Saving Tayla (The Beautifully Broken Series Book 5)

Book summary

Tayla is rebuilding her life after escaping a toxic relationship and fighting her way to sobriety. Determined to reclaim who she once was, her plans are upended when Asher enters her world with charm and danger. Balancing recovery and the pull of love, Tayla must confront her past and navigate her future.

Excerpt from Saving Tayla

Tayla

One Year Later

“Don’t go, Scar.” I squeezed her hand in mine, my chest tight with the anguished pain I saw shining in her eyes. Pain I knew I was the reason for.

I’d done this to her. My own sister.

How many times had we been here? How many times had I plead with her for a chance, yet another godforsaken chance to make everything right between us, again? And how many nights did she spend searching for me, looking down every dark alley in hopes of finding me before it was too late?

Too many to count.

I was a lost cause. I would always go back to the high that I craved, using any drug I could to chase away the pain my reality had become. This time, though, I hoped – no, I prayed – that I would make it. I hoped that this was the one that stuck.

“I don’t want to leave you, Tay. But seeing you like this hurts me, too.”

“Don’t.” Squeezing her slim, pale fingers in mine even more tightly, I begged her, in hopes that she could see the desperation for forgiveness that filled my mind and tortured my soul.

I needed her. I needed her to believe I could do this. I could get clean, once and for all. Because if she didn’t believe I could, how could I?

“Please,” I whispered into her hair, as something that felt a whole lot like hope shadowed through my veins.

“Okay, Tay. Okay.” My body sagged against hers the instant I heard those words and I thanked God for them.

One last chance, I told myself. Closing my eyes, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t disappoint her, this time.

This time would be different.

I just hoped that vow wasn’t yet another broken promise I made to myself.

“What are you afraid of, Tayla?”

My eyes snapped up from my lap as I heard my name, finding kind eyes centered on me and silent acceptance lingering in the air. But that same silence made me nervous. I didn’t want to have to talk about why I was here.

I didn’t even want to be here, in the first place. I didn’t belong in a place like this. Didn’t I?

When had it all gone wrong? I asked myself that question more than I’d like to admit. The answer was an easy one.

Trent. The man I’d thought was the love of my life, the one. But he turned into another man all together. Cocky. Mean. Manipulative. When we met, I didn’t know him as that man. I knew an entirely different guy. He was kind and generous and loving to me, right from the start.

We’re meant to be, Tay. You and me. I believed those lies he told me in the beginning. I thought his jealousy was endearing, a sign that he loved and wanted only me. Soon, I was living under his roof, allowing him to pull me deeper and deeper into his world and disappearing from mine completely.

He was the one that gave me my first taste of the high. He was the one that set this all-in motion. But that was a cop-out, wasn’t it?

Because when he asked me if I wanted a hit, I never said no. I was weak. Stupid. I didn’t even know who I was, anymore.

Junkie. User. Liar. Thief. Those were the words I’d come to associate with. I couldn’t blame anyone, but myself.

“Tayla?”

“Huh?” Raising my head, I looked Dr. Sloan in the eyes and saw the pity in her depths, the sadness for me.

“What are you afraid of, Tayla?” Her words were spoken with care, no malice or incrimination in her voice. But being vulnerable if front of near strangers wasn’t something I was used to. The looks of pity and silent judgement were ones I couldn’t handle. Because I knew they were right to write me off. I didn’t even recognize myself, these days.

“I’m not afraid.” Lie.

Her blonde head tilted slightly to the side as those always understanding eyes narrowed on me. She didn’t believe me for even a second.

“Everybody has fears in life. Everybody. It doesn’t matter if you’re three years old or thirty. It’s finding what those fears are and what causes them that can allow you to overcome them. Or else you’ll always be weighed down by those fears. Can you share yours with the group? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Where did I even start? It wasn’t a tangible thing that I was fearful of. There wasn’t a monster under my bed that I could will away.

It wasn’t a lion, tiger, or bear. No, my biggest fear ran so much deeper inside of me. It stopped me from living, because I didn’t think I deserved a happy life when I’d hurt so many people around me, for so long. It kept me from forgiving myself for the pain I had caused, the sadness and the grief that those around me were left with and it was all caused by me.

Me, me, me. I was the one that caused my father’s heart to break… my sister to lose her dream job because she had to stay with me in the hospital, one too many times… my friends to distance themselves from me, because all I could see was my darkness.

It was why I needed the escape. Why, at the first chance I could get, I would find my fix. I just wanted to be free.

Free from the sense of loss I felt every time I opened my eyes and felt the emptiness inside of me. Free from the sorrow that affected every facet of my life. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to face that fear, before I could get past it. It was painfully obvious to me, in that moment, that I wasn’t getting past my grief. All I was doing was hiding from it.

I exhaled a shaky breath and nodded in acceptance, finding the soft look in her eyes comforting against the dark place my mind had become.

My throat felt dry and cracked, my heart heavy with the weight of the truth I would tell these strangers, these people who felt the pain of regret and past mistakes, just as I had.

It was my truth to tell. My mistakes to bear. My amends to make. And I was terrified to face it. Face all the hurt I’d caused. But I had to. I had to.

“One year ago, I decided to give my little boy up for adoption. I thought it was the right thing to do… no, no, it was the right thing. Maybe not for me, but for him? It was the best thing. I wanted what was best for him, but I never understood what it would mean to not have him with me. Not to feel him move in my stomach or kick me in the middle of the night. It hurt… so much. Giving birth and then handing him over to the social worker so that he could be placed with his new family was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I never dealt with that pain until I came here. I don’t know how to do this.”

My chest was so tight with the loss of him that I had to stop, to take a breath, to let myself, if only for a moment, feel the gravity of the words I knew I had to admit in order to move past it all.

I didn’t regret my pregnancy or his birth for a moment. I loved him more than I could put into words. I didn’t think a love like that could go away, even if it could— I didn’t want it to.

I was his mom and he would never know me. Never know how much I missed him and wished things could have been different. Trent hadn’t stuck around long enough for me to tell him my plan of giving our baby up for adoption, in the hopes that he would grow up never knowing the kind of dark, dismal place I was in when he was conceived. Even if Trent wanted the baby I was carrying, I wasn’t anywhere near ready to be a mother.

I was barely able to care for myself, as it was.

My baby boy wouldn’t have a fighting chance if he’d stayed with me, I knew that. So, I gave him up. I let him go. And then I took another hit, knowing the loss of him would never fade, even if I took every drug I could find. That kind of pain would linger. And it had.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that my biggest fear is never seeing him again.”

Countless hushed whispers met my ears as the circle of fellow broken souls took in my truth. I waited for the judgment, the harsh words of criticism and blame. I closed my eyes and waited for those hurtful words to be slung my way, without thought of the guilt and remorse I lived with, every day.

But those words didn’t come. The room didn’t explode into chaos. Instead, I heard the condolences I knew I wasn’t worthy of. Whispered sorry’s and softly spoken prayers filled the room. I felt my heart sag underneath the weight of my regret, my sorrow and it was only then that I allowed myself to feel that sadness, that ripping, burning pain I tried so hard to destroy with my addiction and my many, many mistakes.

“Shh, let it all out now, Tayla. You’re safe here. You’re going to be alright.”

My throat stung with a sob I’d been holding in for far too long as warm, sheltering arms wrapped around me in the most comforting embrace a near-stranger could give.

“T—thank you,” I mumbled through my tears, something that felt a whole lot like hope finally peeking through the layers of darkness that had consumed me for so long.

“It’s okay, now.” Her whisper was a simple one, yet somehow, I finally believed it.