Page 1 of Stay With Me
prologue
KELSEA
4 Months Ago
The edges of my vision blur as the pain in my abdomen throbs. I try to apply as much pressure as I can to the area. I know blood is steadily pouring out of my body, but I’m not doing much good. I think back on the last 6 hours of my day.
After my best friend, Ember, called to tell me she’s pregnant, I immediately went into fun auntie mode. I hit every baby shop in the mall and bought every gender neutral option I could find. I don’t care what this baby turns out to be. I’m so excited for her and Elijah. As I came out of the building, I heard someone call my name. When I turned to look, I felt a white hot burn like nothing I’ve ever felt before. My body betrayed me and Icouldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. I felt a sharp sting in my neck and from that moment, everything went black.
When I finally woke up, I recognized the familiar rooms of Ember’s old apartment. That fucking bastard tased me! Ember has been on the run from her psycho ex for months now, and it looks like he’s finally caught up with us.
The next several hours are a blur of pain and anger as I fight to stay conscious. I remember the comforting sound of Ember’s voice in my ear as she reassured me we were getting out of this. I remember hearing a loud banging, like the sound of a herd of wild horses running through the living room of the small apartment. Yelling, gunshots, Ember’s screams, all the noise blends together as I inched closer and closer to the darkness. My body felt heavy and cold, and I longed for nothing more than to let that abyss swallow me whole. Anything to stop the pain.
Suddenly, I’m engulfed in the familiar scent of wood and leather I’ve come to love and hate in equal parts over the years. His strong arms lift me effortlessly off the mattress, and I wince and moan in pain. He holds me tighter in a protective gesture I know all too well.
one
Everett Blake would loveto believe he sees me the same way he sees his sister, but we both know the truth. We’ve been dancing around each other for years.
Throughout the entire recovery process after my attack, Everett stayed by my side. He folded his large frame into the most uncomfortable hospital chair ever, just so he wouldn’t have to leave me alone. He whispered to me that I was going to be okay when he thought I was asleep in that hospital bed. It was his hand that held mine as the doctor told me I would likely never be able to have children of my own. His face mirrored mine in the sorrow I felt hearing that news. Somewhere along the road during my hospital stay, I became attached to Everett’s presence. When he wasn’t there, I was looking for him. When he was next to me, itwas the only comfort I felt all day. But I wasn’t blind or stupid. I saw the sideway glances he gave the nurses. I heard the incessant pinging of texts on his phone. Everett Blake is and may always be a manwhore. It’s just who he is. I wasn’t under any misconceptions that he was interested in changing that. That’s the main reason I’ve never been interested in blurring the lines of our friendship to push for something more. If I’m not enough to be the only one, then why waste my time?
Unfortunately, I was dumb enough to take Everett up on his offer to move into my best friend Ember’s old room in his townhouse after I left the hospital. He convinced me it would be a better choice than going back to Durham, where I didn’t have any family or support to help me heal. Honestly, he was right. But that doesn’t make the decision any less stupid. Living in close proximity to the object of my desires is a lot harder than I imagined. The emotional bond Everett and I developed over the past four months is scary for me. I’ve only let a few people see behind the cheery, positive persona I put on for the world.
It’s been four months since I narrowly escaped death at the hands of my best friend’s stalker. The nightmares of that day still haunt me every time I close my eyes. My therapist says that’s a normal reaction after such a traumatic event, but I think they’re getting worse. Some nights I wake up drenched in sweat and screaming, only to have Everett bust through my bedroom door like afucking white knight and find me sobbing. PTSD is a bitch and I’m over it. There are days when I still wonder ‘why me?’ Or days when I twist too quickly and the twinge of pain in my abdomen brings me back to that apartment. But I’ve always chosen to take life one step at a time, one day at a time, one problem at a time.
Currently, the only problem I have is the flat tire on this piece of shit car of mine. My trusty Subaru and I have been through the wringer together, but she’s really letting me down lately. I kick the tire, mumbling a few choice words, as if my insults could wound the inanimate object. I just scored myself a job at a local clothing boutique and I’m going to be late on my first damn day.
“Just fucking great,” I shout at my car, as if that is going to help my situation at all. I pull my cell out of my back pocket and scroll through my contacts to see who could give me a hand this morning. With Ember and her fiancé Elijah living on the other side of town, I know even if I called them, I’ll still be late. Our other roommate, Rory’s, car is already gone since she leaves for work at the coffee shop at the ass-crack of dawn, so that’s not an option either.
I’d rather walk the 5 miles it takes to get to Revamp than go back inside and wake up Everett, but I don’t think I have much of a choice. I push my cell phone into my back pocket with more force than necessary and slam the car door. Marching back inside, I brace myself for the lecture I know is coming. Everett rarely rolls outof bed until around noon, so I’m sure he’s not gonna be happy when he realizes it’s only eight in the morning.
“Ev, I need help!” My fist comes down harder than I intended as I bang on his bedroom door. I wait quietly for some response or movement on the other side that would tell me he’s awake, but I hear nothing. I pound my fist harder against the wood. “Everett! I’m gonna be late, and it’s my first day! Wake up, please!” I hear the faint sound of shuffling and something that sounds a lot like ‘what the fuck’ coming from inside the bedroom, and I know he’s finally joined the land of the living.
The door swings open quickly and I involuntarily shuffle backward, letting out a small gasp at the delicious man standing shirtless in front of me. He has a full sleeve of military-themed tattoos running from the top of his left hand, up his forearm and bicep, across his shoulder, and down the other side of his chest. Yeah, I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but it never gets old. The man is seriously cut from marble, I swear. His messy bedhead does nothing to distract from his classic good looks. Swear to god, if there was another Hemsworth brother, Everett would be him. The familiar butterflies that always plague me whenever he’s around take up residence in my stomach and I will them away.
“Kelsea!” His sharp tone snaps me back to reality, and I quickly straighten my spine, pushing my feelings down into the depths of my heart, where they seem to live permanently lately. “What do you needso early in the damn morning?” He asks, holding the door closed next to his body so I can’t see into his room.
“Um, my car has a flat, and I’m supposed to start work at Revamp today. Typically, I could just change it myself, but there’s no spare in the trunk. Is there any way you could take me?” I ask, hating the uncertainty and self-consciousness in my tone. How am I perfectly confident around everyone else in the world except Everett Blake? He huffs out an annoyed breath as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Never mind,” I tell him, not in the mood to deal with his attitude this morning. “I can just call an Uber or something.” I pull out my phone, but he scoffs.
“Kels, this is BFE, South Carolina. There’s no Uber at eight in the morning.” He glances back over his shoulder into the room and huffs again. “I can take you. Just give me a sec to get dressed.”
It didn’t occur to me before this very moment that he may not be alone. A pang of jealousy floods through me at the thought of him having another woman in his room, but I quickly stuff it down. I don’t care if he does or not. If I tell myself that enough times, maybe I’ll actually believe it.
“Don’t worry about it, Ev. I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your… company, or whatever.” I turn to walk back out the door, but he snags my wrist before I get too far.
“Kelsea, I don’t have company. You’re welcome tocome check if you don’t believe me,” he says, his voice still gruff and sleepy. He swings the door open wide and strides over to his dresser to pull some clothes out of the drawers.
I step barely across the threshold, curious but not wanting to intrude into his space. The man could definitely use a maid, that’s for sure. Maybe thats what he was trying to hide. There are clothes thrown over the soft leather lounge chair in the corner of the room, stacks of sketch pads and open boxes of art supplies scattered all across the top of the dresser. I can see a towel laying haphazardly on the bathroom floor. I swear, Everett is perpetually 16 years old. My eyes trail across the messy space slowly before stopping on Everett’s bare back. He’s standing in front of the dresser, slipping a t-shirt over his head. The muscles in his well-built shoulders flex and relax as his arms work the shirt over his head and down his torso. I’m mesmerized by the beautiful tattoo of a swallow across his right shoulder blade. The blacks and reds are a drastic contrast to his tan skin, making the vivid colors pop. I involuntarily bite my bottom lip as I imagine running my fingertips over his smooth skin.
“You ready to go?” He turns around abruptly, quickly snapping me out of my lustful daze. Everett Wayne Blake is not an option for me.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go,” I say, spinning on my heels and walking out the front door.
two
This isn’thow I planned to start my morning. Kelsea’s delicate arms wrap around my waist as she climbs on my bike behind me. Just the slightest touch from her and my skin is already on fire. Kelsea fucking Sawyer, the raven-haired goddess that haunts my dreams. The first time I saw her, her delicate feminine features and icy blue eyes knocked me flat on my ass. I’ve seen plenty of beautiful women in my life. Hell, it’s not a secret that I’m no virgin. But there has never been another woman on this earth as exquisite as Kelsea. That’s why I can never touch her. Hands like mine, stained with blood and ink, aren’t worthy of someone like her. I’d only drag her down into the darkness that plagues my soul.
I rev the engine and pull out of the driveway slowly,feeling her grip around my waist tighten slightly. For a second, I almost let myself indulge in the fantasy that this could be my life. Kelsea could really be mine. But that’s just what it is, a fantasy. After her attack, I knew she needed someone to help her, both emotionally and physically. I was more than willing to step up to the plate because I’ll be damned if anyone else was going to. I knew it was a disaster waiting to happen, but I couldn’t help it. Seeing this beautiful siren of a woman so broken was soul crushing. I had to help her reignite that spark, no matter what it took.
