Steal Me (Haunted Roads Book 1) Read online

  Steal Me

  India R. Adams

  Copyright © 2018 by India Adams

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  A Haunted Roads Novel

  Book one in the Haunted Roads series

  Sarah Carleton, Red Adept Editing

  Kendra Gaither

  Gillian Berstrand

  Cover by

  Simply Defined Art

  Cover Model

  Andrew Chastain

  Photographer

  Nathan Baerreis Photography

  Formatting

  Graphics Shed

  I don’t think it’s possible to hate someone you love…

  I should.

  I should tell…

  I should scream!

  But I can’t.

  I love him.

  ~Delilah~

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Books by India R. Adams

  India’s Thank Yous

  Songs That Inspired India for Steal Me

  Dedicated to survivors of all kinds

  Chapter One

  Maverick

  Anyone who has been awakened at three in the morning by a knock at the door knows how god-awful it can be. Unless a well-mannered burglar is trying to get your attention, there are only a handful of reasons why someone would interrupt your sleep. Maybe a friend needs a ride, or someone has given birth. But sometimes, it’s the worst reason possible.

  My dad was out of town for work when the knock came, during my junior year of high school. Only my little sister’s nightlight lit the hallway between my room and my parents’. Mom’s silhouette was motionless. Not till I found the switch did I see her agonized expression. She must have had an inkling of what was to come.

  I didn’t. “What’s wrong?” I was sixteen and immortal. At least, that was how I felt. What sports-playing, fist-pumping teenage male doesn’t feel that way? I already had a college scholarship lined up and a hot girlfriend.

  What else was there to life?

  I’ll tell you. Life. And life has wicked ways of reminding you who’s in control.

  My mom’s legs began to move though the rest of her body was rigid. I followed her down the stairs, catching my first shot of adrenaline. When she stopped moving on the steps, I had my second shot. Over her head, I saw through our front door’s window. The glass was blurry for privacy, but there was no mistaking the outlines of two officers waiting on the porch, shifting their weight as if not comfortable being there.

  Her knees gave out. “Mom?” I caught her under the arms and set her on a step.

  “I…” She tried to talk. I stepped around Mom as her hand covered her mouth, her terrified eyes glued to the door.

  “Mom, do you want me to answer that?”

  Her face was pale as she numbly pointed.

  I headed to the door. My chest was pounding, but I was still clueless at how my life was about to shake like an earthquake, nine points on the Richter scale.

  I don’t quite remember opening the door. I only remember Mom’s screams waking me from the shock that took hold of me. The screams were what jolted me from where I stood staring at the officers as if they had not just said my father had been killed.

  “Did you hear me, son?”

  I remember thinking how inappropriate it was that the officer just called me son when my father no longer existed.

  My mom did eventually stop screaming that night, but she, too, was never the same. The love for the man—my father—was too much to bear when he no longer existed. At least, they said he no longer existed, but no matter which way I turned, he was still present. Especially when I looked at Bailey.

  Two months had passed when one morning my little sister’s nose scrunched. “Mavowick, my milk tastes funny.”

  In our kitchen, I took a bite of my little sister’s cereal then immediately spat it into the trash. “Mom, the milk is rotten.”

  Mom’s body might have been sitting in the chair next to Bailey’s, but my mom wasn’t there. Her vacant eyes stared out the kitchen window, unresponsive to any word I said. I followed her empty gaze out the window, wondering what she was seeing—wondering if I, too, could fade away into a distant place and avoid the crushing sensation in my chest. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bailey reaching for her spoon. I grabbed my sister’s bowl. “Peanut, don’t eat that. Want some toast?”

  Her voice was timid as she looked at the zombie form sitting next to her. “Mommy? Do we have any bwead?”

  Bailey had always said my name and certain big words with some struggle, as if the syllables were too big for her mouth. But her pronunciation of R, L, and Th became a new speech impediment after my father’s death. I knew I should repeat the word bread correctly, as per her psychotherapist’s instructions, to encourage Bailey to try again, but my throat tightened, preventing me. I sensed my sister’s insecurities about my mom’s mental state.

  Bailey was only five but was smart and aware. She was lacking the care a little girl needed. That was the moment I took over. I almost felt my dad’s hand resting on my shoulder, begging me to do right by his family. It was time to become the man he’d always said I would be, to let go of what had no value and hold tight to what mattered most.

  “Bailey.” I held open my arms. She stood on her chair, mimicking me—forced smile and all—trying to love the game we always played, but I could see doubt in her eyes. I wrapped her in my arms, smothering her against my chest and continuing our game as if our world wasn’t crumbling around us. “Who loves you?”

  “My big brwoder, Mavowick.”

  I squeezed. Her blond curls smelled like bubble bath. “That’s right, Peanut. Want a PB&J sandwich?” Her little head bobbed as she clung to my neck. Before making her sandwich, we stood there and watched my mother fall farther away from us. Baily’s arms tightened around my neck. I asked my mom, “Do you want me to drop her off today?”

  No reaction. Mom’s eyes never drifted from the dark place in her heart.

  “Mom!”

  She inhaled sharply, startled, as she looked around and noticed she was in the kitchen. When she peered up at Bailey and me, the kitchen’s lighting showed how sunken her cheeks had become. “Yes, baby?”

  My sympathy for my mom skyrocketed, and I realized she wouldn’t know the milk had gone bad because she hadn’t had a glass since Dad died. I told her with infinite kindness, “Uh, I was thinking I could drop Bailey off at preschool today… for you.”

  She tried to smile, but it never reached her haunted eyes. “That would help. Thank you, Maverick.”

  I knew she wanted to crawl back in bed—hide away from the world and go back to sleep. Sleeping was how she avoided the pain.<
br />
  Still holding Bailey, I went to my mom. “Bailey, give kisses.” Little lips puckered up, offering unconditional love. When Bailey wrapped her arms around my neck again, Mom had tears in her eyes. I cupped her cheek. “We’ll get through this, Mom.”

  She nodded, but I didn’t think she believed me. I didn’t believe myself either.

  No one at the preschool was shocked to see that I was the one dropping off Bailey. My mom had been one day away from a breakdown for some time. The teachers watched me with pity in their eyes, yet kept their distance as if my sadness was somehow contagious. Many of my classmates treated me differently, but when they started pulling away, I thought that was—well, it was shitty. Friends to the end was not the case. I think I became too sorrowful for them. I was no longer the happy-go-lucky jock everyone wanted to hang out with after I turned in my boxing gloves.

  Walking into school had become a drag. Those hallways had once been my palace—where my throne had resided. I rocked that place when I believed my status to be important. The only relief walking the corridors brought me after my father’s death was knowing any second Tara would be in my sight. That changed the day shortly after the funeral when I turned a corner and saw Smith whispering in her ear.

  Tara had been different in the beginning. At the funeral, she’d stood by my side and cried to my friends. At the time, I’d been surprised to see how my father’s death was affecting her so deeply; she had only met him twice.

  Smith, a football player who I had gone a couple rounds with in the past, was not a friend of mine. That morning at school, he smirked at me, ran his hand over Tara’s ass, and kissed her cheek—a kiss that she eagerly leaned in to receive. Then he said, “Hey there, Maverick,” over Tara’s shoulder. The announcement of my arrival had tension sneaking across Tara’s back.

  The old me would have jacked him up and fought for what I thought was mine. The new me now knew nothing was forever and to let go when it was time. I lifted my chin. “Smith.”

  He proudly walked away. He had won this round; we both knew it. Slowly, Tara turned to me, searching to see how much I had witnessed. Then she took on an elaborately casual expression. “Hey, baby.”

  I inhaled deeply, trying to prepare for another blow to my gut. I’d taken this girl’s virginity—or so she had said—and believed we had been tight for six months. With my new perspective on life, I put my hand up to stop Tara from getting closer.

  “What? Maverick, what’s wrong?”

  I realized she was a complete stranger to me. “I was running to you, Tara. Now I don’t even know who Tara is. You may be young, and you clearly want to be free, but damn, girl, couldn’t you have let me go before you moved on? Why drag me through more fucking dirt? Don’t you think I’ve been through enough?”

  Sitting in class, I felt like an alien. Students were filing in, jabbering about subjects that now felt juvenile. I had no place in this high school world anymore. Kevin—a buddy—walked to the desk that was next to mine and slid into the seat like the gangster he so desperately wanted to be. “Yo.”

  I only nodded, too tired to give a verbal response. He didn’t notice and looked at his vibrating cell phone. “You and Tara broke up?”

  Damn, that was quick.

  That pretty much summed up the rest of my junior year. A new routine had taken the place of the old: Bailey.

  I’d never respected a parent’s responsibilities until I started acting like a parent myself, raising my little sister. As my mom sank lower, I rose higher and became what Peanut depended on most. Being into sports, I had some education about which foods built muscles, so with a little more research, I learned how Bailey should eat to stay healthy.

  Friends—let me rephrase: acquaintances—and teammates were not patient or understanding of my new parental role. Every time I was asked to go to a party, my reply was the same. “Got Bailey tonight.”

  “Damn, man! When did you become her dad?” Kevin would say. Then he would look guilty and apologize. “Maybe next time?” Eventually, even next time was no longer offered. I felt left out, but what was I to do? Turning my back on my mom or Bailey was not an option. Ever.

  My old coach, the only one I felt I could turn to, was worried for my family’s future. The driver who’d killed my dad had been drinking, and the company that owned the truck he was driving had lawyers who seemed petrified of the multimillion-dollar lawsuit my family was entitled to. Mom, being in a world of heartbreak, was in no shape to take on the corporate lawyers.

  “Coach, how’d you end up marrying a hot, smart lawyer?” I asked with a smirk.

  A grin that only a male could give crossed his face. “Not giving up my secrets, kid.”

  I thought about his wife’s advice and took a deep breath. “You think this is the right thing to do?”

  “Just talk with her. Think you can get your mom to her office?”

  I did. My mom was extremely distant, but with my persuasion, she signed papers, and we had representation. Coach’s wife was good to us. She gave us options, and we were able to settle out of court. She warned that the amount was way less then we deserved, but to fight for more could take years and money I didn’t have.

  Our lawyer took a small percentage, but it still left us with a healthy sum. Along with the proceeds from my father’s life-insurance policy, we had enough money to invest and keep food on the table. I didn’t have to hold a job on top of everything else my senior year, and I even secretly hoped I’d find a way to still attend college.

  My heart told me that Mom would find her way back to us someday, but when my cell phone went off one day during fifth period, I couldn’t help but panic. Mom never called during school hours—she was always sleeping then.

  From the back of the classroom, holding up my cell, I looked to my teacher, hoping she could see my torture and allow me to break school rules. Understanding crossed her face immediately. Mrs. D nodded and pointed toward the door.

  Heading out of the classroom, I answered. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  She sounded hysterical. “Bailey’s school just called saying she’s crying and needs to come home! Mav! I can’t drive like this!”

  “Mom, I need you to hang up and breathe. I’m calling Bailey’s school right now.”

  My voice echoed in the empty hallway as I spoke with her school. “Hi, this is Maverick, Bailey’s brother…” The principal walked by, looking at me. I was so tired of seeing pity in the eyes of adults.

  By the time I got to Bailey, teachers were gathered around her. Her little chest was heaving as though she’d been hyperventilating, and there were telltale dried lines, showing how tears had been streaming down her heartbroken face. “Peanut,” I called out in her school’s hallway.

  Bailey came running to me, starting to cry all over again. Seeing her alarmed face, my Peanut so scared, had me struggling to breathe. The need to take away her fear made me realize my sacrifices were worth it, and I would continue to put the one running toward me above all else. I scooped her up and wasn’t sure I would ever let her go. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  Bailey was gasping, her distress amping up her impediment. “I—I had a nightmawre at naptime.”

  “About what, Peanut?”

  “You—you died, Mavowick. I… I wost you.” Bailey’s voice trembled with a fright I didn’t even know she was capable of.

  “Look at me.”

  Watery red little eyes looked into mine as I brushed her leaking nose with a finger that dwarfed her. I wiped her snot on my jeans as a distraction. I could barely talk because I was choking on emotions. “You won’t lose me. I’m here for you, and that won’t change.”

  A tiny hand lay on my cheek. “But I wost Daddy.”

  I swallowed the lump that had lodged in my windpipe. “Nothing will take me from you, Peanut. I swear it.” And I carried my sister out the door, her head resting on my shoulder.

  Getting Bailey calmed, bathed, and to bed was only the beginning of my night. Walking down the stai
rs, I saw my mom sitting on the couch, melting into an old photo album. Taking a deep breath, I asked myself, What would Dad do? My answer came when I opened the fridge. Instead of grabbing dinner, I grabbed two beers and headed to the living room.

  After turning on a lamp, I handed her a beer. “It’s Friday. Can your son share a beverage with you?”

  A shaky hand reached for the cold bottle. “That would be great, if you don’t mind.”

  “Mind? Mom, teenage boys are physically unable to not enjoy beer.”

  Sitting next to her, I watched my mom turn pages, her fingers sliding over the clear film covering the photos as if trying to touch him. “I’m tired of hurting… but I can’t stop… I miss your father, Maverick.”

  My chest tightened for the umpteenth time that day. Her emotions were raw, and mine mirrored them. I pointed to a picture. “I remember that one.”

  She nodded. “The park down the street… see, Mav? It’s like everywhere I look, I see him. I can’t find one spot in my life where… he wasn’t a part of me. My best friend is gone.”

  My heart finally sank. It simply plummeted for the woman sitting beside me. I’d thought of parents as a joined force, allies in making childhood and teenage life about No and Don’t touch that or What did you just say to me? But I never thought of them as friends.