Let’s Start Over Read online

  Let’s Start Over

  River Laurent

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Blurb

  Acknowledgments

  1. Ivy

  2. Ivy

  3. Ivy

  4. Ivy

  5. Ivy

  6. Ivy

  7. Ivy

  8. Cooper

  9. Ivy

  10. Ivy

  11. Ivy

  12. Ivy

  13. Cooper

  14. Ivy

  15. Ivy

  16. Cooper

  17. Cooper

  18. Ivy

  19. Ivy

  20. Ivy

  21. Ivy

  22. Ivy

  23. Ivy

  24. Ivy

  25. Ivy

  26. Cooper

  27. Cooper

  28. Ivy

  29. Ivy

  30. Ivy

  31. Ivy

  32. Ivy

  33. Ivy

  34. Ivy

  35. Ivy

  36. Ivy

  37. Cooper

  38. Ivy

  39. Ivy

  40. Ivy

  41. Ivy

  42. Cooper

  43. Ivy

  44. Ivy

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by River Laurent

  Let’s Start Over

  Copyright © 2019 by River Laurent

  The right of River Laurent to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  978-1-911608-39-4

  Author’s Note

  Ahh… it’s the end of one journey and the beginning of another. For this will be my last book as River Laurent. From hereon I will be writing as Iona Rose.

  Why, you ask.

  Because I will be using the River Laurent name for my new streetwear brand. Yup, for those of you who are not on my newsletter, now you know. :)

  Thank you so, so, so much for your readership and support. It has given and will continue to give me great joy and sense of belonging.

  As always I send you all my love and best wishes for the new year. May it be wonderful, awesome, and amazing for you and me.

  xoxoxo

  Blurb

  Ivy

  Cooper Page was my first love. God, I was so crazy about him, I handed him my heart on a platter, but he went away to college, and left me and my broken heart behind.

  What did I do? I ran away to the Big Apple to make a new life, a life without him. But I could never forget him, not those beautiful green gems. They followed me right into my dreams.

  Then something terrible happened to me, and I had no choice, but to head back home while I licked my wounds and healed again.

  I thought one hundred percent Cooper would have moved on. A man like him would never stay in a small town, like Springston, Texas.

  But I was wrong Cooper was in town.

  And he was even more gorgeous than he’d been back in high school.

  He was also the owner of the bar I’d walked into looking for a job.

  Cooper

  You could have blown me down with a feather when Ivy Moore walked into my joint. No one could be that lucky.

  I knew then we were meant to be together. She was always my greatest regret, and all I wanted to do was start over, give ourselves a second chance, but it was going to take way more than just a wish. She had Do Not Touch signs put up all over her luscious curves. Who could blame her. Everything she knew about me was tainted by the past.

  I never was one to give up. She was the one woman I'd never been able to forget.

  Yup, I planned to win her back come hell or high water.

  Sooner or later I was going to taste those delicious lips again...and this time I was NEVER letting go.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank You

  Leanore Elliott

  Brittany Urbaniak

  Kristin Moran

  Chapter One

  Ivy

  The subway was stuffed full that evening. So packed it was almost suffocating. A woman’s leg brushed against my knee, and I pulled myself into an even smaller bundle, shifting in my seat to leave some space between me and the guy that smelled like a brewery.

  Alcohol bothered me now.

  I’d started to hate the stink of it, the way it could turn a perfectly normal man into a monster. I found the transformation terrifying. One moment everything was fine as he was talking and laughing, then the switch. For no good reason, dark rage took over.

  The subway rattled along the tracks and I tried to keep my eyelids from closing. God, I was so damn exhausted. The couch was uncomfortable so I didn’t sleep well last night. All I wanted to do was get home and relax, but I knew Brian would be waiting at home for me. I wondered what kind of mood he’d be in, what kind of night I was in for.

  Sometimes when I got home, he was in great spirits ready to chat and ask me how my day was. He’d sit beside me and treat me like I was a human being. IT would be the way he was during our first dates, when it was all honey and roses. Back then, I’d looked at him like he was the moon and stars. I was blinded by all the flash in him. You couldn’t properly understand the phrase, charm the birds off the trees, until you met Brian. Heck, the charming bastard sure charmed me off my tree.

  Who could blame me? He was kind and gentle with me, even in bed. None of the ‘take that, you slut’, or ‘suck my cock, bitch’, talk. He seemed to really care for me, and I loved being around him. He was amazing…for the first six months.

  Then, without warning, the first sign came that all was not well in my paradise. Okay, it wasn’t the first sign. When I thought about it, he always had a mean streak in him. He liked calling me thunder-thighs or fattie, but calling me fat wasn't exactly abuse. I did need to lose a few pounds. Some men called me curvy or voluptuous, but Brian thought I needed to lose at least thirty pounds.

  Anyway, that day I came home from work and found him almost incoherent with rage because I had put his favorite hoodie in the dryer. What did he expect, that I’d wrap it up in a towel and dry it flat, like it was a delicate cashmere sweater? At first, the sight of his red face spitting with fury as he yelled at me was so astonishing, I was too stunned to react, but when he started advancing towards me, I ran out of our apartment.

  I wandered the streets for an hour in shock. I had no best friend in the city I could go to or call and tell what had happened. As the cold seeped into my bones, I decided I would tell him to leave. After all, it was my apartment. He moved in with me because he said he couldn’t bear waking up without me next to him, but he still had his own apartment. Actually, a better one than mine.

  When I came back, he was sorry. He was so sorry tears ran down his cheeks. He even kissed the soles of my feet to show me how much he loved me, how sorry he was. For a week and a half it was paradise again. Then it happened once more. This time, he’d been drinking. He was so full of rage, for a reason so insignificant I can’t even really remember why anymore, he balled his hands into fists.

  I stared at him in horror as he swore at me and called me ugly names. When he advanced, I ran out again. This time, I was utterly determined to boot him out, but I came back to the Brian I had fallen f
or. The one that could charm the birds off the trees.

  But I wasn’t a damn bird.

  The things he called me were unforgivable. I told him I wanted him out. He told me he’d lost his apartment. Practically sobbing, he confessed he was basically homeless. He told me he was upset and frustrated because he lost his job two weeks ago and he was running down his savings. He’d wanted to tell me but he didn’t know how to.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. This was the guy who called me a worthless, fat slut less than an hour ago.

  He confessed that not having a job or a home made him feel so impotent, he was taking it out on the only person he loved in the whole wide world. Then it was meltdown time, while he spewed out about how much he needed me, how much he loved me, how he couldn't live without me. He begged for one last chance. He promised he’d surprise me with how different he was going to be.

  I wasn’t a bird, but I wasn’t a heartless monster either.

  I told him I would support him through this hard time, but if he ever tried what he did today, he was out. And I’d call the police to evict him if I had to.

  He wept with relief. That would never happen, he swore. Then he ran a bath for me and washed my back. That evening he cooked for me. The steak was a bit burnt, but the candlelight made it look okay. When I left for work in the morning, he was already up and scouring the net for work. But he never found anything, never even got so far as going for an interview.

  Slowly things started to slip again. When I came back home, he was often drunk, or on the way there.

  My clothes were too tight, too revealing, too much. It made me look like a whore. Once he spent thirty minutes grilling me about who I was fucking since I wasn’t fucking him. The answer, of course, was no one. I’d lost all interest in sex. Especially, his type of rough, ugly sex. I couldn’t even stand the thought of it.

  Then two weeks ago, it happened again. He punched the wall and made a hole in it. I looked at the hole in the drywall and realized I didn’t love him. Maybe I’d never loved him. I was just a hapless bird that had been dazzled by his enormous charm.

  I watched the drama unfold with desensitized eyes. I watched him rage, then start crawling back, but there was no coming back from this. Not for me. I told him we were finished. He didn’t cry this time. He stalked into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He'd held it against his wrist and said that if I left him he would do it. He would kill himself and write my name in his blood.

  This shook me to my core. Even when I thought about it later, it still sickened me. My blood ran cold at the idea that an action I took could result in someone’s death. It would hang over my head forever. I would never be able to forgive myself. No, the trick would be to leave with a polite note.

  I’m so sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore.

  He would be mad, but killing himself would be pointless if there was no one to watch.

  I couldn’t kick him out. My conscience wouldn’t let me, but I knew I needed to get out. I needed a change. My whole life sucked. I had no real friends. I was living with a man I didn’t love, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was stuck in a dead-end job. It was always my great dream to work for a newspaper, and I was ecstatic when I got this job, but it seemed as if my big dream and opportunity had petered out pretty quickly. It was clear my career was going absolutely nowhere. I couldn't remember the last time I received a raise, a promotion, or even a simple, ‘job well done, Ivy’ comment.

  Not to mention the fact that my boss was a complete pig. The man couldn’t even be bothered to address me by my name. It was never Ivy. Instead, it was sweetheart, honey, baby, and darlin.’ Who wanted that? A boss that treated you as if you were some sort of fluffy bunny.

  I needed to change everything.

  And I would do it too, but I needed security. I didn’t want to jump from the frying pan into the fire. So I started making plans.

  Someone at work had an apartment that would be available for rent in about a month and a half, so I talked to my landlord about leaving. He was cool with it, as he only needed a month’s notice, anyway. I’d found a home.

  Bit by bit I started bringing in my most prized possessions into work and storing them in the broom cupboard. Maria, the cleaner knew what I was doing and even though it was only sentimental stuff like photo albums and diaries, she started locking the cupboard every night when she left.

  As the subway rattled along, I closed my eyes and told myself everything would be okay. I would turn things around for me. Start a new life. Find new friends and another job.

  Tonight I would go home, shower, have my meal, and go to bed early. Hopefully, Brian would probably be passed out on the couch. If he wasn’t…I would just avoid antagonizing him.

  I didn’t know why, but today my stomach felt as if it was tied into knots. As if my body was anticipating something. Maybe the possibility of having to deal with Brian drunk, but not drunk enough to pass out. The closer my station loomed in the distance, the more I wanted to hop off of this Subway and just bolt.

  Get the hell away from him.

  Chapter Two

  Ivy

  14th Street came up out of nowhere, and a chime echoed through the car. The doors opened and people poured out into the station. My body was stiff with tension, as I followed them out. I stood at the top of the steps and glanced around at the restless city.

  I missed home.

  Yes, New York had been kind to me when I first moved here. Like everyone else who came to the big apple I too, was taken in by the glitz and glamour. A hungry young journalist ready for anything the world could throw at her.

  But now, the longer I stayed, the more I felt like I was trapped. The New York dream hadn’t happened for me and I just wanted to get out of here. To escape.

  I gripped my bag close to my body and started walking home. Our apartment wasn't far from the station. The closer I drew to my place the more my heart started to beat in my chest. My body knew something my brain didn’t. My mouth went dry, my hands were clammy. I quickly wiped them down my black pencil skirt.

  I sucked in a deep breath at the entrance of the building where I lived.

  “You’re strong. You’re not a little coward,” I told myself sternly. “Anything happens, you’ll just call the police.” I touched my cellphone and it was there, my security blanket.

  Even so, I took the stairs just to avoid getting to the apartment any sooner. TVs echoed through the doors I passed, a stereo on the top floor, blasted out rap music, the smell of cooking filled the air. With great determination, I trudged past a world of lives that were probably more satisfying than mine, and finally stood in front of apartment 410.

  Squaring my shoulders, I slipped my key into the lock and steeled myself before I opened the door. In a nice, loving relationship, I might have been greeted by the smell of food and a warm meal after putting in such a hard day at work. But I wasn’t.

  My heels clicked on the floor as I closed the door behind me. I slipped off my shoes and padded into the living room. Brian was in his favorite chair, the TV turned to football. A nearly empty bottle of vodka stood on the table and an empty one lay on its side on the floor.

  I shuddered. One bottle was not enough.

  Not tonight. Please, not tonight.

  Brian liked to push me around verbally and tell me what to do, but he’d never laid his hands on me. That's what I told myself over and over even though my gut was telling me something was different tonight. Brian was spoiling for a fight.

  “There you are, Princess.” Brian slurred as he turned his head and gave me a lopsided grin.

  I hated it when he called me Princess, because I knew what he wanted when he called me that.

  “I've been waiting for you. What took so long?”

  “Had to hand in a story.” I dropped my bag into the couch. Are you hungry? I can make us something to eat if you are.”

  “I'm starving, chubby cheeks,” he said with a wicked grin on his lips. “But…come here firs
t.”

  I tensed up. Obviously, this was not going to be a smooth night. “Let me make us something to eat first, huh?” I said as lightly as I could. I made my way around the couch of our tiny apartment. I guess I already knew what would happen. When I was in range, Brian lunged forward suddenly and grabbed my arm. His thick fingers held me a little too tightly and I squirmed in his grasp.

  “Come on, Brian. I need to make us some food, then I think we should both turn in for an early night.”

  “An early night,” he groaned and pulled me closer until I stood between his legs. Trapped. “We always have an early night nowadays. I thought we could stay up and have some fun. Like we used to. I haven’t seen my cock disappear into your pretty face for so fucking long, I bet you’ve forgotten what it tastes like to have a mouth full of my cum.”

  “I’m exhausted and I need a bath,” I said as I tried to wriggle away. “My boss was a real dick today and the subway was more crowded than usual. All I really want is a shower and some sleep for the night.”