Darker Water

Once and Forever #1

Copyright © 2014 by Lauren Stewart

Off the Hook Publishing

ISBN: 978-0-9903340-1-9

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by
www.PixelMischiefDesign.com

Edited by Jen Blood
www.AdianEditing.com

Formatted by
IRONHORSE
Formatting

Other Titles by Lauren Stewart

Unseen, The Heights Vol. 1

Hyde, an Urban Fantasy

Jekyll, Hyde Book II

Strange Case, Hyde Book III

The Complete Hyde Series Box Set

No Experience Required, a Summer Rains Novel

Second Bite

[email protected]

www.ReadLaurenS.com

Dedication

For everyone who doesn’t yet know they’re strong
enough to ask for help,

and for those who want to help them

there was a young woman who lived in a tall glass
tower in the middle of a city. She wasn’t incredibly beautiful but
she was attractive, probably somewhere around the eighty-fifth
percentile. She was smart, kind, honest, and good with animals.

But the most beautiful thing about her was
her heart, for it was made of the purest of golds. Unfortunately,
she wasn’t very good at taking care of it, and over the years, it
lost its shine. Because every time she met a prince, she believed
him to be perfect—strong but gentle, brave, and caring. So, she
would show him her heart and give it to him to hold, thinking he
would take care of it.

What she hadn’t yet realized was that there
was a curse put on her...at some time...by someone. And the curse
was this: The moment the woman gave her heart away and kissed the
prince—believing it to be true love—the prince would begin to
change. Sometimes slowly, other times quickly. But he always turned
into a frog. And although the frog would give her heart back to
her, each time it was a little more worn, a little less
brilliant.

But the woman didn’t give up trying to find
a prince who would remain a prince, knowing that somewhere out
there was someone who could heal her heart and break the curse by
remaining a prince after she kissed him.

Then one day, she finally understood the
curse’s power. No one could heal her, she would never find a
prince, and the curse would never be broken.

And so, clutching what was left of her
heart, she gave up her search.

My laugh cut off as soon as I realized he
might not be kidding. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“I’m getting married.” Yeah, he’d mentioned
that. But that was impossible. “I’ve been seeing her for about a
month.” Kevin sighed. “Sometimes you just know it’s right.”

It was right. He knew it was ‘right.’ After a
month. So all the excuses about why he couldn’t see me or why he
was running late were lies. But why did he keep lying to me if he
knew it was ‘right’ with another woman? How could he have slept
with me less than twenty-four hours ago if he’d known it was
‘right’ with someone else?

I set my coffee cup down but kept my hands
wrapped around it. Just so they wouldn’t shake or reach out and
prove how desperate I was.

He ducked his head to meet my eyes. “Laney,
did you hear me?”

“Um...” I struggled to find a word. It didn’t
have to be the
right
word, but I couldn’t find even one to
use. Because I didn’t know how to feel. I hadn’t seen any of this
coming—our relationship was the best one I’d ever had. At least,
I’d thought it was.

There had to have been signs, clues. How
could I have missed them? Again.

“I need to go,” Kevin said. “But if you want
to talk more we can— Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good
idea.”

I blinked and looked at him. “Where are you
going?”

“How far back did you tune out?”

“I’m not sure.” The moment my world dropped
out from under me. How long ago was that?

“I’m meeting Brittany downtown. Since the
hotel room was already booked, we’re going away for the weekend.
But if I have a second, how about I call you and fill you in on the
last ten minutes of our conversation?”

If he had a break from fucking Brittney—the
woman he’d proposed to after a month—in the hotel room he’d invited
me—the woman he’d been cheating on—to go to a week ago, he’d give
me a call to rub it in. Well, that was thoughtful of him.

“No, don’t do that,” I whispered, lowering my
eyes and picking apart the paper napkin, hiding behind my bangs. “I
just don’t get what happened. I thought things were good.” Which
was why I couldn’t stop wondering if this was some kind of truly
torturous joke, or nightmare. But I knew it wasn’t. Kevin was
leaving me because I’d screwed up somehow. Because I always seemed
to screw up somehow.

“What did I do wrong?”

“It’s not about you, Laney. You need to
understand that.”

Then who the fuck was it about? No. This was
Kevin, not some jerk. He was doing his residency so he could help
people, for shit’s sake. He would never want to hurt me. So maybe
he
was the one who didn’t understand. Maybe he’d change his
mind if he understood how I felt about him. If I told him.

“Kevin, I—”

A little voice in my head screamed, “
Don’t
say it. It’s too late!”

It was right. Because even though Kevin and I
had never said the actual words to each other, he’d used a lot of
others: ‘falling in love,’ ‘care so much,’ and the ones that got me
on my back the fastest: ‘for the rest of my life.’ Yeah, that was a
good one. I’d used some of the same and some different, but he knew
how I felt—that I was in love with him. And evidently, he didn’t
care.

If he cared he wouldn’t be saying what he was
saying, and we wouldn’t be sitting here—him with his brow furrowed
and his head tilted in pity and me with tears welling in my eyes,
the feeling of something crushing my chest and the heat of
humiliation spreading throughout my body. If he cared, none of that
would be happening.

“You what?” His tone was impatient but even
with that, his voice was one of the sexiest parts about him. He was
attractive, smart, made good money, and was ambitious enough to be
sure that amount would quadruple when he opened his own practice in
a few years. Years I had thought I’d be sharing with him.

Oh my god, I’d told my roommate I would be
moving out by the end of next month. I’d been so excited when Kevin
asked me to move in with him that I was already packing up my
stuff.

Wait a minute. Back up a sec. When did he ask
me? Right after getting out of this other woman’s bed?

What a prick.

“You what?” he repeated.

I flipped my hair out of my face and glared
at him. “I was just wondering how many times you slept with me
after you realized it was ‘right’ with whatever her name is.” Every
word was stronger than the last because I was sick of being quiet.
“How many of those times were after you proposed to her?” Quiet got
me nothing but footprints on my back. Man-sized footprints that
felt like they were made with metal cleats.

“Come on, Laney, it doesn’t have to end like
this.”

“Really?” My laugh was flat even to my own
ears. “How
does
it have to end? You’re so smart, Kevin.
Shit, you coasted through med school, right? Top of your class ever
since kindergarten. So
please
, use all those years of fancy
private school and tell me how it should end.” I paused, not
expecting or wanting an answer. “Maybe it could end with a parade
or a sky banner or, hey, here’s an idea—how ’bout it ends with you
showing a little respect for
both
the women you’re fucking?
Or honesty or integrity or honor. Would any of those be a good way
to end this?”

Shushing me, he glanced around the restaurant
uncomfortably. Because he cared about twenty strangers more than he
cared about me.

“
They
aren’t asking you—I am. And
after eight months of what evidently was total bullshit, I deserve
a fucking answer.”

He didn’t offer one. Maybe he was preparing
another lie or a way to turn it around on me. Did it matter? No. It
didn’t change anything—not the situation, not my feelings, not how
successfully he’d lied, used, and hurt me.

“Good luck with whatever her name is, Kevin.
I hope you treat her better than you treated me.” Better than I
treated myself, for that matter. I’d spent the last eight months
desperately trying to do what it had only taken Brittany a month to
pull off. Shit, I’d spent the last eight
years
trying.

Different guys, same unhappy ending.

I know exactly the moment it all began:
fifteen-year-old me finding out that my first boyfriend cheated on
me with a girl on the softball team. The softball team. I still
don’t understand that. Flash forward eight years, and it’s some
woman named Brittany. She probably knows how to play with soft
balls, too.

I couldn’t take a deep-enough breath until I
was on the street and didn’t have to look at Kevin’s face anymore.
The face of a guy who was everything I’d always wanted. Nope, that
wasn’t true. If it
was
, I wouldn’t be crying on the
sidewalk, looking for a cab to take me home so I could tell my
roommate my plans had changed and I needed to keep living with her
instead of moving in with Kevin.

There were always cabs in this part of San
Francisco. Always except for now. I stopped looking so I could
concentrate on walking home without bumping into anyone. The bright
side of living in a huge city was that no one would notice my tears
or whimpering. Even if they did, they wouldn’t care.

I watched the elevator numbers go up to nine
before I realized I hadn’t pressed the button for my floor. So
whoever had called this elevator, whoever was expecting it, would
get what they wanted really soon. And I would have to wait. I
punched the sixth floor button and leaned against the back wall so
I could close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else,
some
one
else. Someone who wasn’t cursed.

“Is this you?”

“Huh?” I opened my eyes and saw a woman
looking at me with impatience, gesturing to the open elevator door.
I hadn’t even noticed when she got on.

“Six?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

I was glad my roommate Hillary wasn’t home,
because I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. I went into my
room, curled up in bed, and closed my eyes so they would stop
spraying idiot-tears all over me.

When I woke up it was nineteen hours later.
It had taken nineteen hours of unconsciousness to figure out the
obvious.

Nothing
was worth this. Nothing was
good enough to keep trying and failing as many times as I had.
Eight years, five guys, and I was used up. I didn’t have any more
to give and, if I did, I needed to hold onto it or I’d have nothing
left for myself.

All I’d wanted was for someone to love me, to
be someone I could love. A friend and a lover who respected me and
didn’t lie, manipulate, or use me. But evidently, that wasn’t
something I could have. Evidently, my judgment was so off, the only
men I wanted were the ones who would treat me like shit. So my only
choice was to stop looking—for a man, for heartbreak, for someone
to love.

Lesson learned at the ripe old age of
twenty-three. No matter how many times a man says he cares, he
doesn’t. He only cares about the pieces he can use, picking the
parts he wants and leaving the rest behind. A woman wouldn’t do
that,
couldn’t
do that. A woman wouldn’t want to tear
someone apart and throw away the leftovers.