Julianne and her men, Keegan and Erik, are back. Last time we saw them, Keegan was stumbling out the door after finding Erik and Julianne together. Without him. Of course, he'd already caught up to her earlier that night and, well...
Part III picks up the story at the exact moment Part II ends.
I hope readers are enjoying the developing relationship as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I have six parts planned for this serial and there are parts of the story I don't know yet. And that's what I love about writing. Finding those missing pieces.
Julianne, Keegan and Erik are three people desperately in need of a happily ever after. Their scars, emotional and physical, need each other to heal. But can they weather the obstacles?
Read and find out.
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Keegan Malone had known going to Erik Riley’s house this late had been a mistake of immense stupidity.
He’d known Julianne was here. He’d seen her car parked out front.
And when he’d walked into the house and realized she and Erik weren’t anywhere to be found on the first floor, he should’ve left right fucking then.
But had he?
No, of course he hadn’t.
Shaking his head, Keegan bounced off the wall as he stumbled down the second-floor hall, away from Erik’s bedroom. His head throbbed with an ever-increasing headache, and he lifted a hand to rub at his temples. Which only made it worse.
He needed his feet to move faster. He needed to be…somewhere else. Anywhere else.
“Christ, I knew this was a mistake. Shoulda stayed the fuck home.”
“God damn it. Keegan, don’t fucking make me run after you.”
Ignoring Erik’s voice, Keegan kept walking. He had to get to the front door, get out of the house. If he just kept walking, eventually he’d get away. He needed to get away.
His footsteps faltered. That wasn’t Erik’s voice.
His chest muscles contracted as if he’d taken a solid blow to the solar plexus. He sucked in a sharp breath then released it in a rush.
Damn it. Don’t stop now.
He took a few more steps, to the top of the stairs, then paused. Behind him, the floorboards creaked as someone walked up behind him. Tensing, he waited, waited…
The hand that fell on his shoulder was not Erik’s. It was small, delicate…and had the power to destroy him.
Get a grip, asshole.
Christ, he was one stupid bastard.
“Don’t go,” Jules said. “Not like this.”
He considered ignoring her, forcing his feet to continue down the stairs until he reached the door.
From there, all he had to do was turn left down the road. He didn’t have to worry about his car. He’d walked here because he’d been too drunk to drive. Now he definitely wasn’t drunk enough.
The buzz that had allowed him to think coming here was a good idea in the first place had worn off the moment he’d seen Erik and Jules together in bed.
And you’re an utter fucking asshole because you were the one who fucked her up against a wall earlier tonight like a Neanderthal.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
The words falling out of his mouth sounded slurred, like he was still drunk. Which couldn’t be right because he felt stone-cold sober inside his own head.
“Then why are you?”
There was an edge to her voice that cut into him like a dull knife. And he deserved it. He totally deserved whatever she threw at him.
Christ, if she told him to get the hell out, it’d be only what he deserved.