Pulled Read online

  Praise for Pulled

  “It’s one of the best books I’ve read so far this year.”

  –Grace, Feeding My Book Addiction

  “This one is going to be one that I will recommended again and again.”

  –Teresa, Teresa’s Reading Corner

  “What an emotional roller coaster of a book. I honestly haven't spent so much time crying and smiling while reading in a long time. I loved it!”

  –Chrystal, Snowdrop Dreams of Books

  “This is one amazing book…a MUST READ novel for anyone wanting to read a true love story of two people trying to overcome and beat all odds.”

  –Nattie, Books from the Purple Jelly Bean Chair

  “This story was exactly what I've been dying to read in a romance…Beautiful, captivating, achingly romantic and heartbreaking.”

  –Author Courtney Lyn Batten

  Pulled

  A. L. Jackson

  Copyright 2010 A. L. Jackson

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.

  Sapphire Star Publishing

  www.sapphirestarpublishing.com

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-938404-03-0

  Cover Image by George Mayer

  www.aljacksonauthor.com

  DEDICATION

  To Chad. Always.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Katie who was there from the moment the first word was set in place. For the countless hours you gave, your ideas, and your unending support. To Ginger for your time, encouragement, and invaluable honesty. I love you both.

  To Gail for seeing this story as it was meant to be, your insight and guidance, and above all, your belief in me. Thank you, and I love you.

  And to Chad for putting up with it all. I love you more than you could know.

  Chapter One

  I glanced at the clock.

  Shit—nearly six o’clock. I needed to hurry. I’d lost track of time and Nicholas would be home soon. I wiped the tears from my face before carefully gathering the pictures from the bedroom floor. My chest weighed heavy as I collected each one, cherishing the memories a moment longer as I tucked them away in the envelope.

  The memories were all I had and I clung to them as if they were my last breath, knowing that once they faded, there would truly be no reason to go on. I hid the envelope at the bottom of the large jewelry box in the back of the closet, mindful to spread the necklaces out over the hidden compartment. Nicholas had never found them, but I was certain he would destroy them if he ever did.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I ran my hands through my hair and dragged myself from the past I had immersed myself in for the last two hours and forced myself downstairs.

  My footsteps echoed against the marble floor, each an accent of emptiness. I entered the kitchen, the only sanctuary I had. Every room of this house was gaudy and overdone, designed by the pompous for the pompous, except for this haven. It was no less extravagant, but held a warmth missing from all of the others.

  As I worked, my thoughts inevitably wandered back to those beloved pictures hidden away in the back of my closet, but even they weren’t enough to ward off the anxiety steadily building within me as the passing minutes warned of Nicholas’s arrival. At six thirty-one, I heard the garage door open. Bile rose in my throat.

  “Melanie?” Nicholas called from the entryway.

  “In the kitchen,” I called weakly. Maybe he would go upstairs and spare me a few more minutes, but of course, I never had that kind of luck. I heard his footsteps approaching and prepared myself.

  “Dinner ready?” He yanked at his tie as he came through the door.

  “Um, not quite, just a couple more minutes,” I said, not meeting his face.

  I felt him pause, though I refused to look up. I’d learned a long time ago how to survive in hell. The less I interacted with him the better.

  He snorted through his nose, muttering, “Worthless whore,” under his breath.

  I gritted my teeth, holding in the anger his accusation triggered.

  He set his briefcase on the island next to me and tossed his tie over the top of it. “What time do I get home from work, Melanie?” Nicholas dipped his head, forcing me to look at him.

  “Six-thirty.”

  “Is it too much to ask that dinner is ready when I get home?” he said, “or do you have something better to do with your useless life?”

  I cringed but said nothing. He was the one who didn’t want me to work.

  “I didn’t think so.” He leaned in closer, his words a low warning. “When I tell you dinner needs to be ready at six-thirty, it means dinner is to be ready at six-thirty. Do you understand?”

  I saw the threat in his eyes. He had never hurt me physically, but he made sure I knew who was in charge. I’d given up any control nine years ago when I’d followed him here to Chicago, looking for an escape from the pain.

  I knew then what this life would be like. I’d met him at the airport when I’d fled Colorado that final time, the trip that severed the last thread holding my heart together.

  Nicholas hadn’t seen the broken girl who sat numb with nothing but pain swimming in her eyes. He saw the young, beautiful girl, the one who said nothing at all but seemed to be willing to do whatever he said.

  I wasn’t stupid. I had known exactly what he wanted, but I could never go back to Colorado Springs to face what I could no longer have, and I refused to stay with my mother in Dallas.

  So I left all of it behind, moving with Nicholas to Chicago just days after I returned from Colorado.

  I knew then Nicholas would never bring me happiness. That had never been the point. My heart belonged to another and would never be his. All I wanted was a way out, while Nicholas got the trophy wife he thought he deserved. The only thing I hadn’t anticipated was how the numbness I felt for him would evolve over nine years into bitterness and loathing.

  “I’m going upstairs to change, and I expect dinner to be on the table when I get back down here.” He had been this way since the first day I arrived; I had a role to play, and he expected me to play it well.

  When he left the room, I gathered our plates and took them into the dining room. I wasn’t really afraid of Nicholas, but I didn’t want to fight. It was exhausting and got me nowhere, and even if it did, I still wouldn’t be happy, so it really didn’t matter anyway. It was just easier to do what he said.

  Ten minutes later, I heard him returning. Just the sound of his heavy steps made my stomach turn. It still shocked me that I could feel so much hatred for one person. I watched him bound down the stairs, his tall body well muscled and agile for his forty-four years. His black hair hadn’t thinned and it was usually meticulously styled, though he obviously had run his hands through it. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair and filled with unmerited pride. He may have been attractive, though that was something I could never see. His mere presence warned my instincts to escape, always smarter than my head.

  “About fucking time,” he spat, letting me know just how disappointing I was.

  Asshole.

  Taking a seat across from me, he lifted his fork and began to eat. I picked at my chicken, pushing it around my plate. I could rarely stomach anything when he was around.

  As he ate, I lost myself in the silence, my mind drawn back to Colorado.

  “We have a dinner Thursday,” he abruptly broke through the quiet,
pulling me from my daydream. I had to run his words through my mind again before I realized what he had said.

  I closed my eyes, suppressing a sigh. Great. Another business dinner. It was the perfect time for me to play my part—the perfect wife with her perfect smile plastered across her perfect face, nodding mindlessly while her husband gave his proposal as if her presence would somehow change the outcome. The whole thing was ridiculous. It was part of my job though, so I nodded that I’d heard him and looked back to my plate.

  “This is a huge account, Melanie.” He sat back, eyeing me critically as if I didn’t already understand my role in this little charade. “It’s a medical complex that’ll bring in a couple million in profit, so I don’t want you fucking this up for me.”

  I almost laughed. Did he really think that my presence would sway the decision?

  Nicholas went on about details I really didn’t care to know, about how much money he would make and how much recognition his company would gain if they built this complex.

  The only comfort I found was in knowing Shane would be at the dinner. Shane Preston was Nicholas’s business partner and the nicest guy I knew. While Nicholas was cocky and arrogant and felt the world owed him, Shane was modest and thankful for all he had. He continually cleaned up the messes Nicholas caused, soothing clients’ nerves and regaining their trust after Nicholas had done something unethical.

  The dinner also meant that Katie, Shane’s wife, would be there. She was the one friend I had in this world. She knew the real me and was the only one I had ever taken into my confidence since I’d married Nicholas. Shane and Katie’s presence there would at least make the evening bearable.

  Nicholas finished his food, while I cleared the table and took the dishes into the kitchen. I was exhausted. I wondered how much more of this I could take. Surely, I would never survive this life sentence I’d imposed on myself. I loaded the dishwasher and went upstairs to take a bath.

  Turning the hot water valve full blast, I let it run, anxious to feel the heat relax my muscles. I unbuttoned my pants and slid them down, shrugging them off my feet. As I pulled my shirt over my head, my gaze reflexively dropped to my stomach as I caught my reflection in the mirror, my first instinct to seek out the marred skin that bore her wounds.

  I caressed along the puckered, angry scar that slanted in a long, jagged line across my lower abdomen, wishing she could somehow find comfort in my touch. Chills shook my body as I ran my fingers over the still sensitive skin and, just like every night, the bitterness and anger I found myself feeling faded away into sadness as I lost myself in this tangible reminder of my child. I loved her so much.

  Steam filled the room, and I eased myself into the water and allowed myself to drift back to Daniel. I missed him, almost more than I could bear. This was never supposed to have happened to us. We were supposed to make it—we should have made it.

  “Melanie, hurry up and get in here!” I cringed as Nicholas yelled from the bedroom.

  Shit. I’d hoped he’d be asleep by now.

  Reluctantly, I rose and pushed the memories aside. I wrapped myself in my robe, slow to finish my normal routine. I shouldn’t have been stalling; he’d wait. Still, I took my time as I brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my long brown curls. I inhaled deeply and took one last look at myself before going into the bedroom.

  “Don’t keep me waiting like that,” Nicholas rebuked from his place under the covers.

  This was by far the worst part of our arrangement. I couldn’t help but feel like a prostitute, cheating on my own heart, when I lay beneath this man. I crawled into bed next to him, praying he would at least have the decency to turn off the light.

  He untied the belt on my robe and groped my breast with his callused hand. My body roiled with disgust that he mistook as anticipation. “You like that, don’t you,” he growled as his foulness spread across my face. I fought against my instinct to flee and, instead, reached over to the bedside table and flicked off the lamp.

  The blackness enveloped the room, allowing me to remove myself mentally from the sick situation. I closed my eyes to find an image of Daniel—a flash of messy blond hair.

  “You’re mine.” Nicholas’s voice jerked me back into reality, making me acutely aware of his sweaty panting body hovering above me. I closed my eyes tighter, willing my mind away.

  “Melanie, my love. You’re so beautiful,” he said as he held my body against his, tender caresses igniting a fire deep within me.

  “Daniel,” was all I could manage as he made love to me, each touch a whisper across my skin. He gently kissed my neck as he moved against me, and I felt the pressure build with each stroke of his body.

  “Melanie, you feel so good,” he ground out, his voice rough with emotion.

  I couldn’t help the little moan that escaped my lips, the flash of desire that washed over my body as it remembered the way only Daniel could make me feel.

  “That’s right. I feel good, don’t I?” Nicholas grunted as he finished and collapsed with all of his weight on me.

  The nausea swept through me, and I pushed Nicholas away. “I need to clean up,” I choked over my standard excuse as I rushed to the bathroom. I fell to my knees at the toilet, desperate to purge away the hate I had for myself. The act only left me feeling more empty and alone.

  Holding onto the vanity for support, I pulled myself up to stand. I rinsed my mouth and splashed water on my face—anything to make me feel clean again—but there was nothing that could wash away the shame.

  I stared at myself in the mirror, the reflection no longer one I recognized. The girl I remembered was seventeen—full of life and love. The one staring back at me may as well have been dead. The only life left flickered in the periphery of my consciousness where a familiar comfort waited in the darkness. As I climbed into bed, I grasped for it, desperate to feel him for one moment more.

  Chapter Two

  “Work, Daniel. Come on, get your shit together,” I mumbled to myself under my breath, raking my hands through my hair for the hundredth time today. Thoughts of her kept creeping in, and I found it impossible to focus on the contracts in front of me. After nine years, I should’ve been able to forget, but I knew I never would.

  Melanie.

  Part of me hated her, and that part still wanted to track her down to tell her how she had torn my heart out. How could I hold it against her, though? I knew what I’d done. Even then, I’d still believed we’d get through it together.

  Sighing, I ran my palm over my face in an attempt to wake myself up and read the submission in front of me one more time. I was completely exhausted, having substituted coffee for sleep for the last week.

  Since arriving in Chicago five months ago, I’d sifted through countless contractor proposals for our new medical complex, weeding out the under-qualified and over-priced. I’d begun to think there wasn’t a single competent contractor in all of Chicago before I finally received, what looked to be, a promising bid. I’d spoken with their project manager just this morning and was now awaiting a call from their CEO.

  After Melanie had left me, I’d buried myself in school, lost myself in the years of undergrad, medical school, and ultimately, my residency. As it turned out, I was a damn good doctor, even if there had been a point in my life when I thought I’d never make it through.

  Dad had been insistent I come back to Colorado Springs to join his practice once I finished my rotation in New York City. He didn’t have to ask twice.

  My dad, Patrick Montgomery, was a brilliant surgeon and researcher, devoting his life to breast cancer research and treatment. When I moved back home to Colorado, I’d known it was only temporary. A new practice in Chicago, headed by my father, was already in the works. I honestly didn’t care where we settled; she wouldn’t be there, so it made no difference to me.

  I wouldn’t begin seeing patients until I got the new building well under way, and if I was going to meet my deadline, I needed to decide on the contractor by the end of t
he week.

  “Hey, Daniel?” Dad appeared at my office door, his brown hair peppered with gray. It was the only part of him that hinted at his age. Even at fifty-six years, he still had his lean, muscled body, his build the one trait I seemed to have inherited from him. I took more after my mother, Julia, with her hazel eyes and dark blond curls.

  “Yeah, Dad, what’s up?” I took another sip of my coffee as I looked at him.

  “Erin is coming into town this weekend, and we’re having dinner at the house on Friday. Can you make it?”

  “Erin? Yeah, I’ll be there. How long will she be in town?” My little sister had been living in Los Angeles for the last three years after accepting a position with a marketing firm. It felt wrong for her to be so far away while the rest of the family lived here in Chicago.

  I’d always been close with my family. They’d stood by me during my hardest years, unwavering in their love and support. I owed them everything.

  “She’ll be here for the week. Your mom can hardly contain herself.” His brown eyes lit up. You’d think after being with someone for thirty years, a person would get bored, but not Dad. It was obvious he and Mom loved each other just as much today as they did the day they married.

  I once believed Melanie and I shared a love like that.

  He gestured to my desk with his head. “So, how’s the search coming?”

  We’d both felt the pressure of the approaching deadline, but neither of us was willing to settle on anything less than the best.

  I held up the small pile of papers. “I think this may be the one.” I grinned—finally some good news.

  A satisfied smile spread over his face. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.” That satisfaction shifted, looking a lot more like sympathy. “I’m proud of you, son.”