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Turn the page to read the first two chapters of Come to Me Recklessly, The Closer to You Series, Book Three, coming from Penguin/Random House April 7, 2015
Come to Me Recklessly
By A.L. Jackson
Prologue
There are few things that hurt so much as a broken heart.
It’s physical.
Intense.
Real.
It doesn’t matter which way you slice it, analyze it, or add it up, you’ll always come up with the exact same sum. The worst part is there is no antidote for this affliction.
They say time mends all things.
I say they are liars.
Maybe it subdues, burying it beneath all the new memories we make, tucked under the burdens and joys and new experiences that life layers on over the years.
But that broken heart?
It’s always right there, lying in wait. Ready to crush you when you’re slammed with that errant, unexpected thought.
But nothing could have prepared me for this—what it would feel like to look up and find him standing inches from me.
From the moment we met, he always had the power to bring me to my knees. I should have known his control over me would never diminish or dim.
I should have known it only would intensify.
Maybe I should run.
But somewhere inside, I know he’ll never let me get far.
Chapter One
Samantha
My phone rang with the special chime, the one reserved just for my brother, Stewart. . I rummaged around for it in my purse while I was browsing through the aisles of Target. The grin taking over my entire face was completely uncontrollable. I just couldn’t help it. Talking with him—seeing him—was always the highlight of my day.
Running my thumb across the screen, I clicked the icon where his message waited. I’d never even heard of the app until he’d convinced me I had to get it, teasing me I was living in the Stone Ages, which to him I was pretty sure would date all the way back to 2011. I couldn’t begin to keep up with all the tech stuff he loved.
I held my finger down on the new unread Snapchat message from gamelover745.
An image popped up on the screen, his face all contorted in the goofiest expression, pencils hanging from both his nostrils as he bared his teeth. I choked over a little laugh. The joy I felt every time I saw his face was almost overwhelming as it merged with the twinge of sorrow that tugged at my chest.
Quickly, I shoved the feeling off. He told me he couldn’t stand for me to look at him or think of him with pity. I had to respect that. He was so much braver than me, because seeing him sick made me feel so weak.
I forced myself not to fixate on his bald head and pale skin, and instead focused on the antics of this playful boy. The little timer ran down, alerting me I only had five more seconds of the picture, so I quickly read the messy words he scrawled across the image.
I’m sexy and I know it.
On a muted giggle, I shook my head, and I didn’t hesitate for a second to lift my phone above my head to snap my own picture. Going for my silliest expression, I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out to the side.
So maybe the people milling around me in the middle of the busy store thought I was crazy, or some kind of delusional narcissist, but nothing inside me cared. I’d do anything to see him smile.
I tapped the button so I could write on the picture.
Love you, goofball.
I pushed send.
Seconds later, it chimed again. I clicked to receive his message. This time he was just smiling that unending smile, sitting crossed legged in the middle of his bed, radiating all his beauty and positivity, and that sorrow hit me again, only harder.
Love you back, he'd written on the image.
Letting the timer wind down, I clutched my phone as I cherished his message for the full ten seconds, before our snap expired. The screen went blank. I bit at the inside of my lip, blinking back tears.
Don’t, I warned myself, knowing how quickly I could spiral into depression, into a worry I couldn’t control, one that would taint the precious time I had with him.
Sucking in a cleansing breath, I tossed my phone back into my purse and wandered over to the cosmetics section, browsing through all the shades and colors of lip gloss. I tossed a shimmery clear one into my cart, then strolled into the shampoo aisle.
Apparently I was in no hurry to get home. It was sad and pathetic, yet here I was, twenty-three years old and passing away my Friday night at a Target.
Ben texted me earlier saying he was going out to grab a beer with the guys and not to wait up for him. All kinds of warning bells went off in my head when I realized him leaving me alone for the night only filled me with an overwhelming relief. That realization hurt my heart, because he’d always been good to me, there for me when I was broken and needed someone to pick up the pieces, making me smile when I thought I never would again.