Falling for Hadley: A Novel (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters 2)

Please forgive me for everything.

Love,

Mom.

I clutch the note in my hand, tears spilling from my eyes. When did she write this? And what is she sorry about?

My heart hurts so badly.

Before I can break down completely, though, my phone vibrates from inside my pocket. Quickly wiping the tears from my cheeks, I fish it out, check who the message is from, and cringe.

August: Tonight at exactly ten o’clock, you’re to go down to the docks with the package. Make sure to remove your license plates from your car and make sure no one knows where you’re going. Once you get to the docks, park near the trees on the right. Wait there until I give you further instructions. Do NOT open the box until I tell you to. And remember, your sisters’ safety is riding on if you pull this off.

Pull off what? He didn’t even tell me what I’m going to be doing. And I hate taking orders, especially when I’m not even sure what the orders are.

But as my gaze drifts to my sisters, cuddled up on the floor, comfortable and peacefully sleeping, I know I’m going to do it. I’m going to do everything I need to do to get this debt paid with August and Axel. And then I’m going to make sure that they have the best damn lives possible.

Coming Very Soon…

Holding Onto Hadley (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters, Book 3)

Added Chapters to Chasing Hadley (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters, #1)

Here are the added chapters to lengthened edition of Chasing Hadley (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters, #1) for those who didn’t read the lengthened edition.

Please read Author’s note for more information on this section.

Chasing Hadley

Jessica Sorensen

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2018 by Jessica Sorensen

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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For information: jessicasorensen.com

Chapter 16

It takes me forever to fall asleep that night, and when I do, I sink into nightmares of the day my mom skidded off the road. The nightmare always plays out just like the memory of that day and always ends with that scream. I’m not even sure who the scream belonged to, yet the sound is branded into my mind like a hot iron searing flesh. I end up awakening before my alarm goes off with the sound of the scream echoing in my head.

Since the sun hasn’t even risen yet, I try to go back to sleep, knowing I’m going to need my rest to deal with Blaise and his favors. Unfortunately, my mind’s too wired and focused on that damn bag in the backyard.

Is my dad working for a drug dealer now? That’d mean Blaise’s dad is a drug dealer, which I guess could be possible.

There is another scenario, though. One that makes me restless with worry.

What if my dad stole the money and drugs from someone? Someone who’s going to be awfully pissed off when they find out.

My stomach clenches in knots. What if the latter is true? What if my dad stole from, like, a drug lord or something? What if the drug lord comes after my sisters and me to get back at my dad?

“Fuck,” I whisper, raking my fingers through my hair. “I need to chill out and stop overthinking this. Just find out the truth.”

How am I supposed to do that? My dad sure as hell isn’t going to tell me the truth. He hardly tells the truth anymore.

After half an hour of lying in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to Londyn snore, and stressing myself out, I give up on going back to sleep. I throw the blankets off, grab some clothes, and head to the bathroom to take a shower.

Since my family is fairly late risers, I figure everyone is still asleep, so when my dad steps out of his bedroom as I’m about to walk into the bathroom, I assume he’s coming into the house from an all-night bender. Then I notice he’s dressed in clean clothes, his face is freshly shaven, and his hair is combed. He’s also digging around in his pocket for something.

“Are you just getting home or heading out somewhere?” I ask, grasping the bathroom doorknob.

He jolts, dropping whatever he dug out of his pocket. “Shit, you scared me.” Exhaling a shaky breath, he scoops up the dropped object—a set of keys—then straightens and uses a key to lock up his bedroom door, fumbling a little like he’s nervous. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, so are you.” I eyeball the deadbolt on his door that wasn’t there when we moved in. “Did you just install that lock?”

He nods, stuffing the keys into his pocket. “Yeah, last night.”

“Why?”

“Because I want some privacy.”

“You say that like we snoop around in your room all the time.”

His digs a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of his jacket, pops one into his mouth, and lights up. “Not all the time, but I know you guys do sometimes,” he says through a cloud of smoke. “I’ve caught Payton going through my stuff a couple times. She needs to stop doing that. What’s in my room is none of her damn business.”

I raise a brow. “Like you haven’t ever gone through our stuff?”

He takes another drag. “I’m the parent. I’m allowed to go through my daughters’ stuff if I think I need to.”

“The only reason you ever do is to steal money from us,” I accuse, beyond irritated with him. Not just for what he’s saying, but for locking the door.

First the bag in the backyard and now this? Just what is he up to?

Nothing good, I’m sure.

He ashes the cigarette onto the carpet with a hurt expression. “I’ve never stolen from you girls. I’m glad you think so lowly of me.”

I almost feel bad. A couple days ago, I may have. Now I’m starting to get really tired of his crap.

“We used to not think that lowly of you,” I admit. “But yeah, I’m not going to lie, lately, with the stuff you’ve been doing, my opinion of you has gone way down.”

“Lately?” he questions. “All I’ve done lately is work to take care of you guys.”

I resist an eye roll. Take care of us? He hasn’t taken care of us since we lost our mom.

“You’ve had a steady job for a week, Dad, and God knows what the hell you’re doing since you won’t tell us where you work.”

He shakily inhales from the end of his cigarette. “I work at the hardware store as a clerk.”

Yeah right. I know he’s lying. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you just tell me that last week when I asked?”

He lifts his shoulder, taking another drag. “Because you shouldn’t be worrying about what I do … Sometimes I think you forget who the parent is.”

“I understand you’re my father, but as for a parent …” I suck in a breath. “Look, Dad, I’m eighteen now, and honestly, I’ve been taking care of myself and Londyn, Bailey, and Payton for years, so you may be our dad by blood, but as for the parent of this household, that’s my job.”

His lips part then shut. Then he shakes his head and storms toward the stairway. “I don’t have time to argue with you, Hadley. I’m going to be late for work.” He starts down the stairway, but then pauses and glances over his shoulder at me. “I’m going to be home late, but …” He scratches the back of his neck. “Do you guys want to meet me someplace for dinner?”

I stare at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. “You want us to go out to dinner with you?”

He nods, his arm falling to his side. ?

?Yeah, I thought it might be nice to go out as a family. We haven’t done that in a while, right?” He tries for a smile “It might be nice.”

While the gesture is nice of him, we haven’t had a family dinner with him in over eight years, and I really doubt any of my sisters are going to want to. Plus, with everything going on, I think it might be best to distance ourselves away from Dad.

He must read my hesitation all over my face, because he says, “Come on. Please say yes. I feel like I haven’t talked to you girls in forever.”

That’s because he hasn’t. Not about anything other than when our next move is.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he adds, popping the end of his half-smoked cigarette into his mouth. “I’ll text you the address of the place later, okay?” Then he hurries down the stairway before I can decline his offer.

Sighing heavily, I turn for the bathroom. Between dealing with Blaise this morning and my dad tonight, it’s going to be a tough day.

***

Sometimes when I’m having a bad day, I visualize myself graduating and being handed my diploma. Then I say goodbye to my sisters, hop into my car, and drive off to college without so much as a second glance back. Today, though, the images aren’t bringing me as much comfort, and I think I know why.

Between the almost-skid-off-the-road incident yesterday and that bag being in the backyard, I’m not feeling the whole peace-out-old-life vibe. No, before I could ever leave, I’d have to make sure my dad hasn’t … well, I’m not certain how to finish that sentence.

Needless to say, by the time I stroll up to Blaise’s front door, I’m past being irritated and breezing right into don’t-mess-with-me-because-I’m-pissed-off-at-my-shithead-father territory, something Blaise notices the second he opens the door.

“Wow, somebody doesn’t look very happy to be here,” he remarks, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.

Strangely, his stupid smirk isn’t present. Not strange, he’s dressed in black pants and a matching T-shirt. Seriously, it’s like the Porterson brothers’ trademark look.