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  CRUSHED

  JESSICA BLAKE

  CONTENTS

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  TITLE PAGE

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPILOGUE

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  FREE BONUS NOVEL - “BEHIND THE SCENES”

  MORE BY JESSICA BLAKE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Tormented by guilt and desire, will Claire make the right decision in order to find the happiness she deserves?

  Everything in Claire Lawrence's life has finally fallen into place. She has independence, a great job, and a new boyfriend — one who makes her believe, for the first time ever, in things like soulmates and love at first sight. But tragedy strikes, leaving Claire shattered, shaken, and trying to make sense of the world. In despair, she returns to Crystal Brook and her childhood home, hoping to heal her crushed soul.

  When sexy Owen Burke knocks on her door, she feels like her heart might beat again. But guilt makes her force him away, keep him at arm’s length, even when everything inside her wants to pull him close. Makes her want to believe in love again.

  Only if grief, that tricky bitch, doesn’t crush everything in its wake.

  Who will win? Claire? Owen? Or the grave?

  This is a full-sized STANDALONE novel with an HEA and NO CLIFFHANGERS! Also included in this copy is my standalone novel, Behind the Scenes, as a free bonus for a limited time!

  You may also enjoy the other standalone novels in the Crystal Brook world:

  Damaged

  Wrecked

  CHAPTER ONE

  Claire

  People say that when you’re facing death, your life flashes before your eyes. I guess this happens whether you make it out of the situation alive or not. One thing I do think I know is those who cheat death and come back from such experiences usually have a new appreciation for the world around them. They talk about seeing things more clearly, about having gained a more loving outlook on everything and everyone.

  But what about when the life flashing in front of your eyes isn’t your own? What about when it belongs to someone else? And, on top of that, the life in mention keeps flashing on and on, following you through every minute and every day as you try to go on in the world. A world that is now nothing like you always knew it to be because the person you thought would be standing next to you isn’t there anymore?

  All of the things you looked forward to, from small to large — like taking that trip to the beach the next weekend or maybe even moving in together in a year — are gone like a wisp of smoke.

  And it’s not fair. Because it was their life. It was, in a way by extension, your life, and it wasn’t a mere wisp of smoke waiting to be blown away by the breeze.

  It was everything.

  But still, it doesn’t change the truth of that old saying…

  In the blink of an eye, everything can change.

  *

  Morning sunlight struck the side of my face, but I didn’t open my eyes. The heaviness I’d gone to sleep with was still there, lodged in my chest like a rock. Even the forgetful state of unconsciousness had done nothing to lessen its weight.

  Already, the same old movie was playing. Familiar pictures and thoughts flashed through my mind. They were the same ones from the day before and the day before that, and before that…

  The first time I saw Peter, he was smiling. Sitting around a fire and underneath the colorful paper lanterns in my friend Mackenzie’s tiny backyard in Brooklyn, he’d been cracking up over something one of the girls sitting near him said. And when he turned to look in my direction, our gazes immediately caught. Something sparked deep in his eyes and that same something pulsed in the middle of my chest. The smile hadn’t flickered on his face. Instead, it only stretched, jumping the length of the yard to land on my own lips.

  From there, the memories only went on and on, getting better and worse all at the same time.

  I knew how this would go. The images would flicker behind my eyeballs all day long. Sometimes I could find a small amount of solace in short distracted moments, but the horror film was always still there — grainy, sure, but persistent.

  I turned and flopped onto my stomach, burrowing my face into the bed and welcoming the darkness of the cool pillowcase.

  Soon, it became evident that the bedroom was heating up. I kicked the blanket off and tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. Easing up to sitting, I looked around at my old room. Long and with wooden floors, it was usually one of the coolest places in my parents’ house. I’d forgotten to pull the curtains closed the night before though, and the morning sun was slanted right across the bed.

  I sighed and just sat there, the weight in my limbs so intense that even swinging out of bed seemed impossible. Unfortunately, it was also inevitable. I’d have to get up sooner or later. And I’d have to move on with my life.

  That last thought was too painful to bear.

  “Shower,” I said out loud. “That’s all I have to do.”

  After that, there would be breakfast. Two very simple tasks. Getting through them would be easy enough. All I had to do was take each of them one minute at a time.

  My toiletry bag sat on top of the black suitcase, right where I’d tossed it the night before. It was my second day in Crystal Brook, and I had no intentions of unpacking the bag and putting my clothes away in my childhood dresser. My stay in North Carolina, after all, would hopefully be short.

  I had work to go back to. The New York offices of the realty company I worked for wouldn’t run themselves. That was my job.

  Or it had been my job. Perhaps going back to work would be even worse than it was when I tried it last week. I’d only lasted three days before having a breakdown. Suppose the next time I couldn’t manage anything more than stepping through the office doors?

  A shudder went through me as I thought of New York. Only a couple weeks ago it had seemed like a dreamland. The best place in the whole world to be. That’s what I’d thought of it then.

  But when I left it yesterday morning, all I could see was its grime. The trash piled in the gutters. The homeless, dejected and forgotten, sleeping in the doorways. A city filled with people who barely looked at each other.

  Going back to New York seemed just as painful as staying in North Carolina.

  But, I had to face it. No matter where I went on the planet, I would be wearing my pain like a
heavy cloak. Scrambling with shaking fingers as I tried to unclasp it from my throat, I’d always be doing just that — trying.

  Grief is a tricky bitch. She doesn’t leave just because you tell her to get the hell out.

  I grabbed the toiletry bag then fumbled and dropped it. Cursing, I picked it back up and trudged into the hallway. At the other end of the hall, a door shut. It was my mother coming out of her bedroom, her short blonde hair freshly curled and her sweater vest pressed, despite it being Sunday. Yes, she was one of those mothers — she could have stood in for the mom on any classic fifties family show. Just take your pick.

  Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me. I cringed.

  Please don’t ask me how I’m doing. Please don’t ask me if I need anything. Please don’t give me your sympathetic smile.

  The day before had been filled with nothing but those things. I had one of the best families on Earth, and I knew they were there for me no matter what.

  Sometimes, though, you just wanted to trudge through the swamp on your own. It could be better that way.

  “Well, the air conditioner is broken,” Mom announced by way of greeting. “I’ll have to call someone out here.”

  “Ah.” I leaned my shoulder against the wall. “That explains why it’s so hot in here.”

  She waved her hand in front of her face. “And in April too. Remember how cold it was last year?”

  I murmured an acknowledgment, though I couldn’t remember whether I’d visited home at all last April. I bet the answer was no.

  Her eyes traveled down to the bag in my hand. “Were you about to take a shower?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled slightly. “Okay. How about I make you some breakfast? I’ll have eggs and bacon ready by the time you get out.”

  “No,” I quickly said. “Thanks, Mom, but I can do it myself. You need to call a repairman.”

  “It’s fine.” Her smile had become forced.

  I swallowed hard. She’d always had a tendency to dote on others — especially when those others were my two siblings and me — but she’d really kicked it up a notch in the last twenty-four hours.

  I hated that her sympathies made me feel even worse, but I couldn’t keep turning them down. After all, even if I wasn’t about to feel better any time soon, I could at least let my mom think her efforts were doing some good.

  “All right,” I agreed, my voice coming out hollow, just like it had each day for the last two weeks. “That sounds nice. Thanks, Mom.”

  Her smile brightened. “Take your time. Would you like some pancakes too?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” I turned and headed into the bathroom across the hall before the conversation could go any further.

  The dark bathroom was at least a few degrees cooler than the bedroom had been. I flipped on the light and stared into the mirror at my disheveled blonde hair and eyes with dark bags underneath them. I looked like I hadn’t combed my hair or slept in days.

  Rooting around through the toiletry bag, I found my hairbrush and started yanking at a particularly problematic rat’s nest near the top of my head. Pulling at the hair hurt a bit, but it was welcome. The action kept my mind on the pain and away from anything else. When the knot didn’t come out after a minute, though, I began to get frustrated.

  “Damn it,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “Fucking cocksucker.”

  I yanked harder and still the knot didn’t loosen. I let out a guttural sound and pulled with as much strength as I could muster, sending a searing pain across my scalp.

  “Goddamn it!” I screamed, giving up and throwing the brush at the wall. It bounced and landed in the open toilet then just bobbed there, taunting me with its very existence. If there had been even just an ounce of humor left in my body, I would have laughed. Instead, I kicked my heel against the closed door then let out another half suppressed yell before sliding down onto the floor.

  I drew my knees up and let my face fall forward between them. Clutching the sides of my head with my hands, I focused on my breathing. In and out. One. Two. Three. It was something I’d done a lot over the last few days.

  Get out of bed and shower. Just take it minute by minute. I’d thought it would be a simple enough task.

  Of course it had turned out to be anything but that.

  *

  Eventually, I made it through showering and brushing my teeth. Knowing my mother stood downstairs waiting for me helped a lot. The longer I stayed in the bathroom, the higher the chances were of her coming looking for me. She was already worrying about me enough. The least I could do for her was speed things up and get my butt into the kitchen.

  I dressed in the first things I grabbed from my suitcase, a pair of jeans and a blue and white striped t-shirt. When I grabbed the shirt, I momentarily froze. It was the one I’d worn on the day Peter and I took the train out to Rockaway. It had been only a month ago, in March, and he insisted it was the best time to go. We walked the chilly and deserted beach, and he’d slipped his hand in mine. Our fingers wound together perfectly, and for the first time, I wondered if we were a couple.

  For some reason, I remembered every minute detail of that day. The blue gray sky. The tiny Mexican restaurant with no one there but an old man wearing a Dodgers ball cap. The rocking of the train’s car as it carried us back to Manhattan. In any other moment of my life, all of those things might have appeared desolate, but with Peter they were magical.

  I almost threw the shirt back in the suitcase and picked another one, but in the end, I didn’t. Everything would be this way, I knew. It wasn’t just the contents of my suitcase, or my apartment, or the city I lived in. I would look at all the objects and places in the world around me and be reminded of him. I might as well start getting used to it.

  My mom wasn’t alone in the kitchen. My sister was there as well, sitting at the table. Gwen stood up the second I entered.

  “Hi,” she said, her weight shifting around a bit, like she was uncertain of just what to do.

  “Good morning,” I replied, quickly taking my own seat. The kitchen was by far the hottest room yet, despite the window there being fully open.

  Once I settled down, Gwen did the same, a slightly relieved look on her face. She looked away from me, but I could still feel her attention pointed my way. She watched me from her peripheral vision, waiting to see what I was going to do and say.

  “You’re just in time, Claire,” Mom sang out from the stove. She shuffled down the length of the counter with a frying pan then carefully dumped scrambled eggs onto two waiting plates.

  I eyed Gwen. “Why aren’t you at work? Isn’t Saturday morning your busiest time?”

  “I took off,” she cheerily responded.

  “Ah.”

  “I thought we could hang out today.”

  I gave that some thought then slowly nodded. As much as I wanted to be alone, I also wanted to be anything but that. It’s funny how things can be that way. Besides, as far as company went, my only sister had some of the best of it to offer. When we both lived in New York, we’d enjoyed a pretty awesome stint as roommates. After she moved back to the town we grew up in to open her coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore, a pretty big hole had been left in her absence. For a while, I’d filled it up with work and going out with friends. Life had been good.

  And then I’d met Peter, and life got even better…

  No, I reminded myself. Don’t do that to yourself.

  “All right,” I eventually said. “What did you have in mind?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Mom set the plates in front of us.

  “Thanks,” I told her. “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I already did. I need to go pick Danny up from tae kwon do.”

  “Huh? What time is it?”

  I turned to look at the clock above the stove. Eleven oh nine.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Gwen said. “I’ll clean up.”

  “All right then.” She leaned over and kissed me on
the top of my head, something she hadn’t done since I was a little kid. The action was sweet, but I held my breath, half waiting for her touch to be gone.

  Like everything else, kisses and other displays of affection only reminded me of what I no longer had.

  “See you two later,” she said. “The repairman shouldn’t be here for a few more hours, but if he does show up while I’m gone, give me a call.”

  “All right,” Gwen said. “Bye.”

  She left, and Gwen got up to grab us some forks and knives.

  “Thanks,” I told her before quickly looking down at my plate and busying myself with cutting the eggs into even smaller pieces.

  “So.”

  “So,” I said to my plate, searching quickly for questions to ask her so that the conversation wouldn’t automatically turn to me. “You getting lonely in that big house yet?”

  She scoffed. “Not quite.”

  I peeked up at her, the first smile I’d felt in weeks tugging at the corners of my mouth. “He’ll be back soon.”

  “Hopefully not too soon.” She looked at me, her eyes serious. “You know what he said. You should stay here for as long as you need to.”

  “I know, but I can’t stay for long.”

  “Come stay at my place.”

  “Thanks, but that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t complaining about Mom and Dad.”

  “Oh.” Gwen jabbed a fork into her pancakes.

  Just a few days away from work was bad enough. Making my stay stretch into weeks would be unacceptable, even if my boss was my future brother-in-law.

  The love of Gwen’s life had been my boss way before the two of them had even met. It was crazy at first, really, bringing Jason home for the holidays two Christmases ago and watching as two of the main people in my life first fought and then fell in love. Once it happened, though, I quickly grew accustomed to it. Jason and Gwen were so alike that they had a way of smoothing out each other’s sharp edges. Separate, they were two decent people, but together they were one fun, amazing, and loving couple.