Wildflower (Colors #4)

Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Prince
All right
s reserved.
Visit my website at
www.authorjessicaprince.com
Editor: Erin Garcia
Proofing by: Jennifer Van Wyk
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber,
www.najlaqamberdesigns.com
Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing,
www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

OTHER BOOKS BY JESSICA

THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:

Picking up the Pieces

Rising from the Ashes

Pushing the Boundaries

Worth the Wait

THE COLORS NOVELS:

Scattered Colors

Shrinking Violet

Love Hate Relationship

Wildflower

Sweet Sunshine (Derrick and Chloe’s story – coming October 2016)

THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (A LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP SPINOFF):

Fire and Ice – Griffin and Pepper’s story (coming April 2016)

Untitled Book #2 – Richard and Delilah’s story (coming July 2016)

DEADLY LOVE SERIES:

Destructive

Addictive

OTHER TITLES:

Nightmares from Within

To Mom,
I am in awe of your strength.
Every day I wake up proud to call myself your daughter.

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Blinking rapidly against the tears that blurred my vision, I moved to my dresser and pulled out another handful of clothes, tossing them haphazardly into one of the open suitcases laying on the bed. I didn’t have it in me to care about taking the time to fold each item and placing them in neat, orderly stacks. Wrinkles were the least of my worries at that moment.

Escape
.

That was all I could concentrate on.

Escape from this small town where everyone knew everyone and there were so many noses in your personal business keeping a secret was an inconceivable notion.

Escape from the heartache that seemed to chase me around day after day. Where a dark cloud hung over my head like a beacon for everyone to see, announcing my misery with every step I took.

Escape from the one and only boy I had ever loved. The boy I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. The boy I had spent the last two years giving every single piece of myself to, just to have him shove it all back in my face without so much as blinking.

I fell in love with Noah Murphy the moment I laid eyes on him, and like any naïve, ignorant teenage girl, visions of white picket fences and happily-ever-afters clogged my brain.

I was an idiot.

I thought he was the love of my life. My knight in shining armor. I thought he was my fairytale come to life and we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, one blissful year after another.

Then real life happened and my dreams shattered into a million pieces, falling at my feet. What did I even know about love anyway? I mean,
really
. I only knew of the romanticized version I’d created in my head. I knew nothing about the real world and what being an adult with adult problems and adult responsibilities meant. I’d been safely cocooned inside my own little childish bubble all my life. I couldn’t even wrap my head around the concept of being an
adult
.

Sure, it sounds easy enough in theory. We all want to grow up faster than we should, right?

We can’t wait to be old enough to drive.

We can’t wait to be old enough to drink.

We can’t wait to be old enough to move out on our own. Out from under the thumb of all those responsible
adults
with their unreasonable rules and expectations. I, just like every other dumb kid I knew, figured I could do anything. How hard could it really be?

Right
?

So, so wrong.

The moment Noah and I were hit with something outside the realm of our tiny, insulated existence, we faltered, we stumbled, and we eventually crashed, unable to pick ourselves up from the wreckage and dust ourselves off. It was over. Done. There was no going back. We’d been tested by the real world and we had failed.

Epically
.

So I was doing what I had to in order to make things right again.

“What’s going on?”

I spun back around to grab another load of clothes from the dresser, not bothering to glance in the direction of Noah’s voice. I knew if I looked at him and saw those whiskey-colored eyes looking back at me my resolve would weaken. It always did.

“I’m packing,” I answered blandly, closing the lid on one of the full suitcases and zipping it up, ready to move on to the next one.

When Noah spoke again his voice was closer. “I can see that. What I don’t understand is
why
. Where you goin’, wildflower?”

The sound of that endearment
—
that sweet nickname he’d given me the first day we met
—
was like a shot to the heart. I had to squeeze my eyes against the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall.

“I’m leaving,” was all I said in response as I kept my sole focus on the task at hand.

“Look at me, wildflower.”

I ignored his soft command, for my own wellbeing.

“Goddamn it, Harlow!
Look at me!
”

I spun around on a shout. “
What
? What do you want from me, Noah?”

“Baby, please,” he pleaded, taking a step in my direction. The instant I moved back a pace he stopped, seemingly shocked at my reaction. “Let’s talk about this, okay? We can fix this.”

“No, we can’t,” I told him quietly. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

At my words he moved forward, ignoring my retreat until he was standing so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “Don’t do this, baby.
Please
. I love you.”

I lost the battle against my tears. I let them fill my eyes before trickling down my cheeks, distorting his image as I stared up at him. “If you loving someone means leaving them all alone when they needed you the most, then I’m better off without it. You don’t know how to love anyone but yourself, Noah.”

“Don’t say that,” he spoke in an agonized whisper before his voice grew louder. “Don’t say that! It’s not true, and you know it, Harlow! I love you. You’re not leaving me. I won’t let you. We can work this out.”

I tried my hardest to ignore the pain etched into Noah’s expression. He had no right to stand in front of me looking hurt.

I
hurt.

I
was the one suffering.

Seeing that look on his face caused the bone-deep sorrow that had been plaguing me for weeks to morph into something else entirely.

Red hot anger.

Reaching out, I snatched up the envelope that was resting on my nightstand and shoved it into his chest as hard as I could, sending him teetering back only a step. Noah’s size had always been something I loved about him. I was tall for a girl but he still towered over me, standing at six foot two at only eighteen years old, and still growing. He was tall and muscular thanks to years of football, and every time he wrapped me in his arms, I felt secure. He was my safe place, my anchor.