Paige P. Horne [Horne - Give Me Love (Give Me Series Book 1)

Dedication: To my husband. Thank you for believing in my dream.

Copyrigh t 2019 Paige P. Horne. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place, events and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or an information storage and retrieval system without the prior consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance or quotes for reviews.

No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

Other novels written by Paige P. Horne include:

Close To Falling

Chasing Fireflies

Chasing Ellie

If Id Known

Give Me Perfect Love

Give Me Forever Love

Give Me Redemption

Cover designer: Cover It Designs

Editor: Paige Maroney Smith

She was fire. Consuming me if I dared get too close and yet, I was intoxicated by her flames. Knowing in the end shed leave me nothing but ash.

-Bryce of Kathrine

Table of Contents

Prologue

Bryce

(Twenty years earlier)

Rain falls heavy against the metal roof of the run-down Pontiac as lightning illuminates the gray sky. Its early and my brother Jace sleeps soundlessly in the back seat. I watch as Dad grips the worn steering wheel, his knuckles turning a pale shade of white. A thin trail of smoke from the cigarette between his fingers drifts toward the cracked window and rain drips down the inside of the door, wetting the stack of papers thats shoved into its pocket, along with the pint of whiskey that helps his hands not shake.

You think shes there? I ask as I put my finger into the burnt cigarette hole in the seat, digging out the foam inside.

He turns his head in my direction. Yeah, he replies, giving me a worriless grin. But Im not stupid, because his eyes betray him, showing no sign of calmness. I return the smile, only to make him feel more at ease, because Im sick of this, wishing he would have left us at home like he normally does. This time shes been gone for more than a few days. I take care of my brother and me when Dads busy looking for her or when hes too drunk to remember we need food. But the neighbors have been growing suspicious, so Dad thought it would be best if he didnt leave us at home so much. Hence why weve been coming along the last few times.

Mama likes to stick needles into her arms because it makes her forget.

Dads not innocent; he drinks more than he doesnt. Sometimes I think its because of her that he does.

I study his face as he concentrates on the road ahead. Im thirteen, but I dont act like most kids my age.

Dad says I have an old soul. The school counselor worries that something is going on at home. Shes right, but I dont tell her this.

We pass the county line and Dad turns onto a familiar bumpy road with an enormous field on one side and a single house with falling shutters and a leaning porch on the other. We near the decaying house and slowly pull into the same yard we always pull into. A large tree rests in the middle, its leaves swaying like Mama when shes had the perfect mix of drugs and alcohol.

Dance with me, John, she croons, moving away

from the needle shes placed on the spinning record.

Music flows through our tiny apartment and the downstairs neighbor hits the ceiling. Mama stomps back with a furrowed brow, but when she looks at Dad she smiles.

And thats all it takes.

Dad stands, placing his bottle onto the crate used for a coffee table. I look down at my brother on the peeling

tile. Hes playing with a Hot Wheels car I swiped from the store because he had to have it and we had no money.

From our small kitchen table made out of plywood and two-by-fours, I rest my chin in the palm of my hand. My eyes focus back on my parents as they dance to The Rolling Stones Wild Horses.

They move in small circles around the living room, looking at each other as though its the first time.

I see love .

No, theres no short supply of that from the two. They

smother each other in unyielding love. Their love is like a raging fire destroying everything near and around

them. Even at my young age, I can see the love they desire from each other will also annihilate them both in the end.

How can something so beautiful be so deadly?

Dogs bark viciously on their stretched chains, bringing me back to the present. There are holes around them and a makeshift doghouse rests toward the back of the house along with dead wheat fields. Dad shifts the car into park and tells me to stay put and watch my brother.

After he gets out, he pulls his jacket up, shielding his head from the thick sheet of rain falling. Looking in my side mirror, I see Jace is still asleep and I frown at the sound of yelling. Dad has Mama over his shoulder as he walks off the porch. She kicks and punches his back, but my gaze lands on the house and I narrow my eyes.

A girl stares out from a window with blinds halfway up. Even from the thick sheet of rain, I can see her expression is sad, her smile nonexistent. Her eyes move from me to my parents and she looks at them with a curious wonder.

I wonder how old she is and her name.

Were connected because the house she lives in supplies the drugs my mom lives for. The front door of the house slams shut, and I jerk, almost opening my car door and running to the poor girl, but Dad yanks the handle.

Get in the back, son.

I jump out, darting around them and dodging Mamas

kicking legs. I swipe the rain from my face after I climb back in and buckle my seat belt.

Looking over at Jace, I see hes now awake, blinking

his sleepy, innocent sapphire eyes at me. I put my finger

over my mouth, signaling for him to be quiet. Dad slams her door.

You think you can keep me here, Mama yells and

kicks the dash. Her dirty blonde hair is soaked and

dripping. He gets back into the car and reaches over her,

grabbing her seat belt and pulling it across her body.

Dont touch me, she says, slapping his hands.

He gives up.

Why does he care so much about a person who continues to hurt him? It confuses me.

She runs; he searches.

She fights; hes calm.

They make up, filling the house with moans and

grunts. Some nights after a throwdown and hits that

would surely leave bruises on my father, they stay

locked up in their room for hours, rutting on the bed,

causing the headboard to slam against the wall repeatedly.

Id leave Jace sleeping and climb out onto the roof, lie back, and watch the stars, wondering if this is what my life would always be like.

Would I forever take care of my baby brother? Would my fathers liver give out, leaving us with a mom who couldnt take care of herself much less her children?

Or would she overdose, and my father soon follow

because his fragile heart couldnt bear the pain? Would we then be placed into the system filled with lost,

unwanted children?

Life wasnt always like this. There was a time when Mama was everything. She was beautiful, happy, and I loved her more than anything.

Come here, baby, shed say. Listen to their

heartbeats. Id smile and stick my ear up to her stomach, not really hearing anything but happy to be near her. You see, Jace had a twin, but she wasnt as strong as my brother and she didnt make it.