Truly Yours Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Kennedy Fox

  www.kennedyfoxbooks.com

  Truly Yours

  Mason & Sophie, #2

  Cover Photo by Perrywinkle Photography

  Cover design by Simply Defined Arts

  Copy Editor: Jenny Sims | Editing 4 Indies

  All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  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

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Hey readers!

  Truly Yours Playlist

  Bonus Scenes

  About the Author

  Connect with us

  Books by Kennedy Fox

  Free Books!

  Newsletter

  A Note from the Authors

  Acknowledgments

  “I'm sorry that I let us down again

  I never meant

  To break your heart, tear us apart like this

  Oh, I just wish that I could go

  Back to

  Back then

  Back when we were more than friends

  “More Than Friends”

  -Mokita

  Chapter One

  Sophie

  Caleb parks the car in front of the church, and we sit with it running for a moment. Then he turns and looks at me with tears in his eyes. Even though this week has been a sad reminder of what he’s lost, I’m happy I was able to be here for him tonight, considering his current state. It’s hard seeing a man so broken, especially one who obviously loved his wife very much.

  “Thanks for coming with me, Sophie. This has been a hard week, and I’ve been struggling pretty badly to just go through the motions.” A small smile meets his lips as he lets out a sigh.

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry you’re going through this. I get it,” I tell him sincerely.

  His eyes meet mine. “But do you? Do you really get it?” His harsh question takes me off guard, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s having an emotional week, or if he’s second-guessing my reasons for joining the group in the first place. Or maybe it’s my own guilt.

  I suck in a ragged breath, worried he’s calling me out for how I truly feel about Weston’s death, but there’s no way he could know. I’ve been vague, hardly mentioning anything about my issues as I try to work through them. For a moment, I think about Weston, and the air in the car gets thick, the weight of it sitting heavy on my chest. I feel like a fraud because I’m not mourning the loss of a man who abused me, and maybe Caleb finally realizes that.

  “I do get it. It may be on a different level, but I understand what it’s like to feel a missing piece of your heart,” I tell him, hoping that’s enough for him to stop questioning me. Glancing down at my phone, I realize we only have a few minutes until the meeting starts. “We should probably go inside so we aren’t late.”

  With a nod, Caleb turns off the engine, and we get out of the car. Just one hour of this, then I can go home to Mason, I remind myself.

  “Do you miss him?” Caleb asks as he opens the door to the church and motions for me to walk in ahead of him. I turn and look at him and think about how close I was to dying by Weston’s hands. My heart beats erratically, and I try to push away the anxiety threatening to take hold, but I feel myself failing miserably.

  “I miss the good times.” I spin around and walk toward the room where our meeting is held. I’m not lying but also not offering any additional information. I’ve kept it bottled up, refusing to tell my secret to a room full of strangers. It’s not easy to explain the emotional effects of abuse to people, and considering this is my last meeting, I don’t think I need to do it here.

  “You okay?” Caleb asks as I take a seat and try to focus on my breathing.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” But I’m not. I’m spiraling to a dark place—a place I’ve tried to forget so many times in the past several weeks. It’s as if Weston has come back from the grave to take hold of me; to remind me I was his, and that I will always be his.

  The chair next to me stays empty until right before the meeting starts. An older woman sits next to me and smiles. I think her name is Annette, and I know I’ve seen her here before. She has a kind face and is soft-spoken, but just like the rest of the people in this room, she’s grief-stricken and broken.

  I wait for Dacia, hoping to see her tonight since I haven’t heard from her lately. She’s never late and doesn’t usually miss any meetings, so I find her absence odd. I pull my phone from my clutch and send her a message because I’m worried. Opening the last text I received from her, I notice the date is from a few days before the dinner party when she confirmed she’d be coming, but then didn’t.

  Pastor Jude walks in and greets everyone with his usual warm smile. He lets us know a couple of members are running late, so the meeting will begin shortly.

  “Who are you texting?” Caleb leans over and glances at my phone.

  “Dacia. Have you spoken to her lately?” I ask.

  Caleb shakes his head. “Nope. Haven’t heard from her since she ditched your party.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, then release a concerned breath. Moments later, the meeting starts, so I tuck my phone away and try to stay focused.

  My mind is in another place as people go around the circle and share their stories. I think about what losing Weston really means to me. For almost two months, I’ve buried my feelings, though the thoughts of him and what he did to me still haunt me.

  One woman lost her husband three years ago and still hasn’t gotten over it. I’m tempted to ask her if he ever hit her, or threw her around, or made her feel like a piece of shit the way Weston continuously did to me. Being here tonight when all I want to do is forget him sends me spiraling me into a panic. I’m realizing now that I shouldn’t have come.

  As heat rushes to my cheeks, I quietly tell Caleb I’ll be right back, trying not to draw any attention in my direction. I need to escape as quickly as possible. The walls of the long hall feel as if they’re closing in, and I take deep breaths to steady my breathing. Once I’m in the ladies’ bathroom, I lean my hands against the counter, absorbing the silence. I needed to get away from the grief that blankets every person in that room.

  I glance at myself in the mirror. Contoured face, perfect hair, tight party dress, and as Mason called them, fuck-me heels. It’s supposed to be one of the happiest nights of my life—something I’ve waited to experience for years—so I won’t allow the memory of Weston to take this from me. I deserve to be happy, don’t I?

  Instead of hiding in here for the rest of the time, I head back in to my seat while the pastor’s still talking and take notice of how intently Caleb’s listening.

  “Death affects everyone at some point in their life, and most aren’t sure how to react to the loss. I think offering condolences is the polite thing to do, and you shouldn’t be off
ended when someone wants to help you.” He doesn’t take his eyes off Annette as tears stream down her face and fall on her lap. Watching her rips me up inside, and I offer my condolescenes, patting her softly on the back.

  “Would anyone else like to share how they’re feeling this week?” He searches around the room.

  Caleb speaks up and chats about his wife and how much he misses her, and it almost kills me to hear about his pain, but then suddenly, it’s like the blinders are removed. He swallows, but he almost seems emotionless as he speaks. As if he’s playing a part and has taken off the mask. I study him, wondering if Mason was right, and I just never noticed his insincerity before. Though I’m seeing it now in his mannerisms and the fierce way he glances at me.

  “Our anniversary was this week,” he continues on robotically, and I suck in a ragged breath, then check the clock. Only ten more minutes and then I’ll leave and go on my date with Mason. I allow that thought to whisk me away, and I grow more excited with each passing second.

  Pastor Jude looks at me and smiles. “What about you, Sophie?”

  He’s never called me out before without volunteering since most people just talk freely. I look up at him, feeling like a student who doesn’t know the answer to the teacher’s question. The blood drains from my face, and I feel as if I can’t focus.

  “I don’t have anything to say,” I murmur. All eyes are on me, and I’m pissed he brought any attention my way. I give a small smile and look down at my hands, wishing I could be invisible.

  An older gentleman takes his turn and talks about his daughter who he recently lost in a drunk driving accident. Losing a sibling or a significant other has to hurt, but to lose a kid? I can’t even imagine. The meeting continues, and I find myself watching the clock more intently.

  The pastor wraps up the session a few minutes early, and I feel like I’m able to breathe again. I pull my phone from my clutch and open my text messages but don’t see a response from Dacia.

  Caleb watches me as I frown. Concern doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel.

  “Ready?” I ask when everyone starts saying their goodbyes, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible.

  He looks as if he’s chewing on rocks, and I’m not sure what I did to annoy him. When I follow him outside, he’s being standoffish, but I ignore it. Caleb unlocks the car, and when I climb inside, I buckle up because I’m ready to get home. When he gets in, he looks at me, and a maniacal smile spreads across his lips. He doesn’t start the car but just stares, his cold gaze piercing straight through me.

  “Everything okay?” I furrow my brows, searching his face.

  His eyes narrow as he grabs my cheeks in his hands, pulling me toward him. “What do you think, Sophie?”

  My breathing quickens as I try to pull out of his grip. Forcefully, he presses his lips against mine, and I struggle to get away from him.

  Struggle to unbuckle.

  Struggle to get out of the car.

  But he grabs my arm, and in a split second, I see his fist coming toward me. Before I can react, I feel a sharp pain in my face, and then everything goes black.

  My eyes flutter open, and I have no idea where I am. It’s hard to focus as I look around because the room spins, and my head feels like someone drove a hammer into my face. With my arms secured tightly behind my back, I try wiggling around but then realize my ankles are duct-taped to a wooden chair. I suck in a ragged breath when I notice Caleb leaning against a counter. We’re in a house, and I’m in a kitchen, but I’m not sure where. The walls are gray, the floor is white, and the lights are so damn bright I have to squint. I quickly look over my shoulder and see a living room behind me. There’s a velvet couch, a large TV, and strange art on the walls. In the corner is a sculpture and all the curtains are drawn. Did he take me to his house?

  “So Sleeping fucking Beauty is finally awake.” His voice is gruff, and he’s pissed. I turn and look at him, unable to speak due to the tape over my mouth. He crosses the kitchen and harshly rips it off. I let out a gut-wrenching scream, which only makes him chuckle. Going back to where he was standing, he tosses the tape on the counter. He drinks straight from a bottle of what looks like tequila, then turns and looks at me with a fucked-up grin on his lips. That’s when I notice a gun on the counter next to a police scanner. The volume’s so low, I can barely hear what’s being said.

  “Caleb.” I release a ragged breath. “What are you doing?” I try to stay calm, but I’m struggling as the adrenaline rushes through my veins. “Let me go.”

  Laughter roars from his chest, and that’s when I notice light reflecting off the blade of the knife in his hand. “Let you go? I don’t fuckin’ think so, darlin’.”

  He saunters toward me again, and I keep my focus on him. Caleb presses the sharp tip to my chin, forcing me to look at him. I swallow hard as I stare into his cold eyes. “Caleb, please…”

  He adds force, digging the knife into my skin until a drop of blood drips down the blade. Pulling it back, he looks at it, satisfied.

  “Let me tell you a little story, Sophie darling.” He says my name like it’s poison and steps back. Disgust is written on his face as he glances at me.

  “Family is everything to me. I love my parents. I love my cousins. I loved my brother.”

  I don’t dare say a word. This isn’t the Caleb I met weeks ago or the man who’s shared stories about his wife. I don’t know who this Caleb is, and it’s terrifying.

  “And then one day, he died at the hands of someone else,” he adds.

  “I’m sorry. No one deserves to lose someone they love. Your wife, your brother…”

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch!” he shouts, then walks over to the roll of duct tape on the counter. He rips off a strip, then stalks toward me and slaps it over my mouth. “Don’t. Fucking. Talk.”

  Wincing, I feel tears well on the edge of my eyelids. The last time I felt this scared was when Weston lost his temper and choked me so hard I thought he was going to kill me.

  “My brother’s death was your fucking fault. Your fault. It disgusts me to look at your pathetic face.”

  My eyes go wide, confused. His brother? My fault?

  He nods at my expression, and that crazy smile returns and recognition flashes on mine. It begins to make sense. All of it.

  “Weston,” he croaks out and stabs the blade into the countertop next to the gun. I shake my head, wishing I could scream so someone knew where I was. A cell phone vibrates next to him, and when he grabs it, he flashes a devious smirk.

  “Ahh, your boyfriend’s really starting to panic now.” His shrill laughter sends a shiver down my spine. “See, this is the thing…” Caleb juggles the phone between his palms. “Earlier tonight, he figured out who I really was, and while you were busy in the bathroom, your phone kept vibrating and interrupting the meeting. So I opened your clutch to silence your phone. But then I read his messages, his warnings to get away from me, and that’s when I knew I had to put my plan into action tonight. He killed my only fucking brother and then got away with it!” His voice booms against the walls. “And it’s your fault because you’re a goddamn lying, cheating whore, and you got your boy toy to get him out of the picture so you two could be together. Now, you’re going to pay. An eye for an eye. Hell, you’re both going to pay, and it will be the justice my brother and family deserve.”

  I try to scream, but it’s so muffled from the tape there’s no way anyone outside this room can hear me. I’m not even sure where we are, what time it is, or even if I’m still in Sacramento.

  “Your boyfriend is a murderer and got away with it because of who is daddy is, so I’m taking matters into my own hands. It’s really a shame I have to kill you, Sophie, because you’re actually pretty. I would’ve fucked your brains out in a heartbeat.”

  Disgust rolls through me as I narrow my eyes at him. Then he walks toward me and rips the tape off my face again, which hurts like a motherfucker.

  “You got something to say?�
� He leans down, his face inches from mine.

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes tight, hoping this is all a sick nightmare I haven’t woken up from.

  “Caleb,” I plead softly when I finally look at him. He stands and paces in front of me. “Just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone about this. We can go our separate ways and both move on with our lives. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  The tears come, and I try to push away my hysteria.

  He furrows his brows as if he’s studying me, and what scares me the most is how insane he looks. “Did you love him?” he asks, and when I don’t answer, he repeats, “Did you love my brother?”

  My eyes meet his, and I see the resemblance between the two of them even more, though I remember recalling a familiarity about him when we met. Now it makes sense. They’re both fucking crazy as hell, yet I can’t figure out why Weston never mentioned having a brother. He never gave me many personal details about himself, though, and the ones I knew were all lies. It seems as if I can say the same about Caleb. Knowing I need to choose my words carefully, I try with everything I have not to set him off, but I take too long to respond. It’s hard to say I loved a man who hit and nearly killed me.

  “Fucking answer me!” he yells, making me jump. “And don’t you dare lie to me. Your life depends on it…” His threat has my heart racing harder.

  Blinking, I swallow down the lump in my throat, hoping he can’t hear the fear in my voice. “Yes, I did at one time,” I respond honestly.