Freed Read online

  FREED

  Unlovable #2

  by Lynetta Halat

  Table of Contents

  Freed Playlist

  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

  A Preview of Very Bad Things by Ilsa MaddenMills

  Letter to my Readers

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  For My Saving Grace.

  Freed Playlist

  If you’re anything like me, you love music with your books. I hope you enjoy these beautiful songs that embody so much of this book. You can listen to the playlist on Freed on Spotify for free.

  human – Christina Perri

  F**kin’ Perfect – P!nk

  The Freshmen – The Verve Pipe

  Love Bites -Live – Def Leppard

  Hate Me – Blue October

  Trouble – Ray LaMontagne

  Don’t Close Your Eyes – Keith Whitley

  Try A Little Tenderness – Otis Redding

  jar of hearts – Christina Perri

  What You Wanted – OneRepublic

  She Will Be Loved – Maroon 5

  Ain’t No Sunshine – Bill Withers

  Do I Move You? – Nina Simone

  It’s Your Love – Tim McGraw & Faith Hill

  I Hold On – Dierks Bentley

  Stay – Flordia Georgia Line

  Halo – Beyonce

  Never Stop – SafetySuit

  I Lived – OneRepublic

  Kings and Queens – Thirty Seconds to Mars

  Chapter One

  Denver

  “TELL ME WHAT you feel,” he demands.

  My mouth’s gone completely dry, so I have to swallow hard and wet my lips before I can speak. Even then, I don’t know how I manage, “I feel … good.”

  “Good?” The smile in his voice burns so bright I can see it through my blindfold. “You can do better than … good.”

  I search my feeble mind, grasping at words that will please him. I am nothing if I can’t please him. He’s made damn sure of it. “Your voice scratches across my skin like charcoal, and I am only what you sketch me to be. Your scent wraps around me like a winter’s night, making me long for the blanket of your skin, yet my body blazes from your withheld touch.”

  “Very good,” he praises.

  I imagine him standing over me, gazing down on me like he owns me … because he does. He’s shirtless, in only his faded, button-fly Wranglers. Sun-kissed skin that glistens from the sweat of exertion. Eyes that dance with excitement like the rays of the sun on the sea. Full lips that beckon me to kiss him. Just imagining him has me squirming. Well, as much as I able in my current position. “I wish I could see you.”

  “All in good time, little fighter,” he soothes. “You’re doing so well.”

  Suddenly, his lips hover over mine, but I know better than to close the distance. “Kiss me,” he commands.

  Hmm … my pleasure …

  “That must be one helluva dream,” Ransom says. Only it doesn’t sound like Ransom. More like … Maggie?

  Groaning at the ill-timed interruption, I crack my eyes open to find my roommate lying on her side, staring at me with a Cheshire-cat grin.

  “Ohhh … Ransom,” she mimics right before my pillow slaps her in the face. Chuckling, she tosses it back at me. “Damn, Denver. If that man can make you dream like that, what the hell are you doing holed up in this dorm room with me? It’s been three days.”

  Shoving the pillow under my head, I regard her grin for a moment before trying to put it into words. “I just needed time to think it all over.”

  “What is there to think over? You’re crazy about him. He’s crazy about you. Go for it, girl.”

  I so want to go for it. I want to drain my head of all the bad, all the fucked up, all the ugly. Wanting and doing … two entirely different things. My biggest hang up? Feeling Greer’s loss like a wide chasm that threatens to swallow me whole.

  “Maggie, something’s holding me back. It feels like unfinished business with Greer. I know we’re done, but it still feels … well, unfinished. How can I ever move on and have something healthy while that’s eating at me?” One decision I had made over the last few days? I deserve better than an unhealthy, toxic relationship, and so does Ransom. I understand that fear prompted him to make the offer of an arrangement with me. And if his words hold true, I think he’s up for more than an “arrangement,” anyway. If that’s the case, then we owe it to ourselves to be more mature about it.

  He didn’t just find me at the bottom of the stairs the night my entire life changed. He’d found me at rock bottom. That week, I’d had moment after moment of trying to get up and dust myself off, only to be constantly stumbling from the residual debris that kept coming at me. And just before Ransom sat me down and had his “talk” with me, I had been buried under a pile of boulders. You know what they say—the only way to go from here is up. I’m digging myself out, getting my ass up, and doing something about my issues once and for all.

  Maggie’s fidgeting brings me back to my room. She chews on her lip before sitting up, her bright, green eyes clouding over as she blinks rapidly. “Denver, I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to think I betrayed you, but you wouldn’t talk to me, and I—”

  Slinging my legs from the bed, I sit up quickly, my foggy state of arousal quickly chased away by a mounting panic. Fear pounds in my veins and rushes so swiftly to my head that I feel lightheaded. “What did you do?” I rasp. Paranoia sweeps over me. My God, can I trust anyone? Ransom. You can trust Ransom, a voice whispers. And Austin. You can trust Austin. And Maggie, I thought, yet here we are.

  She puts a hand up, indicating for me to slow down my raging thoughts. “I didn’t do anything. I spoke to someone though. Someone who loves you and adores you and misses you so much that I felt his pain like it was my own,” she confesses, rubbing her hand over her heart like the pain is present even now.

  “You spoke to Greer,” I choke out.

  “Yes, I did. I know you didn’t want to talk to me about what happened. But after that night you tried to self-sabotage, I couldn’t stand by and be helpless any longer. I tried to talk to Ransom, but he wouldn’t give me anything to work with.” She breathes in deeply and holds my gaze. “Greer told me what he did.”

  Oh, God. Oh, God. I’m going to be sick. “Wh—what did he tell you?” I stammer.

  She abandons her bed, coming over to sit beside me. “He told me how you used each other. How you hurt you each other. How he’s the only person you’ve been with.” She pauses, grabbing my hand in hers. “How he started those rumors about you. I’ve never seen a person so sorry. You need to talk to Greer. It’s time for you two to stop hurting each other, and the only way that’s going to stop is for you start healing. There’s too much unsaid, too much unresolved, for you to move forward without talking it out. You two hold the power to do that for each other.”

  If he told her that he’d raped me, wouldn’t she say so? Was that act still too raw for him to address? Is his betrayal less painful in his eyes? Because his betrayal is what has me in knots—lying about me, ruining my reputation, turning the whole school against m
e. Ultimately, he manipulated an already fucked-up situation so that he could play the hero, and I had trusted him more than anyone, beyond anything. In actuality, he’d become the only person I thought I could trust. To know that I’d been that wrong about him, about us, even though I wasn’t an innocent by any stretch of the imagination, makes me question everything.

  The date rape? I’ve already forgiven him for that, even if it still hurts. I’ve replayed that night over and over in my head. Both drunk. Both hurt. Both wanting something so badly. Something we can never have. All that, coupled with the way in which we usually went about our hooking up—resulted in a fiery concoction. That didn’t make it right, I know that, because he should have stopped no matter how far we’d already gone. He never should have kept going while I was that devastated and, quite literally, hating him. But knowing the mindfuck I’d subjected him to made it all less … black and white. Now, a shroud of gray rests over our entire relationship.

  My eyes lose focus as I recall how I manipulated Greer to take our relationship to those dangerous, unchartered waters. How I thought that us sleeping together wouldn’t have the impact that it did because we had such an amazing friendship and connection. The naïveté of youth and inexperience. You think you’re invincible. You think that nothing can touch you. That nothing can throw you off course as long as you’re in control of your fate. The very things I fought to keep from happening … I turned right around and orchestrated.

  I snap back to the present and try to sum it up without sounding like a crazy person. “I got it in my twisted head, Maggie, that somehow Greer and I could have that kind of relationship without it damaging either of us. I was so foolish. Instead of helping me cope with what was happening around me, it catapulted our relationship into a vicious cycle of suspicion and blame and hurt.” I release a shaky breath, and she squeezes my hand.

  “Having to live day in and day out with a stepfather who tried to rape me—watching my mother repeatedly put her needs and her love for him first—hearing my dad all but write me off as an inconsequential whore … it devastated and destroyed me. I reasoned that Greer and I sleeping together would lessen all that pain. And it did; I lost myself in the act. Problem was, doing that caused unforeseen ramifications and wreaked devastating heartbreak for us both. Instead of intensifying my feelings for him like it should have, it made me shut down while his feelings grew.” I pause, tears threatening to overwhelm me at the thought of how I had wounded him … ruined him. Do I have the power to help him heal? I need to do that for him as much as I need to do that for myself. All these years, I focused on how badly I was hurting Greer. What about how badly I’ve hurt myself? My head pounds with all the what-ifs and all the blame that threatens to overwhelm me. I know I was the cause of so much. But, am I a victim too? A victim of my own making? I hurt myself worse than my stepfather, or Greer, or my parents ever had. That’s the kind of destructive power I hold over myself. Am I strong enough to say, no more? And, God, as weird as it sounds, I wonder if I’m strong enough to stand up to my own weaknesses.

  “Y’all were so young, Denver. And maybe if you slept around with guys who didn’t love you, you would have been your only victim. But y’all chose to take it there, and you’re the only two who can help each other move forward. It’s time for you to take the bull by the horns, address how y’all hurt each other, and figure out where to go from here.”

  “Is that all he told you?” I ask, finally making eye contact with her again.

  She nods.

  “I can’t believe he would tell you that anyway. You barely know each other.”

  Laughing, she says, “Oh, I wasn’t taking no for an answer. I wish I’d been braver with you, but I can’t take you turning your back on me. I’ve had enough with waiting for you tell me, though, so I’m forcing the issue now. With Greer,” she shrugs, “I just demanded he tell me. Of course, I had to promise not to hold anything against you. You see—” she pauses to give me a big smile “—no matter what he did or you did, he’s still looking out for you.”

  I nod with that assessment. Even though he is responsible for a lot of my pain, I know he wants to help me. I know he’d never give up on me.

  “Are you gonna talk to him?” she presses.

  Focusing my eyes on hers, I promise, “Yes, I will. I seem to have finally surrounded myself with people who want the best for me and who help me even know what that is. Thank you, Maggie.” My heart beats with joy as I think about all my new friends. Greer and I had been so thoughtless, wrapping ourselves in our damaged, little cocoon with only each other to feed on. Secrets, lies, and betrayal becoming our only other sustenance. No, that’s not fair. We managed to weave beautiful moments in there too. And even though the ugly is hideous, we’ve got some good to work with.

  “I have a question for you?” she asks, sucking me, once more, back to the here and now.

  “Yeah?”

  “That night you told me about your reputation?” I nod. “You told me that you had friends with benefits—plural.” Her face bunches in consternation. “Why’d you say that if Greer was your only one?” She pauses before rushing out, “And why would you encourage others to think that as well?”

  Blowing a breath, I admit something to her I’ve never admitted to anyone, even Greer. “Maggie, I did it to keep people away. Keep people from getting too close.” She just shakes her head at me, like she doesn’t get it. “When that rumor first started going around, I was sixteen years old. You know the kind of town I come from. Small town— everyone knows everyone’s business—judgmental, old-fashioned values. Anyway, I denied it till I was blue in the face, but no one believed me, probably because of the kind of reputation my mother has. When my protests didn’t get me anywhere, and the real bullying kicked in, I denied it with my fists. I got in a shitload of trouble at school and away from school. Finally, I just started to … embrace it. I figured if I couldn’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” I shrug and pinch my lips together for a second. “It worked. People left me alone and gave me a wide-berth. Only problem was … I started seeing myself in the same light because of how I felt, or didn’t feel, about sex with Greer, and what was going on at home with my mom and stepfather.”

  “So you perpetrated the rumors in order to become untouchable, and dug yourself a hole so deep no light could reach you?” Maggie muses. I can only nod. “And Greer didn’t try to help straighten those rumors out?”

  “Well, yes and no. He was angry on my behalf and stood beside me, but he didn’t stand up and say, ‘Hey, I’m the only guy she’s ever been with!’ which makes sense now that I know he started them all, even though I still don’t get why.”

  “The why, and the how, and the regret, is what you and Greer need to discuss,” she asserts.

  “I know,” I agree with a whisper. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to go there yet.”

  “You are. You have to be,” she states.

  “I am?”

  “You are. Well,” Maggie clears her throat, “I’ve gotta pee like a Russian race horse.” She smacks me on the arm and dashes for the bathroom.

  An awakening … that’s the last thing Ransom said to me before Maggie and Pete interrupted our most enlightening conversation. The implications float through my restless mind for the millionth time. Those words and the thought, “Will I have to call him sir?” have taken up a prolonged residence in my tortured psyche. Willing myself to pay attention to the professor droning on at his podium, I try to push those thoughts to the corners of my mind. It is the ultimate exercise in futility, as my dream this morning makes this dilemma all the more tangible. My instincts tell me my dream mirrors the reality of the arrangement Ransom has in mind. He will talk me through everything and analyze how I feel because Ransom doesn’t do anything half-heartedly. Ironically, thinking of how he makes me feel has me sweating more than thoughts of the acts themselves. Not an easy feat, considering those had me beyond turned on.

  Submissive. A word that I’m pretty sure I�
�d never even said aloud before a few nights ago. A word I would never have thought applied, much less appealed, to me. Oh, I’ll admit I read the books, looked up the terms, and became intrigued by that world, but it was more like a distant, unattainable, yet entirely hot, fantasy—it was safe to imagine thinking I would never have the situation presented to me. Does the fact that this concept turns me on mean that I am submissive? In the bedroom, I think it does, which is odd because I had always taken the lead with Greer. Outside the bedroom? I’m on the fence.

  On the one hand, other than putting up the obligatory protests when Ransom orders me around—because A: it makes me hot to get under Ransom’s skin, and B—it’s what I thought I should do as an independent female—I like the idea of pleasing Ransom. Having the advantage of hindsight, I recognize that from the beginning. It fulfills some kind of deep-rooted desire that I hadn’t thought to analyze until we started naming things, and I fully understood that his control issues ran deeper than the Mississippi.

  On the other hand, to give someone that kind of power, even reciprocal power as Ransom had explained it, scares the living shit out of me. To trust someone with all that I am, and willingly give them the power to destroy me? Sounds ludicrous for someone like me since I’ve never allowed anyone that close—not my parents, not my former, so-called friends, not Greer—no one, ever.

  And if I had three hands, which would be real convenient for all the issues I have, I could put these thoughts into the extra one. The thought of trusting someone that much makes me feel light and carefree, two things I’ve never had the luxury of feeling. To have someone strong like Ransom taking care of me, protecting me, and helping me heal sounds like heaven. And what the fuck does that say about me? I fight a shiver and laugh at the thought of being grateful that my final psych paper is on co-dependency because this sounds like a textbook case to me. Except … the way Ransom explains it, it sounds like a mutually beneficial relationship—one that would build us up and make us stronger together, not destroy us.