Save Me Read online

  Save Me

  A Sex Me Novella

  Logan Chance

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Cryin’

  2. Lizard

  3. Cryin’

  4. Lizard

  5. Cryin’

  6. Lizard

  7. Cryin’

  8. Lizard

  9. Cryin’

  10. Lizard

  11. Cryin’

  12. Lizard

  13. Cryin’

  14. Lizard

  15. Cryin’

  16. Lizard

  17. Cryin’

  18. Lizard

  19. Cryin’

  20. Lizard

  21. Cryin’

  22. Lizard

  23. Cryin’

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Logan Chance

  Study Me: Chapter One

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Logan Chance

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the men and women that serve our country to protect our freedom.

  Prologue

  Answering questions. We all do it. What’s your name? Where are you from?

  Life is nothing but a series of questions. They start out easy in life. Two plus Two. What color is the sky?

  Then, they turn harder, not as easy to answer. Where were you last night, from your parents. Why haven’t you called, from a clingy girlfriend. All of these questions are to learn more about you. To pry for information.

  As we age, life has a way of changing these questions into something more personal, more in depth. More soul searching.

  Sometimes, avoiding questions becomes a skill. Over time, people perfect the skill.

  Well, I’m a fucking master. There’s no one quite like me. I’m like a closed book. One that’s never been read. Just sitting on the shelf, in the hopes it remains lost in the stacks of life.

  Because the answers to my questions are something even I can’t deal with.

  1

  Cryin’

  SEMPER FI MOTHERFUCKER

  Life. Life has a funny way of turning things inside out and upside down. Joining the military was supposed to be fun, and it was at first. It was something I felt very deeply about, fighting for my country, defending our lands. College paid for? Sign me up.

  But, it changed me. It took me from the boy I joined as and made me into a man. The journey wasn’t always easy. It was hard as fuck, actually. There were many times during boot camp I was ready to give up. Many times, while stationed in Afghanistan I wanted to quit. But, I never did.

  Of course, I never did. I didn’t fight for a greater purpose. No, I fought for my fellow comrades, the men serving alongside me. My friends.

  I went into the military right out of high school, wanting to live a bigger and better dream. What I got was a culture shock to my senses.

  I was a boot shipped to Afghanistan right out of basic training.

  And my time there is something I want to forget. Improvise, adapt and overcome. That’s exactly what I did.

  “Wagner, Ryan Wagner?” the nurse calls out.

  I nod my head to her before rising from my seat. “That’s me,” I say, my 6’4 frame towering over her. She glances up from the chart she’s holding and smiles.

  The stark white room she leads me into makes my palms sweat. All clean and sterile. I glance at the instruments laid neatly on a silver tray and sit on the small bed, wrinkling the parchment paper.

  “The doctor will be right in,” the pretty blonde nurse says as she smiles to me. It’s a nice smile, white teeth and full of reassurance.

  The doctor enters, and spectacles and thinning hair encompass the room as his stocky frame takes a seat on the stool. His eyes are glued to my chart, and he hums softly, thumbing through the pages.

  Finally, he glances up, observing the specimen sitting on the table. “Ah, Ryan. How are you today, son?”

  “Great. The shoulder is still giving me problems.” I’d love to tell you it happened while I was fighting off enemy intruders on our camp or during a raid in the middle of the night, but, nothing that dramatic or thrilling. I injured it during a football game between me and my men. Private Hammel tackled me, and my shoulder has never been the same.

  The doctor, Dr. James, slides his glasses further up his nose as he rises to his feet. He pushes and tugs at my shoulder, and the pain is a little unbearable. Ok, more like a lot unbearable.

  “I’d like for you to meet with a therapist, a physical therapist. I’ll refer you,” he says, making notes.

  “Thanks,” I say, rubbing my tender shoulder as he sets the chart down.

  Dr. James grabs the light shining thing and shines it in my eyes. “Any headaches?”

  “No, no headaches,” I say, choking on the tongue depressor he’s now trying to kill me with.

  He lifts his lips, only slightly, as he checks my ears and heartbeat.

  After finishing his examination, and giving me his stamp of approval, he says I’m good to go.

  I hop into my red truck, remembering back to when I arrived home only a few months ago. My mother picking me up at the airport with a big smile on her face. Her eyes lighting up two shades brighter than the sun as she saw her little boy return home. I was happy to be home as well. But, when the questions overwhelmed me of my time spent overseas, I clammed up.

  I didn’t want to talk about my time served.

  Still don’t. Once I get home, my brother, Devin, knocks on my door. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure, where are we going?”

  He shrugs. “Out. Bar. Anywhere there’s alcohol.”

  I laugh. “Sounds good.”

  Devin is not only my brother, he’s one of my best friends. We’re close in age, and he’s always had my back.

  We head out to South Beach, both of us ready to blow off steam. The bars are already packed with a good amount of people, and we decide to go into Mecca. Flashing neon lights bounce off the sweaty, gyrating bodies filling the dance floor as we weave through people on the way to the bar. My eyes roam from one hot chick to the next. A curvy brunette winks at me. Nice.

  Devin smirks when he notices me eyeing up a few of the ladies and shakes his head as he orders us both a beer. Not to sound like an asshole, but he knows I’m a pussy magnet. Women love a military man. But, he’s not hurting for attention. From what I hear, his band is well known in the local club scene. He’s the lead vocalist for some group, Twisted Monks, he and his friends started a few years ago. I’ve heard a few demo cd’s, but have yet to hear them perform live. That’s what happens when you’re gone for four years—your brother becomes a local semi-celebrity.

  He hands me a beer and I glance the bar once over, and that’s when I see her.

  Elizabeth Packer. Lizard. I haven’t seen her since I’ve been back. We were best friends growing up, from as long as I can remember. Since we were knee-high to a grasshopper, plucking seashells from the Miami shore. Since we both could stay the night at each other’s homes with no questions asked. Of course, sleepovers stopped once puberty hit, and I was waking up with morning wood.

  Lizard, Lizzy Packer, sits with a group of girls, and I take in her clingy, little black dress and heels. Her long blonde hair tumbles past her bare shoulders. She’s pretty. Beautiful, actually.

  “Look who’s here,” I say to Devin, pointing in the direction of Liz
zy and her friends.

  “Who’s that?” His eyes flit over to her and then back to me.

  “Lizzy. You remember her, right?”

  He turns back around to get a better look. “Holy shit. She’s hot.”

  “Yeah,” I breathe before taking a long pull of my beer.

  She’s definitely changed from when we were kids.

  I set my beer down, square my shoulders, and make my way over to her.

  “Lizard?” I ask, stepping up close to her ear to be heard over the loud beat of the music.

  She looks over at me, and her light brown eyes go wide as she smiles. “Oh, my God, Cryin’?”

  Her nickname for me makes me cringe. Let me explain something before you hear it from someone else.

  Third grade. A huge tree. You’re invincible when you’re nine. I felt I could climb to the top, maybe jump from the branches onto another neighboring tree. I was so wrong.

  I’ll never forget falling, nothing to break my descent but a rock…I slammed into it hard. Luckily for me, nothing broke. Kid’s bodies are much more resilient to superhero actions and stupid conquests. A few tears might have been shed. Hence, the nickname Cryin’ Ryan.

  But, if you call me that I may have to hurt you…and not in the fun, kinky way.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” I answer her, with the biggest shit-eating grin on my face. It feels so good to be talking to her.

  2

  Lizard

  Every girl has that one guy, she has a crush on forever.

  Wow, now that’s a blast from the past. It’s been four years since I’ve seen Ryan Wagner. Four years since I’ve heard from him at all. I forgot how tall he is. Even in my heels, I feel tiny next to him.

  He looks good. Really, really good. Gone is the boy from high school and in his place, is this… military man. A very sexy military man with sculpted muscles and chiseled features. I feel like saluting him and doing anything he commands. Ok, no more cocktails for me tonight.

  Lexi elbows me as I gawk, and I clear my throat to introduce Ryan and his younger brother, Devin, to my best friends Lexi and Belinda.

  “Hey, I’ve heard you sing,” Lexi says, pointing at Devin. “Remember,” she says to Belinda, “we went out after the Heat game.”

  “Ah, Heat fans?” Devin asks, and before you know it, the three of them are lost in a basketball conversation.

  “How have you been?” Ryan asks, smiling the boyish grin that used to get him into trouble in high school. It got him out of trouble many times, too. It’s its very own lethal weapon.

  “I’ve been great. How was the war?” I slur the words, and someone should really take my drink away from me.

  Ryan cracks a smile. “Well, I survived. So, I guess that’s a win.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” I lean into hug him, and Ryan’s strong arms wrap around my body, lifting me off the ground. I want to live in this moment. Not wanting him to put me down ever. He smells delicious.

  The moment my feet hit the floor, the spell is broken. This is Ryan. I’m not going to act like some school-aged groupie.

  No, I did enough of that in high school. So, I reposition my skirt and return my senses back to the friend I have always been to him.

  But, fuck he’s gorgeous. And, I know Belinda agrees. She stares at him like he’s the next new item on the value menu at McDonald’s.

  I’ll let you in on a little secret, if you haven’t guessed already—I had a major crush on Ryan in high school. He never felt the same, and I never pursued anything, but the minute he wrapped his arms around me, and the smell of his cologne wafted over me, it took me right back there. Sixteen and starry eyed. Seriously, someone cut me off.

  I push my Margarita away from me and gaze back into his light green eyes as he leans in closer. “How many of these have you had?” He motions to my sour cocktail, and I smile.

  “That obvious?”

  “It’s cute.” He winks. “Last time I saw you drunk was at Julie’s graduation party.”

  Oh god, you know how you have a moment you wish you could take back? That was mine. I was drunk. All the big mistakes start with those three words, don’t they? Anyway, he was leaving for the military, and, well, I was feeling sentimental. Liquid courage led me to kiss him that night. There was no tongue involved, just a lingering kiss on his full lips. But, a week later he shipped off to boot camp, and that’s all she wrote. Not that he took it seriously or anything. I shake my head. “Don’t remind me. That was a bad night.”

  He shrugs. “Not too bad.”

  My cheeks heat. “Yeah, right.” I slap his arm. “I promise we won’t be having a repeat of that night.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” My eyes widen. Is he serious? He gazes at my lips for a second too long and it warms my skin.

  I lean in, contemplating replaying the kiss I planted on Ryan at Julie’s graduation party, but before I can make a fool of myself for a second time, a familiar voice interrupts, “Ryan Wagner?”

  I’d know that voice anywhere. It taunted me many times in high school. Ryan’s ex-girlfriend, Anna Scott. Maybe girlfriend is too strong. They dated a week before Ryan cut her loose. Casually, I straighten my posture and smile at the girl who hated me for no other reason than I was Ryan’s best friend. Lots of girls did. It wasn’t easy being his friend, but I stuck it out.

  She gives me a tight smile, and then steps closer to Ryan. “What are you doing here?”

  He looks down at her and then steps closer to me. “I’m catching up with Lizzy.”

  She looks between us and then barely hides the disdain in her blue eyes. “Well it was good running into you, Ryan,” she says, taking her drink from the bartender. “See you around.”

  “Not if I see you first,” I mumble.

  Ryan laughs. “She didn’t seem very happy to see you.”

  “Well, I’m the devil, remember?”

  He laughs again, stepping even closer. There is no space left between us. “Yeah, well, where are you hiding the horns in that get up?” Am I imagining we’re having a moment? I really wish I hadn’t had that third margarita. His eyes drift down my body as he takes a long pull of his beer.

  Devin, Lexi, and Belinda have all abandoned us for the dance floor, and it’s suddenly hot in here. Mainly because, here’s Ryan looking sexy as hell, and Connor and his friend, Erik, Lexi’s brother, are coming this way.

  Shit.

  I’ve been on one date with Connor. Maybe there’s a second date on the horizon, but it’s not something I want to think about right now. I plaster on a fake smile as they walk over. Kayla, Erik’s girlfriend, waves to me.

  “Hey, Lizzy,” Connor says, walking up to Ryan and I, placing his arm around me. He’s posturing, and it’s uncomfortable and my eyes immediately seek Ryan’s out. He doesn’t seem to mind, so I pretend I don’t either.

  After I introduce everyone, and explain how Ryan is an old friend from school,

  Ryan and Devin end up leaving, and I’m left alone with Connor. But, my mind is all occupied with Ryan Wagner.

  3

  Cryin’

  I hunt the evil you pretend doesn’t exist

  Who the fuck was that asshole? Sure, running into Lizzy was great, until that redheaded jerk walked up and put his arm around her.

  Wonder how serious things are with them? Ah, fuck. Who am I to care about any of that. She’s a friend, or she used to be. So, who cares if she’s dating that guy? Lizzy had a few guys she dated in high school, and I never thought twice about it. Unless they were assholes, then I made it my business.

  Devin and I continue walking down South Beach, and I shrug off the thoughts of Lizzy.

  “Glad you came out?” Devin asks.

  “Yeah.” And I am. This is the first time we’ve hung out together since I’ve been home.

  “Lizzy’s hot. You get her number?” he asks as we head into a low-key bar.

  “Nah. She’s with that other guy.”

  “That loser? I think you should
give her a call. You could use a piece of ass,” he says.

  I flinch when he speaks of Lizzy that way. She was always just a friend. “Yeah, maybe.” I change the subject as we check out the newest hotspot in Miami.

  Later that night, when I’m damn near falling asleep, Lizzy’s bright smile enters my mind, and I fall asleep wondering what if.

  A few days later, I walk up the steps to the physical therapist’s office. It’s hot, like always in Florida, and my shoulder and neck throb. I step into the large waiting area. Elevator music plays from overhead, and the soft murmurs of patients in the chairs along the wall fill my ears as I step up to the nurse’s desk to sign in. Well hell. I glance up and none other than Lizzy stands by the reception desk, concentrating on a chart in front of her. Guess Lizzy made her dream of being a physical therapist a reality. I feel like an ass for not knowing. Her wavy blonde hair and pink scrubs are a patient’s wet dream. When did she get such perfect tits? And a curvy ass that makes me wonder what kind of panties she’s wearing? The high ponytail on her head reminds me of all the times we were little and would hang out at the roller rink. She has on these dangly surfboard earrings that make me smile. She looks up, sees me, and waves her hand. “Ryan, hey.”

  Smiling, I wave back before taking a seat.

  Half an hour later, she comes into the waiting area and calls my name.

  I follow her through two sets of doors, and as she leads me into a tiny room, my breath catches.

  I don’t know what I was thinking earlier, but I sure as fuck didn’t expect me and her in a private room together. I step past the threshold while she acts like nothing phases her.

  Of course it doesn’t. I’m overreacting. This is her job. She’s a professional. I move inside the dimly lit room and she turns to me. “Ok, I need you to remove your shirt and lie down on the table.”