COPYRIGHT

First Original Edition, June 2015

Copyright © 2015 by Deborah Bladon

ISBN: 9781926440279

Cover Design by Wolf & Eagle Media

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously.

All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

Also by Deborah Bladon

The Obsessed Series

The Exposed Series

The Pulse Series

The VAIN Series

The RUIN Series

IMPULSE

SOLO

The GONE Series

FUSE

The Trace Series

CHANCE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

A Special Surprise

Preview of RISE

Preview of HAZE

Thank You

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About the Author

Chapter 1

"He left her?" Zoe can't contain the obvious confused agitation in her voice. "Is she in a wheelchair, Bridget?"

I glance back at the portrait. When I had walked up to the woman in the museum that day, I had shown her the drawing. Her hand had swept over the paper and she'd asked where the wheelchair was. I was silent, not because it made me uncomfortable, but because I had no understanding of whether the omission of it bothered her or not.

She must have sensed my trepidation because she quietly insisted that I include it, in an abstract way. I had. I had drawn the curves of the wheels and the straight and solid lines of the arms and back of the chair so they were understated. It was apparent, but not the focal point of the drawing. I wanted her spirit to rise above any other part of the portrait and when I showed her what I had done, she had smiled brilliantly. She'd whispered that she felt beautiful. I had told her she was.

"She was sitting in the cafeteria with Dane's mom when I met her," Vanessa interjects. "I was rushing back to my shift after a break so I didn't notice the wheelchair, but she was in it yesterday when I saw them down the hallway."

The confirmation only adds to the pain that has rushed through me. I'd had a conversation with Maisy. I'd listened to her talk about Dane and within those words I could sense the deep love she felt for him. They were having a son and each time that I've shared my body with him since that day, I've taken something from her whether I've known it or not. I've stolen her happiness. She doesn't deserve that.

I may not understand the intricacies of their relationship but I know what I saw. I saw a man lovingly kiss the pregnant belly of a woman. I saw tenderness and affection. How could he go from feeling all of that to leaving her a little more than a day later?

"Have you shown that to Dane?" Vanessa asks before her smartphone's ring pierces the air.

Zoe and I stand in silence as Vanessa mutters something into the stillness about an emergency, the hospital being short staffed and her need to rush back there.

"We should talk about this, Bridge." She pushes her phone back into the pocket of her sweater. "Why don't you ride over to the hospital with me in a taxi? We can talk on the way and then you can hop the subway back here."

"I should probably just go with you." Zoe waves her smartphone in the air. "Beck isn't home yet and the sitter needs to go. I'll share a taxi with you, Vanessa. Bridget can stay here."

She hasn't glanced at her phone since she arrived. I know she's made up an excuse because she can sense my need to be alone. She's always been able to gauge when the solace of my own company is the one thing I crave.

I don't move when Vanessa, and then Zoe, hugs me. Zoe's face darts into my line of sight for a brief moment. The confusion within her eyes is a pure reflection of my own feelings. I don't open my mouth to offer any explanation about how I unintentionally drew the woman Dane loved because I still can't get a firm grasp on the irony of it.

I don't ask Vanessa for any details about Maisy and her baby because it's not her story to tell. It's Dane's and the fact that we've shared our bodies and small pieces of our hearts with one another doesn't matter at this point. The only thing that truly matters is that the day before I met him, he was in the gift shop of a museum, picking out a print to hang on the wall of the home  he shared with the woman he is going to have a baby with.

I stand in my makeshift studio as I hear the door of my apartment closing as my friends take leave to go share a ride where they'll talk about the man who helped nurse me back to health. They'll discuss the fact that I had no idea that I'd met Dane's ex-girlfriend. As they say goodbye when the taxi stops in front of the hospital to drop off Vanessa, they'll both take comfort in the fact that they are loved by men who don't carry secrets with the same weight of Dane's.

My hands tentatively reach for the portrait. The ache to hold it against my chest so I can weep for what might have been between Dane and me is only silenced by the almost uncontrollable drive I feel to destroy it.

It's haunting in that it captures a human spirit that is too brave and determined to give up. I'd seen the strength in Maisy's eyes when she'd called me over that day in the museum. She wasn't in search of pity or compassionate words. She wanted me to see her and not what had altered her life in such a significant way. Her smile and the light that radiated from within her were contagious and inspiring.

I'd left the museum that day with her words about love and promise ringing in my ears. I'd called Zoe to tell her that I wanted to meet Larry. I yearned for the promise of a future with a man who adored me. I wanted what Maisy had and because of a twist of fate, I have it now. I have Dane and she has a baby on the way.

I soak in the fine lines that my pencil had captured as I sat and watched Maisy. I hadn't bothered to ask her name, and she hadn't offered. It wasn't important then. It didn't matter the night that Dane sat on my bed, in my old apartment, while he studied the drawing. Until now, Maisy has been a faceless woman who was left behind in the restaurant. I may have felt a flash of compassion for her back then, but I'd gleefully grabbed hold of the man who decided his path didn't align with hers.

She's not just anyone now. She's the bright and beautiful woman I've had a brief conversation with. She's going to be a mom and for the rest of her son's life, he's going to look to Dane for guidance, acceptance and love.

I hear my smartphone ringing in the distance but the emotional energy it takes to answer it, isn't there. I don't want to hear Zoe ask if I'm going to be okay. I don’t want to compare notes with Vanessa about meeting Maisy.

As soon as the incessant ringing stops, it begins again and I close my eyes, willing it to quiet. I can't answer if it's Dane either. I can't bear the thought of hearing his voice. It will be filled with the carefree promise that it always is and I'll have to ask him questions that I don't want to hear the answers to.