Letting
go is all Ronan's ever known.
Will he
realize a life with Keely is something
he should
hold onto at any cost?
Find out
in All That’s Left to Hold Onto by Ella Fox!
AVAILABLE NOW!
Blurb
When Ronan Sharpe unexpectedly left
Colorado for parts unknown, he took a piece of Keely Carmichael's heart with
him.
After leaving his hellish roots behind
him, Ronan found contentment when he started over. Thoughts of the past had
been pushed down for so long; he hardly thought about it at all.
He intended to keep it that way.
When unexpected circumstances force Ronan
to return to Colorado, the Keely he finds is no longer the adolescent girl he
remembered. Torn between desire and fear, Ronan struggles with his feelings for
Keely and his need to escape the town that scarred him so deeply years ago.
Letting go is all Ronan's ever known.
Will he realize a life with Keely is something he should hold onto at any cost?
PROLOGUE
There were nasty looking bruises on
his cheek and jaw, his lip was swollen and his knuckles were scraped and
bloody. The instant I got a good look at
his face I knew something was horribly wrong.
It only went downhill from there.
My attempts to contain my panic weren’t working. Choking back a sob I blubbered, “Why do you
have to go?”
The anger was all but pouring off of him. Not toward me—he’d never once been angry with
me. I knew anger though, and it was more than obvious he was furious about
something. A permanent grimace seemed to have set up camp on his face. For him, it was highly unusual. Even in the toughest of times, he kept his
cool.
Suddenly, he wasn't calm at all. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him. It was obvious he’d been in a fight, but it
didn’t change his status as the most attractive guy alive, in my opinion.
I saw his jaw clenching and unclenching which I figured
meant he was trying to control himself.
“Because this piece of shit town is like a fucking cancer,”
he spat. “I’m so done with the crazy
assholes around here. People like us aren’t normal—we’re the freaks for trying
to be good people.”
I didn’t know how to argue with his words. He wasn’t wrong—there was a lot wrong with
many of the people in our town. Most of the crazy people were either my family
members or his. I knew it and so did
he. There wasn’t a response to erase the
reality of the kind of people we dealt with.
“Are you going alone?”
His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he nodded
stiffly. “Yes.”
“Even though you live with—”
His hand shot up into a stop gesture to keep me from
finishing the sentence.
“Don’t say her fucking name. If I never hear it again, it’ll
be too soon. I don’t live with that crazy bitch anymore.”
I couldn’t stand her so it wasn’t like I was going to push.
She was an evil troll. If he had to go, I was glad he wasn’t taking her with
him. It would’ve made me ill. She
pretended to be sweetness and light when he was around but it was nothing but a
charade. She was terrible. I was glad he wasn’t taking her, but the fact
he wouldn’t say her name told me his leaving was somehow her responsibility. I
hated her more than ever.
“Where will you go?”
He gestured back over his shoulder toward the street with
his thumb.
“Wherever my car takes me once I pull out,” he said.
I couldn’t imagine life without him, nor did I want to. Not
only had he been my crush for as long as I could remember, he was the only
person who ever really listened to me.
“Will you ever visit?” I asked hopefully.
He was shaking his head in the negative before I’d even
fully finished asking the question. I knew he wouldn’t. The bone-deep hatred he
had for everything about where we lived was stamped all over his face. I wanted so badly to know what, exactly, had
sent him over the edge, but when I asked, he’d refused to tell me.
It sucked being fourteen because he treated me like a
kid. My age said I was a child, but I
was so different than any of my peers it wasn’t even funny. Because of this, they teased me often,
referring to me as Granny Carmichael. I
hated it. It wasn’t as though I’d had a
choice. My childhood was over the moment
my mother got sick.
His expression softened when he looked me over. “You need to
get back inside before you get pneumonia.”
The frigid Colorado air wasn’t even making an impression on
me until he pointed it out. I realized my tears were leaving cold trails on my
face, but I couldn’t walk away. All I cared about was how much I didn’t want
him to leave.
“I don’t care about the cold or getting pneumonia. I don’t want you to go!” I cried anxiously.
He hugged me then, his strong arms wrapping around me to
give comfort. I hadn’t hugged him since
I’d been much younger—probably five or six.
Those hugs had mostly involved me wrapping myself around one of his
legs. This was different. I wrapped my
arms tight around him and cried against his chest, holding on for as long as he
allowed me to.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he ended the embrace and stepped
back. “I have to leave.”
Knowing my denial and resistance weren’t going to make any
difference, I swiped at my tears as I nodded.
“I’ll miss you,” I said on a choked sob. “Take care of yourself.”
“I’ll miss you too,” he replied softly. “You’re one of the few good people here.”
My heart galloped in my chest. I loved him for saying what
he did—but hated that it came at such a horrible price. Losing him was unbearable.
He turned as if to leave, then stopped. Spinning back my way, he stared at me
intently for a few moments before he spoke again.
“You’re so much better than any of these people. Don’t ever
let them change who you are. The world needs a lot more you and a lot less
them. No matter what anyone tells you—you’re perfect. Got it?”
I nodded as I wiped at the tears running unchecked down my
face.
He hugged me again, very briefly. My heart skipped a few
beats when he dropped a kiss on top of my head.
“Don’t ever forget your worth—not even for a minute,” he
murmured.
When he let go, he said nothing else. He just turned and walked to his car. As he went, the chill in the air suddenly
took hold of me. Hugging my arms around
myself, I watched as he got into the car, turned it on and then pulled out of
my driveway. He looked at me one last
time before putting his hand up in a goodbye gesture. I did the same. A few seconds passed before he put the car in
drive then sped off into the night.
I stayed outside for two or three minutes, hoping against
hope he would change his mind and come back.
He didn’t.
Hours later when I got into bed, I prayed fate would bring
him back one day. I said the same prayer
most nights for a long, long time. Eventually I had no choice but to accept
reality.
Hell would freeze over before he returned.
Ella
Fox writes like a woman possessed
whenever she gets the chance! She is the
author of The Hart Family Series, The Renegade Saints
Series and The Catch Series.
When she’s
not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country. Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying
make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She
has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh.
Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and
watching comedy movies.
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