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.
About the Author
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
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