Take a Chance (29 page)

“I never knew,” Rush said quietly.

“I didn’t tell people. Dad didn’t either. After Mom’s accident, the world believed she was dead and they forgot about me. It was like I had died with her.”

Rush’s phone rang, and I hated how hope soared through me. Even if it was Grant, I couldn’t get over what he’d said.

“Hey, baby . . . I’m taking Harlow to the airport,” Rush said into the phone. It was partly Rush and Blaire’s fault. I had seen them together and wanted to know that
feeling. I had given in when Grant pursued me. Yes, he’d been pretty damn irresistible, but I’d also wanted to feel loved. I wanted to love someone freely and know the security that
came with that.

But I didn’t get that. My heart would always stand in the way. God hadn’t created Grant for me after all. No, God had left me out. Figures. I was used to being left out in life. At
least I had lived once. I had this memory to pull out and remember. Grant might not have loved me, but I had loved him. I still loved him. I knew what that felt like. I was thankful for that.

Maybe that was my gift. I had a few stolen moments of a life that I could have had if I was whole. I never had to give those memories back.

“She’s upset but she’s going to be okay . . . yes, I’m sure. She’s tough—a lot like another woman I know . . . yeah. I love you, too . . . I’ll call you
when I’m on my way home. Don’t shoot Grant if he comes over there.” Rush grinned then hung up the phone.

He glanced over at me and his grin faded. “She’ll probably call you. A lot. Be prepared.”

I needed a friend. I was glad I had one in Blaire. “Okay,” I replied.

Rush pulled into the private airport that Slacker Demon’s jet usually departed from. I hadn’t called for the jet, so it wasn’t here.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Rush flashed an ID at the gate and they opened up. “I’m getting you a private jet. You can’t walk into the airport and get on a regular plane, Harlow. You’ll get mobbed.
When you land in L.A., I’ll have a limo waiting to pick you up and get you to the house. Stay there. They’ll probably be swarming outside the gate.”

I hadn’t thought of any of that. He was right, though. My private life was now over.

“Thanks. I hadn’t . . . this hasn’t sunk in yet,” I said, opening my door.

Rush got out of his truck and walked toward the main office.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he called out.

I didn’t doubt Rush could get me a jet. He knew how to make the world do what he wanted. I often wondered if it was because he was raised in our fathers’ world.

He never seemed intimidated.

When he came walking out, he waved me over.

I went to him, trusting him to get me home safe. My time in Rosemary was over much sooner than I’d expected.

But the memory was mine to keep.

I
’ve been wanting to write Grant’s story since Blaire pointed a gun at him in the first few paragraphs of
Fallen Too Far
. At one
weak moment I even considered Grant for Blaire. I’m really glad I gave Rush and his badass a chance though. Now that I’ve written Harlow I know that Grant was always meant to wait for
her.

I need to start by thanking my agent, Jane Dystel, who is beyond brilliant. The moment I signed with her was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. Thank you, Jane, for helping me
navigate through the waters of the publishing world. You are truly a badass.

The brilliant Jhanteigh Kupihea. I couldn’t ask for a better editor. She is always positive and working to make my books the best they can be. Thank you, Jhanteigh, for making my new life
with Atria one I am happy to be a part of. The rest of the Atria team: Judith Curr for giving me and my books a chance. Ariele Fredman and Valerie Vennix for always finding the best marketing ideas
and being as awesome as they are brilliant.

The friends that listen to me and understand me the way no one else in my life can: Colleen Hoover, Jamie McGuire, and Tammara Webber. You three have listened to me and supported me more than
anyone I know. Thanks for everything.

Take a Chance
was my baby. I had grown to love Grant and Harlow before I even started writing it. Without readers who aren’t afraid to be honest with me during the beta reading, I
wouldn’t have been as happy with
Take a Chance
. Natasha Tomic pointed out exactly what was missing to me after she read it, and I knew she was right. It was the icing I needed for this
story and I love her for it. Thank you, Autumn Hull and Natasha Tomic for being my eager readers and never holding back a punch.

Last but certainly not least:

My family. Without their support I wouldn’t be here. My husband, Keith, makes sure I have my coffee and the kids are all taken care of when I need to lock myself away and meet a deadline.
My three kids are so understanding, although once I walk out of that writing cave they expect my full attention and they get it. My parents, who have supported me all along. Even when I decided to
write steamier stuff. My friends, who don’t hate me because I can’t spend time with them for weeks at a time because my writing is taking over. They are my ultimate support group and I
love them dearly.

My readers. I never expected to have so many of you. Thank you for reading my books. For loving them and telling others about them. Without you I wouldn’t be here. It’s that
simple.

Blaire told her side of the story in
Fallen Too Far
. Now it’s Rush’s turn. Read on for a sneak peek at the highly anticipated follow-up to
Fallen Too Far
,
Never Too Far
, and
Forever Too Far
by #1
New York Times
bestselling author Abbi Glines.

Rush Too Far

T
hey say that children have the purest hearts. That children don’t truly hate because they don’t fully understand the emotion. They forgive
and forget easily.

They say a lot of bullshit like that because it helps them sleep at night. Such sayings make for good, heartwarming clichés to hang on the walls, to bring out a smile in people passing
by.

I know differently. Children love like no others. They have the capacity to love more fiercely than anyone else. That much is true. That much I know. Because I lived it. By the age of ten I knew
hate and I knew love. Both all-consuming. Both life-altering. And both completely blinding.

Looking back now, I wish someone had been there to see how my mother had sown the seed of hate inside me. Inside my sister. If someone had been there to save us from the lies and bitterness she
allowed to fester within us, then maybe things would have been different. For everyone involved.

I never would have acted so foolishly. It wouldn’t have been my fault that a girl was left alone to take care of her ailing mother. It wouldn’t have been my fault that the same girl
stood at her mother’s graveside, believing that the last person on earth who loved her was dead. It wouldn’t have been my fault that a man destroyed himself after his life became a
broken, hollow shell.

But no one saved me.

No one saved us.

We believed the lies. We held on to our hate, and I alone destroyed an innocent girl’s life.

They say you reap what you sow. That’s bullshit, too. Because I should be burning in hell for my sins. I shouldn’t be allowed to wake up every morning with this beautiful woman in my
arms, who loves me unconditionally. I shouldn’t get to hold my son and know such a pure joy.

But I do.

Because, eventually, someone did save me. I didn’t deserve it. Hell, more than anyone it was my sister who needed saving. She hadn’t acted on her hate. She hadn’t manipulated
the lives of our family members, not caring about the outcome. But her bitterness still controlled her, while I had been delivered. By a girl . . .

No, she wasn’t just a girl. She was an angel. My angel. A beautiful, strong, fierce, loyal angel who had entered my life in a pickup truck, carrying a gun.