In Pieces
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Books by Gia Riley
About the Author
Acknowledgements
In Pieces
Copyright © 2015 by Gia Riley
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by
Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Interior Design and Formatting by
Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
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. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is in violation of the International copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
To first loves.
Even when it feels like the world is against you, keep going.
Your pieces are constantly forming a beautiful story.
THE APARTMENT’S QUIET when I get up for my first day of school. I’ve spent four years of high school waiting to be a senior. Now that the day has come, I don’t feel much different than when I was a junior, but at least I’m one step closer to graduation.
Still, being a senior doesn’t make waking up at six in the morning any easier. In fact, I groaned as soon as my feet hit the floor half an hour ago. My entire body feels the after effects of working a double shift at the diner last night. Being the last night of summer vacation, I wanted to get in as many hours as possible before I had to start worrying about homework and school.
After a hot shower, followed by a cold dousing of water to wake up, I’m dressed and ready for my day. At least I think I am. I even curled my hair, and put on more make-up than I normally do. I don’t know who I’m trying to impress, nobody cares. When they’re not spreading new rumors about me, they’re usually oblivious to my mere existence.
“Mornin’ Kinsley,” Carson says, as he walks out of his room the same time I do, half naked.
I’ve known Carson for as long as I can remember—he’s pretty much a second brother to me even though we aren’t actually related. Which is a good thing considering I had a wicked crush on him for a long time.
He started out as my brother Wyatt’s friend, and slowly morphed into a part of our family. Now that Wyatt’s away at college, he’s moved into the protector roll without even having to be asked. He ended up here when my older sister, Kate, needed help paying the bills. He willingly took Wyatt’s old room, with the stipulation that Wyatt could crash in it whenever he wanted to come home.
“All set for school?”
“Yeah, leaving in a couple minutes,” I mumble, as a yawn escapes my tired body.
Carson’s in school too, only he commutes instead of living on campus. He’s focused on finishing his criminal justice degree as quickly as possible, so he can enroll in the police academy. It scares me when I imagine him on the streets late at night, protecting the world from hate, but there’s nothing he’s ever wanted to do more. Even when we were kids, and would play cops and robbers, he’d always be the cop.
He follows me to the kitchen where he watches me pour coffee into my travel mug. I’m useless without it after working so late. His eyes bore into the back of my head as I stir way too much sugar into my coffee.
It’s weird having him here. I thought it would be fun, interesting even, but I’ve caught him checking me out more times than I can count. Problem is, I’ve always noticed him—especially when he’s walking around without a shirt, like he is right now. All the hours he spends in the gym are showing, and it makes it even harder to see him as my friend, and not the attractive nineteen-year-old, college freshman that he is.
Though it doesn’t matter how hot I think Carson is. Wyatt would never allow us to pursue one another. Then again, Wyatt wouldn’t want me with any guy, no matter who it was. It’s part of the reason why I’ve never had a boyfriend let alone dated. It’s always been easier to pretend I wasn’t interested, just to keep my brother happy. The past few years we’ve had enough going on without him having to worry about who I was swapping spit with.
“Your hair looks different.”
I pick up the end of my freshly cut hair and lay it back down on my shoulder. “It’s the same.”
“Must be the make-up. It makes you look older.”
I shake my head. “My make-up’s the same as it always is.” I’m hardly wearing any other than a little lip gloss, mascara, and some powder.
“Hmm,” he says. “Well, you look really nice.”
I turn around and smile, shyly. “Thank you.” I wasn’t planning to leave for ten more minutes, but after that last comment, it’s time to go. “Have a good day.”
I’m out the front door and walking toward the wooden staircase that leads to the driveway when Carson props himself against the open apartment door, watching me walk away. “Be careful, Kinsley. And don’t let any of those dipshits screw with you. I mean it.”
I laugh because he’s so much like my brother when it comes to who I spend time with. “Don’t worry Carson, I’ll wait until the third day before I screw anyone.”
I expect him to laugh at me, to even toss a smart ass remark back, but he doesn’t. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks like he wants to hurt someone. “Kins, you better be kidding.”
“I am, jeez. You act like I’m a slut. Have I ever brought a guy around?”
He thinks about it for a second, and then his face softens. “I know you’re not a slut. Hell, I wouldn’t let you be a slut.”
Isn’t that the truth. “So, we’re good here?” I can’t walk away if he’s mad at me. His opinion matters too much.