T L Gray - Splintered Oak

SPLINTERED

OAK

T. L. GRAY

Copyright 201 3 Tammy Gray

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1493704486

ISBN-13: 978-1493704484

Cover to Cover Designs Kari Ayasha

www.covertocoverdesigns.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version, NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A special thanks to Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover Designs for bringing my vision to life. It was a pleasure to work with you.

To Josh Webb of Root Radius, thank you for your continued guidance and strategic coaching.

To Debby Wade of ACTSolutions Counseling Center for her insight into the troubled mind of a man like Jake. The depth of understanding you gave allowed me to bring his character to life in a unique way.

To my new e ditor, Tracy Heffner. I thoroughly enjoyed working with you.

To my sister, Angel, for always reading my first draft with keen eyes and wise words. Your invaluable input continues to make me better each time.

To my faithful beta readers, Abby, Angie, Karen and Tonya, thank you so much for your encouragement, advice and ideas. Id be a mess without all of you.

Finally, t o my amazing husband and children, thanks for supporting my dream world, allowing me to pour my heart and soul into every word.

For my sister-in-law, Tonya, whose strength of character inspires me every day.

1. WHERE IS SHE?

JAKE

I stared at the ceiling for at least an hour before finally giving up. Insomnia had become a regular occurrence and the lack of sleep was beginning to weigh on me. I slid off the bed, carefully put the silk sheets back in place, and attempted not to disturb the person next to me.

Her brown hair draped lazily over my pillow, and the aroma of citrus and honey hung in the air, but did nothing to entice me like it had the night before.

Mornings brought regret and the cruel reality I could forget at the bar where sexy music and alcohol eased stress and inhibitions.

Forget Id lost my first love. Forget my cousin had been missing for two months. Forget my maniac uncle had strip ped me of my job, my career and now possibly my freedom.

I moved towa rd the bathroom, wondering how long the girl in my bed would linger before making her shameful exit.

I needed to stop bringing them home. Who was I kidding? I needed to stop altogether. Every m orning I had such resolve when I watched another one ease out the door with hope in her eyes.

They always left their numbers. I never called.

Some would find me, call me, or do drive-bys. Theyd show up constantly at the bar I frequent and pretend it was a coincidence, or worse, throw themselves at me, offering more of what wed already done together.

Those were the women I took the most advantage of the insecure ones, the ones who set no physical boundaries.

They were also the ones who left me the emptiest.

Like a life force against my tense muscles, the shower began to slowly get my body as alert as my mind had been for the last few hours. Circling my head under the steady stream of heat, I allowed the rhythm of the spray to sooth me.

I love d the sound of running water or the soft drumming of rain against the windowsill. It took me back to a time when life was still good. A time when my mother was healthy and vibrant and would pull me outside with her to catch rain droplets in our mouths. She would say the rain had healing power and could wash away all the hurts in our life. I believed her and stood in the rain for hours after she died. I guess she took the power of the rain with her, because it had done nothing that day but get me wet.

Jake? The voice was soft and hesitant, and I cursed the sound in my head.

Just give me a minute, babe, and Ill be right out. Theres a bathroom no one uses in the guest room. Youre welcome to that one.

I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice, but didnt do a very good job. I knew her name, Ammie with an i.e., but refused to say it out loud. The intimacy it added felt too personal. The longing I had for that level of closeness disappeared the minute we were finished.

I quickly turned off the shower and grabbed a towel before heading to my medicine cabinet. Gripping the sink, I stared at the pharmacy behi nd my mirror. I needed the pills, but resented my dependency.

Pulling the container from the shelf, I rolled the slim bottle around and examined the contents. My anxiety medicine was getting low, but I still had enough for the rest of the week. I pushed the small pill to the back of my throat and swallowed, then did the same with the antidepressants.

They both seemed to help, to keep me walking around in a semi-functional state. But neither stopped the rage or fear.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I emerged from the bathroom to find my now unwelcome guest patiently waiting. She attempted to kiss me, her eyes assessing my half naked state.

A strained peck on h er cheek was my only response. I brushed past her to grab my clothes. I could sense the hurt she radiated and knew this would be the last night we spent together. She was getting attached and clingy, neither of which appealed to me.

S he bounced on the bed and crossed her legs. What do you want to do today? Her voice was light, hopeful.

Actually, you may want to take off. Stock market opens in a couple of hours and I have to focus today. My dismissive voice left no question I wanted her to leave.

Thats right. Youre a big investment guy. I had forgotten.

Not anymore , I thought bitterly to myself. Now I was just an online day trader trying to make enough money to survive the lifestyle Id created.

Ignoring my irritation, s he reclined on my bed with a come-and-get-me smile. Surely you have a little time.

She and I both knew her offer was a trap to be saddled with her the rest of the day. I shook my head, completely uninterested. Sorry, sweetheart, not today.

The disappointed look on her face only adde d to my foul mood. Listen, the front door is a little tricky, so make sure you close it tight when you leave.

I quickly shut the bathroom door, a blessed barrier between us. I didnt want to see the tears I knew were coming after such a harsh brush off.

She lingered longer than I expected, but I finally heard the front door shut and was able to breathe fully for the first time all morning.

I was a pig.

My cousin Issy was right on point when she called me one. Even I hated this version of myself.

I could hear David moving around in his room as I made the morning coffee. He would undoubtedly ask me about the rent aga in.

Living with the guy who owned the condo had its perks, but avoiding payment talks was not one of them. Still, David had been surprisingly understanding about things since I got fired from the investment firm we both worked for.

That was months ago, tho ugh, and my lack of employment was starting to get on his nerves.

Another thing to thank my uncle for. He had blackballed me from the industry, threatening to pull his money and influence.

My immense hatred for Issys father made my hands shake. I sucked in air slowly to get myself under control. For the hundredth time, I vowed I would see Andrew Summers fall. For me, for Aunt Diana, and for Issy. I would ruin him.

I gripped the counter in front of me; the hurt, fear and confusion all combining into one steady emotionrage.