Hendrix (Caldwell Brothers #1)
Chelsea Camaron & Mj Fields
Book One
“One bourbon, one shot, one night—that’s my world. Life is finally getting on track for me and my brothers. Things are far from perfect, but after removing the thorn from our sides, they damn sure are looking up.” –Hendrix Caldwell.
Hendrix Caldwell, the oldest of the Caldwell brothers, is the ever steady voice of reason out of the three Detroit—Rock City’s—wild boys. Focused, determined, and living with a chip on his shoulder, Hendrix is married to his bar, allowing no time for anything more than a casual hook up. Work hard, play harder—that is the Caldwell brothers’ way.
For Olivia Gordon, life is nothing except the school of hard knocks. Born as the consequence of a one night stand, Olivia didn’t have the childhood found in movies and books. However, she’s all grown up now and completely on her own. Drowning in debt, she is looking for a small break in life, but the hits just keep on coming.
One night, one charity event, two masks hiding them from the world and each other… Two people let go and share the best of each other in a luxury hotel’s storage closet for one night they both can’t forget. One night they both revisit in their dreams.
What happens when two worlds collide not once, but twice? When they find out who was behind the mask, will sparks fly, or will their past demons keep them apart?
Dedication
To everyone who have ever been in the situation where the word ‘no’ could not be formed or not allowed to pass your lips.
May you find your way of becoming stronger. May you find your way of forgiving yourself. May you find the way to forgive the person who took from you.
Forgiveness is a gift to yourself.
In forgiving your abuser you are taking back the power they stole from you.
Because…
Consent is Fucking Required.
Prologue
Hendrix
Beep. Beep. Beep. The machines surrounding my mother sound off around us as they have for the last few weeks. The days are running together, and I no longer know the date nor do I care. The world is moving at a snail’s pace as my world lies in this bed, unmoving.
Her once strong body is a frail comparison of its former self. The pounds fell off as her health deteriorated slowly, painfully, and mercilessly. The life was literally sucked from her little frame one piece at a time.
Watching the woman who truly is our rock, our foundation, and our saving grace fall apart has taken its toll on all of us. It’s terrifying to know how strong she has been our entire lives, yet she can’t beat the cancer ravaging her body.
When Mom first told us she was sick, I tried to figure out a way to deal with the diagnosis.
“The cancer is terminal,” Momma told us all when she insisted on us coming to the apartment for dinner.
My dad was as close to tears as I had ever seen him while she told her three boys that it was okay. She was trying to reassure all of us that it was better than dying without notice, that she was happy to be given the chance to say goodbye.
All of us went with her to the doctors—Dad, Jagger, Morrison, and I. The doc showed us the scans and explained that her cancer had started in her cervix, caused by HPV. Mom hadn’t had a pap smear in years, not since Jagger was five.
The cancer had spread, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do. He suggested we take the rest of her time here as a gift and make the most of it. We fucking begged her to get a second opinion. She said she had.
Our mother had known she was dying for two weeks, and she had only told my dad fifteen minutes before we had walked in.
Growing up, our dad was a mean son-of-a-bitch. He would get drunk and stumble in, wanting to beat on the three of us. Mom would hide us in the tiny room at the back of our apartment while she did whatever she could to talk him off the ledge. Now that I think about it, telling him the way she did was most likely her first and final jab at the old man.
It was her life, her way. He had done that to her by fucking around with a woman, contracting a disease, carrying it to her, and there was no way she would have known, but she was going to go out on her own damn terms.
Over the last two months, she has been miserable to him, picking fights and shit like that. He told us it was the cancer, ‘cause his girl would never treat him like that.
His girl? If I ever found a girl and decided to call her mine, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be fucking someone else. That motherfucker was lucky to be breathing.
Two days ago, she went to the hospital for what is probably the last time, but before she did, she told him to leave, and he did without argument. Jagger went and found the old man yesterday, told him he needed to come make peace with her. Mom insisted Jagger not do that, and she still doesn’t know he tried. The bastard wouldn’t come, though. His final blow to her, the sick motherfucker.