Yours Completely

  Yours Completely

  A Reign Novel: Book 2

  By: Joya Ryan

  Dedication

  To The Cupertino A Team

  Harry, Mark, Dave, Rog, Xabi, and Art

  Thank you for your unmatched wisdom and awesomeness. This book wouldn’t have been the same without you! By the way, remember that one time I saved you from a fire?

  Just sayin’…

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you Anna, Grace, and the amazing team for all your hard work on this book. Thank you Jill Marsal for being the best agent in the galaxy. Thank you E-book formatting fairies for the wonderful edits. Thank you to my incredible family and friends for supporting me.

  Chapter 1

  I took a deep breath and sipped my soda. It was in a red plastic cup, so the party patrol, aka my best friend Harper, wouldn’t know that I, once again, wasn’t partaking in the festivities. This was the third social gathering she’d dragged me to in two weeks, and though I appreciated her help of “trying to get my ass in gear and out of this depression,” I still wasn’t happy.

  Jack had left a month ago. Actually, it was four weeks and three endless days ago, and no matter how many times I was told it would get easier, it still hurt to breathe past the pain. Sometimes I held my breath as long as I could, just to escape the jagged edges of my heart tearing through my chest. But tonight was supposed to be different, a distraction, Harper had promised. It was Halloween, the one time of year people get to make believe they’re someone else. Someone stronger or faster or sexier or smarter—or braver. Someone whole. Despite the red cape and title of Riding Hood, I couldn’t escape the devastating fact that I was still me…And all the baggage that came with.

  “Lana!” Harper shouted, shimmying toward me through the massive amount of people. I could hear her sexy police officer costume squeaking and squishing as she approached. “Isn’t this place great?” she said, standing by me and adjusting the cuffs at her hip. She took a drink from her own cup. Judging by the smell, it was only partially soda—the more dominant part was tequila.

  “Yeah, it’s a really nice house.”

  Rhett Simpson was one of the firefighters who worked at the station across the street from our house. He’d had his eye on Harper for a while. Though she was relatively secretive when it came to her dating life, I’d managed to figure out that Harper had a couple firemen on her hook, but I had no idea if she was actually into any of them. She was the queen of casual and always had a backup guy, a safety line to keep her from ever getting close enough for a real relationship. Advice she’d once given me and I should have taken. Maybe then I wouldn’t be standing here, surrounded by people, feeling completely alone. Out of place.

  The house was packed with people in costume, most of whom either worked for or frequented the firehouse, and Harper was getting a lot of looks.

  “Did you come as a police officer just to piss off the gaggle of firemen you know?” I asked.

  She flicked an invisible hair from her costume and shrugged. “Might have.”

  Police officers and firemen apparently had their own ideas about which branch was better. And Harper was great at playing the devil’s advocate. She was the kind of woman a man had to work to get. I loved her. I wished I had whatever gene she carried that was encoded with charisma.

  I took another drink of my soda, wishing there was something stronger in it.

  “So…” she smiled and danced a little. The tequila was obviously working well for her. “Are you having fun?”

  “Mmm hmmm,” I said with a forced smiled. “I don’t think I’m going to stay too late, though. I have a meeting with my thesis advisor on Monday, and—”

  “And it’s Saturday night.”

  “I just want to go over a few more things on my proposal.” I was presenting the rough draft for my project the day after tomorrow, and school was the one thing going well in my life. Sure, I had to maintain a high GPA to keep my scholarship, but it was more than that. Throwing myself into this project kept my mind busy and my goals in sight.

  Harper sighed, put her drink down on the nearby table, and cupped my shoulder.

  “I love you, damn it,” she said.

  I blinked twice. “I know. I love you too.”

  “Then tell me what it’s going to take to snap you out of this. Jack is gone. He left. You haven’t heard from him in a month, and even though it’s your favorite holiday and you look amazing, you’re walking around like a zombie. Which I would have happily done your make up for. Red Riding Hood zombie sounds kind of awesome, now that I think about it.” She smiled and rubbed my arms. “But I hate seeing you like this.”

  “This coming from the person who doesn’t tell me anything about what’s going on in her love life?” I asked.

  She glanced down, and I felt instantly horrible.

  “I’m sorry, Harp. I just…I feel like everyone else has secrets. Gets to hide what they want to hide, feel how they want to feel, and maybe I just want that too?”

  She frowned. “Wallowing is different than feeling. And I’m not trying to hide things from you. My relationship status is tricky, and when I figure it out, I’ll talk to you about it.”

  “Fine.”

  Harper had always been this way. She had to figure things out first. She had to be in control. Funny how I seemed to gravitate toward that type of person in my life. Yes, I knew she cared about me, I just hated that sometimes I was the one who seemed to always need advice. That was, until Jack. I had a better idea now of what to expect from men.

  And that was nothing.

  Harper had been right. Giving away your heart and trust was dangerous, and I learned the hard way.

  “Why don’t you have a drink and—”

  “No,” I said quickly. Because it hit me then what kind of person I was. And what kind of people were drawn to me. “I get it,” I said to Harper. “I know you like things your way, on your terms. I know you need control, but I’m not the pawn.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Lana, I’ve never thought of you that way. I just want to help.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment. “I know. But…” I had a hard time with people “wanting to help.” Maybe I was being harsh on Harper. The truth was blaring in my face, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. “I just need to be in control of my life. On my own. Does that make sense?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. I know I can be quick to tell you what your problem is.”

  I smiled. “And sometimes I need to hear it. But now that this whole mess with Jack and my dad and Brock is done, I’m taking control back. Not giving it up.”

  She nodded. “That’s good.”

  “And I know Jack’s not coming back. I’ve made peace with that.” Which was the truth. I was focused on grad school, at least trying to focus. Sure, I was a having an issue with insomnia lately, and the lack of sleep wasn’t helping my brain. There was also this gaping hole in my chest that wouldn’t go away…

  Maybe Harper was right. Maybe I was a zombie.

  “Have you really made peace with that?” she asked softly.

  “I’m trying,” I said. “I’ve spent the last month trying.” Trying not to think of Jack. Trying to not recall how he shattered me in every way possible. Trying not to remember how his back looked when he turned it on me and walked away.

  He’d helped me find strength. Even though Brock was still in Denver, living with my dad and Anita, I hadn’t heard from them. I’d caught wind that my father was traveling to the New York branch of his firm on a regular basis. But, when and for how long, I didn’t know.

  Realizing where my father’s loyalty lay, and that it wasn’t with me, had stung, but deep inside, I’d already known. Had known for a while. The incident with Jack jus
t helped me realize it and let go of a silly dream that would never come true. My father would never pick me over my step-brother, and he’d never believe me. Even worse, he’d never believe in me. For now, Brock was twenty miles away and in a city I didn’t go to, now that school was in session. I was off their radar, and I could be left alone.

  Jack had helped me do that. Helped me deal with issues from my past and move on. He’d taken control when I needed it, only to leave me to figure out who I was without him, or his tight rein. Hilarious thing was, I may have dealt with the past, but I had new baggage to carry.

  And his name was Jack Powell.

  Instead of healing, I simply traded in one issue for a new model. I was alone. He was gone.

  Gone, gone, gone.

  The pain had subsided some, but the emptiness was still very present. A new emotion was taking over. Anger. I was past sad. Past wrecked. Past trying to understand or figure out where or how or why. I was just angry.

  And hollow.

  Gotta love the stages of grief.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re trying, and I will also try to not be so…bitchy.” She winked. “Or controlling. But you do know I just want to help, right?”

  I nodded. “I do know that.”

  “Great!” she said. “Then let’s continue trying, because I miss your smile,” Harper brushed the cape of my costume off my shoulders, revealing my peasant shirt and cincher. “The girls look great tonight!” she said, glancing at my chest, then spinning toward the mass of people mingling in the large entertainment room. It was never my goal to go as “sexy red riding hood,” which was why I made my own costume. Hence the long red skirt. But, yeah, my boobs were a bit on display, which wasn’t my intention. Not much I could do with a D cup, though, which was the reason I was hiding behind the cape.

  “What exactly are we trying for?” a husky voice came from behind me. I knew that voice. The damn thing gave me shivers since the moment I’d first heard it, and every time after.

  I turned to find Callum Malone in all his costume glory of…

  “You’re dressed as a fire fighter,” I said. Not that I was complaining. The man was tall, all muscle, and filled out his fire gear like no one’s business. His blues eyes burned bright as he looked me over, effectively leaving hot chills. Yep, the administering of hot chills must be something he learned in fire school. Which was one of the reasons I’d avoided him this past month.

  He glanced down the front of him. “You don’t like my costume, Kitten?”

  “It’s your profession, so it doesn’t count as a costume.”

  “Halloween is the one time you get to be someone else,” Harper said with a smile, tossing a hand on her hip, showcasing her police getup.

  Cal looked at her. “And I see you chose to dress as a pain in the ass.”

  “Funny,” she said, adjusting her badge.

  He took a step closer, the smell of spice and man and heavy material that had been in smoke and fire notched my internal temperature up several degrees.

  “Why dress up like someone else?” he responded to Harper, but looked at me. “When the night is done, I’m still me, and that’s something everyone deals with. May as well embrace it from the beginning.”

  I swallowed hard. There was more to that statement than the surface words he’d used. Cal was Jack’s best friend and knew what I’d gone through with Jack. The basic details at least. I’m sure he was also aware that I was hiding from him because he made me…

  Well, he made me feel things.

  Things like hope. Maybe even hope for something better than the dull ache and fury that had recently taken me over. Which was stupid. Going down any kind of path, with any kind of man, with any kind of hope, was just flat stupid.

  I had made my decision. I was seeking my own control. Not another person.

  Cal’s eyes paused on my chest, then he smiled and met my face. “While embodying a different persona is not my gig, I’m changing my stance on dressing up. You should wear that corset whenever you want.”

  Harper rolled her eyes, and I put the cape back over my shoulders. Not because I minded him glancing at me, but because I didn’t want him to see those shivers he made me feel break over my skin. Cal was the only man who’d had that effect on me since Jack, which was annoying, since he and Jack were as close as brothers.

  Harper looked at the crowd and someone caught her eye. “Well, you two chat, I’ll just be over there,” she said, and patted my shoulder. “Have fun.”

  Fun? Cal was the epitome of fun, but he was also hard to be around. Because every time I looked at him, my mind wondered about things it shouldn’t. Things like timing. Like “what ifs” that ranged from “what if I’d met him before Jack,” or “what if his muscles were as hard as they looked” and “what if I bit his bicep—”

  I had to stop that line of thinking.

  Cal was Jack’s best friend, and Jack was my ex. A hard term I was still learning to say. By a freak chance of fate, I had kissed both of them in the same week. But that was months ago. Since then, I’d found out that Cal was at the bar the night I met Jack. And it was that night I kept rethinking—reliving. Because, while I hadn’t known the two men knew each other, they both had been at the same place, the same time I was. And that night could have gone one of a million directions.

  But it hadn’t.

  I had laid eyes on Jack first.

  However, it was more recently that I’d discovered the reason I didn’t see Cal was because he’d stopped the man who almost knocked my table over.

  That’s when Jack had come to the rescue…

  Nope. I had to remind myself once again I was not going there. Trying to figure out all the missed opportunities, the moments and experiences and instances that could have gone differently only left me feeling more hollow and angry. I didn’t need more crap to deal with, since one specific emotion was driving me crazy.

  Lust.

  I’d gotten a taste of candy, and now couldn’t get the sugar off my tongue.

  My body was recently awakened to sex, so now I knew what I was missing. Knew what it meant to feel good. Actually, it had been better than good. I’d felt alive and wanted. Yes, Jack had been the main source of my needs—and fulfilling them—but there was one moment, one kiss with Cal that still lingered. That hot memory of his mouth, his warmth and strength as he surrounded me.

  Another thought I should extinguish, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  I was looking for a way to vent my rage, while running as fast as I could in the other direction. I didn’t want to be around people, not because my anxiety was bad, but because I didn’t give a shit. Funny how destroying someone’s trust and faith in love could do that. My body, however, was going through some kind of touch withdrawal. The whole situation made for a perfect storm of crankiness.

  But Cal? Despite knowing better, he was the only man who made me wonder…what if?

  “You’re looking at me like I just kicked your dog,” he said.

  I glanced down, my face relaxing. I must have been scowling hard. “Sorry, just thoughts.”

  “Care to share them?”

  No, not really. But in the spirit of anger and emptiness, I was considering it. Because not much rattled me lately. I had school that I cared about. And Harper. But no more family, no more budding career, no more Jack.

  “I’m just not in the mood.”

  He lifted a brow. “That’s pretty vague.”

  My eyes snapped to his with heated anger. Jack’s words drifted through my memory:

  You know I hate vagueness…

  “Fine, you want something direct?” I asked sharply.

  “Yes, please.”

  “I hate this.” There, that was direct. “When I say I’m not in the mood, what I mean is I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to try to have fun. I don’t even want to be me, something the costume was supposed to help with, and it’s not.” Realization made me choke on the last word. Because he stared at me wit
h hard determination and a soft understanding all at the same time.

  “I don’t want to think about things. I don’t want you to think about things, and I don’t even want you standing there,” I waved my hand over his general direction, “Looking like that.”

  His perfect mouth pursed, and he nodded like I had a point. Which I didn’t. I was just pissed and rambling. Hating the fact that one phrase he spoke reminded me of Jack. Reminded me they were friends. Reminded me of all the ways I’d come up lacking, and all the reasons he could have stayed, but chose to leave.

  Never again.

  I couldn’t be that weak again. I was certain my body couldn’t physically take it. Jack had wanted control, and I’d given it. It was my turn to control my world now. I just wasn’t sure how to do that, outside of giving into the burning feeling and popping off at the mouth.

  “Fair enough,” he said, humoring me and taking off his helmet. “Before I start stripping, though, you could clarify what it is you want me to look like, if not this?”

  “I don’t want you to strip,” I said. Which was half a lie. Okay, it was more than half, because the man was sexy as sin, and the idea of him taking his clothes off made my entire core throb and anticipation race through my system so hard my veins were vibrating.

  “You said you didn’t want me looking like this?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” And he knew it. But he was so good at making things casual and easy.

  “Ouch, Kitten. You know, I’ve got the outfit…” He set his helmet down and started to take off the jacket exaggeratedly slowly.

  “Yeow! Malone is putting on a show!” a fellow firefighter dressed as James Bond shouted and turned up the music.

  “Hey, this is a private party over here,” he said over his shoulder, then faced me again to wink.

  I shielded my face and shook my head.

  “Hey, you said—”

  “I know what I said,” I groaned. Leave it to Cal to try to take my mind off things. Same as he’d been trying to do since Jack left. Except for the fact that I’d been avoiding him.