Release Day Blitz
Where the Road Takes Me
by
Jay McLean
Jay McLean
 |
| Release Date: February 10, 2015 |
~ Synopsis ~
Chloe has one plan for the future, and one plan only: the road.
She’s made a promise to herself: don’t let anyone in, and don’t let anyone love
her. She’s learned the hard way what happens if she breaks her rules. So she’s
focused on being invisible and waiting until she can set out on the road—her
dream of freedom, at least for a little while.
Blake Hunter is a basketball star
who has it all—everything about him looks perfect to those on the other side of
his protective walls. He can’t let anyone see the shattered pieces behind the
flawless facade or else all his hopes and dreams will disappear.
One dark night throws Chloe and
Blake together, changing everything for Blake. For Chloe, nothing changes: she
has the road, and she’s focused on it. But when the so-called perfect boy
starts to notice the invisible girl, they discover that sometimes with love, no
one knows where the road may lead.
~ Excerpt ~
Chapter One
There was that familiar
ache that I loved so much—a burn in my chest that spread to the rest of my
body. There was just one other feeling I loved more. Well—two, if you included
the high of sex.
Numbness.
A constant state of
numbness was my euphoria.
You couldn’t tell. No one
could.
My feet thudded against the
pavement. Sweat dripped from my hairline, down my neck, and onto my bare back.
I shut my eyes, urging the numbness to kick in. I wanted to feel it everywhere.
Not just in my body but everywhere. Maybe I should quit basketball and take up
smoking weed as a hobby. I laughed to myself—Dad would love that. Another
reason to kick my ass.
I rounded the corner with
my eyes still shut. I knew that path in the park better than I knew my own
home. Which is why I was running at two in the morning on a Saturday night.
Sunday morning?
Whatever.
I was five steps past the
corner—the numbness had just started to seep in—when I bumped into something.
My eyes sprang open, and I found myself staring at someone on the ground.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I
huffed, trying to level my breathing. I rested my hands on my knees, waiting
for the thumping in my heart to calm itself. My skin stung and my muscles
throbbed from the impact of our bodies. I was six foot three, and my frame
matched the constant training and rigorous workouts it endured. Her—I couldn’t tell what she looked like—but I knew
this much: if the collision had hurt me, it must’ve almost killed her.
She slowly came to a sitting
position, resting her ass on her heels. Her head was bent, and her loose blonde
hair formed a curtain around her face. She lifted her hands, palms up, and
examined them. Blood.
“Shit! I’m so sorry.” A
wave of panic whooshed through me.
Squatting in front of her,
I took her hands to study the damage. She yanked them away and sniffed,
straightening her legs out in front of her. Her short-ass skirt left nothing to
the imagination.
“Dammit,” she whispered,
her head still down.
My gaze moved from the hem of
her skirt to her knees. Blood.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I
said for the third time.
It was dark, the only light
coming from the moon and a lamppost fifteen yards away. I wanted to see her
face, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask her to look at me. “Are you okay?”
Before she could answer, a
rustling from the bushes interrupted us.
A guy stepped out, close to
my age. He looked rough, rougher than the kids I hung out with—and I use that
term loosely. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then eyed it.
Blood.
His eyes narrowed. Looking
down at the girl in front of me, he seethed, “You fucking whore!”
Slowly, she stood up.
I swear I could actually
hear the clicking of the pieces as it all fell into place in my mind.
Him—with his fat lip, torn
shirt, and undone fly.
Her—now fully standing. The
top of her tank was ripped, exposing one bra-covered breast.
I watched as her lips
pursed and her eyes narrowed to slits, but then fire flamed in them as she
yelled, “Fuck you!”
He took a step toward her
with his hand raised.
Before I knew it, I was
between them, gripping his forearm, my other arm behind me, wrapped around her
waist. I could feel her shallow breaths against my back.
“Who the fuck are you?” he
demanded, trying to pull away from my hold.
“Blake. Who the fuck are
you?”
He laughed once, a snarl on
his lips and a challenge in his eyes.
“What are you, her
bodyguard?”
I lifted my chin and
squared my shoulders. I towered over him, eying him down. I knew I could take
him. Easily. “I don’t know, dickface. Does she need one?”
He tried again to withdraw
his arm. I grasped it tighter. Then a cynical laugh escaped him. “Good luck.
She’s a fucking tease— dresses like a whore but won’t even suck dick.” He
looked around my shoulder at her. “You cock-teasing slut!”
Something in me snapped.
Blood rushed to my ears,
and the numbness I’d hoped for was well and truly gone. My arm—the one
previously wrapped around her—moved fast. My fingers had formed a fist and
would have made contact with his face— Would have—if not for the tiny blonde
girl standing in front of me. Between my intended target and me. With her
entire body weight, she pulled my arm downwards, her eyes widening. “Don’t,”
she said. “It’s not worth it.” Her voice was quiet, but her expression screamed
for me to let it go. I was so surprised by her actions that I dropped
Dickface’s raised arm.
Glaring at the guy behind
her, I tried for an even tone as I warned, “You got three seconds to get out of
here before I beat your ass.”
Her warm hands were now
pressed against my chest, their pressure causing me to inhale sharply. My eyes
fell to hers. They were pleading.
I heard “fuck this” and
then heavy footsteps thumping against the pavement, the sound growing gradually
more distant. My eyes, though, they never left hers.
After what felt like
forever, she looked away.
I blinked for what seemed
like the first time.
She suddenly noticed that
her hands were still on my chest.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” she
said, pulling them away and hiding them behind her back.
I swallowed. It was thick
and embarrassingly loud, louder than the beating of my heart in my eardrums.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. Bending slightly, I finally relaxed enough to
catch my breath.
“Yeah, are you?”
Straightening, I studied
her warily. She was a mess. Scraped knees. Disheveled hair. Shoe missing. I
looked away when I caught sight of her purple bra, openly exposed from her torn
top.
She cleared her throat.
I returned my gaze to her
once she’d crossed her arms over her chest, hiding herself. She bit the corner
of her lip, but everything else was still. There was no movement, not until she
slowly raised her hand and wiped her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
My eyebrows bunched. It’d
been a while since I’d heard such genuine sincerity. “It’s no problem. Really.”
She tried to smile and then
adjusted her top while taking off her remaining shoe. Then she just stood
there, barefoot and shivering.
One arm at her side,
holding her one and only heel, the other covering her breast. “Well, thanks for
saving me.” She laughed softly, jerking her head toward the path behind us. “I
better get going.”
I nodded, chewing on my
thumb. Then some sense kicked in, and I stepped in front of her, blocking her
from walking away.
“You shouldn’t be walking
anywhere alone, especially—” I cut myself off. “Dressed like that” was
definitely the wrong thing to say. Instead, I opted for “especially this late
at night.”
Her smile was tight. “I’ll
be fine,” she assured me, looking around at the darkness surrounding us.
She shivered again.
I pulled out my shirt,
which I’d tucked into my shorts’ waistband, and handed it to her. “It’s
probably wet—from my sweat— and it might smell a little funky, but you’ll be
warmer.”
Her face relaxed, and her
lips curled up. “Thank you, Blake.”
“You’re welcome, umm . . .
?”
She paused, searching my
face. “Abby.”
“Abby.” I nodded in
confirmation. “At least let me walk you wherever you need to go.”
She seemed to hesitate
before nodding slowly. “I need to find my purse and my phone.” She studied me
for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’re hiding a phone anywhere on you I can use
for light?”
I looked down at my running shorts and
sneakers. “No. But it’s in my car . . .” I pointed in the direction of the
parking lot. “We can grab it and come back.”
She cursed under her
breath. “It’s okay. I don’t think we’ll be able to find our way back here. Not
when it’s this dark. I’ll come back in the morning or something.”
I smiled. Knowing that park
as well as I did had its perks. “I know where we are. It’s fine.”
Grimacing, she asked, “Are
you sure? You’re not . . . on your way somewhere?”
My laughter echoed through
the still air. “Yes, Abby, I’m sure. Where would I be going dressed like this?”
She smiled then. Amusement
danced in her eyes. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “To kill someone?”
“What?” I asked, surprised
at her sharp wit. I turned and began moving toward the lot.
When she caught up to me,
she continued. “Think about it.
How many times do you hear
on the news about dead bodies being found in parks? You know who always finds
them? Joggers.”
I turned to her, tilting my
head slightly, trying to work out whether she was serious or not. She tried to
hide her smile before adding, “It seems a little suspicious to me—you joggers
always being first on the scene and all. My theory is that you’re all a bunch
of murderers, and you get away with it, using the jogger clause.
Makes me wonder if you have
some underground club where you compare notes and brag about pulling off these
murders.”
I threw back my head and
laughed. “That’s one amazing theory.”
“Well,” she said, nudging
my side with her elbow, “at least when you murder me, you’ll know that I was
onto you, buddy.”
“Yet, here you are—walking
with me in pitch-black darkness, at two in the morning, to a more-than-likely
abandoned parking lot, under the impression I’m going to get you back to your
necessities. You’re not even slightly afraid of what might happen to you?” All
joking aside, she had to be a little worried. Surely.
The air around us turned
thick. “No, Blake. I know I’m safe with you.”
She said my name as if it
had a different meaning.
We walked the rest of the way to my car in silence.
~ About the Author ~
Jay
McLean is the author of the More Series, including More Than This, More Than
Her, More Than Him and More Than Forever. She also has two standalones coming
soon titled Where The Road Takes Me, and Combative.
Jay is an
avid reader, writer, and most of all, procrastinator. When she's not doing any
of those things, she can be found running after her two little boys, or
devouring some tacky reality TV show.
She
writes what she loves to read, which are books that can make her laugh, make
her smile, make her hurt, and make her feel.
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