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  COPYRIGHT

  No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity, explicit sexual situations, and alcohol consumption.

  Use Me

  Copyright © 2018 Kimberly Knight

  Published by Knight Publishing & Design, LLC

  Cover art © by Okay Creations

  E-Book Formatted by Cristiane Saavedra

  All rights reserved.

  To Jeremy Roenick: If by chance you ever read this book, I hope you don’t mind your role. You’re one of the bests to me and I still remember your 500th goal while you played with one of the best hockey teams. Thank you.

  COVER

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE Fourteen Years Old

  CHAPTER ONE Present Day

  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 Three Years Later

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  BOOKS BY KIMBERLY KNIGHT

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BY INVITATION ONLY - CHAPTER ONE Peyton

  Fourteen Years Old

  High school sucks.

  Actually, being a freshman sucks. My parents had always told me that high school would be the best years of my life, but I didn’t know when it would turn into the best years of my life because right now, I hated it.

  I stood at my locker, getting my books for fifth period, when I saw him. He was walking through the double doors at the end of the hall, and he wasn’t alone. He was never alone. I didn’t know why people wanted to be his friend. Maybe it was because everyone feared him.

  I did.

  The jerk was a senior, and all he did was terrorize freshmen. We played varsity hockey together, and in practice he could (and would) get away with slamming me against the boards all he wanted. He’d talk shit every day at practice too. It didn’t matter who we were or if we’d never done anything to him. He got pleasure from being an asshole to everyone, and I seemed to get the brunt of it, especially after Coach made me starter last game and not him.

  I was tired of being pushed around, spit on, tripped. So, every day after practice, I used my dad’s weights in the garage hoping I could bulk up and kick his ass. All I wanted was for him to leave me alone so I could laugh with my friends in the halls and on campus. Be a normal high school student. I didn’t want to have to run in fear because some jackass thought using me as a punching bag was an extracurricular activity.

  And sadly, we still had months until he graduated.

  I stuffed my books into my backpack that I needed for the rest of the school day and for homework, hoping to make my escape before he saw me. Just as I exited the doors on the opposite side of the hall, I heard him.

  “Hey, faggot!”

  I didn’t stop.

  “Cole!” he shouted behind me. “Aww, the baby is running home to his mommy.”

  The group of boys he was with laughed behind me, but I didn’t turn around or stop. Maybe if he thought I didn’t hear him, he’d leave me alone.

  I heard footsteps running in the snow, and before I realized it, my backpack crashed to the ground. I spun around to pick it up, trying not to look at him, but anger got the best of me. I glared. At that moment, I was finally going to stand up to the asshole. I didn’t care if he and his friends kicked my ass. I was done. But before I could utter a word, I stopped.

  He was holding a knife.

  I looked down at my backpack on the ground and noticed the straps had been cut. That was how the bag fell off my shoulders. As I started to stand, he pushed me and I fell on the ground. The snow I was sitting on started to soak through my jeans.

  He kicked snow at my face. “You think you’re some big, badass hockey player that can come to my school and take my position, faggot? You ain’t shit. You better hope I don’t see you off campus because you won’t be able to walk once I’m done kicking your ass. Watch your back. I’m getting my start back one way or another.” He kicked snow at me one final time before he and his minions walked away.

  The laughing continued as the group of boys walked through the door I had tried to escape through. I couldn’t wait to get home. I was going to lift double the amount of weights so I could bulk up faster. He’d regret bullying me one day.

  One day when I kicked his fucking ass.

  Present Day

  “I’m Ashtyn Valor. Thank you for watching. Have a good night, Chicago.”

  I gave a slight nod as I smiled warmly and drew a heart on the paper next to me as though I had something important to write while I waited for the signal that we were no longer broadcasting.

  “And we’re clear.” People started to move as the live broadcast ended.

  My news studio was a little different from your standard local news station. Typically, newsrooms had the same anchors report the five, six and ten o’clock news, but we only had a five o’clock and a ten o’clock broadcast, and each time slot had a different anchor.

  After I received my master’s degree in journalism, I’d worked my way up until I was the one who reported the news each night. Ideally, I wanted to report the evening news and have the five o’clock slot, but for the last two years I’d worked the nightly news at ten. It gave me enough time to get housework and errands done before I had to report in at four in the afternoons, and it also worked well with my boyfriend’s schedule. Corey was an Air Traffic Controller at O’Hare and worked the night shift, though I worked Monday through Friday and his schedule changed all the time. It didn’t matter. We made it work.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said to Mitch, my fellow co-anchor, as I removed my mic.

  “Have a good night,” Mitch replied. I stood and started to leave the room.

  “Your weekly flowers arrived.” Abby, the closest friend I had at the station, grinned as we passed each other. We were the complete opposite in the looks department but had the same personality. I had blonde hair, she was a brunette. I had green eyes, she had brown. I was also four inches taller than she was.

  “If only they were from my actual boyfriend,” I muttered and continued to walk toward my desk. I’d been getting these flowers from a secret admirer for at least a year now. I loved getting them because it brightened up my workspace. I just wished they were from my boyfriend of ten months.

  The red roses came into view as I got closer to my desk. Each time they had a note with them from a secret admirer. The first one had read:

  Dear Ms. Valor,

  You looked beautiful tonight.

  -SA

 
; The notes had slowly progressed:

  Dear Ashtyn,

  You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

  -SA

  And the one last week was borderline creepy:

  Dear Ashtyn,

  You’re the one I’m thinking about when

  someone asks me what’s on my mind.

  -SA

  I pulled out the small card that was sticking out of tonight’s bouquet.

  Dear Ashtyn,

  Do you think about me as much as I think about you?

  - SA

  I assumed SA stood for secret admirer. Made sense to me. I took this week’s card, threw it in the trash, and then grabbed my purse and left to go home.

  A few days later, Corey was finally going to meet my best friend, Jaime.

  Jaime and I had been friends since high school, and given our crazy lives, we’d rarely seen each other since I started dating Corey. It was hard to get together because I worked late nights and spent my weekends with Corey when he wasn’t working. But tonight, we were finally having a double date.

  The weather was starting to get a little chilly at night, so I dressed in jeans, a black and pink floral halter blouse, and heels. My long blonde hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and I put on dangly silver earrings and a necklace set.

  I stepped out of my room, ready to go, and saw Corey sitting on my couch watching TV. “Ready?”

  He sighed and grabbed the remote, turning off the television. “I guess.”

  I stopped walking toward the door. “You don’t want to go?”

  “I just don’t see why we need to have dinner with your friends.”

  I balked, staring into his hazel eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m happy with it just being us.”

  “I haven’t seen my friend in months.”

  “That’s why I agreed to go in the first place.” He smoothed back his blond hair and grabbed his black jacket, shrugging it on.

  “What’s wrong with my friends?” Every time I suggested we do something with my friends, he conveniently had to work.

  “Nothing is wrong with them. I just don’t understand why you want to hang out with them.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why would I be kidding?” He yanked the door open. “I’d just rather stay home and watch the game.”

  During baseball season, it was hard to get Corey away from the TV because the Cubs weren’t all that bad nowadays. I thought that would end when the season was over, but then hockey started. Hockey seemed to be a whole new level of addiction for him. Granted, we lived in Chicago and hockey was huge in this town, but Corey never missed a game.

  I didn’t have a problem with sports. In fact, I had to know the basics for work. What I had a problem with was that it was Corey’s priority and I wasn’t. On Saturdays when the Cubs had day games, Corey would take me out to dinner. Those were the times I longed for. Now he was being a jerk about meeting my friends for dinner.

  “Fine. Forget it.” I turned on my heel and started to walk back to my bedroom to change. I was a few steps away when he spoke.

  “No, wait. I’m sorry. I’ll go. Are you wearing that though?”

  What. The. Hell? I slowly turned around to face him. “Yes.”

  “Don’t you think it shows too much skin?”

  My brows furrowed. “I’m wearing jeans.”

  “I mean your shoulders.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I just don’t want people staring at what’s mine.”

  I laughed sarcastically. “They’re shoulders!”

  Corey’s face started to redden, and then he took a deep breath. “Fine, but grab a jacket.”

  “Whatever,” I hissed as I grabbed my leather jacket. I was already planning on it anyway since the weather was crisp.

  We didn’t speak as he drove us to the restaurant. I’d never heard of someone not wanting to get to know their significant other’s friends. Maybe after they’d met them and didn’t get along, but not beforehand. However, when we strolled into the restaurant, I put a smile on my face. As soon as I saw Jaime, we rushed to each other and hugged.

  “How are you?” I pulled back and looked at her slim body. “You look amazing!”

  “Thank you.” Jaime beamed, her hazel eyes glistening from the white decorative lights that hung around the trim of the room. She brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulder. “You too.”

  I turned to her husband. He had short, black hair and crystal blue eyes that looked almost exotic. Jaime did good scoring him. I gave him a hug. “It’s good to see you, Chase.”

  “You too, Ashtyn,” he said.

  “Corey, this is my best friend, Jaime, and her husband, Chase. Guys, this is Corey.”

  All three shook hands with each other. We waited a few more minutes to be sat at a table. Corey and Chase talked about sports while Jaime and I caught up about anything and everything. The food was delicious and everything was going okay until the bill came.

  “Since it was Ashtyn’s idea to have a date night, it’s only fitting she pays, right?” Corey laughed.

  I glared at him, but then quickly smiled and agreed so I didn’t cause a stink. Chase tried to offer to pay, but I waved him off. Corey was right. It was my idea, and I was okay with paying because I made enough to not have to depend on a man.

  “I’m Ashtyn Valor. Thank you for watching. Have a good night, Chicago.”

  Another week was in the books at work, and another flower delivery arrived on Monday.

  Ashtyn,

  When you smile, it lights up my TV.

  -SA

  When I arrived home that Friday, I was surprised to find Corey there. We didn’t live together, and tonight I thought he had to work, so I wasn’t expecting him for a few more hours.

  “Hey,” I greeted, throwing my keys in the dish on the table by the front door.

  “Hey,” he replied back, not moving from where he sat on the couch.

  “I thought you had to work tonight?” I asked, kicking off my heels.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and sat up. “We need to talk.”

  My stomach dropped. The dreaded four words that should never form a sentence. I didn’t move as I stared at him waiting for him to continue.

  “Fuck,” he sighed. “This is hard, and I don’t want you to freak out.”

  I still didn’t move. I couldn’t move. My heart had started to beat uncontrollably, and I was thinking the worst. Did he get fired? Did he want to break-up? Did he cheat on me? Was he sick? The questions swarmed around, but I couldn’t get them out of my mouth as my feet stayed planted across the room from him.

  “Sit down.” Corey patted the cushion next to him.

  I shook my head. “Just tell me.”

  He took another deep breath and turned his head away from me, looking out the fifteenth-story window of my condo. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. It’s time.”

  “Time for what?” I wasn’t sure why I asked the question. My gut was telling me the answer already.

  “Can you sit down, please?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Can you just spit it out?”

  Corey groaned. “I saw your Pinterest board. You left it open the other day.”

  I blinked, not understanding why Pinterest had anything to do with this. “And?”

  “We want different things.” He shrugged.

  “Different things? Like I want to make homemade biscuits with almond flour, and you want to make them with all-purpose flour?” I asked sarcastically.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “I don’t understand how my recipe board or my do-it-yourself Board have anything to do with wanting different things in life.”

  “That’s not what I saw.”

  “What did you see then?”

  “You had a folder or whatever about our imaginary wedding.”

  My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Every single wom
an who wanted to get married had a wedding board. Granted mine was a secret, and I wasn’t engaged, but I had pinned stuff here and there. I wasn’t necessarily planning my wedding with Corey. I was just pinning ideas for when the time came. I never expected Corey to see it.

  “I’m confused,” I finally admitted.

  “Are you going to make me spell it out?”

  “Why is having a wedding board an issue?” We never spoke about getting married. I’d just assumed we were headed down that path since we’d been together for almost eleven months.

  “It’s an issue because I don’t want to get married.”

  My chest clenched. “To me?”

  “Ever,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “So you want to break up?” I whispered.

  Corey stood and took a step toward me. I stepped back, and he sighed. “Ash, I don’t want to hurt you, but I think that’s best. We’ve had a good thing going for a few months, but we want different things with our futures.”

  “I thought you loved me.” A tear slid down my cheek.

  “It was nice while it lasted.” He took another step, not confirming he once told me he did.

  I took another step back. “While it lasted?”

  He grinned. “You think you’re the only one I’m seeing?”

  “What?” I shrieked.

  “There are others, Ashtyn.”

  “You told me you loved me.”

  “I told you what you wanted to hear.”

  More tears spilled from my eyes. “This isn’t a game.”

  “Isn’t it though?”

  “You’re thirty-seven. Wasn’t fucking around what your twenties were for?”

  “We can go round and round about this. I’m sorry, but I’m moving on.”

  “Get out!” I yelled and went to the door. I swung it open. “Get. Out!”

  He grinned at me as he walked to the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow so I can come get my things.”

  “You’ll be lucky if I don’t burn them,” I hissed.

  “Not your style, baby.”

  “Who are you right now?” This wasn’t the guy I’d been dating for the past several months. It was as though I’d been dating a psychopath.