We're excited to share cover for Author Lisa De Jong's upcoming release, Living With Regret, which releases in October 2014! Tell us what you think!
Title: Living with Regret (Rain #3)
Author: Lisa De Jong
Age Group: NA
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Designer: Mae I Design
I had my whole life mapped out. Perfect guy. Perfect friends. Everything was exactly the way I wanted it.
That was until that night--the one I can’t remember. It’s all my fault, and now the memories are all I have left of him. Of us.
My guilt drowns me until Sam Shea steps back into my life and helps me to the surface. He slowly opens my heart and crawls deep inside before I even realize what’s happening. I know I don’t deserve him.
While I’m trying to get used to my new life, pieces of that night slowly start to come back to me. Lies and secrets shatter everything I thought I knew.
Maybe I’m not the only one living with regret.
Chapter 1
June 3, 2013
I
attempt to open my eyes, but I can’t. It’s like that moment when you realize
you’re stuck in some nightmare and can’t wake up. My arms and legs won’t budge
… the weight of them is too much. No matter how much I try, nothing happens …
and all I hear is that sound. The same tone repeats every couple seconds,
making me even more anxious to escape the solitary insanity.
Beep.
Beep.
I wonder where the hell I am, and why that stupid noise won’t
stop. I just want it replaced by silence or voices—something normal. Where’s
Cory? I’d give anything to hear his voice right now, or even my parents’. And
this bed, or whatever I’m on, isn’t very comfortable. My head feels like it was
repeatedly slammed against cement. It throbs, and I hate it, but the pain is
the only thing that gives me any hope I’m still here, and this isn’t some
horrible afterlife state I’m living in.
Beep.
Beep.
This
is frustrating. My life is about control. I always have to be in control. This
isn’t working. I keep waking up like this. Unable to move. Unable to see.
Unable to remember.
“Rachel. Everything’s fine, baby.” Mom. Has she been here this
whole time?
I
nod, or at least I think I do. It’s hard to tell in this weird half awake, half
asleep state. My mind is functioning, but my body … that’s another story.
“You’ve been sleeping for a while. Be careful, baby.” Why can’t I
see her? Why is she telling me to be careful? Nothing makes sense. Where the
hell am I? I’d give anything just to ask one question.
Time
passes, and the room is quiet again. Where did Mom go? Where’s Cory? Before I
fell asleep, or whatever this is, I was studying with him on the couch. I
remember that much … at least I think I do. I’m not sure what’s real anymore.
“Cory,”
I mouth, but no sound comes out. I hear footsteps. Loud, heavy rubber against
hard floors coming closer. My heart beats faster … I feel it all the way up to
my ears.
The footsteps stop next to where I lay, and a cool hand wraps
around my wrist. I have no idea what’s going on, and if I could, I’d pull my
hand away. I’d escape from here and run straight toward normal. Hopefully,
normal is a place that still exists.
“Get some rest,” a soothing, unfamiliar female voice says from
above. The cool hand unwraps itself from my wrist. I attempt to curl my
fingers, to quietly beg for her not to leave me, but just like everything else,
it’s impossible. With every passing second, I hear less, feel less. “That’s it,
you’ll feel better soon.”
***
When
I wake again, my body is still frozen in place, but everything hurts a little
less. It might be because I just woke up, or thanks to whatever the lady with
the noisy shoes gives me when she comes in.
The annoying beeping sound still plays loudly, but other than
that, the room is like church during prayer. Maybe that’s what I need to do in
order to get out of this state, to fully wake up. Maybe God hasn’t heard me
because I haven’t asked him the way I should. Maybe the only thing I have left
is a prayer.
I want to beg God to let me wake up so I can see the world again.
I want to tell him how sorry I am for whatever I did to deserve this and
promise to never do it again. I’d do anything he asked me to just to get out of
here, to see Cory and my mom. I want to hear their voices, see their familiar
faces.
There’s nothing I want more than to open my eyes … for this
all to end. Until then, I let myself get lost in the last thing I remember
before I wound up here. It gives me something to look forward to, a time I want
to go back to. A life I want to return to.
“What’s
your last test on?” Cory asks, tracing his finger along my bare thigh. After
four years, I should know better than to study near him in short shorts, or any
shorts really. I guess I keep wearing them because I like the attention he
gives me. I like that after all this time he still touches me like he can’t get
enough.
“Statistics,”
I answer, batting his hand away. I don’t bother looking up; there’s no need
because I have every inch of him memorized. He looks all California boy—light
brown hair, naturally highlighted with a few streaks of blond—but he was born
right here in Iowa. His clear blue eyes mesmerize me even when I’m not looking
into them. Today, they show even brighter than usual because of the green shirt
he wears … not that I was staring earlier or anything.
His finger
returns, inching up higher, so high all I can do is close my eyes. Screw
statistics. Not like I’m going to use them later in life anyway. “Take a break
for a few minutes,” he whispers, his lips not far from my ear. “You’ve had your
nose buried in a book for weeks.”
What he’s
proposing sounds so good, but I shouldn’t. Not really.
“I can’t.”
My breath hitches when he traces the line of my panties. He’s a master
manipulator, but in the best way. He goes up just a little higher, one finger
slipping under the thin cotton.
“You sure?”
“The test,
Cory. I need to pass the test.”
He groans,
but his hand continues to work at my delicate skin. “That’s all you seem to
care about anymore. Just give me five minutes. Please.”
I want to
give in. God knows having him inside me would release the tension that finals
have left.
Looking at
the clock on the DVD player, I realize I only have forty-five minutes before my
last final. Cory is my greatest temptation, but he’ll have to wait until class
is over. Then I’ll have a whole summer to be with him just like this or any
other way he wants me.
“After
class. I promise.”
His warm
finger brushes against my center. He’s driving me so freaking crazy. “Are you
sure? Because your wet panties are telling a different story.”
“As soon as
this last test is done, I’m yours. Any way you want me,” I say, hearing the
desire in my voice. I’ve never been good at hiding it. Not when it comes to
Cory.
“I’m going
to hold you to that,” he says, pulling his hand from under my shorts. He looks
at me, eyes burning like fire, then kisses me in a way that’s decisive and
possessive. Soft. Then firm. Then hard. There’s no doubt in my mind I’m going
to finish my test quickly so I can run right back here. From the grin on his face,
he knows it, too.
That’s where the memory ends … it’s the last thing I remember. How
did I get from there to here?
***
My
eyelids flutter just enough to break open to the light around me. Bright
fluorescents shine from large rectangles in the ceiling. It’s too much to
handle at once, so I choose darkness again while I attempt to move my fingers.
It works this time—a little bit.
My
body still aches all over. Like a powerful, unyielding wave crashing into it,
the pain leaves no part of me untouched. It’s worse than the time I fell off my
bike, colliding hard with the pavement. And the time I fell from the tree in
the back yard while trying to free my kite from its branches. It’s worse than
anything I’ve ever experienced.
With
every second that goes by, the darkness becomes lonelier. My mind is a fucking
mess, like a five hundred piece jigsaw puzzle spread across the floor. I wish I
could go back in time, to when everything was normal. It’s easy to forget the
miracle behind normal because we’re so used to living in it. I will never take
it for granted again.
I’m
going to get back there. I’m going to see Cory again and spend the rest of the
summer swimming in the lake. This has to be temporary. I need everything to be
okay.
After
a few minutes, I open my eyes to the light again. The stale white and baby blue walls confirm my worst fear. The
uncomfortable rock I’ve been lying on is nothing but a hospital bed. The room’s cold and smells of antiseptic; and strange, plastic
machines surround me, one making that sound that held my sanity hostage for God
knows how long.
Scanning
the room even further, I see Mom sitting in an old, mauve-colored waiting chair
not far from my bed. Her usual perfectly-in-place blond bob is a mess, and it’s
the first time I’ve seen her out of the house without make-up. And sweats.
She’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt.
Her
head rests on her arm, her eyes tightly closed. Even sleeping, she looks tired.
“Mom,”
I whisper, feeling the painful burn in my throat. It’s like someone took a
knife and scratched along its edges, but when she doesn’t move, I know I have
to try again no matter how much it hurts. “Mom!”
Her
eyelids lift just enough to get a glimpse of me. She straightens quickly,
resting one hand on my arm and the other against my cheek. They’re so cold, but
it feels good. Yet another sign that I’m still here. That this is something
real and not part of a dream.
“How
are you feeling?” She looks at me with the saddest eyes.
“Water,”
I reply, “Please.”
She
nods, running the backs of her fingers along my forehead. “Let me get the
nurse.”
While
I wait for her, I glance around the room. There are flower arrangements on the
windowsill and the small table next to the bed. Most of them are full of my
favorite: Gerbera daisies. Usually they lift my mood, bringing cheerfulness to
the worst of days, but I’m too locked in a state of confusion to feel the
brightness that would normally be radiating within me.
Maybe
I should be screaming for answers. The reason for being here, the reason for
the excruciating pain that runs down the entire length of my body, but I’m
pretty sure—based on everything I see before me—I don’t want to know.
Ignorance
isn’t always bliss, though, and somehow, this all needs to make sense.
The
door swings open, and a nurse in green hospital scrubs enters followed closely
by my mom. “You’re awake,” the nurse says, checking the fluid in my IV. I
follow the line down to the top of my bruised hand. “I can’t give you any water
until the doctor gets here, but would you like some ice chips?”
I
nod slightly, willing to take whatever she’ll give me. This is worse than any
sore throat I’ve ever had in my twenty years.
“Okay,
I’ll be right back.”
She starts to walk away, but I’m not done with her yet.
“Wait.”
My voice is lost, like the morning after cheering at a football game. I’m
convinced I swallowed shards of glass at some point. “Can you turn that machine
off? The one that keeps beeping.”
A
sad smile curves her lips. “I wish I could, but we have to keep them on for at
least a few more days,” she says in a soothing tone. That’s not exactly what I
wanted to hear, but at least it’s just a few more days.
After
the door shuts behind her, I turn back to Mom. There’s so much I need to know,
but I don’t know if I’m necessarily ready to hear it. Waking up in a hospital
without any memory of how you got there isn’t something that happens every day.
“Why am I here?” Those four little words are almost impossible for
me to say, but the answer is so important.
“Get
some rest. We can talk when you’re feeling better,” she answers, her voice like
a soft lullaby. The back of her fingers slide across my cheek, smoothing a few
strands of hair off my face. It’s comforting, but it doesn’t take away my
curiosity. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep without some answers.
“No.
Tell me now.”
She closes her eyes and slowly shakes her head before looking back
down at me, defeated. “There was an accident.” The last word leaves me with a
sinking feeling, and the fact that she’s having trouble looking me in the eye
says a lot.
“What kind of accident?”
She
swallows visibly, moving her eyes to mine. She hesitates, reaching her fingers
up to touch my cheek yet again. Mom is never like this—showing me this much
affection—and it’s scaring the hell out of me.
“Car.” Her voice is so low, it’s almost as if she didn’t intend
for me to hear her.
“What?
What happened?” Tears well in my eyes. There’s something she’s not telling me;
it’s written on her face in large print.
“You were driving and went down an embankment. You hit a tree head
on.” She stops, tears now spilling over. Her fingers brush my hair, carefully
tucking it behind my ear. “We’re lucky to have you back, baby.”
Closing
my eyes tightly, I try to remember. How could I not remember crashing into a
tree? How is it possible to go through something like that and not remember a
single thing? Then it hits me like a thousand bricks … Cory. Rarely do I do
anything without Cory. Sometimes I go out with the girls, or hang out at home
when he has plans, but it’s rare for us to be apart. For almost five years,
he’s been my heartbeat … the one thing that keeps me going.
“Mom,
where’s Cory?” My voice cracks as the sinking feeling takes over. If he knew I
was here, he’d be by my side. I know he wouldn’t leave me alone. He’s not
perfect, but he loves me.
“Rachel,
maybe you should get some rest. Your body’s been through a lot.” Her tone could
wilt a flower. So much is being said without actually saying the words.
I
shake my head, trying my best to push down the feelings inside, but it hurts so
freaking much. It’s like someone took my skull and repeatedly banged it against
the wall. Between that and not knowing why the hell I’m here, I’d almost prefer
to go back to sleep again. Lying here, anticipating the worst, isn’t helping.
Why won’t she just tell me where Cory is? I need her to tell me the truth, even
if it sends me into a world of all-consuming misery. “Where’s Cory?” I pause,
trying hard to catch my breath. “Tell me … please.”
She
falls forward onto the bed, resting her elbows against the edge and gripping my
hand between hers. Her warm lips touch my knuckles before she looks up at me
again. The pain shows like a dark cloud in her eyes as she opens her mouth then
closes it. “He didn’t make it,” she cries, touching her lips to my skin again.
“I’m so, so sorry, baby girl.”
Everything
stops. My heart included.
“What?”
I choke, not even sure if the word actually came out.
Mom
closes her eyes tightly, slowly shaking her head. “Cory didn’t survive the
crash … I’m sorry.”
The
one part of my future I felt sure of is gone. With the words ‘He didn’t make it,’ the movie of my life has
been put on pause … and I don’t see any reason to finish it.
Not
without him.
Lost, I stare up at the white ceiling tiles trying to breathe air
into my weighted chest. My body shakes, and my throat isn’t the cause of my
pain anymore. The excruciating ache in my heart overrides everything else. It’s
like someone took a pitchfork and pierced through it, over and over again,
until it was filled with open wounds. Then, because that wasn’t enough, salt
was poured right over top. Unyielding, it’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt. The
worst pain I think anyone could ever feel.
My
hands and jaw tingle, and the room spins. Nothing feels right with the world
anymore.
This
can’t be happening.
Why
him and not me?
I
want to remember something—anything—about what happened, but I can’t. Things
like this aren’t supposed to happen to people like me. It’s as if I’m stuck
watching one of those movies where something so horrible happens that you say
to yourself there’s no way that would happen in real life. This is my life, and
it’s so fucking real right now that I wish I could just un-live it.
Warm tears slide down my face, but I don’t bother to wipe them
away. My mind is spinning so quickly, but nothing really matters anymore.
How did I end up here? The only thing I recall is studying for my
college statistics exam with him on the couch. I don’t remember going to class,
much less getting into a car. This would be easier to believe if it made even
an ounce of sense.
“I
don’t get it,” I cry, “I was on my way to class.”
She
shakes her head, sympathetic eyes narrowing in on me. “No, you got home from
school that afternoon. The police mentioned that you were on your way home from
a party when it happened.”
There’s
so much I’m missing. So much I don’t remember. Closing my eyes, I try, but
there’s nothing.
“How long?” I whisper, swallowing hard.
“How
long what?”
“Have
I been here?”
“Seventeen
Days.”
The
darkness was a much better place. Sometimes it’s better not to know … I want to
fall back into naivety, but it’s too late. What’s done can’t be undone.
Lisa De Jong is a wife, mother and full-time number cruncher who lives in the Midwest. Her writing journey involved insane amounts of coffee and many nights of very little sleep but she wouldn't change a thing. She also enjoys reading, football and music. She is the author of When It Rains, After the Rain, Plastic Hearts and Glass Hearts.
Contact: lisadejongwrites@gmail.com, @LisaDeJongBooks
