ADDICTION

  K.L. JESSOP

  Addiction.

  First Edition.

  Copyright © 2022 All rights reserved.

  K. L. JESSOP

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious events in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Cover Designer: Najla Qamber

  Editor: Rebecca Smith

  Proofreading By Mich.

  To anyone who may need strength and love.

  CONTENTS

  Letter to Reader

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  The Salvation Society

  Acknowledgments

  Books by K.L. Jessop

  About the Author

  LETTER TO READER

  Dear reader.

  First, I would like to thank you for wanting to read Addiction. The book means so much to me as Asher’s story had to be told. For those of you that are not aware, Addiction is my second book to the Salvation Society. My first book was Gravity (a brother’s best friend, age gap romance with all the feels) and those that have read it would already be familiar with Asher Nelson.

  If you are yet to read Gravity, you don't necessarily have to read it first as it's a standalone. However, you will get more of a back story on Asher’s history. And if you love a back story, I advise you to read Gravity first. Ha!

  In Addiction not only do you get the angst and romance every book lover enjoys but we also get to see the very own Mark Dixon for Corinne’s much-loved book Defenseless. Mark’s charm and humor still remain and I hope you love him just as much as I do.

  Happy Reading. I hope you enjoy Addiction and fall in love with Asher because that man needs all the love in the world.

  K.L. Jessop.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Asher

  Breathe in…

  Breathe out…

  Breathe in…

  Breathe out…

  I close my eyes and take a minute, waiting for that feeling they say is supposed to hit once you step over the threshold.

  I wait.

  And I wait.

  But it’s the opposite of what I’d expected—what I’d anticipated.

  There is no liberation.

  There is no tranquillity.

  There is not even an ounce of fucking relief.

  I feel nothing but a cold, hard case of uncertainty and dread while the devil dances on my shoulder, laughing with glee—that same devil who brought death and destruction to my door in every possible form you can imagine.

  My fists ball at my sides. My chest is tight. My heart is racing.

  Breathe in…

  Breathe out…

  Today is a new day. It’s supposed to be my new start—a new chapter in my life—yet here I stand, still carrying the haunts that weigh heavy. The ones that wake me in the darkest hours. The ones that taunt me like there’s no tomorrow and continue to suck the life out of me. That’s all I carry within me now and probably always will.

  I may have served the last twelve months within the white walls of St Brides Correctional Centre, but the next walk I’m about to endure feels like a death sentence of its own.

  Freedom.

  It’s something I’ve always longed for, but my life is no bed of fucking roses. There is no sweetness to be captured. There is no color amongst the dark.

  There is nothing.

  I am nothing.

  I will never be anything but nothing.

  I drop my backpack to the ground and look up to the clear blue sky, releasing a heavy breath. The Chesapeake sun casts down on my jail-smelling body, but the warmth is doing little to erase the feeling that has blown through my chest.

  I’m not ready for this: the new life I assured others I would dominate; the one they told me I deserved even when deep down I know I don’t deserve shit.

  I am here because of the storm I brought to my door and my family and the only thing that is dominating me right now is fear and fucking anxiety.

  When you’re locked up at night and consumed with nothing but your demons, they destroy you. I saw it in the men who congregate outside the cell walls. I saw it in those before they took their own lives.

  I see it in myself.

  Only my demons wounded me long before my jail sentence.

  I’ve counted down the days to being able to leave this place, and now I’m on the opposite side of the door, I’m too scared to fucking move.

  There are too many consequences to this part of my life. Too many choices. Too many temptations. And now that I’m out in this big wide world once again, I fear those cravings that have perished in the last nineteen months will come back thick and fast when shit gets tough, ruining everything I’ve fought to restore.

  I’m not the man I remember.

  I fought for my country and thrived. I lived, breathed, loved, and honored every part of being a Navy SEAL. But now… Now, I’m a nobody where my stupidity cost me the lives of many and almost the death of my sister.

  I lost everything.

  My team.

  My father.

  Myself.

  I'm a mess. A liability. A failure at everything I touch with a title I’m not worthy of.

  I am a disgrace. A liar. A coward.

  An alcoholic.

  I’m a fucking-alcoholic.

  I’ve been sober for five hundred and seventy-seven days. I loathe the man I used to be, yet I’m terrified of the one I still hide behind. I may have built some bridges, but I’m a long way from walking down that yellow brick road to redemption. I know I have to rectify the things I've shattered because of a poison that did nothing to drown my pain, and I’m still hiding the very secret I’ve been running from for years. The one I can’t seem to voice. The one I believe made me pick up the bottle. And the thought of admitting that creates a whole new level of fear.

  But I made a promise to her.

  Nora.

  My baby sister, who I love more than anything and would do anything for. I promised her I would try and for that alone, I have to fight. I have to push back all these tainted thoughts that battle with my mind.

  I have to try, if not for myself then for her.

  “Hey, jailbird. Are you going to stand there all day because I’ve got shit to be getting on with?”

  I grin and turn my head in the direction of his voice. Looking casual as hell, Mark Dixon rests against his car hood, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles. We go back many years and have both seen the advantages and disadvantages that war provides.

  Picking up my backpack, I shrug it over my shoulder and head down the steps toward him. "Twilight. How are you feeling? You've aged this past year. Is that another grey hair I see?"

  "I can still throw a fucking punch like I’m twenty-one so don’t tempt me."

  "Go ahead.” I tilt my head toward the building. “My jail bed has just become vacant. I'm sure the big boys on the second floor will love you."

  "I'm too pretty for prison." He grins, holding his arms out. "Now shut up and come here, man."

  He wraps his arms around me, in a tight hug, slapping me on the back as I return the gesture. I’ve missed him. I’ve missed everyone because there is only so much conversation you can have with limited contact visits and phone calls.

  “It’s good to be out, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He grips my biceps. “Look at you. You’re like a fucking tank. You’ve been working out hard.”

  “I had to keep myself busy somehow.”

  Staring at the same four walls is enough to make your mind spiral. The gym and my regular therapy sessions were what got me through, and even that was a struggle at times. “Thanks for being here.”

  “No problem. But answer me something: why did I have the pleasure of collecting your sorry ass and not Grayson? Have I been replaced as your new best friend now? Because as much as I'm honored you love my fabulous personality, I'm not going to be clearing up after your shit should you get into trouble.”

  Not only did I get Mark to collect me, but I’m also out a couple of weeks early a
nd I told him to keep that on the down-low, too.

  “I just didn’t want to take the chance of Gray bringing Nora; I’m not ready for that right now. But he’s still my best bud.”

  “So you’re exploiting my friendship,” he states, causing me to chuckle, but his next question terminates the few seconds of simplicity I’ve just felt. “Are you wanting to go home right now?”

  My stomach grips and I exhale a heavy breath.

  Home.

  I no longer have my own home. I’m a thirty-three-year-old man about to return to live with my mother: a place of security and love and two factors I’ve taken for granted and abused more than I should have. Wanting to go home and returning are two very different matters right now, and ones I can’t get my head around.

  Don’t get me wrong, I want normality. I want home-cooked meals and those I love supporting me as I support them, but I’m not ready to make that important step.

  I need to come to terms with today, the last twelve months, everything I’ve said, done and need to resolve.

  I rub my hand on the back of my neck. “Can we drive for a bit first?”

  He studies me for a second, and I’m waiting for the questions to start firing out of his mouth. Thankfully, he holds off on the interrogation.

  “All right. Your ride awaits, princess. What do you want first? Some candy? A popsicle for being a good boy? A hooker to blow your load?”

  I grin. “Shut the fuck up and drive.”

  “I see you’ve not lost your attitude.”

  “And you’ve not lost your charm,” I reply, getting into his car.

  “My charm is what makes me Mark Dixon.”

  “No. What makes you him is having a wife that stands her ground and puts up with your shit. How is Charlie by the way?”

  “She still has hold of my balls regularly.”

  “Exactly my point.” I grin.

  He laughs before putting the car in reverse and getting us the hell out of this shithole.

  As we head toward Virginia Beach, I rest my head back and look out the window. Taking in the environment, I absorb the life that I’ve missed: the smells, the buildings, how things have changed in a short space of time where other things haven’t changed at all. The boardwalk is decorated with people of all shapes and sizes. A three-mile stretch of energizing life and color. To me, it’s nothing but black and white now. No filters. No spark. So many good times had filled my childhood at Oceanfront, yet with the number of bars, the temptation of the liquor and the never-ending PTSD, it has become a death trap of bad memories and lies.

  It has become my ruin.

  And now I’m half the man I used to be and find no light in this one place I used to love.

  As we get out of the car and head down to the beach, I keep my head low, not wanting to interact or potentially come into contact with anyone I may know. Everyone knows who I am around here. Everyone knows what I did. And while I’m not looking for their forgiveness, I’m not wanting to be forced to remember.

  Sitting on the sand, I push my ball cap further over my eyes, rest my arms on my knees, and look out across the water, breathing in the sea air. However, I’m all too aware that Mark is watching me like a bird of prey.

  “Can you stop with the visual interrogation and just ask me already?”

  “All right. So how was life on the inside?”

  “Bland. Sweaty and a shit-ton of testosterone.”

  He laughs. “Sounds like hell.”

  Don’t I know it?

  You don’t know hell until you wake each day and wish you didn’t. You don’t know hell until you’re praying for the devil to take you rather than praying to God that he doesn’t.

  St Brides Correctional Centre had been a whole new ball game I hadn’t been prepared for. The days there are long. The nights longer. Men shout and taunt one another through the cracks in the walls to get a reaction. If you look at a man the wrong way, disorder will be brought upon you. You don’t make friends: you make unwanted acquaintances to help the days tick by.

  I’d kept my head down and my mouth shut.

  And even though there had been times when I’d craved that feeling alcohol gives you—the one that leaves you numb—my biggest challenge of all had been accepting who I was.

  Who I am.

  “So, tell me, why didn’t you want Grayson to pick you up? Would it have been so bad if Nora had come with him?”

  I want nothing more than to see my sister. "I didn't want Nora to get all excited and throw me the 'I've missed you so much and I love you card' that's all."

  "But she does love you and has missed you. And after everything that went down, you should be thankful she still has your back."

  "I am!” I snap. His words unexpectedly rattle me, and my chest tightens. I am grateful Nora has stuck by me because I deserved every damn day of my sentence after what I did to her. I hadn’t known what rock bottom was until that very day. With my drunken stupidity, I’d almost killed the one person I’d sworn to protect, so I’m very fucking grateful she’s stood by me. I’d just never expected it to feel like this once I was released.

  Exhaling a heavy breath, I glance at him. “I am thankful. I just need to get my head straight before I see anyone else who will shower me with praise and fucking adoration.”

  He studies me hard before gripping my shoulder. “You paid for your mistakes, Asher. You’ve grown so far from who you once were. Now it’s time to put all that behind you and move on. Learn to live and have that life you want. Not the one you thought you deserve at the bottom of the bottle.”

  What if I’m too scared to live that life?

  “Are you still having therapy and support from your sponsor?”

  “Yes. The sponsor I had in rehab has remained in contact throughout my sentencing.”

  “So they prepared you for what it would be like getting out?”

  “I was prepared. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.” I’d known it wouldn’t be easy. Self-doubt and self-loathing had often hit me unexpectedly from time to time, making me feel like everything I’ve built back up is seconds away from crashing down around me. Theo, my sponsor, has prepared me, making sure I know that this is a potential factor given how I’m returning home for the first time since the accident.

  “There’s nothing more positive than being allowed to go home, Asher. Remember that.”

  Our conversation this morning was one I’d needed. He’s always told me to look for a positive in every situation, even on my darker days. And he’s right.

  I shake my head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick.”

  “Look, I get it. And maybe you’re right about not wanting Nora to come. You need to let off some steam.”

  “The last person I want to upset is her.”

  “Still protecting her even now.” He smiles. “She’s really fucking missed you, though. We all have. It’s good to have you home, brother.”

  Even though my mind is still conflicted, it does feel good to be out. And I’m sure. once I get my head around that, everything will start to fall into place. “I’m certainly looking forward to decent food and a comfy bed that’s for sure. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days.”

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?”

  “There are a few options I need to look into.”

  “Well, you know where I am if you need any help figuring stuff out. Jackson said he is there for you, too.”

  I nod. I haven’t seen Jackson Cole since before my sentencing, and I’m surprised he even wants to remain in contact after what I did. “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed is he with me still?”