Hers

Copyright 2013 Brandelyn Harris

*Inspired by true events*

Where do you turn when the ones who are supposed to love you most, hurt you?

When is enough, enough?

That is the exact question Chloe Evans had when she escaped her own personal hell that terrifying night. Even though the road to rebuilding her life has been tough, she’s spent the last two years trying to mend her battered soul. Doubting that all her efforts are even worth it, she begins to feel she will forever be tied to the man who took everything away from her.

Ryder Matthews is the epitome of what most girls associate with perfection. With his good looks, bad boy persona, multiple tattoos and piercings he is every girl’s fantasy; every girl except Chloe Evans that is. Ryder sees Chloe as a challenge…one that he’s more than confident he will win.

We all have things in life we’d like to forget about. Some bigger than others. When Chloe uses college as her diversion to escape the memories will Ryder be able to make her forget?

PROLOGUE

“Mommy! Mommy! Look, I found one!” Popping up out of the field of purple and yellow wildflowers I run to my mother with the one thing I’ve been searching for, a four-leaf clover. “Oh honey, it’s beautiful! Perfect, just like you,” she replies picking me up and swinging me wildly through the air. I can’t help but giggle. I love spending time with mommy out here. I can feel the breeze across my cheeks, as the wind whips my hair across my face, causing strands of my blonde hair to get stuck in my mouth. She brushes it away, laying tender kisses across my cheeks. “You know four-leaf clovers are a sign of luck,” mommy says between kisses. “Are we lucky mommy?” I ask. “Yes, sweetie, we certainly are,” she responds. “I can’t wait to show daddy when we get home.”

Mommy looks at me thoughtfully before responding “He will love it Chloe. He should be boarding the plane right about now. You can show it to him just as soon as he gets home, love.” I clutch the four-leaf clover to my chest as mommy and I walk hand in hand through the field toward our house.

I can’t wait to see my daddy, I think to myself.

CHAPTER 1 Moving Day Chloe

BLEEP… BLEEP… BLEEP…

Rolling over I smack the blaring alarm. Ugh, today is the day. Well at least last night was dream-free. That’s a rarity these days. The happy pills must be working, because I don’t even recall what happened after my head hit my plush goose-down pillow. Thank god for sleep-aids and my psychiatrist.

I lie in bed a little too long. I know I need to get up and start moving, yet my body betrays me and feels like an overstuffed suitcase sinking slowly into the mold of the mattress. I’m not sure I made the right decision four months ago. I’ve been second-guessing myself since the day I decided to attend Radford University.

“Can I do this?” I whisper to no one in particular but myself. My psychiatrist Anne would have a field day if she heard me talking to myself right now. I can almost hear her saying, “Now Chloe you know you have grown leaps and bounds these last two years. You have to face your reservations about college and not regress with the progress you’ve made thus far.” Blah, blah, blah.

Begrudgingly I decide it’s now or never. I throw back my lavender thick comforter and swing my legs over the bedside. I make my way to the bathroom that’s connected to my bedroom, padding across the thick carpet as it squishes beneath my toes. I am going to miss this carpet. I quickly fumble for the light-switch and peel off my light pink camisole and matching boy shorts. I feel dirty. I always feel this way after getting out of bed. Since that night, no matter how much therapy I’ve had, I’ve never been able to shake it.

Turning on the shower, as hot as my body can stand it, I slide in. I welcome the sting that follows each hot droplet. It helps me forget. It drives the focus away from the memories. Needing to feel some other kind of ache than the pain I have been dealing with the last couple of years, the scolding hot force rushes over my body, providing me that release I so desperately crave. I grab my shampoo and lather it in my hands scrubbing my scalp. Moving onto my body I grab my favorite fragrant body wash. I squirt an ample amount onto my loofah, then vigorously scrub my body until it’s red and raw, relishing in the smell of sweet, musky woods. The aroma filling my small bathroom brings a sense of peace and calming. Slightly satisfied with my results and feeling more like myself, I rinse my body, watching the suds swirl down the drain washing away with them any trace of filthiness left behind.

Popping open the shower curtain, I reach for my fluffy towel and quickly wrap my body in the soft fabric. The mirror is completely fogged up from the steam of the shower and I couldn’t be happier. I don’t want to see the reflection staring back at me. I want to forget about that soiled girl I have become. Instead I want to focus on the new road I’m about to travel down and what lies ahead for me at college. College that has a nice ring to it, I never thought I would see anything beyond those four walls of hell that entrapped me for years. Those walls were a prison, holding me hostage. With that moment of clarity I realize that YES, I can do this - attend college without reservations. I have too. If not for anything more than a diversion from my past, I need to do this for me, to break this cycle of self-destruction.

I quickly glance at the clock and notice its 9:00 AM. Okay, Chloe. Showtime. I grab my clothes from the dresser-top and chastise myself for not pulling out something a little nicer. I look down at my black yoga pants and long-sleeve light-blue shirt that reads I’m Not Short I’m Fun Size and shake my head thinking of how I will look on my first day on campus. I don’t want others to think I’m a slob, but I truly was thinking of comfort when I pulled my choice out since I have a four-hour road trip ahead of me. Sighing, I realize what a long trip it will be. Oh, to hell with it. I’m not there to impress anyone anyway. Screw other people’s opinions. I am heading to a place where no one knows me or what happened that night. I am finally going to be able to just be Chloe Evans, the girl I was before he took it all away.

I hear a light knock on my door and know immediately it’s my adoptive-mother Melody. “Come in,” I call out. She cracks the door open and I am instantly awarded with her smile.

“Good morning, honey. Are you all packed up?” she asks. She gives off an instant calming vibe one that I have come to love. Melody had her work cut out for her when she adopted me, but she has never given up on me. My biological mother was a worthless excuse for a parent. She wasn’t always like that. Before the tragic accident that ripped my family apart, she actually loved me once but I can barely remember the good times anymore. With each passing year, the good memories fade, leaving only ones of abuse at the hands of that selfish woman. Melody, however, had provided me with that irreplaceable mother-daughter bond I had so desperately craved.

Realizing I was staring at her, but not answering, I tucked away those memories for another time. “Yep. I stayed up late last night packing so I would be ready to go,” I reply.

She takes me in her arms with glistening eyes. “Oh honey I am so proud of you.” I latch onto her and hold tight, enjoying the reassuring feel of her arms. I relish her enveloping hugs.

“Now come down for breakfast before we start loading up,” she says. Halfheartedly, I head to the kitchen. As we eat, I can tell she is trying to distract her mind from worry. Watching her do it just makes me more emotional. It’s a feeling I can’t hide; she can see the tears in my eyes. Before I can release them, she takes me in her arms again. Every minute we share is full of sober optimism. “You will be just fine.” she reassures me above her own tears. I know that she believes it, but that part of her still wishes I could stay. “I know you are going to do amazing things, Chloe. Just promise that in between the great things, make sure to call and visit. Hm?” She holds me at a distance, chuckling. If there ever was a proud mother, she is it. She kisses me tenderly on the forehead before sighing. “Okay, it’s time to pack up the car. You want to make sure you allow yourself plenty of time to get there and check in.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I got it,” I sigh with a smile.

Upstairs, I can’t help but take one last look at my room. I know this will always be my home and that knowledge gives me the courage to pick up the last of my boxes and carry them down the stairs. Double and triple checking that I have everything I need, I grab them and head towards my white 2002 Honda Civic in the driveway. While old, it is trustworthy. I worked my ass off for two summers at the local coffee shop slingin’ lattes to buy Betsy and she is perfect. Hauling the last of my items into the trunk, I turn around and Melody is there to hold me one last time, tears streaming down my face.

“Now let’s get rid of those tears. You can’t drive with your eyes all cloudy,” she says, wiping her own eyes.

“Yeah.” I’m a sniffling mess. “I’m so worried, though. What if everyone hates me? What if they know who I am? What if they know what he did?”

“No one knows about your past Chloe. This is your time to spread your wings and fly baby girl. You have an amazing opportunity ahead of you and you are going to meet a ton of great folks,” she reassures me.

“I know. I know.” My anxiety ebbs a little, my eyes beginning to dry.

I climb into the driver’s seat. “Don’t forget to buckle up,” she calls. I give her the thumbs up and roll down my window. Leaning in she says “You have the directions, your phone, and wallet, right?”

“Yes, I have everything I need. Thanks mom.”

“I have done what any mother should. Now is the time for you to shine, baby girl.” Her smile makes me feel like everything will be all right, that I have nothing to fear.

“Wait don’t go yet!” She pulls out her camera and starts snapping shots of me in the car. I thought it was suspicious that she hadn’t been snapping pictures all morning. I wait until she’s finished, even striking a pose or two. “I got you a few surprises by the way. They are in your backseat,” with that she winks and steps back so I have clearance to back out.

As I pull into the street, I have the most startling sensation of lightness. Leaving West Virginia is like shedding a skin. My worries are in my rear-view mirror, the future lies ahead. Cranking up my radio I hone in on my favorite radio station and belt out to my heart’s content. The tune is a familiar one and its lyrics are about love and wrecking relationships.

Singing the song takes me down another sad avenue of thought. I’ve never had a boyfriend, not a serious one at least. I wasn’t able to have one. Not after what he did. I can’t help but feel that I’m pathetic. He really did ruin me, in more ways than one. I both crave and run from normalcy. I’m too afraid to be hurt again.

It’s not that I didn’t have offers. I had quite a few. My last two years of high-school, tons of guys tried, but I just wasn’t interested, nor was I ready. I’m not sure I ever will be. I’d had a reputation for being one of the pretty girls. They have no idea what I’m like inside… dark, desolate, isolated, empty, used, and dirty. If they knew, they wouldn’t want me around. I can’t let anyone find out about the darkness that consumes me.

I try to ignore the pang of guilt I suddenly feel from wanting that type of relationship with a guy. It just can’t happen. I have to focus on school and this new life I have mapped out for myself. Focus is my new mantra. Maybe then I can become something else… maybe then I can become something more.

Radford is so different than back home. I feel welcomed by its small-town charm. The pedestrians look, dare I say happy. Any remnant worry subsides, enough for me to enjoy the drive through “downtown”, though it’s no more than stacks of shops lining a mile of street.

Pulling into the campus I am struck by its beauty. When Melody and I visited for freshman orientation I was in a fog, but now I can see everything so much clearer. It’s amazing and absolutely breathtaking. I never expected to feel like I belonged, especially at a place I’d only visited once.

The campus is open and airy. The bushy trees full of green and yellow leaves are strategically placed throughout the campus. Immediately, I spot the iconic red clocks that represent life at Radford that houses everything from financial aid, residential life, and study areas to students alike. The campus is buzzing with students and excitement.

I carefully pull my car into one of the rather narrow parking spaces. Propping my door open, I discover a new definition for fresh air. It smells and tastes completely different from the air back home. I already feel like I can’t get enough of this place. Stretching my legs, I make sure I have everything I need before heading into the red-brick building.

I head directly to the residential life area and walk in. A friendly redhead is working the counter. She smiles politely, “Hello, welcome to Radford. Are you a first-year student?”

“Yes. My name is Chloe Evans.”

“Great. One second, Chloe.” After a moment’s typing, she smiles and hands me a huge packet. “Here’s everything you need. Your building code is written on that envelope. You will need that to get into your building. You’re housed in the Muse building. Inside the envelope is your key for your dorm-room, along with your meal card, student id, paperwork, a map of the campus, class schedule, campus security information, resident adviser contact information, an activity list, and other important information. Enjoy your year at Radford!”

“Thank you so much,” I say, feeling the weight of the packet somehow increase. I feel a little lost, standing there in front of the desk. The admissions assistant, who no doubt thought I’d leave as soon as I got the packet, smiles up at me.

“I know it’s overwhelming and all but don’t worry everything that you need is right there at your fingertips. If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.” She reaches over to a stack of business cards and hands me one.

“Thanks,” I say, shuffling out of the building and back to my car.

It’s move-in day so lots of students are parked in front of the doors. I carefully maneuver my way through campus until I reach my building. On the side, in big silver letters is its name, Muse. Squeezing into a spot in front I rummage through my packet for my dorm-room key slipping it on my keyring. I’m happy to see that the door is propped open. I am not sure I could get the heavy boxes through the door without that small grace.

There’s a huge banner hanging above the entrance that says, Welcome Freshmen. Distracted with reading it, I almost collide with my resident adviser.

Popping her gum she sticks out her hand and says “Hey, I’m Erin, the R.A. for Muse and you are?”

Wiping my clammy hands on my yoga pants I stick out my hand, “Chloe Evans.”

She shakes it, then untucks a clipboard from under her arm and flips through the attached stack of papers. “Okay…” she runs her fingers over the pages. “Evans, Chloe… let me see. Here you are. You are in room 306. Third floor,” she replies cheerily.

“Great. Thank you,” I say. Time to unpack. I head back to my car to grab a couple of boxes. Heaving two boxes and a bag out of my trunk, I turn to head up to my dorm when suddenly I lose my grip, my toe hitches on the curb and just before I face-plant on the concrete, I’m caught by two strong arms. They heave me up onto my feet.

For a moment, all I can see are two strong muscular arms covered in tattoos. I catch a glimpse of the name Matthews written in black Celtic script running the length of his forearm from below his elbow to his wrist. His striking cobalt blue eyes distract me from my embarrassment. His jet-black hair looks just long enough for me to run my fingers through it and I’ll be damned if that’s not exactly what I want to do. His thick lips are spread wide in a charming smile. He’s strongly featured, his jawline chiseled, softened only by a day’s worth of stubble. He’s the paragon of masculine beauty.

Dumbstruck, I flush with embarrassment. I’m staring but who could help staring at him? He’s amused; I can see it in his eyes.

“Tha— Than— Thank you,” I stutter. Geez, Chloe could you sound anymore ridiculous, I scold myself. Get your shit together. Despite the cautioning voices in my head, I hesitate to detach myself from his arms, but somehow I find the strength to step back just a bit.

“No problem, sweetheart. Next time watch those curbs. I may not always be around.” He winks and I’m speechless, then almost immediately indignant.

“I am not your sweetheart.”

“Not yet,” he replies. Those two words threaten to make me weak in the knees. His voice is a dark rich baritone, like an audible dessert. He is definitely confident and arrogant, I think to myself. Either way, I am ready to give it back to him.

“Yet? How about not ever,” I spit.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he winks, walking away.

Who the fuck was that? And, what hell just happened to me?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Brandelyn Harris resides in Richmond, Virginia with her husband, teenage son, and furry friend. She can normally be found hiding away in her writing cave, blogging, eating Dove dark chocolate, drinking wine, or reading a steamy romance novel on her Kindle. Her love for reading and just recently writing started once she read the infamous Fifty Shades of Grey Series. Make Me Forget, Brandelyns’ debut novel is slated to be released late 2013.

Add Make Me Forget on goodreads

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18300526-make-me-forget

Contact Brandelyn:

On The Web:

http://www.AuthorBrandelynHarris.com

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBrandelynHarris

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/YourRomanceGirl

Goodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7211727.Brandelyn_Harris

Pinterest:

http://www.pinterest.com/YourRomanceGirl