Saving You Saving Me (You & Me Trilogy)

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thank you for reading Saving You Saving Me. Saving You Saving Me is a departure from the YA fantasy romance book series I usually write, but I felt I had to tell this story. Usually isn’t that how stories get told?

  Based on some actual events and from compilations of people I’ve known, Saving You Saving Me is a work of fiction, but contains realistic situations and issues, which will have themes I hope are presented as realistically as possible in YA fiction. However, because I’m a fantasy novelist, there may be touches of that as well.

  Due to some of the mature themes contained in this novel, this novel is suggested for mature teens, young adults, new adults, age 17 and older.

  I sincerely hope you will enjoy Sam’s story. I am honored that you chose to read it.

  Sincerely,

  Kailin

  Saving You

  Saving Me

  kailin gow

  Saving You Saving Me

  Published by THE EDGE

  THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup Inc.

  Copyright © 2012 Kailin Gow

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  For information, please contact:

  THE EDGE at Sparklesoup

  14252 Culver Dr., A732

  Irvine, CA 92604

  www.sparklesoup.com

  First Edition.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Aspiring psychiatrist and high school Valedictorian Samantha (Sam) Sullivan falls for a deeply troubled young man named Daggers during a crisis call on her watch, which leads to the unraveling of her perfect world.

  ISBN: 978-1597480437

  DEDICATION

  To H.C.

  Thank you for your bravery.

  To all the volunteers who work at crisis centers, and the ones like me who worked as a volunteer or intern at battered women’s shelters, mental health association, and the juvenile court; thank you for helping to make the world a better place.

  Prologue

  I’m standing here, holding a key; the one Daggers had given me before he left. “It’s the key to my heart,” he had said, pressing it into my hands. “You have my heart already, you might as well have everything else,” he said softly as he kissed away my tears. He pulled me in close to his chest and held me tight. “We’ve come a long ways, baby. You and I. But we still have some distance to cover, hurdles to jump, if you want to.” He laughed his soft gentle Daggers laugh that always sent flutters to my stomach. “I’m a many-layered SOB, a real messed up nut job, who others have given up on, yet you…you continue to peel away the layers.” He played with my hair and kissed my forehead. I sighed. My multi-layered Daggers. Each layer more intriguing than the last, each one bringing me closer to the edge of no return.

  “I want to peel away those layers,” I protested. “I want to know who you are; deep down, if you’ll let me.”

  Daggers closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply. “I know, Sam, and I’ve been fighting it. If you knew what’s really hidden behind all those layers, you’d stay away from me, as far away from me as possible.” He opened his eyes to look at me earnestly. “You deserve to know, though. And I’m giving you that chance. With the key…the key to my safe deposit box. But once you know, there’s no going back.”

  Chapter 1

  Two Months Earlier

  Monday

  “Sammy! Sammy!” Nydia ran to me before she headed into her kindergarten class.

  “What?” I asked, kneeling down so she could walk into my arms where I automatically pulled her in for a hug. I touched her braid and playfully used it to tickle her.

  “Stop Sammy!” Nydia giggled.

  “Not going to until you tell me what’s up, baby,” I giggled with her. Except for her green eyes, that mirrored mine…the exact same shade of deep green as our mother’s, she looked like a smaller and cuter version of Dad with her dark hair and pale skin.

  Mom’s green eyes peered at me from her sweet heart-shaped face. “Are you going to pick me up today or is Mom?”

  I sighed. “I wish I could, pip squeak, but I have school stuff.” I squished my face into as sad of a face as possible. “I’m sorry, baby, but Mom’s going to have to pick you up like she always does.”

  “But I want you to,” Nydia said. “Not Mom.”

  “Nydia,” I said gently. “Mom loves picking you up.” I tugged at her dark braids and whispered into her ears. “Besides, you promised to keep an eye on her,” I said smiling. “For me.”

  Nydia smiled her secret smile. “Alright, Sammy. For you.”

  I touched the tip of her little nose with the tip of my finger, “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Nydia said.

  “Now go in before you’re late,” I said standing up.

  “Okay,” Nydia hugged me again. “But I hate the way Mommy smells sometimes.”

  I cringed inwardly. “Me, too, pip squeak. Me, too.” I pulled back from her hug and watched her walk into class. I was not going to let her see me upset. This morning was perfect. My life was perfect, and when I think about how sweet it is to be blessed with a perfect little girl as my baby sister, I thank my lucky stars for helping me see things will only get better. I pushed the negative sad thoughts out of my mind. I could not dwell on it. It did no one any good to dwell on it. I had to be stronger than that, to think of better things. Because no matter how bad it gets at home, I have my little sister who will always be there for me, and I for her.

  As soon as she walked in, and I waved good-bye, I ran to my car, and drove as fast as I could to school. My meeting with our school counselor was early this morning, and I did not want to be late.

  I pulled into the school parking lot, got out of the car, and ran awkwardly in my boots and skirt.

  “Hey Sam,” Gina from my English class called. “Happy belated birthday. The big 1-8. You’re legal now! Whoo hoo!”

  “Thanks,” I laughed. “You’ll be there soon.”

  “Sam,” John Wrangler, a thin but tall guy from my debate class strode up to me and said, “Hear from the colleges, yet?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s still early. I have some time to get in what I need to boost my chances for acceptance. You?”

  “Not yet, too. I’d thought you’d hear by now. All the schools would want you,” he said nervously.

  “Yeah right,” I snorted. “My chances for getting in are just like everyone else’s. Speaking of…I really have to get to my meeting with Dr. Green.” I waved. “Good luck!”

  I ran the rest of the way into the building to the offices, and into Dr. Green’s office and sat down right when the clock on her wall struck 8:30 am.

  Dr. Karen Green looked up from the paper in front of her. “Sam, let’s get down to it. You’ve had a fine academic career at Cliffside Academy. A 4.2 grade point average will help you get in along with your high SAT scores, but you need something else to get a scholarship, too,” Dr. Green said, tapping her long pink fingernails across the plain manila file folder labeled “Samantha Sullivan.”

  Inwardly I sighed. What else could I do to try to make it inevitable I could get a scholarship to Stanford? I’d worked so hard just to get the academic record I had. “Do you have any suggestions?” I asked my guidance counselor for three years. Dr. Green, with her messy brown shoulder-length hair, big hoop plastic yellow earrings, and black a
nd white striped dress did not look like a counselor. The only thing that looked counselor-like on her was her smart chick glasses, the kind hot librarians wore. Who would’ve guessed funky Dr. Green was the best high school guidance counselor in all of Orange County, California.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she said getting up and walking over to a small black and white striped fabric-covered push-pin bulletin board hanging on top of a set of black metal-lock cabins. She reached over and unpinned a brochure from the board and handed it to me.

  I scanned it quickly, before looking back up at her.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “It’s a brochure for a teen call center,” I said. “Sawyer House - a place where teens can call to talk about whatever problems they have without being judged.” I looked quizzically at Dr. Green. Why did she hand me this brochure? Did she think I needed help without waiting to say it outright?

  “What do you think about volunteering there as a peer counselor, Sam?”

  I swallowed. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “Then it’ll be a real experience for you,” Dr. Green said, a glint in her brown eyes. “Look, Sam, I wouldn’t suggest this to you if I didn’t think you can handle it. You’re an exemplary student, you’ve been class president of the junior class last year, you’re active in your father’s church, you’re the school student ambassador…you’re one of the most mature students in school.”

  Yeah, I also just turned eighteen years old so technically, I was a little older than my peers in high school. I blushed with Dr. Green’s assessments of me. It wasn’t something I strived to do. Being involved in school was something I’d done all my life, given I was a pastor’s kid, and I had always been involved in one social activity or another. And the reason why everyone thought I was mature for my age…well, that was complicated, more complicated than I wanted to delve into.

  “Um, Dr. Green,” I said. “I don’t know about this…I mean, I have a few things going on right now, and you’ve just said I’m already involved in some activities. Surely that’s enough to get me that extra edge to get into the college of my choice?”

  “Stanford’s very competitive to get in, Sam. All the applicants have grade point averages like yours. All of them have a few extracurricular activities. What you need to get into the same psychology program I went through as an undergrad, you need something like this.” Dr. Green smiled. “Really, Sam, I thought you would’ve done something like this already. You’re perfect for it.” She took the brochure out of my hands and reached for her phone. “In fact, I’m going to recommend you to them right now. I know the director of the center, and she’ll be delighted to have you.” Dr. Green punched some numbers on her phone and waited a few seconds. Then she was talking. “Gail Reynolds, please,” she said. “Tell her, it’s Dr. Karen Green from Cliffside Academy.” She looked over at me, smiling a “trust me, I know you’ll love this” smile.

  I sat back and watched her, trying to look interested. As she waited to be connected to the center’s director, I glanced out the window of her office and into the hallway of the school administration office, trying to avoid her eyes, in case she saw the doubt in them.

  It was a momentous glance, something I’m sure would have counted as one of the biggest moments of my life against which every other moment in my young life would pale. I did a double take as my eyes made contact with the coolest ice blue eyes I’d ever seen, and they belonged to Collins McGregor - the youngest mogul music producer featured on the cover of the latest issue of People Magazine. I felt my mouth dropped, but quickly recovered when Collins McGregor broke his gaze and a pink flush went up his cheeks.

  He was better-looking than his photos, and I couldn’t help staring at him, from his slightly messy wavy blonde hair, his sculpted cheeks and full sensual rocker lips, his tall and lean muscular body to his John Lobb-clad leather shoes. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and a silk small-patterned herringbone pale blue tie that matched his eyes, he looked every inch like a confident cocky young music mogul. Looking further down his tall and muscular frame was another story. Snug well-worn denim jeans hung off his hips in a sexy way that showed off powerful muscular legs and a tight butt. An expensive Italian black leather motorcycle jacket finished the ensemble. He was the picture of a hot bad boy music mogul. In person, he was gorgeous and stylish, exuding a confidence that permeated the room. Collins McGregor may be a music mogul, but he had the look and presence of a rock star. There was definitely something about him that kept me mesmerized. What was Collins McGregor doing at Cliffside Academy?

  “Sam?” Dr. Green’s voice interrupted my almost naughty thoughts of Collins.

  I whipped my face so quickly from staring at Collins McGregor to Dr. Green’s questioning face, I almost had whiplash. “Yes,” I muttered, looking first at my hands and then at Dr. Green.

  “Well,” she said smiling. “You’re in. You start this week. They had a peer volunteer who had to quit because she had to go back to college. They’re understaffed and could really use your help.”

  “So when do I start?” I asked, shaking images of Collins McGregor out of my head.

  “This Friday. They’ll give you the orientation first and start you off with a practice call,” Dr. Green said. “That’s what Gail told me. You should get a packet in the mail in a few days with all the information.” Dr. Green smiled a big Cheshire cat smile. “So, what do you think?”

  I threw up my hands and shrugged. “I’ll give it a try, Dr. Green. Thank you for getting me in so fast. I’m sure if you hadn’t been involved, I wouldn’t be starting this Friday.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Dr. Green said. “I really think you have it in you to do this, Sam. You have to let me know how it goes…” She stood up, and walked to the door, signifying the end of our meeting. I stood up, smoothed out my navy pleated miniskirt, my soft pink ruffled blouse, and tucked my long wavy dark hair that came loose around my face, behind my ears, and walked out.

  “Oh, wait,” Dr. Green’s voice called. I turned around, and she handed me the young adult center’s brochure. I raised the brochure and nodded, turning around to head back outside. “Oh, Sam!” Dr. Green called. She walked towards me with my white cardigan. “You forgot this.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Now I was going to be late for class if I didn’t hurry out. I rushed out and bumped face first into something hard. When did a wall get put up outside the counselor’s office? Then I lost my balance and landed on my butt, everything flying out of my hands as I tried to stop myself from falling harder.

  Chapter 2

  My hair fell forward, covering my face while my legs sprawled out in front of me, knees bent. My hands were flat on the ground, arms straight out, pushing my chest forward.

  Gentle hands pulled at my arms, as a warm but firm voice asked, “Are you alright?”

  I tried blowing my hair out of my eyes, but my long dark waves were too full and heavy to move. Strong fingers gently tucked my hair behind my ears and I looked up to see those icy blue eyes staring into my green ones. “Hmm?”

  “You bumped into me and fell,” Collins McGregor said, his face just inches from mine. Up close he was much more gorgeous than I could have imagined the president and founder of a music company should look like. His skin was flawless and tanned; his jaw strong. He smelled good - an intoxicating mix of musk and vanilla. He was young, too – probably only 24 at the most, a few years older than me. His eyes bore into mine with concern. “Are you alright?” his sensual lips asked again. “Anything feel broken?” His fingers gently touched my elbows. “If you give me your hand, I’ll give you a boost up,” he said, straightening his long legs up from his bent knee position.

  I reached up to give him my hand, but realized as his eyes briefly skimmed my body that my skirt had hitched up high enough to reveal my panties. Oh my God! My face burned red with embarrassment as my hand shot out to pull my skirt down. Of all the days, why did I have to be caught wearing my favor
ite ones, totally unsuitable for any guy to see me in – heart-covered boys-style underwear. “Crap,” I muttered. “Tell me you didn’t see that,” I whispered blushing profusely.

  Collins McGregor hid a smirk as he innocently said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He reached up and grabbed my waist, pulling me up off the ground and into his strong arms. Again, I was facing him, except I had to tilt my head up higher to look into his face. He was at least a foot taller than me. He looked down at me, his eyes amused. “Well, Miss…”

  “Sullivan,” I said. “Samantha Sullivan.”

  “Miss Sullivan,” Collins McGregor said. “Now that I see you’re able to turn bright red with very little provocation, I must assume you’re alright.”

  “That I am,” I said smiling. I smoothed down my skirt, cursing it for not clinging enough so that it wouldn’t ride up as it did. Great, so the first and probably only impression I had for Collins McGregor was that of me flashing him in my boy-style underwear. “Ah, thank you for helping me up, Mr. McGregor,” I said.

  It was Collins McGregor’s turn to blush. “Oh,” he said quietly, “you know who I am.” His eyes went from interested friendly to frosty in an instant, guarded, as he said a little more stiffly, “I trust you don’t make it a habit to bump into people.”

  I felt the ice in his voice like chips that cut through my skin. What happened to the friendly handsome young man who had just helped me up? “No, I don’t,” I said, matching his tone of voice. His face looked surprised, almost shocked when he registered what I said. “I only make it a habit to run into people’s chests when they stand so rudely in front of a closed door so whoever comes running out can’t help but barrel into them.”