Distraction (Club Destiny Book 8) Read online

  Distraction

  Also by Nicole Edwards

  The Alluring Indulgence Series

  Kaleb

  Zane

  Travis

  Holidays with the Walker Brothers

  Ethan

  Braydon

  Sawyer

  Brendon

  The Austin Arrows Series

  The Season: RUSH

  The Season: KAUFMAN

  The Club Destiny Series

  Conviction

  Temptation

  Addicted

  Seduction

  Infatuation

  Captivated

  Devotion

  Perception

  Entrusted

  Adored

  Distraction

  The Coyote Ridge Series

  Curtis

  Jared (Crossover Novel)

  The Dead Heat Ranch Series

  Boots Optional

  Betting on Grace

  Overnight Love

  Jared (Crossover Novel)

  The Devil’s Bend Series

  Chasing Dreams

  Vanishing Dreams

  The Devil’s Playground Series

  Without Regret

  Without Restraint

  The Pier 70 Series

  Reckless

  Fearless

  Speechless

  The Sniper 1 Security Series

  Wait for Morning

  Never Say Never

  The Southern Boy Mafia Series

  Beautifully Brutal

  Beautifully Loyal

  Standalone Novels

  A Million Tiny Pieces

  Inked on Paper

  Writing as Timberlyn Scott

  Unhinged

  Unraveling

  Chaos

  Naughty Holiday Books

  2015

  2016

  Distraction

  Club Destiny Book 8

  NICOLE EDWARDS

  Nicole Edwards Limited

  PO Box 806

  Hutto, Texas 78634

  Copyright © Nicole Edwards, 2016

  All rights reserved.

  This is a self-published title.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Distraction: A Club Destiny Novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image by: © Pink Ink Designs

  Cover Model: Alfie Gordillo

  Cover Design by: © Nicole Edwards Limited

  Editing by: Blue Otter Editing

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-939786-76-0

  ISBN (print): 978-1-939786-75-3

  Erotic Romance

  Contains M/F/M

  Mature Audience

  Note to Reader:

  If you’re a fan of the Club Destiny series, you’ll probably say that this book is long overdue. Well, you’re right. It is. But there’s a reason for the delay. If you’re familiar with the story, you know that Dylan Thomas suffers deeply from depression, one that consumed him after the death of his wife years ago.

  Now, the reason for the delay:

  I suffer from depression. This is not a secret. I have made it public knowledge and I’m not ashamed of this fact. Is it hard? Absolutely. There are times when I wonder what is wrong with me. How can things be going well, then suddenly, I’m living beneath a dark cloud? There isn’t a day that passes that I’m not affected, but I’m aware of my illness. I know what it means. I know what the symptoms are. I know what it feels like. I’ve sought professional help and I have learned to cope—as well as anyone can cope with this disease.

  I struggled for a long time as I attempted to write Dylan’s story, trying to figure out how to get him in the right mind frame to move forward. Well, it all came to me on a particularly bad day in February 2016. I was under a dark cloud, and I didn’t understand why. Things were going well. My children happy, my husband healthy, no particular stressors that should’ve set me off, so I didn’t understand.

  It wasn’t until I was sitting at the dinner table telling my husband that I didn’t know what was wrong, that I saw the fear in his eyes. Yes. Fear. You see, my husband has stood by my side through this illness, and suffered as much as I have, only in a different way. That’s when I realized I would write this book with that in mind. To see things from the viewpoint of those of you who love someone suffering from depression. I will never forget that fear in his eyes. He worries about me and I love him all the more for it. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for him.

  So, while you’re reading this, keep in mind that there are two sides to this story: the one who suffers from depression and those who are indirectly affected by it.

  Table of Contents

  Note to Reader:

  PROLOGUE

  chapter ONE

  chapter TWO

  chapter THREE

  chapter FOUR

  chapter FIVE

  chapter SIX

  chapter SEVEN

  chapter EIGHT

  chapter NINE

  chapter TEN

  chapter ELEVEN

  chapter TWELVE

  chapter THIRTEEN

  chapter FOURTEEN

  chapter FIFTEEN

  chapter SIXTEEN

  chapter SEVENTEEN

  chapter EIGHTEEN

  chapter NINETEEN

  chapter TWENTY

  chapter TWENTY-ONE

  chapter TWENTY-TWO

  chapter TWENTY-THREE

  chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  chapter TWENTY-FIVE

  chapter TWENTY-SIX

  chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

  chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

  chapter TWENTY-NINE

  chapter THIRTY

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  Three years ago, November…

  “TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED.”

  Sarah Fulton paced her therapist’s oversized office, past the small settee where hundreds of butts had been planted over the years, her hands flexing repeatedly—open, closed, open, closed—nerves rioting uncontrollably. As she made another hasty turn on the beige shag carpet, she shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to release the nervous tension that had consumed her ever since last night.

  Last night. Had it really only been hours, not days or months, since her entire world had been altered once again?

  “Sarah?”

  “I’m trying,” Sarah muttered. “Give me a minute.”

  “Take as long as you need.”

  Right. As long as it was within the allotted hour, then she was golden. Otherwise, she would have to come back and relive this again until she was … cured? No, that couldn’t be the right word because Sarah knew that she would never be cured of all the jumbled emotions that had been warring within her for years.

  Recent events certainly hadn’t helped steady her in any way.

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah dropped onto the edge of the forest-green cushion and stared at her hands. “He called me last night.”

  “He who?”

  Sarah looked up into the compassionate brown eyes watching her intently. “Dylan Thomas.”

  “Your friend,” Elaine, Sarah’s longtime therapist, confirmed.

  “Yes.” Though after last night, Sarah wasn’t so sure
that was an apt description of their relationship.

  “Did you expect this?”

  She shook her head. “He was the last person I expected to call me.” Heck, she would’ve sworn the president of the United States would’ve called her before Dylan did.

  “What did he say when he called?”

  Leaning against the too-firm cushioned back of the sofa, Sarah attempted to get comfortable. It wasn’t easy. Hell, this conversation wasn’t easy.

  “He sounded sad,” Sarah explained, looking anywhere but at Elaine’s face. “There was something in his voice. A longing, I guess. It was so intense my heart cracked open at the sound.”

  “What do you think made him sound that way?”

  Well, that was easy. “Yesterday was the anniversary of his wife’s death.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Was it recent?”

  “No.” Sarah shifted. “She’s been dead for eight years.”

  “And he’s still sad?”

  The question was merely an inquiry, Sarah knew. Elaine wasn’t suggesting that Dylan should or should not still be sad after all these years. Since Sarah understood the grief he experienced, she knew there wasn’t a specific amount of time for wounds like that to heal. They scabbed over eventually, became less painful over time, but there would forever be a scar, a reminder.

  “He’s had a really hard time with it, yes.” Elaine didn’t say anything, so Sarah continued, “I should’ve known better, but when he asked if he could come over, I said yes.”

  “Were you bothered by the fact that he called?”

  “No.” Surprised, yes. Bothered, no.

  “What was the first thing you thought when you saw it was him on the phone?”

  Sarah studied her short nails. She’d been biting them again, a nervous habit she’d picked up several years ago.

  “I was…happy?”

  “Is that a question or a statement?”

  Sarah shrugged. She honestly didn’t know.

  “Do you think that’s why he wanted to come over? Because he’s having a hard time?”

  “Yes. No. Maybe.” Sarah sighed heavily. “Originally I kinda thought so. It was the anniversary of his wife’s death. Maybe he needed someone to talk to, or just needed to be around someone.”

  Although eight years might’ve seemed like a long time to some people, Sarah could see how the memories that still lingered could be enough to make even the strongest person feel desolate. So, Sarah had come to the conclusion all on her own that Dylan’s dark mood had to do with that.

  “If he wasn’t sad, would you have said yes to his coming over?”

  “Probably.” Sarah fidgeted, her gaze snapping to Elaine’s. “Okay, yes. I would’ve said yes. I’ve always had a soft spot for him, even though I know I shouldn’t.”

  “Always is a long time,” Elaine noted.

  “We dated in high school,” Sarah added, swiping her hand over her frizzy blond hair. For whatever reason, she hated her hair today, wished it was longer, less curly.

  “You care for him.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Sarah found herself nodding. She did care for Dylan.

  “But you don’t think you should?” Elaine questioned.

  Sarah shook her head. “He’s broken, and the absolute last thing I need is to try to help someone else when sometimes it’s all I can do to keep myself together.”

  “Have you been thinking about Paul?”

  Sarah studied her fingernails, fighting the urge to fidget at the mention of her dead husband’s name. “Yeah. More so since last night.”

  “And what are you thinking about?”

  This was the part Sarah hated. Talking about Paul. Remembering her life with Paul. Even three years later, she still wondered why her husband had … killed himself. Why he’d left her.

  “I feel guilty,” Sarah admitted.

  “Because your friend called?”

  “No.” Not exactly.

  Elaine jotted something on her notepad, then looked up at Sarah. “And did Dylan come over?”

  Sarah nodded. And that was the reason for her guilt. She remembered waiting for him to arrive. Every minute that passed had felt like an eternity.

  “Was that what you wanted?”

  “Yes.” That was the simplest answer. Even looking back on all that had happened, Sarah knew in her heart that she’d wanted Dylan to come over.

  “And what happened when he got there?”

  Sarah relaxed as best she could and closed her eyes, reliving the night before all over again. She couldn’t give Elaine all the details, but that didn’t stop the memory from overtaking her.

  A sudden knock had Sarah’s breath lodging in her chest as her gaze slammed into the wooden barrier of her front door. She studied it momentarily, as though she could somehow see through the varnished wood to what lay beyond. No matter how much she wished she had x-ray vision, Supergirl she was not.

  Knowing it would be rude to leave Dylan standing outside in the cold and drizzle that’d descended upon them unexpectedly, dropping the temperatures of the late November evening, Sarah willed her heart to slow and leisurely made her way across the room, wiping her sweaty palms on her leggings and exhaling sharply. Her cold fingers fumbled with the deadbolt, but she managed to turn it, her hands trembling as she reached for the knob. Another deep breath and Sarah slowly pulled it open.

  And there on her front porch, just beyond the glass storm door, was the incredibly attractive man she’d been expecting, looking just as sexy as the last time she’d seen him a little more than a week ago at the surprise birthday party Dylan’s family had thrown for him.

  Sarah sucked in a shaky breath. With his angular jaw sporting days’ worth of beard growth and his narrow nose, his bronzed skin and dark hair glistening from the rain … Dylan Thomas was breathtaking. Even when there was a desolate sadness in his gaze, making him look out of sorts, he was still too handsome for words.

  His molten chocolate eyes lifted to meet hers. The same sorrow Sarah had witnessed on multiple occasions was glowing brilliantly, and she instantly knew this was a mistake. What would happen when he crossed over the threshold into her house was anyone’s guess, but Sarah had a feeling she already knew what the outcome would be. Part of her welcomed it, but the wiser part was attempting to warn her.

  She ignored that part.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, the deep thunder of his voice like rough velvet against her nerve endings. Dylan cast a quick glance behind him toward the street, as though there might be someone watching, but she doubted her elderly neighbors were still awake.

  With a jerky nod, Sarah pushed open the glass door and took a step back, motioning for him to follow. When he stepped inside, his sheer size instantly overwhelmed the room, making her modest house feel small. While she stood there staring at him, he closed the door behind him and Sarah took another deep breath.

  All common decency fled her mind, leaving her unable to greet him properly. She didn’t even respond when he mumbled a brittle, “Hey.” Instead, she stood there, bare feet rooted to the floor as she unabashedly ogled him, steadily drawing air into her lungs while they stood less than a foot apart.

  Every one of her senses was inundated by his presence. He filled her line of sight, and she admired his perfectly imperfect face. All the hard angles, the narrow slash of his nose, his sexy mouth, the beard growth that shadowed his jaw. She could smell the fresh scent of laundry detergent mixed with a subtle spice from his cologne. The only sounds she heard were the rapid thump of her own heartbeat and the labored breaths that filled her lungs. Her mouth felt as though she’d been gargling sand, so dry she struggled to swallow while her palms were still sweating. Simply put, she was a hot mess.

  On top of that, she couldn’t stop staring. His broad chest, covered in the soft, black cotton of his T-shirt stretched snuggly across his impressive pectorals, drew her gaze and held it.

  He stole her breath.

  For half a second, Sarah m
entally considered what she must look like. It was late and she’d been getting ready for bed when he’d called, so she’d had only enough time to brush her teeth, pile her unruly blond curls on top of her head in a clip, and pull on the first thing she’d found in her closet. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and she knew that without it she looked all of fifteen years old.

  Then again, she felt like a teenager, too. Young, naïve, aching for something she didn’t understand.

  Remembering that Dylan was standing directly in front of her, Sarah forced her eyes away from his massive chest. She had to look up to meet his gaze. He was so much taller than she was, so much bigger, broader. It made her think of high school and how he’d been larger than life, such a great, overwhelming presence in her world.

  Now, nearly twenty years later, though still just as handsome, Dylan was nothing more than a shell of the man he’d once been, and she knew that was because he’d lost his wife all those years ago. Sarah also knew that that sort of overwhelming, gut-tightening, heart-shredding grief lingered for years, far longer than she thought herself capable to handle. Her wounds were more recent—three years to his eight—but no more or less significant.

  Remembering her manners, Sarah cleared her throat. “Can I get you something to drink?” she offered, her voice cracking because of her nerves. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”

  Dylan didn’t respond, he simply stared, his heated gaze sliding over her, leaving chills on her skin with the slow, seductive perusal. Whatever was about to happen—and she had no doubt that something was brewing between them—could never be undone. They’d been walking this line for a few weeks now, teetering on the edge, but neither of them had given in.

  They’d been smart.

  Now … not so much.

  Her heart cracked as she fought the memories, the emotions, the heart-wrenching feelings that she’d battled for so long. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, but she couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to stop it.

  Everything she’d endured these past three years had led her here. To this black hole of despair and emotional chaos. The only thing she wanted to do was forget. Just for a little while. And now she could. She could ignore everything else and focus on this man who was giving her the only thing she needed at the moment.

  A distraction.