Feeling Again

By T.O. Smith

Falling for your brother's best friend isn't as fun as it's cut out to be, especially when you're so screwed up that you're terrified of commitment and being locked down.

I crave freedom. I need to let go of the insanity I feel swirling in my head.

But I do something even crazier than getting high or fighting like I always do.

I fall for the one man who hates my guts . . . Blaze.

I'm toxic. I ruin everyone and everything I touch.

And yet . . . all while still needing Blaze, I crave Jonah.

And allowing both of these men to love me is either going to be what saves me . . .

Or what sends me toppling into the deep end.

**This is book one in the Coming Alive Duet. It does end on a cliffhanger. It is an MFM menage.**

Trigger warnings: cliffhanger, pregnancy, drug abuse, two men sharing one woman.
Please also note that this book deals with a woman who struggles with the fact that she is pregnant, and she detests every moment of it. If this is a trigger for you, do not read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiff Thomas
• Release date: Apr 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215505472

T.O. Smith

T.O. Smith believes in one thing - a happily ever after.Her books are fast-paced and dive straight into the romance and the action. She doesn't do extensively drawn out plots. Normally, within the first chapter, she's got you - hook, line, and sinker.As a writer of various different genres of romance, a reader is almost guaranteed to find some kind of romance novel they'll enjoy on her page.T.O. Smith can be found on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and now even TikTok! She loves interacting with all of her readers, so follow her!

Book preview

1

Montana

Being high was . . . bliss.

Coming down from a high . . . not so much.

I dragged my feet along the sidewalk with a heavy sigh, glaring up at the darkening clouds above me. Mom was at home, and when she was home, I wanted to be anywhere fucking else. Add the mood I was currently in to the mix, and it was just probably best that I wasn’t around anyone. It was best for everyone if the world just pissed off and left me the fuck alone.

I looked to the right, a familiar street staring back at me. I hadn’t even realized how far I had walked. I fought on this side of town—illegally, but I fought, nonetheless. Fighting—and winning—fed my addiction.

And yeah, I knew I had an addiction. I knew I had a fucking problem.

I just didn’t give a fuck.

And why should I care? No one else gave a fuck, and that high I achieved was the only thing in this fucking world that never let me down.

The hair on the back of my neck lifted, and I jerked to a stop, spinning around. Standing in front of me was quite possibly the finest man I’d ever seen in my life. Straight, blond hair fell into ice-blue eyes, almost covering them but not quite. He was tall—somewhere over six feet—and good God, he was built in the sexiest, smoothest way possible. There was clear definition to his body without it being overwhelming like so many other men I’d come across.

Fuck, he was practically my dream man walking. If I was a normal girl, he’d probably be my fucking prince charming.

But I wasn’t anything close to Cinderella—probably something closer to one of the evil stepsisters—so Prince Charming was going to have to wait for another day.

He arched a perfect brow at me and took a couple of steps closer to me. I took a cautious step back, but he reached forward and grabbed my arm, halting me. Tingles shot up and down my arm like I was stuck in some bullshit ass fairytale. His touch seemed to set my soul on fire, and the way he looked at me—it was like he knew every deep, dark secret I held locked up tight inside of me.

What the fuck do you want? I snapped. I tried yanking my arm out of his grip, but he had a firm hold of me.

I needed him to let me go. The way my body was reacting to him—I couldn’t deal with it. This kind of shit was only supposed to happen in silly ass romance novels. And my ass was far from being in one of those.

I wasn’t a rainbows and sunshine kind of girl, and I hated that my heart was pitter-pattering like I was.

Your brother has been looking for you.

I frowned. John was eight years older than me, but we looked like twins. The only good thing Mom had ever done was give me an older brother, especially one like John. But lately, we’d been distant. I hadn’t heard from him in months—almost an entire year.

He had trained me to fight from a young age, got me in the ring for the first time when I was thirteen, and I got my first win because of him right before my fourteenth birthday.

I rolled my eyes and managed to finally snatch my arm out of his grip. I didn’t know what game this fucker was trying to play at, but I wasn’t the one. I’d put him on his ass and knock his ass out cold before he could try to do whatever bullshit he had planned.

A car screeched to a stop. I swung my head around to see who the hell it was. A girl like me didn’t fight in the rings and do the dumb shit I did and not make enemies.

I was always on the defense.

My brother stepped out of the car, and immediately, his eyes narrowed at me. I gritted my teeth and tilted my chin up. It was a defiant gesture, and I hoped it sent across the message I wanted him to get.

John could fuck off.

He shook his head and looked over at the guy still standing in front of me, deciding I wasn’t worth his time nor energy. It was how most people made me feel these days, so it shouldn’t have hurt.

But it fucking did.

Jonah, we’ve got to go.

Jonah arched a brow at him. I’ve been out here walking for fucking hours to find your little sister, and we’re just going to fucking leave her?

I— I started, but I was rudely cut off.

She’s been fending for herself for this long, she can continue doing so for a little while longer. Where we’re needed isn’t fit for someone like her.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

John? I asked, actually feeling a little hurt from his crass words. He was just blowing me off. What had happened between us? He used to be someone I could rely on.

Now, my only company was getting high.

He blew out a rough sigh, annoyance flashing through his eyes. Not now, Montana, he growled. Jonah, let’s go.

What the actual fuck?

What if all I had wanted was just a simple hello from my older brother, my only sibling, the only family I thought fucking mattered? Guess it was just a fuck Montana kind of day.

I hardly ever get to see you anymore, I started as Jonah yanked open the passenger door of my brother’s car, and this is how you fucking treat me? I snapped at him. Jonah leaned on the roof of the car, watching our exchange silently.

I said, not now, Montana! John barked at me.

Well, fuck you, too, John.

The two men slid into the car, and John peeled away from the curve, heading to God knew where. I clenched my jaw, pain slicing through my heart.

My brother was the only person in the world who had the power to hurt me like this, and I fucking hated that he did. Just like everyone else in this shitty ass world, he let me down.

I gritted my teeth, shaking my head, wishing it didn’t fucking hurt so much. I just wanted to be fucking numb to it all.

I pulled a joint out of my pocket and placed it between my lips, not even giving a shit enough to make sure there wasn’t a cop sitting around somewhere. People in jail might treat me nicer.

I snorted at that thought. Fucking pathetic when you thought fuckers in jail were nicer than people in the outside world.

Looks like it’s still just me and you, I muttered.

And I lit it up, seeking some relaxation until I could get my hands on something stronger.

2

Montana

My blunt fell from my hand, landing on the concrete between me and Blaze.

Blaze Jackson—the man, the myth, the legend.

Not only was he a successful billionaire with an empire that had locations all over the world, but he was also one of the best fighters I’d ever come across. He did it for the release, not for the money. From what I understood, whatever he made in the ring, he donated to some kind of charity—didn’t know which one.

But he was an enemy of mine, and I was pretty sure he wished I was dead.

A couple of years ago, during a fucked-up high, I thought I could steal a car, drive it for a little while undetected, and then return it. I’d done it before—numerous times, actually.

But I’d never stolen from Blaze Jackson before, and that was where I fucked up. He’d noticed immediately that his precious Ferrari was gone, and instead of calling the cops, he came after me himself. I ditched his car after crashing it into a tree, and he’s had it out for me ever since.

I did my best to avoid him, but avoidance apparently wasn’t happening today.

His blue eyes lit with anger, and the breeze blew his dark hair across his forehead. I swallowed thickly when his muscles bunched with anger.

"You," he snarled.

Me? I questioned, thankful my voice came out strong. I didn’t like showing fear. Fear was weakness. Feeling it would just get me killed. I faced everything head-on.

And I would face Blaze without flinching.

We’ve got some unfinished business, sweetheart.

I shrugged. Care to enlighten me? I asked, playing stupid. I knew I was taunting him, but I couldn’t help myself. The filter between my brain and my mouth seemed to have dissolved.

He wrapped his hand around my throat and shoved me through the gate off to the side. It was normally locked; I knew that because