Title:Inevitable Detour
Series: Inevitability #1
Author: S.R. Grey
Release Date: September 4, 2014
Cliffhanger: No
The day my life took an inevitable detour things got a little crazy.
My name is Essalin Brant, but everyone calls me Essa. I attend a small college in a tiny town, and in my twenty-two years of life I’ve never even traveled outside the state of Pennsylvania. You could say my life is pretty boring. I live by the rules. I’m a good girl and nothing exciting ever happens.
But that’s all about to change.
Enter Farren Shaw. Not only is he older and intimidating, but he’s more sure of himself than any 29-year-old man has a right to be. Did I mention that he’s drop-dead gorgeous? Well, he is. He also happens to be my best friend Haven’s brother. And I would be content with just fantasizing about Farren from afar, but when Haven suddenly goes missing, her gorgeous brother is the only one who believes me when I say she was abducted, even though all signs seem to suggest Haven left town willingly.
I know better, though. As does Farren. So when he asks me to accompany him to search for his sister, I accept.
That’s when the real adventure begins.
Our quest to find Haven takes us across the country. And throughout the time we spend together, I find myself falling for Farren . . . falling hard. He's everything I’ve ever wanted. But is he really someone I should fear?
Because aside from making me feel things I’ve never felt before, Farren is hiding something. Something big. What could this stunning man be keeping from me? And why? Is Haven’s disappearance somehow connected to his mysterious job?
All I know is that things are about to get real.
Welcome to the Inevitable Detour that has become my life.
My name is Essalin Brant, but everyone calls me Essa. I attend a small college in a tiny town, and in my twenty-two years of life I’ve never even traveled outside the state of Pennsylvania. You could say my life is pretty boring. I live by the rules. I’m a good girl and nothing exciting ever happens.
But that’s all about to change.
Enter Farren Shaw. Not only is he older and intimidating, but he’s more sure of himself than any 29-year-old man has a right to be. Did I mention that he’s drop-dead gorgeous? Well, he is. He also happens to be my best friend Haven’s brother. And I would be content with just fantasizing about Farren from afar, but when Haven suddenly goes missing, her gorgeous brother is the only one who believes me when I say she was abducted, even though all signs seem to suggest Haven left town willingly.
I know better, though. As does Farren. So when he asks me to accompany him to search for his sister, I accept.
That’s when the real adventure begins.
Our quest to find Haven takes us across the country. And throughout the time we spend together, I find myself falling for Farren . . . falling hard. He's everything I’ve ever wanted. But is he really someone I should fear?
Because aside from making me feel things I’ve never felt before, Farren is hiding something. Something big. What could this stunning man be keeping from me? And why? Is Haven’s disappearance somehow connected to his mysterious job?
All I know is that things are about to get real.
Welcome to the Inevitable Detour that has become my life.
Excerpt
I wake up with a blinding headache. “Oh, God,” I mumble, wincing from the pain.
I assume it is morning, but when I roll toward the alarm clock on the table next to my bed, big red LED numbers inform me it’s two in the afternoon.
“Shit.”
I try to sit up, but everything around me wavers and tilts, forcing me to lie back down.
“Ugh,” I mutter as the events of the evening rush back to me.
“Vincent?”
I glance around my room. Where is he?
Well, he’s not in here, I conclude. I can’t imagine he stayed long after I passed out. Just to be sure, I take a quick assessment of myself and my surroundings. The bed I’m lying on top of appears to have barely been slept in. I must have hardly moved from the position I passed out in. I rise up slightly. There’s an indentation from one body only, mine. It’s a relief to know I was not violated in any way last night. Because, let’s face it, it was pretty stupid bringing home two strange men. Further indication Vincent did not touch me in any inappropriate way is that I still have the same clothes on.
And, Jesus, do they ever reek. The smell of dried sweat from dancing, as well as grinding in the car on top of Vincent, pushes my uneasy stomach a bit too far. I lean over the edge of the bed and promptly throw up in the bucket Vincent left there for me.
When my stomach settles somewhat, I flop back on the bed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m so glad Vincent isn’t here. It would be embarrassing to have him see me like this.
Then again…I suddenly realize he could very well be around. What if he had to wait for Eric? Crap. An image of him out in the living room, listening to me yakking and having a good laugh over how lame his seemingly “sure thing” turned out to be, fills my mind.
Then I remember the pill Vincent gave to me before everything went black. Was it really just an aspirin? The white tablet tasted different. And it sure made me sleep for a long time. The few other times I drank too much, I experienced a restless sleep, with lots of waking and tossing. Last night I was dead to the world.
Slowly, I force myself to stand. When I’m more or less upright, I waver left, then right. I’m still far from sober. Consequently, it takes me longer than usual to reach the door. When I do, I have to lean my forehead against the cool wood for a few seconds. It helps to soothe my pounding head.
“I’m never drinking again,” I vow.
Finally, I open the door and take a tentative step out into the living room. Thankfully, it’s empty. There’s no laughing Vincent, like I feared.
Our apartment consists of a modest living room, a galley kitchen you can see from the living room, a tiny bathroom, my room, and Haven’s room. Glancing around, and noting that the kitchen is empty, I think, three rooms clear, two to go.
On unsteady feet, I make my way over to the bathroom that is nestled between my room and Haven’s.
I swing open the door.
“Empty,” I whisper as I breathe out a sigh of relief.
It’s then that I realize I have to pee like crazy. After I relieve my bladder, I wash my face and hands, and then linger in front of the sink. The aspirin is kept in the medicine cabinet, the one right in front of me. Last time I checked, there were only four pills left in the bottle. I’m sure of this because I clearly recall telling Haven that we needed to restock.
Tentatively, I rest one hand on the edge of the sink. Using my other hand, I open the medicine cabinet.
There’s the aspirin bottle, in its usual spot. And there are four round white pills settled in the base. Four, not three.
Oh, no.
Now, I panic. Hell with queasiness and an aching head. I race out of the bathroom like the place is on fire and skid to a stop in front of Haven’s closed door. Tapping out a slew of frantic knocks, I shout, “Haven, are you awake? Is it okay if I come in?”
Silence.
“Hav, I’m coming in,” I announce in a loud voice.
I’m hoping not to walk in on her and Eric in some compromising position. But I need not worry. When I push open the door, there is no sign of Eric. In fact, the bed appears as if no one has slept in it, let alone engaged in other things. A quick survey of the room—neat and tidy, as always—leads me to surmise everything is in place. But the one thing glaring me in the face is that there is no Haven.
I know then that my best friend has been taken.
I assume it is morning, but when I roll toward the alarm clock on the table next to my bed, big red LED numbers inform me it’s two in the afternoon.
“Shit.”
I try to sit up, but everything around me wavers and tilts, forcing me to lie back down.
“Ugh,” I mutter as the events of the evening rush back to me.
“Vincent?”
I glance around my room. Where is he?
Well, he’s not in here, I conclude. I can’t imagine he stayed long after I passed out. Just to be sure, I take a quick assessment of myself and my surroundings. The bed I’m lying on top of appears to have barely been slept in. I must have hardly moved from the position I passed out in. I rise up slightly. There’s an indentation from one body only, mine. It’s a relief to know I was not violated in any way last night. Because, let’s face it, it was pretty stupid bringing home two strange men. Further indication Vincent did not touch me in any inappropriate way is that I still have the same clothes on.
And, Jesus, do they ever reek. The smell of dried sweat from dancing, as well as grinding in the car on top of Vincent, pushes my uneasy stomach a bit too far. I lean over the edge of the bed and promptly throw up in the bucket Vincent left there for me.
When my stomach settles somewhat, I flop back on the bed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m so glad Vincent isn’t here. It would be embarrassing to have him see me like this.
Then again…I suddenly realize he could very well be around. What if he had to wait for Eric? Crap. An image of him out in the living room, listening to me yakking and having a good laugh over how lame his seemingly “sure thing” turned out to be, fills my mind.
Then I remember the pill Vincent gave to me before everything went black. Was it really just an aspirin? The white tablet tasted different. And it sure made me sleep for a long time. The few other times I drank too much, I experienced a restless sleep, with lots of waking and tossing. Last night I was dead to the world.
Slowly, I force myself to stand. When I’m more or less upright, I waver left, then right. I’m still far from sober. Consequently, it takes me longer than usual to reach the door. When I do, I have to lean my forehead against the cool wood for a few seconds. It helps to soothe my pounding head.
“I’m never drinking again,” I vow.
Finally, I open the door and take a tentative step out into the living room. Thankfully, it’s empty. There’s no laughing Vincent, like I feared.
Our apartment consists of a modest living room, a galley kitchen you can see from the living room, a tiny bathroom, my room, and Haven’s room. Glancing around, and noting that the kitchen is empty, I think, three rooms clear, two to go.
On unsteady feet, I make my way over to the bathroom that is nestled between my room and Haven’s.
I swing open the door.
“Empty,” I whisper as I breathe out a sigh of relief.
It’s then that I realize I have to pee like crazy. After I relieve my bladder, I wash my face and hands, and then linger in front of the sink. The aspirin is kept in the medicine cabinet, the one right in front of me. Last time I checked, there were only four pills left in the bottle. I’m sure of this because I clearly recall telling Haven that we needed to restock.
Tentatively, I rest one hand on the edge of the sink. Using my other hand, I open the medicine cabinet.
There’s the aspirin bottle, in its usual spot. And there are four round white pills settled in the base. Four, not three.
Oh, no.
Now, I panic. Hell with queasiness and an aching head. I race out of the bathroom like the place is on fire and skid to a stop in front of Haven’s closed door. Tapping out a slew of frantic knocks, I shout, “Haven, are you awake? Is it okay if I come in?”
Silence.
“Hav, I’m coming in,” I announce in a loud voice.
I’m hoping not to walk in on her and Eric in some compromising position. But I need not worry. When I push open the door, there is no sign of Eric. In fact, the bed appears as if no one has slept in it, let alone engaged in other things. A quick survey of the room—neat and tidy, as always—leads me to surmise everything is in place. But the one thing glaring me in the face is that there is no Haven.
I know then that my best friend has been taken.
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