“It’s time to get my shit together. Time to tell her that I love her. Time to right wrongs and put the past behind me. But I have an addiction, one that haunts me, that takes over my body and mind. One that leaves scars.”
“It’s time to get my shit together. Time to tell him that I love him. Time to move on from my past. But he has an addiction, one that scares me, one that I don’t feel capable of dealing with.”
Jackson - Son of a wealthy, abusive man finds peace in art. Whether that art be on his body or walls, it gives him an outlet.
Summer – A woman in mourning, finds peace in the arms of her friend.
Together they can fight their demons, they can put the past behind them – or can they?
Can two broken people have the love they both desire? Or will dangerous, harmful outlets and loss forever consume them?
Angsty romance for over 18’s. This novel contains scenes that could be a trigger for some. Please feel free to contact the author or refer to the Trigger Warning section on the author’s website –
Her sobs had quietened as the room darkened. We were lying on her bed, and although it had been six months, her grief and anger still overwhelmed her. With every sob I’d listened to, my heart had broken just a little more. I had her wrapped in my arms; her head was resting on my shoulder and my t-shirt was sodden with her tears. Her breathing had deepened and I knew she had finally dropped off to sleep. Each night I’d lain with her, each day I’d sat with her. She was my best friend, but one I was in love with.
I breathed in deep the scent of her hair, the saltiness of her tears, and the pain she was going through. I wanted to turn back the clock; I wanted to absorb all her hurt but I couldn’t. Each day, it was getting harder and harder to conceal my feelings from her. As she turned in my arms to place her back against my chest, I curled into her. I wouldn’t sleep, I couldn’t. The feelings coursing through my body, hatred for her situation, love for her, and an overwhelming desire to fuck her, had my nerves on edge and my skin itch. For months, I’d been able to control my needs, but it was becoming more difficult. I had to make a choice, a very difficult one. I had to leave her, and that decision would destroy me.
I’d never loved a woman before; I thought I was incapable of that. The emotion needed to love had been taken away from me at a very early age. But the feelings she produced, feelings she was completely unaware of, were fucking with my brain, and I was getting dangerously close to revealing who I really was: one fucked up individual. One fucked up individual, who was about to get worse after receiving a text from someone I’d been hiding from.
I gently slid my arm from under her neck and rolled to the edge of the bed. Her alarm clock showed it to be early morning already. As I stood and looked down at her, I heard her murmur my name and a tear rolled down my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
No matter that my brain was telling my legs to move, for a moment my heart was keeping them still. Was I doing the right thing? I crept to the bedroom door and hesitated, taking one last look at her before I left. In my mind it wasn’t forever, I just needed to get my shit together. I needed to be honest with her and tell her how I felt, but I was scared it was too soon. I was terrified of her rejection and of tarnishing our friendship. If I couldn’t have her, the way I wanted, I’d take whatever she offered, but right at that moment, I was about to combust.
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