Worthy Read online

  WORTHY

  Syd Ryan

  Worthy

  Copyright © 2018 by Syd Ryan

  Cover Designer: JM Walker of Just Write Creations

  Editor: Stephanie Marshall Ward- Editor, The Eclectic Scribe

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  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

  ***Gavin***

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  ***Gavin***

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Stalk Me!

  Prologue

  I should be the happiest girl in the world right now, but let’s be honest. I’m far from it. I’m six months post-graduation from nursing school. I have a dream job that every new grad would kill for, working with my best friend. All my bills are paid, and I have a wardrobe people would die for. I don’t have any student loan debt. I own my sexuality, and I consider myself sexually adventurous. I can go to the bar and fuck almost any man of my choosing. Let’s keep it real—I can outdrink your boyfriend too.

  I moved to Tampa, Florida, when I was sixteen years old. My parents relocated for better jobs, at least that’s the story I tell people. Even my best friend believes it. The truth is my parents were on the run. My dad chose to rob a bank, only to get $345.00. Dumbfuck. If you are going to rob a bank, at least make it profitable. My mom was on the run as well, after failing another drug screen. Moving to Florida when the pill mills were popping up was the answer to her prayers. Of course since she had chronic back pain, she was given a cocktail of Oxycontin and Xanax. The problem was two weeks in, her script for the entire month was gone. Meanwhile I was the caregiver to my five siblings: Jerrica, Jordan, Janet, Jonathan, and Julia. My life was hell. Eighteen couldn’t get here soon enough.

  My parents only lasted in Florida eighteen months. My mom had gotten a job at one of the pill mills and decided to write prescriptions for her own use. Six months before I turned eighteen, officially becoming an adult, they left me with a hundred dollars for a week’s worth of food and a Dear John letter. My mom, a product of the system, had given me instructions on how get help.

  Six months before I graduated from high school, I met my best friend, Regan. We both had to do community service hours to graduate, and we immediately hit it off. She is one of the best things that has happened in my life. A month before I met Regan, I had been placed in a foster family. I never told her. I made excuses for my parents so I wouldn’t have to explain myself.

  Nine years later, social media showed me what kind of friend it is to me. My mom reached out to me, after not having given a shit about me for the last six years. Of course she needed help; that was the only reason she was reaching out. Due to her and good old Dad being on the run, they can’t apply for public assistance. Basically, they’re living off the grid. Now I’m in a complete mind fuck. She is such a manipulative bitch, and no doubt she is playing me like a fiddle.

  Making things worse, I got written up at work yesterday. My nerves are on high alert, and I’m ready to bite someone’s head off. Madison and McKenzie, who are both two-faced bitches, were picking on Regan. Regan recently lost her boyfriend in a car wreck. She found out about the accident when he was wheeled into our emergency room. I called them out on their shit. The problem was that I did it at the nurses’ station. The nurse manager, Erin, wrote me up; now I’m mandated to ten weeks of anger management. OK, no problem, I’ll get that shit done quick. When I looked at the paper more carefully, I saw that Gavin Rodgers is the therapist assigned to the group. Now...that is a real cluster fuck. Gavin was one of my one-night stands at the bar.

  Chapter 1

  I’m now faced with two choices: complete the anger management group or seek new employment. A bachelor’s in nursing is a ticket to many available nursing jobs in the United States. But I consider Regan my only family; I can’t leave her. I won’t leave her.

  There is more to the story about Gavin. I have had plenty of interactions with my one-night stands, even becoming friends with some. They know exactly what I expect, no more and no less.

  Gavin sees clients in the emergency room, assessing them for admission to the psych unit. We call him when we get an order for an assessment, and plenty of people are on the admissions team. I’ve spoken to Gavin on numerous occasions, flirting with him. He is a beautiful specimen of an exquisite male with the body of a pure athlete. My main criteria is for a man to be tall, and Gavin is about six feet two. A short stature usually equals a small dick. I want a man to be hung. I want a man to be able to flip me into any position to get me off. I love to have orgasms and want plenty of them. Faking one or not getting off is not an option for me.

  Gavin’s body doesn’t disappoint. He played college football and, years later, his body is still on point. He has sandy blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes. He has eight-pack abs and the kind of arms that we females call “arm porn.”

  But remembering my one-night stand with Gavin makes me cringe.

  I went out to a bar that night. It was soon after Regan’s boyfriend, Jake, passed away. Usually, I’m the friend you call when you want to go out to the club, not the friend who holds you as you grieve a loss. But I had been at Regan’s side. I would do anything for her, and I’d spent several days just holding her together. This had been emotionally draining, and I needed a night out. So when Regan gave me an out, I ran with it. At the bar, I ran into Gavin and Dickhead Doug from Anesthesia. Thinking about it takes me back to that night.

  Some of the OR nurses invited me out tonight, and I can’t get to the bar fast enough. Arrionne, Jowana, John, and Bibbs. Arrionne works part-time; she works on her husband’s off days. She desperately needs this night off from the kids. Jowana is the veteran nurse, having given thirty years of service to the hospital. I think she is having a midlife crisis a little late. John recently got out of the military and is struggling to adapt to non-military life. Bibbs is an agency float nurse, and he’s ready to get out of his hotel room. He never needs an excuse to go out. Bibbs is close to finishing his sixteen-week contract, so I consider this a celebration of sorts. The operating room nurses are a blast. They never disappoint.

  Looking around my apartment, it seems like I never moved in. I have been living here for eight months; I just haven’t put the time into it. I think I got this tendency f
rom my parents because we were always on the move. Fixing up the apartment is another thing on my to-do list.

  I make myself a glass of wine to loosen myself up before heading out. I shower quickly. I walk into the second bedroom in my apartment, also known as my dressing room. I love clothes. They are my addiction. I get ready quickly. I usually take a lot of time pulling my clothes together and doing my hair and makeup. But it’s a weeknight. Basically, it’s just not worth the effort.

  An hour later, I pull up to the bar. I have one mission in mind: to drink and party it up. The O.R. nurses are already there and, from the looks of it, they have been busy. I walk up to the bar and order an amaretto and sour. I probably should have stuck with wine but, honestly, I want to get fucked up. The last few days have been emotionally draining. I’m emotionally incompetent; at least I own it. I grab my drink and head over to the table. “What’s up?”

  “Watching Bibbs and John having no game.” Arrionne tries to control her laughter.

  “Shots!” I call out and see the waitress. “This party needs to be spiced up some, four shots of fireball are required.” A shot and two drinks later, the buzz is flowing through my body.

  Gavin and Dickhead Doug walk over to us. The O.R. nurses quickly make excuses to step away from the table. They can’t stand Doug from Anesthesia. His cockiness, not to mention the damn time it takes him to put in an epidural, pisses people, off.

  “Hey, Gavin,” I say, pretending Doug is not here. But Doug speaks up anyway. “I’m here for the ladies, they want this.” He gestures to his body. I roll my eyes at him, and controlling the tongue in my mouth takes plenty of effort. Gavin sends Doug to the bar for more drinks. He is drinking whiskey. Even his choice of alcohol is intended to make him seem more manly. Doug leans in and kisses my cheek gently. Gavin is so close I inhale him too, even if it is just for a second.

  I can tell that Gavin came straight from work tonight. The man before me is indeed a beautiful male. Looking at him, I can instantly tell he’s an outdoors type of man. His skin is tanned and very smooth, not leathery or dry from excessive outdoor use. Gavin is wearing beige dress pants with a long-sleeved white linen shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, displaying the most muscular thick arms. Arms that I know could put me in any position to fuck. At this moment, I want nothing more than for him to fuck me in every position tonight.

  “So, you drew the short straw this evening?” he asks me. “Going out with Dickhead Doug tonight?” He chuckles deeply. I already love his laugh, a sign of trouble ahead that I’m ready to ignore.

  “You know...I think you are Doug’s only friend,” I say.

  Gavin smiles brightly at me. I can tell his smile is completely genuine, compared to mine, which is always programmed to fit the situation. “Come on...he has plenty of friends,” he says convincingly. The problem is I know better.

  “I would say that Doug has plenty of associates.” I try to keep a straight face but can’t. I get a good laugh out of that one. “Doug would have plenty of friends at the hospital if he would stop with the dick comments and put in a damn epidural before the sun rises. The women who work in the hospital hate him for that reason alone. We all imagine being in labor, the worst pain of our lives, with him taking the scenic route. Gavin, it is not a pretty picture.”

  “Jamie, I can’t argue with that one.”

  Doug returns with Gavin’s drink and buys a round of shots as well. Getting fucked up is moving faster than I anticipated, and I am praying to the God above that I don’t feel like death tomorrow. Gavin and I get lost in conversation and, before I know it, I’m four drinks in plus two shots. A warm, fuzzy feeling is taking over, and I love it. I can easily see why people become alcoholics. Gavin is drinking just as much as I am but, being such a large man, he isn’t even fazed.

  Time is moving faster than I want it to. I crave the sound of Gavin’s voice; I want to talk to him all night. I am intrigued by Gavin Rodgers. He has a way about him; he comes across as confident, not cocky. I like guys who know what they want and have no problem letting everyone know. Me, on the other hand—I feel like a lost soul a lot of the time. I search for qualities in men that I do not have.

  Doug seems to keep himself busy most of the night—no complaints from me. He’s trying to hook up with two blonde bimbos. I’m sure they are fascinated, with dollar signs in mind. The bartender announces last call, the part of the night I dread the most. For me, last call means another night of loneliness at home. I dread going home at night. The silence is deafening. After growing up in a large family, I haven’t gotten used to living by myself. I am trying to find a way to see if Gavin wants to come to my place or take me to his. Doug walks back to our table. All the O.R. nurses have already headed out, with the guys being the last to leave.

  “Gavin, do you think you can get a ride home?” Doug looks at me. “I want to get lost between those two blondes.”

  I roll my eyes, and holding my tongue is much harder now that I have an evening of drinking under my belt.

  “Sure, I will figure it out. Next time we go out you will be paying,” Gavin says.

  Doug nods. “Jamie, we had a lot to drink. I don’t want you driving home. Let’s get an Uber.” He sets that up, and we walk outside the bar. Gavin is holding my hand, and I love his firm grip. “The Uber will pick us up on the corner. They prefer main intersections.” I nod.

  I feel a few sprinkles of rain as we walk to the corner. The benches are filled with people waiting. Apparently, we aren’t the only ones getting an Uber tonight. The rain picks up a bit. Gavin pulls me to a sheltered area. He pushes me, so my back is up against the wall. “Jamie, come home with me tonight,” he whispers in my ear. My mind was already made up the moment he walked into the bar.

  “Why should I do that, Gavin?” I say in a teasingly manner.

  Gavin moves his body against mine. Our bodies are touching with no distance between us. He moves his head closer to my ear. My pulse begins to jump. My body knows what it wants, and it wants him. “Sweetheart, you don’t need me to explain why you should go home with me. I think your body has already answered the question.” I can’t argue with his logic; my nipples are hard and my underwear is already damp.

  Gavin leans in and kisses my neck slowly. His lips feel smooth like velvet. He kisses my neck in a soft, tender manner, letting me know he is in no big hurry. His gentleness entirely takes me off guard. His smooth movements indicate he is in control. I am distracted by his smell. I can smell the peppermint from the shot we took and his body wash. The body wash has an outdoor athletic smell that, going forward, I will recognize as Gavin. I tilt my head, wanting everything he has to give. I am utterly lost in the moment. I run my hands up his sides, and his muscles are clearly defined. Gavin’s mouth is beside my ear, and his breathing alone is setting my body on fire.

  “Jamie...come home with me,” Gavin says directly. The way he speaks to me leaves no question. I move Gavin slightly away from me; I want to look at him. My body misses the contact immediately.

  “Give me a reason to go home with you, Mr. Rodgers.”

  Gavin leans in to kiss me, and I close my eyes. I have been so eager for this moment. He covers my mouth with his, and a hungry battle of the tongues ignites. I submit to him immediately, enjoying the kiss. Gavin determines the pace, and I can’t get enough of his kisses. We are entirely lost in the moment and blind to everyone around us, but the moment doesn’t last long enough. The Uber driver blasts his horn to get our attention, and we both laugh as we get in the car.

  Gavin gives the Uber driver his address. I am staring out the window, lost in thought. The alcohol is still giving me the warmth it provided and keeping the shit in my life at bay. Gavin pulls me next to him, wrapping his hand around my leg to keep me close to him. He is on his best behavior on the way home, though I’ve been secretly hoping he wouldn’t be. Gavin pays the Uber driver and tips him well. As someone who has worked in the service industry, I appreciate the gesture.

  Gavin lives
in a gated community in Tampa Palms. The homes in this neighborhood are new construction. His house is beautiful, way out of my league. I take so much pride in my apartment, just because I can pay the rent. Growing up, I lived in houses that were later condemned. My anxiety is increasing because of the inadequacies in my life. Gavin holds my hand as we walk up to his house. He’s treating me like precious cargo, even if I know differently.

  Gavin unlocks the door and, looking at it, I definitely wouldn’t call this a bachelor’s pad. “Jamie, do you want something to drink? I have water, soda, iced tea, beer, and a bar filled with alcohol.”

  “Surprise me.”

  Gavin comes back with an amaretto sour and a glass full of whiskey for himself. I need all the liquid courage I can get. “How long have you lived here?” I ask.

  “I had this house built in 2012.” The house has a kitchen to die for: a gourmet kitchen with solid wood cabinets, a granite countertop, an oversized island, and plenty of room. Patio doors lead to a swimming pool outdoors. I love the open format you can see everything from the living room. The house is perfect, just like Gavin is. “My mother passed away as I was finishing school, and the money she left me covered the down payment.” I was wondering because jobs at the hospital pay well, but not well enough for him to have a mortgage from hell.

  Gavin gestures toward the couch and we sit down. I appreciate the time he is allowing for my liquid courage to build up. The drive back from the bar sobered me up more than I would have liked. I need to find a distraction and quickly. I suggest a drinking game. A game that will allow me to gain more liquid courage, giving me an advantage. I pick the game called three truths and a lie.

  Over the next few hours, more whiskey and amaretto flow through our bodies. We have no complaints; at this point we are sloppy drunk. “Jamie...I figured out what you were doing.” Gavin sounds sloshed.

  “Doing, what was I doing?”

  “You wanted us to get drunk.”

  “I have no clue what you are talking about it.” I wink at him.