Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2)
Life Support
Copyright © 2014 Zoe Norman, LLC
All rights reserved. Without limiting rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, introduced into a retrieval system, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including without limitation photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials.
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The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this ebook via the internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
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 persona, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For permission requests, email AuthorZoeNorman@gmail.com or write to the publisher at the address below.
Caitlin A. Bellum, Attorney
Helsell Fetterman LLP
1001 4th Ave., Ste. 4200
Seattle, WA 98154-1154
Cover design prepared by Robin Harper, Wicked by Design
Editing by Mickey Reed, Mickey Reed Editing
Book formatting by Stacey Ryan Blake, Champagne Formats
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights this work. Unauthorized duplication is strictly prohibited.
The subject matter contained herein is not appropriate for minors. Please note that this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Other Books by Zoe Norman
Bonus Excerpt - Under Contract by Jacquelyn Ayres
Under Contract - Chapter One
Bonus Excerpt - Jag by Stevie J. Cole
“ARE YOU COMING, BEAUTIFUL?!” I yell down the hall toward my bedroom while checking my watch for the fourth time. I’m not-so-patiently waiting for my girlfriend, Olivia, to emerge. We agreed to leave my place at nine thirty a.m. and we’re currently running nearly forty minutes late. Big shocker. I don’t do late, so I’m growing mildly frustrated.
Olivia and I have been dating for a little over eight months, and I have to say that things have been going very well. I’m pretty impressed with us if I do say so myself. And if you know me at all, that’s saying a lot. She’s somewhat successfully managed to change my ideas on being in a relationship. I was an FDNY firefighter by day and a playboy by night. I’ve kept the job but lost the attitude. If I’m being honest, I still become paralyzed with fear at the thought of being in a relationship again, but love makes you do ridiculously stupid, awesome things. Gotta let go of your past to gain a better future and all that shit, right? See? I’m learning.
Speaking of learning, I’m taking notes on Olivia’s quirks, like running late—constantly—and how she fiddles with her fingers when she’s nervous. I’ve learned that she likes to have one pump of chocolate sauce—not syrup—in her nonfat latte and she’s an avid reader of smut. That last one comes in very handy for me, let me tell you. I’m learning that she loves sushi and, as much as I’ve tried to get her to like it, hates football. She’s also proven on more occasions than I dare to admit that she’s super smart. Jeopardy producers, if you’re out there, give my girl a call, because she’s freakishly intelligent.
I know it sounds cliché, but it really does seem like yesterday when I met the beautiful psychologist Olivia Burke in an airport bar of all places. By some twist of fate, I was seated next to Olivia on a six-hour flight from New York to Seattle. I turned slightly stalkerish in my attempt to see her again, and we spent five amazing days together, mostly with me buried deep inside her. Something changed for me on that trip to Seattle. If I stop and think about it, that change happened when I went in search of a beer at that dingy Irish airport bar. When her eyes hit mine –boom. I was done.
Olivia has since fondly dubbed that ride “the flight that changed our lives.” I know. I hear it too. I sound like a lovesick fool. Although that flight was less than a year ago, I’m hardly the same guy who was on that plane. I’ve changed. I’ve matured. I still have my moments of sheer panic when it comes to commitment, but I know I just need to stay focused on what’s important in my life, and what is most important, most precious, most treasured to me is the woman who currently occupies my bathroom and refuses to come out.
Although Olivia and I have been dating for a number of months, she has never pressured me into introducing her to my family. She met my sister, Emily, at the hospital after I had my accident. Outside of that brief encounter, there has been no interaction with Olivia and my family. I know she’s been patiently waiting to meet my mother and get to know Emily a little better. Admittedly, it’s long past due. Luckily, our work schedules have matched up for us to both have this weekend off, and today is the day where we make the trip to my mother’s house in Woodbridge, Connecticut, to formally introduce Olivia to my family as my girlfriend.
Surprisingly, I’m really not nervous at all. Olivia, on the other hand, does not share my sense of calmness. She’s been primping and preening for the past two hours and changed her outfit twice. I’ve witnessed the transformation of her hair from down in beautiful curls to an updo, and the last time I saw her darting frantically across my apartment, she had a half-up, half-down hairstyle—for now.
I have to chuckle to myself at Olivia’s nervousness. Of course, she has no reason for concern. My mom, Mimi, my sister, Emily, and my brother-in-law, Vince, are easy to love and as nonthreatening as a sle
eping baby. I know, without a doubt, they will love her too. I’m not sure why I’ve waited so long to introduce her to my family, and I’m kind of embarrassed by it. Like with most things, I’m a little slow on the draw when it comes to all things ‘relationship.’ However, now that Olivia has agreed to move in with me, it’s gotten to that ‘it’s the next step’ phase and I’m happy to be making the day trip out to my mom’s to introduce Olivia to the other most important people in my life.
“Olivia!” I yell a little louder down the hall. “Babe, I’m sure you look beautiful as always, but if we don’t hit the road soon, the traffic is going to be a bitch. Will you please just come out already?” I wait two beats for a response.
Hearing none, I flex my arms, shake my fists at the ceiling, and throw my head back in a silent, frustrated yell. I walk the few steps down the hallway toward my bedroom. When I swing the door open, I catch Olivia’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hips are pressed against the countertop and one eye is closed, her mouth agape as she applies her black mascara.
Olivia meets my gaze in the mirror as I enter the en suite bathroom and stand behind her. Instinctively, I grab her hips with my fingertips and pull her back toward me so she’s nestled against my crotch. She stands up straight and groans annoyingly as I begin to dry-hump her from behind. Hey, if I see an opportunity, I take it. Olivia bent over the countertop and in front of the mirror is one of my favorite positions with her.
I stop pumping against her and wrap an arm around her shoulder and across her chest, drawing her back against my front. I lovingly kiss her neck. “You look beautiful. For serious. Please. Let’s go before you and this dress change my mind and I call my mother to tell her we’ll be there for dinner, not lunch. This dress is incredible, by the way. Is it new?” I ask as I skim my hand down her side to rest on her hip.
Olivia surveys her short, little sundress in the mirror and pulls away from my grasp. “You don’t think it’s too short?” She turns from side to side and sweeps her hand over her firm ass, seemingly skeptical of her outfit. The dress fits her perfectly and it definitely has an effect on me. “I think I look like a slut,” she pouts. “I’m going to change.”
As Olivia turns on her heel toward the walk-in closet, I grab her wrist and yank her back and into my arms, pressing her against my solid chest. “Listen, I think you look phenomenal. There’s no need to change.” I bend to kiss her reassuringly on the lips.
“But I—”
“Let me put it another way,” I interject. “If you change again, I’m going to leave you here and visit my mom without you. That will make me upset. It will make my mother disappointed, and you know I try very hard not to let down my mother.” I smile sarcastically and tilt my head to the side.
Olivia purses her lips and looks up at me through her long, dark eyelashes. “Okay. No changing,” she acquiesces.
“Good. Thank you.” I give her a kiss on her forehead and release her from my hold. As Olivia bends to slip on her strappy sandals, my hand makes contact with her ass. I grab a handful and give it a firm squeeze. “I’ll grab the wine from the fridge and meet you by the door. Ten minutes, Olivia. Ten,” I stress.
Olivia yelps and stands up quickly. “You tease! Keep that up, mister, and there’s no way we’re making lunch at your mother’s.”
“Promises, promises.” I grin to myself as I make my way toward the kitchen.
The drive to Woodbridge is relatively uneventful. We run into traffic—as I suspected we would—but we manage to make it to my mom’s house without too much delay. As I shut off my black Range Rover, I turn in my seat and look at Olivia. She’s twisting her fingers in her lap and looks a pasty shade of white.
“How are you feeling? Ready?”
Olivia runs her hands over her legs, pulling her dress down as far as it can. I can’t help but stifle a laugh.
“What?!” she asks.
“Nothing, nothing,” I grin. “It’s just I’ve never seen you this nervous before. I think it’s kinda cute.”
Olivia rolls her eyes at me and drops down the sun visor to check herself out in the mirror yet again. I reach over and flip up the visor. After grabbing her hand, I bring it to my lips and softly kiss the inside of her palm.
“You look beautiful. I love you. They’ll love you. They already know how happy you make me, and honestly, that’s enough for them. Please. Do me the honor of meeting my family?” I ask hopefully.
Olivia’s tense shoulders instantly relax and she inhales a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
She smiles back at me with a renewed resolve, and I give her a reassuring wink as we both exit the vehicle.
“Wow…” Olivia gasps, getting a good look at my childhood home.
The 3,800 square-foot house sits on an acre of property with my mother’s pristine lawn greeting all who visit. The stark, white Craftsman, complete with black shutters and a gleaming red door, seems to sparkle in the late morning sun.
“Is this the famous lawn?” Olivia asks with a knowing smile.
My mother is just north of obsessed about her lawn. When she resodded the grass a few years ago, she did her research and knew that she needed to have a hybrid of four types of Kentucky bluegrass strains and two types of perennial rye grass strains. Now, it is with great pride that she has a lawn that would put any major league ballpark to shame.
“It is the famous lawn. Beautiful, isn’t it? You’ll score major points if you tell my mom how immaculate it is,” I halfway joke in an effort to help calm Olivia down, but she doesn’t take the bait. I pull Olivia toward me and grin as I slink an arm around her waist and tilt her chin up to look at me. “Relax, beautiful. It’s going to be a nice day, okay?” I lean down and give her a quick kiss.
Olivia offers me a hopeful look. “Okay. You’re right. It’s going to be a great day,” she states so emphatically that I almost believe her.
I give her another reassuring kiss and we turn to walk up to the house.
“Mom? Em? We’re here!” I call out as we walk through the front door, pulling Olivia inside the house. Okay, maybe I’m just a tad anxious.
“Owen!” my mom calls out from the kitchen. She rounds the corner, drying her hands on a hand towel before laying it over her shoulder. “Olivia,” she says with a bright smile and her arms outstretched. “It is so nice that Owen has decided to finally share you with us for a few hours.” Mom lifts a shoulder and winks, teasing me. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Bypassing me, my mom embraces Olivia in a warm, welcoming hug. Olivia returns the hug and looks at me over my mom’s shoulder, looking somewhat surprised by the instant show of affection.
I lift my brow and smirk. “We’re kind of a touchy-feely family,” I explain.
“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Maxwell,” Olivia replies, pulling away from her.
“It’s Mimi or Michelle. Family calls me Mimi, so I’d prefer that,” Mom says with a wide smile. “And my Owen,” she says, finally giving me a hug. “How are you both?”
“There he is!” Emily interrupts. She and her husband, Vince, walk down the staircase hand in hand, beaming when they see that we’ve finally made it.
“Emmers!” Once they hit the foyer, I give my sister a big hug that lifts her off the ground. “It’s great to see you, Em,” I say with genuine affection as I place her back on the floor and place a kiss on her cheek.
“You too, you big goober.” Emily runs a hand over her sandy-blonde hair and straightens her shirt before turning toward Olivia.
“Emily, you remember Olivia?” I am one month and four days post my work accident where I fell in a collapsed fire escape outside a brownstone in Brooklyn. When I was recovering in the hospital, Olivia was introduced to Emily. I’m told that the meeting went well, but I can only imagine how awkward that initial meeting was, especially since Olivia and I were broken up at the time.
“Of course. I think we both look a little better than the first time we met,” Emily ch
uckles, fluffing her hair dramatically. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Olivia.”
“Agreed!” Olivia extends her hand with a warm smile. “That was—”
Emily takes hold of Olivia’s hand and pulls her in for a hug. Olivia laughs softly and quickly wraps her arms around Emily, hugging her back. Emily pulls away briefly, not actually letting go of Olivia, and waves toward her husband.
“This is my Vince,” she says with an affectionate smile.
“Hi, Vince. So nice to meet you!” Olivia says, reaching out her one free hand to shake his.
He squeezes her hand and smiles. “As you can see, we’ve been dying to see the woman who finally got Owen to settle down. We thought you might be a figment of his imagination or something.”
I punch Vince in the arm and he falls into a fit of laughter. “Seriously, Vince? What the fuck!”
“Language!” my mother calls out.
I look at her apologetically. “Sorry, Mom.”
“Okay, enough of this silliness. Let’s get into the kitchen and catch up.” Mom grins. She reaches for Olivia’s hand and starts to drag her toward the kitchen, pulling her from Emily’s death grip. “Come on, Miss Olivia. Time for me to start grilling you properly.”
“Be easy on her, Mom. And, Olivia, just remember that I love you. A lot.”
Olivia looks back over her shoulder at me with a smile. I know Olivia will be able to handle herself with my mom. But just in case, I start to follow them into the kitchen. After taking a seat at the counter, I watch as Olivia deflects the conversation from herself by getting my mom to talk about her yard. Nice move, baby. Well played.
While Olivia steps into the kitchen to speak with my mom, I pick a spot at the counter far enough away to give them some privacy, but close enough to step in to redirect the conversation if necessary. “So,” Emily begins, pulling out a stool to sit next to me while Vince flanks me on the other side. “What took you so long to get her over here? She’s quite charming.”
“She’s a lot of things—charming being just one of them. I don’t know why it’s taken us so long to get out here. I just know that I was ready and our weekend schedules lined up, so here we are. Mom’s coming with us out to Seattle for Travis’s wedding in a few weeks, so I wanted to make the formal introductions before then.”