Abi and the Boy She Loves Read online




  Abi and the Boy She Loves

  Book Three

  Kelsie Stelting

  For Connor, a sweet new beginning.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kelsie Stelting

  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.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For questions, address [email protected]

  Edited by Tricia Harden

  Cover design by Kelsie Stelting

  Created with Vellum

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Epilogue

  Chasing Skye: Sneak Preview

  Chapter 1

  Also by Kelsie Stelting

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  This was exactly where Jon belonged. On the track, the wind he created flying through his hair, his face determined, his lungs heaving, his muscles rippling with every labored step.

  My cheers for him blended with his parents’, Grandma’s, Jorge’s, and everyone else there to support the runners at the first indoor meet of the season. Each lap they made with Jon edging steadily ahead only reinforced how invested he was in this sport. How right the coaches had been to recruit him.

  The closer he and his competitors got to the end, the louder the entire place grew until all I could hear was an echoing of yells and claps. I watched his feet, barely touching the ground before lifting and pressing forward. Ahead.

  He crossed the finish line at the front of the pack. His steps slowed, but his chest lifted and fell rapidly. He laced his fingers behind his head and sucked in big gasps for air. As sweat slicked his skin, I thought he had never looked more beautiful.

  Not like the photo Marta snapped of me after my race. My skin was ruddy, and my frizzy hair was desperately attempting to escape my ponytail. It wasn’t fair. But then again, I didn’t have to look at myself until I’d had a good shower. I could keep taking in the sight of Jon all day long, though.

  I probably should put my tongue back in my mouth before someone slipped on my drool and got hurt. But still. Damn.

  I absently scratched at my shoulder, then stopped myself. My skin was healing, which only meant the scabs itched like crazy. Especially with the dried sweat irritating it. I was so ready for a good shower and a dinner out with our families.

  I waited in the stands with them while the awards ceremony took place. I hadn’t won any of my events, but I hadn’t placed last either. For me, that was the same as winning, and for the first meet of the season, I was thankful to just be...average. For once. It meant I belonged here too. I wasn’t just a charity case anymore; I was a part of the team.

  But Jon stood out on the platform as they placed a medal around his neck. The corners of his lips tugged against a smile as he tried acting like he wasn’t over-the-moon excited about his win.

  When we finished clapping and cheering, I leaned over to the others and said, “I’m going to the team meeting, and then I’ll take a quick shower.”

  Marta smiled at me. “Take your time, sweetie. Our dinner reservation isn’t ’til six.”

  The watch on my wrist said we were still an hour and a half off, which royally stunk. I was starving.

  Turned out, a girl could get used to eating more. And still do well in college track.

  Grandma stood up and gave me a tight squeeze.

  “I’m going to get you all sweaty!” I cried.

  She held on even tighter. “It’s worth it. I’m so proud of you.”

  I hugged her back and said, “Thank you,” even though the words didn’t convey enough. I wouldn’t be here without her.

  I went down to the place where the girls’ distance team was supposed to meet and sat on the floor beside Nikki. She was absently stretching, not really putting too much effort into it.

  “You did awesome today,” I said.

  She smiled. “It wasn’t first.”

  “It wasn’t last either,” I said. “Second place isn’t anything to turn your nose up at.”

  She pushed the end of her nose up and snorted like a pig.

  I shoved her shoulder, laughing.

  “Okay, ladies,” Coach Cadence said, silencing us and our teammates. “We had a good first meet today. We placed sixth as a team, which is very promising for our season.”

  We let out a few exhausted whoops, and she smiled until we quieted down.

  She went around the group, offering congratulations and quick pieces of advice, but she skipped me.

  “Go shower up,” she said. And then she added, “Abi, can you stay behind?”

  I nodded, not wanting to meet her eyes. I’d been happy with how I ran, but now I wondered if I should be worried. Had I done something wrong?

  As the other girls left, I stood up to face whatever Coach Cadence had to say to me.

  “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “Good?” I eyed her, waiting for the real reason she asked me to stay behind.

  Her chocolate eyes were softer now. “I know you’ve had a hard start to your semester, but I’m proud of how far you’ve come, and you should be too.”

  Relief flooded my chest, making my heart buoy so high I worried it might float away. My lightweight sneakers wouldn’t do anything to keep the rest of me on the ground. “You mean it?”

  With a smile, she nodded. “You’ve worked hard to get better, both on the track and up here.” She tapped her forehead.

  I just nodded because weekly therapy sessions hadn’t been easy. My therapist dug through the darkest corners of my mind—of my past—and worked with all the painful memories until I was exhausted in every sense of the word. It was all I could do to go back to my dorm and curl up for a nap afterwards.

  “Now, go shower up.” She nodded toward the stands
where I’d been sitting with Jon’s parents, Grandma, and Jorge. “It looks like you’ve got some fans waiting to celebrate you.”

  “Thanks, Coach,” I said.

  My smile was still on my face as I showered, changed, and met the others in the stands. Jon was nowhere to be seen, so I guessed he was still getting cleaned up.

  Grandma gripped my arm. “Can you show me where the bathroom is?”

  “Sure.” We walked through the thinning crowd to a bathroom. I stood off to the side to wait for Grandma, but she stopped beside me.

  “We need to talk.”

  I girded my heart as I stepped closer to the cinderblock wall, away from the other people walking by. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  My mind was going to all the horrible places. Cancer. Disease. Financial struggles. I needed her to just tell me so I could quit imagining every terrible scenario.

  “Your father is up for parole.”

  Chapter Two

  In all the situations I’d imagined, that was not one of them.

  I stumbled back until I was fully leaning against the wall. “They said ten years in prison.”

  “Texas prisons are overcrowded.” Her voice had a pained tone, like she hated that fact as much as a person could. “They’re trying to clear out non-violent offenders, and your father’s had good behavior.”

  Good behavior? Non-violent? “What about the hit and run where a girl died and her boyfriend nearly killed me?” I demanded, already feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline and stress saturate my system. Blood heated in my veins, boiling to the surface.

  “The police reviewed the evidence last week and said there wasn’t enough to substantiate that it was him.”

  Another blow. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  She looked toward the ground. “I thought you had enough to worry about.”

  “I do now.” I raked my fingers through my still-wet hair and scratched at the base of my ponytail.

  Grandma put a hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me, but it only agitated my itching skin and set me more on edge.

  Dad was getting out of prison. Could be getting out of prison.

  Any time I’d allowed my mind to go to that place, I’d imagined it being ten years in the future. That was long enough for me to have a job. Be settled with a family. Have plans in place and security systems on alert, in case something were to happen.

  But now? I felt just as vulnerable as I had been running through that pasture with Eric gunning the engine behind me. There were some things I couldn’t outrun. I’d gotten lucky back there. So incredibly lucky.

  Would that same kind of fortune strike again?

  “I—I need—” I stalled. What did I need? Other than new parents or for mine to be in jail, unable to harm me, for the rest of their lives? “I need to find Jon.”

  I started away from Grandma, going back toward the locker rooms. I fished my phone out of my pocket, dialed his number.

  I’d made a promise to Jon that I would tell him what was going on, and even though part of me was screaming to separate this messy part of my life from the life I wanted to live with him, I knew I couldn’t. The past had made me who I was, and Jon wanted me. All of me.

  I heard Jon’s ringtone before I saw him coming out of the locker room, reaching into his gym bag.

  “Jon,” I said, hanging up.

  He smiled at me, but his face immediately fell at my expression. “What’s wrong?” He hurried to me, and his hands went to my face, his eyes searching me for signs of trouble. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head, seconds from falling apart. “My dad might be getting out of prison. He’s up for parole.”

  I sobbed into Jon’s chest, and he let his bag drop to the floor so he could wrap his arms around me, hold me tight.

  “Abi,” he said, his voice firm. He took my arms, gripping them, and met my eyes. “I will keep you safe. I promise.”

  I could tell he meant every word. “But how?”

  We weren’t allowed to have guns on campus. All the self-defense items I’d bought hadn’t done a lick of good against Eric when I’d tried to outrun his pickup. Dad was a big man, outweighing Jon by at least a hundred pounds. What chance did he or I have?

  He pulled back and held my face in his hands. With steel in his eyes and iron in his voice, he said, “However I need to. I will not let anyone else hurt you.”

  I believed him. But as we walked to meet our families, it hit me: he’d made no promises about keeping himself safe in the process.

  We were too close to them now for me to say anything, so I just squeezed his hand a little tighter. Loved him a little harder. Jon wouldn’t think of himself when it came down to it—only the people he loved.

  I could have held on forever, but his parents greeted him with all the enthusiasm a first-place finish deserved. I watched his face light up as they congratulated him, wishing I could always see that joy there. College was hard though—we had plenty of late-night study sessions, homework dates that turned into recovery breakfasts before track practice. But we also had each other.

  Pride still gleaming in her eyes, Marta said, “We have reservations. Are you ready?”

  Jon nodded and wrapped his arm around me. I was secure once again.

  We all walked outside, but Marta offered for her and Glen to go get the vehicle. I tried not to be bothered by the grateful look on Grandma’s face. Since when was she not up for a walk?

  Glen saluted us. “Be back in a bit.”

  The four of us—Grandma, Jorge, Jon and I—stood around in silence for a moment. Jon moved behind me, resting his chin on my head, and I leaned back against him.

  “That was quite a race,” Jorge said, to Jon I knew.

  “Thanks,” Jon said. “We’ve been training hard.”

  “It shows.”

  Grandma nodded in agreement. “Abi said how busy the two of you have been. I bet you’re going to be ready for a break come Christmastime.”

  Jon held me a little tighter. “You have no idea.”

  Chapter Three

  They dropped us off at the dorms around eight o’clock since Jon and I had homework to get done for classes Monday. Because Kyle had an out-of-town game and Jon’s dorm was empty, we went up there and got started on our assignments.

  He sat at his desk, and I dropped my backpack on the futon, which had to be a million years old. I probably wouldn’t feel safe sitting on it, honestly, if Kyle and Anika weren’t so set on abstinence.

  As I relaxed back, coils squealed underneath me. A small, niggling part of my brain immediately blamed my weight, but I caught myself mid-spiral, like my therapist had taught me.

  No more building the case against myself.

  No, it was this stupid futon that needed to be replaced.

  “You tired?” Jon asked.

  I shook my head, focusing my gaze on him. “No. I mean, yeah, but that’s not it.”

  He lifted a corner of his lips in a concerned half smile, half frown. “Worried about your dad?”

  That wasn’t it, but the news of his potential parole hadn’t helped all these loud, negative thoughts. It was like my mind was a beehive, and any mention of my parents was a bear swiping its paw at the nest. I needed time to settle.

  Jon took my silence for an affirmation and said, “Your grandma said the actual parole hearing isn’t for months. We might be worried about nothing.”

  I met his eyes, held on to the hope taking residence there. “Maybe.” I let my fears stay silent inside my mind, thinking we could be worried for exactly the right reason. My father wasn’t one to let wrongs go unpunished.

  “Maybe I could do something to distract you?” He stood up from the desk and came over to the futon, straddling my legs with his, my shoulders with his arms. There was a fiery look in his eyes I never got tired of seeing.

  I lifted my chin, putting my lips only inches from his. “Yeah?” I breathed. “What’s your idea?”

  He smirked. “I was t
hinking something like...” He pressed his lips to mine. One second. Two seconds. Enough to make the oxygen flee from my head. “How’s that?”

  I swallowed. “Not bad, Scoller.”

  His smile turned wicked. “I wasn’t going for ‘not bad.’”

  “Well then.” I quirked a brow. “You need to step up your game.”

  “Challenge accepted.” His breath tickled my skin, but soon his perfectly soft lips were feathering kisses at the base of my neck, up to my chin, the dip below my ear, nibbling on my earlobe—I gasped at the tingle that ran through my body.

  That only encouraged him.

  The kisses became faster until we were breathless and my dad was the farthest thing from my mind.

  He pulled back, his eyes still ablaze. “How was that?”

  “Flawless,” I breathed.

  When he replied, his voice was soft, his smile playful. “I aim to please.”

  As if he could do anything else. I was supposed to take Jon off the pedestal, but come on. He was Jon. And I was only human.

  Now, he got off the couch, and I pulled at his jacket, whining.

  He danced away from my grasp. “We need to get our homework done before you can distract me any more than you already have."