldn’t help but be resentful.

Now Clay was gone, and a therapist was in his place.

I sensed her waiting for me to explain, but I don’t want to. It’s like I couldn’t help but resist. It was a recommendation pick that she gave to Clay that he really liked. And I had to go somewhere after my hospitalization, so here I am.

The room smelled like Chrysanthemums. It was much better than the sterile smell of the hospital. That was for sure. Some light piano was playing in the background. Instead of the beeps and blips of machinery. My thumb circled the knuckles on my left hand, over and over again. The smells, the music, and her smile, all combined, to create this pseudo-safe haven.

Okay, well, Dialectical Behavior Therapy teaches you how to live in the moment and cope healthily with stress. Regulate your emotions and, in the process, improve your relationships with everyone around you.

I pursed my lips. Not at all prepared for the caring smile Dr. Howey gives me when our gazes connected once more. I was instantly comforted, and for the first time, I felt like I wasn’t lost. So, your therapy promises to make people normal?

That wasn’t happening.

Are you sure that you should be making promises like that? I asked, picking at the skin around my nail beds.

I wanted to trust her.

Dr. Howey’s features were sharp, yet had been softened by age. Brown eyelashes, framed greenish-brown eyes below a lightly wrinkled forehead as if she spent most of her time in thought. Even though I was paying her, I wanted to know what she thought. She stuck a stray blond hair behind her ear, that was pulled back into a messy bun.

"This isn’t some new-age therapy that promises the world to its patients. The only thing I can promise is that you will walk out of here better than when you walked in. Now what that looks like, or how normal that is, is completely up to you."

I scratched my chin, thoughtfully. This feeling, hope, I remember it well. Someone else once made me feel this way, and then they abandoned me.

Another doctor? Dr. Howey cocked her head to the side and leaned in. Her thumb twisted the cap on her pen.

Not at all. Jamie was just my everything. However, like a rat, he scurried back into the recesses of my life as if he had never been there. Once, the paparazzi started to shine their bright lights into every corner. The only people who wanted to be associated with me were associates looking for camera time. I bit my lip and breathed in through my nose. My best friend, Sheri, had just been disappointed. Unable to handle those emotions, I pushed her away. He was just my sponsor.

You were in a support group. She looked down at the paper on her clipboard as if reading the notes. Not for you, but your significant other who you are currently with.

My nostrils flared. So, we’re just going to pretend like you haven’t seen me on the nightly news in the past?

"Here’s what you should expect during your DBT therapy. A comprehensive approach to your issues that we tackle in stages:

Stage 1: Treat the self-destructive behavior head-on.

Stage 2: Work on your life skills, distress tolerance, etc.,

Stage 3: Focus on improving your relationship and your self-esteem.

Stage 4: Promote more relational connections."

I just glared at her, waiting for her to answer my original question.

She frowned and looked down bashfully. I actually didn’t follow the case. However, people in my family have. But that’s not what put you in the hospital, is it?

Will I have to go to group meetings?

Okay, let’s stay in the moment then. Group meetings are a part of the process, but I don’t think that would work for you in this case. So we will try it once and reevaluate. For now, I want to know what you’ve learned from all this?

Drugs ruin lives. I rubbed my index finger across my dry, cracked bottom lips. Most people would process that statement as some sort of pseudo admission of guilt on my demise.

But, it’s not? Dr. Howey asked, squiggling some notes on her pad. How much did this expensive Rehab center pay her? Too much.

No, it’s an admission that I’m a murderer. We all are, I choked on those last words, trying to fight back the tears. We murder the spirits of our loved ones with every hurtful action and word. I have two murders on my belt, my brother and Clay.

Let’s talk about Clay. Your breaking point included a moment you shared with him.

"When I lost my appeal, everything changed.

Clay had to be hidden away for most of it like some sort of dirty little secret. He wasn’t even allowed to accompany me to the decision. During that trying time, he had moved into my apartment to keep me sane. My brother had long since moved out at my request after the media began to hound him mercilessly at his new job. He couldn’t afford to lose it. If that happened, it would feel like an iron burn to the bottom of my feet. I let him go to save him from the gravitational pull of my mistakes.

I waited for two years for my appeal decision. The cameras had trickled down by then, but they were still as biting as ever. It wasn’t what I had hoped. Surely, two years should be long enough to be forgotten. But there was no avoiding the fact that I lost my appeal because of my continued media reputation. I had to go home and pack up my desk, admitting my defeat. Somewhere I found an old Heroin baggie that I had confiscated from Clay. Who knows when? It was my answer. I wasn’t ready to save me, and I didn’t want to hear a rousing speech about moving on."

"That job had been all there was left of Lane Orr.

I suppose I just disintegrated the leftover broken pieces.

Six months into my third binge of the month, I passed out in bed. There was only a vague sense in my mind that I was supposed to be somewhere important. However, that didn’t work, so it fell to the wayside like old news. Up until that point, I was able to hide my drug use from Clay. Outside of a few unexplained absences, he was none the wiser. For whatever reason, this time was different."

"I vaguely heard Clay calling my name in my mind’s eye. If I got up to greet him, it was only in my dream. When he finally touched me, I recalled calling his name, but that was all I could do. Forming a full sentence was more than my head would allow. He had caught me just after using, so I was cloud-surfing. His words didn’t register at all, but I knew the truth was revealed.

I was lying on a mattress on the floor in my bedroom because I had sold all my furniture to my Guru.

It hurt knowing how disappointed he would be in me.

Then just like that, his presence retreated. By the time I made it to my feet, I didn’t even consider the possibility that he might be retrieving drug paraphernalia. Or that he would walk through my door the second time, high."

"A part of me was unreasonably mad that he had intruded on my privacy. I knew I had to explain why, and I wasn’t prepared for that. Instead, I was ready to push him away if need be. It made me happy. Sure it was temporary, but no one could derail the train I was on.

The only thing him being home meant was that I couldn’t take any more drugs.

‘I need you to leave,’ I said as soon as he came into the room. My back to the door as I stood in front of my radio, flipping through the dial. ‘Leave the spare keys by the door, and just give me a couple of days. Maybe we can talk about this later.’ "

" ‘No,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘I’m not going to leave you. And the last thing we need to do is talk.’

‘Your lying.’ My mind shot to everything that he’s ever told me, and I just snapped. ‘But, I love your lies.’

‘I love when you love me,’ I said, pushing him back forcefully."

"He shook his head. ‘I’m the last person to judge you.’

"Suddenly, Thief by Ansel Elgort began to play over the radio, and I had almost forgotten that I turned it on. I forced a smile, but a rage that I had never felt before had completely taken over. A passion that was prepared to spew a bottomless pit of hate at the closest bystander, Clay.

He was a robber like the MADtv Spy, stealing happiness and leaving behind love bombs.

‘You can’t judge someone who’s better than you at everything. Look how long it took you even to find out that I was on drugs. I hid it better. I could have been turning tricks on a street corner, and you wouldn’t have known about it.’ "

" ‘Don’t say things like that,’ he said, glancing down as he rubbed his arm through his coat.

‘Things like what?’ My shoving turned into hitting. ‘Maybe you didn’t need to quit. Maybe you just needed a tutor. Someone to show you how it’s really done without losing your complete shit. Now that I’ve tried it, I think you’re more pussy than not.’

Before I knew it, I had slapped him and was pummeling my fists into his chest as if they were stones and not delicate bones. I dragged my fingernails across his neck like a cat in heat, scratching him up. He needed to bleed the same way my soul had.

‘Stop,’ he said, pushing me back against the radio violently. My elbow hit one of the buttons, and Thief played again."

" ‘Espérer,’ he said with a small frown. He rested his forehead against mine, pinning my hands to my side. ‘You’re the biggest part of my match list. A phenom of strength, you can go through this entire world alone. But why should you?’

In one turn of phrase, I felt like dirt for keeping everything from him.

‘I don’t understand?’ I asked feebly. ‘Are you saying that you’re not upset?’ "

" ‘I’m saying,’ he whispered, his gaze staring directly into mine. ‘I love you.’

He finally took off his coat, tossing it on a nearby chair. His movements down his arm drew my eye, and I could tell that he had fresh track marks.

He simply nodded as if he were proud. A smile across his face that could light up any dark soul."

" ‘You didn’t,’ I said, loud enough for the neighbor’s goldfish to hear. ‘How can you be so happy?’

‘How could I not?’ he answered automatically.

I looked back into that glassy stare that I had completely missed or ignored."

"He picked me up into his arms and threw me on the bed. I giggled, my butt bouncing on the mattress. But my high was wearing off and the monster needed to be fed. He watched me like I was his prey as he took off the sweater he had on underneath, revealing his six-pack. I didn’t want to do drugs in front of him.

It was different.

A betrayal somehow, but of what, my monster hadn’t cared."

"I turned to my nightstand and did another line. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’

He nearly stole my breath away when I turned and found him crawling up my legs. I sniffed, rubbing at my nose. ‘Does seeing me like this scare you?’

I laid there rooted to the bed as he lifted that same finger and licked off any residue. His substantial body laid across mine as he licked the outside of my nose. Before claiming my lips as his prize. I guess that was my answer. My body was coming alive like a dormant forest fire."

"I gasped for air like he was stealing all of the oxygen out of the room. Suddenly, it was too hot for my plain navy blue tank top and gray shorts. His fingers skipped across my belly like I was his playground. I tugged at the shirt, needing to be free from it. Sensing that need, he ripped the shirt from my body until it hung like a necklace from my neck.

Wow, I mouthed, no actual words coming out. Clay had never done that before.

He didn’t miss a beat either, wrapping the mangled shirt around his wrist and fist. Until I was his proverbial puppet, he pulled at me until I was sitting up. Only, he planted an earthquake-shattering kiss on my lips. A day’s stubble dancing against my chin like little tingles. His thin lips worked every inch of my mouth like he was on a familiar roller coaster. He knew where all the surprises were hidden, but it still thrilled him."

"It felt like the very bed was quivering under the weight of our seeping passion.

‘Take off your shorts,’ he murmured against my swollen needy lips. We kissed until my mind was a murky mud pie, and I couldn’t even get my fingers to work. He eased back until I was staring into his deep-set dark eyes.

His fingers gripped my chin close, and my shirt pressed into my neck. He held my gaze tight as if he wanted to possess me. Every inch of him urging me to take the shorts off as quickly as possible. I threw them aside like an eager beaver needing his approval. Yes, master, what do you need next?

This was certainly not our routine."

" ‘We should have done this all along?’ he said as he trailed kisses down my belly.

My gaze drifted to the ceiling as I fell back on the pillow. Should we have?

He released my neck from its stringent hold to unbuckle the belt on his jeans. I removed the tattered shirt and pushed it underneath his pillow. My legs parted instinctively to allow him better access to my wet cave. My whole body quivered with anticipation. His hands traveled over every inch of my body as if I were a business proposal that he needed to understand and own."

"The feeling of his warm breath on my cheek when he laid his body on top of mine felt like a security blanket. His masculinity filled me up. I melted into the sheets as my warm center expanded to accept him. The drugs seemed to heighten every sense. His touch was like unicorn glitter sliding across my skin. I frantically lifted my hips to meet his urgent thrusts. Every shot of pleasure was like Tequila to my senses, igniting it ablaze. His thrusts became faster as if he was intent on stealing the very breath from me.

Just as I inhaled, an explosion started at my toes to encompass my bone marrow. ‘Clay.’

He pulled back so he could look me in the eye. ‘My espérer,’ he growled."

" ‘I can’t hold it,’ I said, panting for breath.

‘Don’t,’ he commanded, like a lion doling out instructions to his pack.

It was as if he commanded my very zenith. My pleasure ruptured like the Hoover Dam. Any sounds I made were only intelligible in low frequencies to dogs. As he grunted with me and we reached new heights."

"He fell down next to me in a sweat. ‘Again?’

I looked at him with a sly smile. ‘Again. Again.’

This time I was on top."

We didn’t talk about why or ifs and buts. Not that night, anyway. We should have.

Dr. Howey’s lips flattened into a frown. So it was a celebration of sorts?

We fucked for hours. I only stopped once to eat. Yes, you could say that. I did a line in an empty apartment with loud music playing. The fridge probably housed a packet of ketchup and a box of baking soda. I don’t know what it was for Clay, but it was my end.

You don’t know how he felt? You never asked?

My mouth fell open like I was a robot learning how to work it. I did ask Clay one day.

Her eyebrows went up. What did he say?

He recounted it for me one night after a long binder.

"I missed a celebratory dinner with one of his partners. It had become my m.o. He was furious over it.

‘I know you’re here. Where else would you be?’ Clay fumed, knocking a photo of us