Happy Release Day L.B. Simmons!!!
Running in Place (Book #2, or can be read as a stand-alone)
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Synopsis
Tatum O’Connell:
Some call
me a party girl. People see me as happy, full of life, with absolutely no cares
in the world. They see what I want them to see. But no one knows me – really
knows me. Not even Noah Reese. Mr. Perfect is always watching me, most
likely judging every single imperfect thing I do. But, if Noah wants to keep an
eye on me, that’s just fine. I definitely don’t mind. I just hope he doesn’t
have any plans to save me from my new-found life of self-destruction because in
order to save me, he will have to see me…
And I’m
never going to let that happen.
Noah
Reese:
Perfect.
That’s me. That’s the only acceptable way to be, according to my father.
Perfect grades. Perfect manners. Perfect athlete. Perfect SAT scores. Perfect
college. And recently, I was accepted into the perfect med school. My future
has already been mapped out for me and there’s nothing that can change that.
Not even Tatum O’Connell. That girl is out of control, yet for some reason, I
can’t seem to keep my distance from her. I watch her closely, hoping that one
day she’ll let me in, but watching her lead her life down the dangerous path
she’s on right now isn’t easy…
I have a
feeling I’m about to find myself swept away by the hurricane that is Tatum
O’Connell.
“Two
fleeting souls,
Unknowingly
tethered.
Too
slowly drawn,
Impatient
fate calls.
The
jolting collide intertwines their lives
And
splinters their walls.”
“Catalyst” – Noah Reese
Teaser
“You’re
a worthless excuse for a daughter. I wish I never had you.”
Frantically, my eyes dart around the room for
her. She’s here. I know it. I can smell the stench of alcohol in the air. Whipping around, I search for any trace of
her, my entire body shaking and the knot in my throat unbearable. Tears fill my
eyes as they anxiously race around the kitchen, finally landing on the cabinet
where she used to store her liquor.
Memories flood my mind, the immobilizing terror
that I would feel every time she approached it. The prayers I would send to no one in particular, just hoping
that she wouldn’t open that fucking cabinet for just one night. Prayers that
fell on deaf ears.
Slowly I make my way to the white doors,
crouching down in front of them.
“You
killed him and I will make damn sure you spend the rest of your life paying for
that. I’ll never again know true happiness because you fucking exist.”
Shaking my head to try to clear her voice from
my mind, I set my trembling fingers on the silver knobs and yank the doors
open. Nothing.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I close
them. Rising, I turn to take a step
towards the sink when another memory strikes.
“Mama,
don’t please.” I cry out loud as she approaches me with the scissors.
“I
have to, Tatum. Your beauty does not
match the vile, revolting child that you really are on the inside. Everyone
should see you for who you are.” I try
to run, but she grabs my long dark hair as I pass by her, swiping the blades so
close to my neck that I can feel the cool metal against my skin. Laughing she
chunks my tresses into the sink.
“You’re an ugly person, Tatum. Inside…and out, now.”
“God, Daddy.
Please help me,” I say out loud, lifting my shaking hands to my
forehead, threading sections of hair through my fingers. “Please, Daddy, I need you.” After a while,
calmness spreads throughout my body.
I’m no longer shaking, but the voices are still there.
Turning the faucet on, I splash water on my face
repeatedly, trying to drown out them out along with the memories. After wiping my face dry with a dishtowel, I
hear the crackling of gravel as Noah’s Jeep pulls up into the driveway.
Breathing in deeply, I try to regain my
composure as I walk to the door, straightening my shirt and running my fingers
through my hair before I reach for the knob.
Hearing steps in front of the house, I barely crack the door and poke my
head out to make sure it’s really him.
With all the crazy shit going on in this house I can’t be too sure. But, much to my relief, there he is,
standing on my porch in his classic white t-shirt, work jeans and boots, his
fist raised about to knock.
And just like that, the voices are gone and my
head is clear.
I release a comforted breath and feel the
corners of my mouth slightly lift at the sight of him.
“What are you smiling at?” Noah asks, seemingly
nervous. Opening the door wider, I
gesture for him to enter my house of horrors. The sight of his disheveled hair
makes me grin even more.
“Your hair, it’s nice to see it like that. I don’t know why, but it makes me smile.” I
clear my throat. His nerves must be
contagious, because suddenly I feel that hummingbird feeling in my chest.
With him now inside, I close the door and head
towards the kitchen, checking over my shoulder to make sure he’s following
me. “Want something to eat?”
Once I see he’s fallen into step, I turn back
around and round the corner, making sure to avoid looking at the sink. The
memory still lingering on the hinges of my mind, I try to push it as far away
as I can. “I don’t have much, but I did manage to make it to the store over the
weekend.”
“No, I’m good, Thanks, though.” He shoves his
hands in his pockets and rocks onto the balls of his feet.
Thinking about our last night together, I feel
the frustration mounting within myself. I should kick my own ass for kissing
him. Everything seems so edgy between
us now and I hate it. Running my
fingers through my hair, I twist it at the nape of my neck and bring it over my
shoulder.
“Well, what’s up? What couldn’t wait until tonight?”
His eyes widen. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”
“I picked up Sadie’s shift.”
He grinds his teeth together as he leans against
the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I told you to take the entire week off, Tate. You don’t need to work
right now. You need to concentrate on healing.”
I know.
“No, I don’t.
I’m sick and tired of being cooped up in this depressing house. I need to get out, to stay busy. I feel like I’m losing it, honestly.” My hands are still trembling and I’m not
sure if it’s the sudden anxiety from being around Noah or the fact that I’m
losing my mind. His eyes break from mine and land on them as they continue to
shake like a leaf. Pressing himself off
the wall, he takes a small, timid step towards me.
I want to tell him to stop. To stay where he is. To tell him to leave this house and forget
about me. That I could ruin his perfect
life by just being near him.
But I don’t.
I let him continue taking those steps until he’s
right in front of me and even breathe out a sigh of contentment when he wraps
his arms around me, pulling me into his frame. The tears fall as he lightly
traces my back with his fingers, and with each touch, my uneasiness
lessens. I know it’s selfish, but I
would give anything to stay in this moment forever.
Circling my arms around his waist, I press my
forehead against his chest and watch the droplets as they plummet from my face
towards his boots, dark spots forming as they strike. After a couple of seconds, I replace my forehead with my chin,
daring to look into his muddy brown eyes, full of their usual intensity as he
studies me, peering into my soul. In
them, I find complete solace and protection, and the sudden desire to share
things with him that I swore I’d never share with another living person.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Noah. I feel
like I’m going fucking crazy. Ever since Friday, I can’t stop them. The
voices. My mother’s leading their
charge to my insanity.” My throat
closes almost completely shut. “I hate
this house. I hate being here, alone.
So many memories…” I trail off, my strength fading, no longer able to
keep from bawling.
I close my eyes as the warm moisture cascades
down my cheeks and runs down my neck.
Unwrapping his arms, he moves his hands to my face, wiping the tears
away, but it’s useless. They’re
replaced instantly.
“Tate, open your eyes. Look at me, baby.” I keep
them closed, not ready to face the wary expression in front of me.
“Let me in, Tate. Open your eyes.” The heartache in his tone and the tremble of
his voice prompts me to open them immediately.
As soon as our eyes catch, a breath hitches in my throat. His eyes shining, he gently wraps his
fingers around my shoulders, pressing his thumbs softly into my flesh as he
speaks.
“You’re not alone. I’m right here.” A slight smile of relief breaks through the
tears on my face.
I watch his mouth tip up in response. “Now, tell the voices to shut the fuck up
because it’s my turn.”
About Author L.B. Simmons
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The Mending Hearts Series
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