The Fading Trilogy: Fading, Freeing, Falling: Includes 2 BONUS short stories Read online

  The Fading Boxset

  Copyright © 2014 E.K. Blair

  Compiled by Champagne Formats

  Fading

  Copyright © 2013 by E.K. Blair

  Cover Design by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Editing by Lisa Christman, Adept Edits

  Interior design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  Photography by Maxim Malevich

  Freeing

  Copyright © 2013 by E. K. Blair

  Cover Design by E.K. Blair

  Editing by Lisa Christman, Adept Edits

  Interior design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  Photography by Andrei Vishnyakov

  Falling

  Copyright © 2013 by E. K. Blair

  Cover Design by E.K. Blair

  Editing by Lisa Christman, Adept Edits

  Interior design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  Photography by Andrei Vishnyakov

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-578-15593-7

  Fading

  dedication

  quote

  prologue

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  chapter twenty-five

  chapter twenty-six

  chapter twenty-seven

  chapter twenty-eight

  chapter twenty-nine

  chapter thirty

  chapter thirty-one

  chapter thirty-two

  chapter thirty-three

  chapter thirty-four

  chapter thirty-five

  chapter thirty-six

  chapter thirty-seven

  chapter thirty-eight

  chapter thirty-nine

  chapter forty

  chapter forty-one

  acknowledgements

  Freeing

  acknowledgements

  dedication

  quote

  prologue

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  epilogue

  acknowledgements

  Hoping

  Falling

  dedication

  quote

  prologue

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  chapter twenty-five

  chapter twenty-six

  chapter twenty-seven

  chapter twenty-eight

  chapter twenty-nine

  chapter thirty

  chapter thirty-one

  chapter thirty-two

  chapter thirty-three

  chapter thirty-four

  chapter thirty-five

  chapter thirty-six

  chapter thirty-seven

  chapter thirty-eight

  chapter thirty-nine

  chapter forty

  chapter forty-one

  chapter forty-two

  chapter forty-three

  chapter forty-four

  chapter forty-five

  chapter forty-six

  chapter forty-seven

  chapter forty-eight

  chapter forty-nine

  chapter fifty

  chapter fifty-one

  epilogue

  note from the author

  acknowledgements

  Finding Forever

  acclaim for the Fading series

  Other Titles by E.K. Blair

  For Gina

  I've never been more pleased, and it's all your fault.

  "What do you mean they cancelled? They've been on the books for weeks."

  "I don't know. I didn't take the call, but we've gotta fill that slot in the next couple of days. Classes at U-Dub started today, so this weekend is gonna be busy as hell."

  "Shit!" I pause for a second, frustrated as fuck. "It's too late to do anything about it tonight. I'll make some calls tomorrow and try to get another band booked. Oh, hey, if those fuckers call back, tell them to find another bar to play."

  "Right, boss. You heading out soon? It's past midnight already."

  "Yeah, in a little bit. I need to finish this paperwork and I'll be gone. Go ahead and go."

  "See you tomorrow, man."

  "See ya."

  I try working on the inventory supply sheet that I need to get in to our liquor distributor, but my mind is elsewhere. I really need to call Gina and tell her to not come over tonight. She's starting to become so damn clingy. I can't stand chicks like that. The last thing I need to deal with is her needy shit. Gavin had warned me about her, but fuck if I listened. I was just looking for a one-night thing, but her stopping by my place and calling me all the time is getting annoying.

  A clatter outside snaps me out of my thoughts. I look down at my watch to see it's nearing one in the morning. Shit. When I start packing my things up to head home, I hear more comm
otion from outside. I shake my head knowing it's probably just some drunk guys heading back home from a party. People are always cutting through the back alley.

  I start locking everything up and make my way downstairs to the back door. "Crap," I whisper to myself, realizing I left my cell in my office. Walking back up the stairs to my office, I grab my phone off my desk. Then I hear screaming. A girl screaming.

  "Fuck!"

  Bolting out of my office, I quickly run downstairs to the back door and out to the small employee parking lot in the alley.

  "God, please! Stop!" a girl shrieks.

  Before my mind can process what I'm seeing, the bastard smashes his fist into the girl's face.

  Adrenaline courses through my body, and I run. Yanking the guy off her, I start slamming my fist in his face over and over. I completely lose control of myself and relentlessly whale on him. My knuckles start to burn as the flesh begins to split open. He manages to get a few swift hits to my jaw and ribs, which allows him a quick moment to work out of my grip and flee.

  Before I can charge after the guy, I catch a glimpse of the girl. It doesn't take but a split second for me to refocus. She lies there, completely unconscious, bare, with her clothes ripped off of her. My stomach clenches and my chest tightens as I slowly approach her and kneel down on my knees. Too scared to touch her, I take off my shirt and cover her naked, battered body. Her face is scratched and covered in blood and dirt. The side where the fucker's fist landed is already starting to swell and bruise, and her knees are ripped open and covered in gravel. My heart pounds and my gut is in knots.

  I pat my pockets for my cell but it's not on me. I must have dropped it as I ran out here. Not wanting to leave her, I look around and spot her purse. I lean over and grab it in search of her phone. When I find it, I swipe the screen and dial 911.

  As I sit next to her, she lies there, breathing peacefully. Whatever is running through her head right now has to be a million times better than the hell she's going to wake up to.

  What the fuck just happened? I stare at her. I don't know what else to do. She is so small, and when I look at her tiny hands, there is bloody flesh under her nails. Shit. I notice a little heart tattoo on her lower hip that is still exposed. Sliding the shirt over a little to cover it, I finally hear the sirens.

  "Thank God," I whisper.

  "Where did you meet this guy?"

  I stare at my hazel eyes reflected in the mirror and apply a little mascara to my already dark, thick lashes. "I ran into him at the country club."

  "What the hell were you doing there? You hate all those pretentious tartlets," she says with a dramatic eye roll.

  "I know, but my parents wanted me to meet them for brunch."

  "How did that go?" Kimber asks.

  I turn around to face her, "Oh you know, the usual. Mom is still up my ass for majoring in dance. Thinks I'm throwing my life away. I swear to God, the woman has got to get a life and stop trying to control mine."

  Lying on my bed while I browse my closet for something to wear, Kimber says, "Ugh, forget about her. So tell me, is this guy hot, or is he a loafer-wearing, country club douche?"

  Sliding on my favorite white pants and grabbing a sleeveless navy blouse, I shoot Kimber a smirk. "Hot, no loafers, clean cut, and a total mama's boy. So yeah, a bit of a douche."

  "Seriously? Why did you agree to go out with him?" She rolls off of my bed and starts rummaging through my shoes. Kimber is like my sister. I met her my freshman year when we were randomly paired together to share a dorm room. She's very outgoing and has a flair for dramatics. Although her sense of humor can be a bit brash, her heart is sincere. After our freshman year, we ditched the dorms and moved into this house, which her parents own. The past three years have really bonded us, and I couldn't imagine my life without her.

  "Because my mother was standing right there, and I just didn't want to deal with any more of her nagging. So, he asked, I said yes. We are just going out for a drink, that's all. No biggie."

  "Here, wear these shoes."

  "Thanks," I say as I slip on my gold Tory Burch sandals. I run a brush through my long, thick brown hair and give myself one last look in the mirror.

  Smearing on some lip-gloss, I make my way toward the kitchen. When I grab my cell off the bar to check my texts, I see I have one missed call from Jase. I met Jason around the same time I met Kimber. I immediately connected with him and can tell him anything. I love Kimber, but for some reason, I'm able to let all my walls down with Jase.

  There's a knock on the door, and I yell for Kimber to answer it. Quickly, I type out a text for Jase.

  Heading out for a few hours. Come by later. Dying to see you.

  Tossing my phone in my purse, I walk into the living room to meet Jack.

  "Hey, Jack."

  "Hi, Candace. You look great," he says, and I hear Kimber let out a tiny snort. I shoot her a look over my shoulder and mouth 'be nice!'

  I hop into Jack's car and we head to Prescriptions, a trendy upscale bar in downtown Seattle. Jack parks and then swiftly makes his way to my door to open it for me. Taking my hand, he helps me out of his small Audi.

  When we walk inside, the bar is dimly lit and scattered with sleek leather couches and leather-upholstered coffee tables. The main bar runs along one of the walls and is made of a rich chocolate wood. Spanning the length of the wall behind the bar of lit-up bottles is a solid black chalkboard with the word 'Prescriptions' written across it with all the drinks listed below in a unique, artistic script. As we settle onto one of the couches, a waitress comes by; Jack orders a beer, and I order a glass of red wine.

  Lifting his knee, he angles himself toward me on the sofa and asks, "So, how come I've never seen you at the country club before? I see your parents often, but never you."

  "Not my scene, I guess. My mother serves on a few committees, so she practically lives there."

  Jack narrows his dark blue eyes at me, and the edge of his mouth lifts into a slight grin. "You don't get along with your mother, do you?"

  "It's complicated," I sigh. "We have very different views on life. She's really into appearances. Looking the part. Playing the role. I just don't see the point."

  The waitress arrives with our drinks, and I take a generous sip of my wine. I can't help but notice how sexy he looks as he tilts his head back to take a drink from his bottle of beer. Maybe I was wrong; maybe he's not a douche. I let out a small giggle at my thought.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how maybe I had gotten the wrong impression of you the other day." I take another sip of my drink. "So, Jack, tell me about yourself."

  "What do you want to know?"

  "Hobbies? Major? What do you plan on doing after you graduate?"

  "Well, I play on the lacrosse team, and I'm studying Political Science." He takes another swig of his beer and clarifies, "I'm pre-law. So after this year I plan on going to Stanford for law school. What about you?"

  "I'm a Fine Arts major. Ballet. Another thing my mother doesn't approve of."

  "So, what are your plans after this year?"

  "Auditions, I guess. I mean, I'd like to dance professionally for as long as I can. Eventually I want to teach."

  We fall into easy conversation as we continue to talk and get to know each other better. He seems genuinely interested in what I have to say. Jack isn't the typical guy I go for; he's a frat boy and comes from an upbringing such as myself, but he's really nice and for the most part, seems down to earth.

  I tend to have a lot of first dates with guys but never find myself in a relationship with any of them. I don't really know the reason for that; maybe I just haven't found anyone that I care enough about to keep around. I'm not a slut by any means, far from it. I've only slept with one guy, my high school boyfriend. We dated off and on for over a year and wound up having sex the night of our graduation. I was young and stupid, but that was three years ago, and I haven't heard from him since that night.
>
  After a couple of hours pass easily, I excuse myself to the ladies' room. I wash my hands and search my purse for a hair tie. The wine is starting to make me feel warm, and I need to get the hair off of my neck. I have always wanted short hair, but as a dancer, it needs to be long enough to secure in a bun on top of my head. So for now, I have long, thick, dark brown hair with natural golden highlights that hangs a few inches below my shoulders. When I finally find a hair tie, I quickly sweep my hair up into a ponytail.

  When I return, Jack stands up and holds out his hand for me. "You ready to go?"

  "Yeah," I say as I slide my hand into his.

  Jack parks his car in front of my house, and once again, jumps out and opens my door for me. He walks me up to the front door and says, "I really had fun with you tonight. How about we do this again?"

  "Umm, yea. That would be nice," I say as he leans in and lightly brushes his lips against my cheek. My neck heats, and I feel slightly embarrassed by the gesture.

  "I'll call you so we can set something up."

  "Okay, that sounds good. Thanks for the drinks. I had a really nice time."

  "Me too. Goodnight, Candace."

  "Night, Jack."

  I watch him walk back to his car, and I turn to open the door. Instead, the door handle jerks out of my hand, and I stumble to my knees inside the house.

  "What the hell, Kimber?!"

  Nodding her head towards the door, she questions, "Mmm hmm...what was that all about?"

  Pushing myself off the floor to stand, I look at her with an annoyed expression on my face, "What was what all about?"

  "Him kissing you on the cheek. Lame." She scrunches up her nose in disgust. "Who does that?"

  "God, whatever. And you didn't have to watch him kiss me. I swear your voyeurism knows no limits."

  "Well?" she continues, staring at me with her way too curious, blue eyes.

  "Ooh, leave me alone," I sigh. "I might have been wrong about him. He's a pretty decent guy. I think we might try and get together again. We'll see." I walk to my bedroom to change clothes, and Kimber follows me. She lies across my bed while I put on a pair of cut-off sweat shorts and a cami.

  I watch Kimber as she stares up at the ceiling in deep thought with her wavy blonde hair fanned out around her. Kimber is beautiful, and she knows it. She's fit but has been blessed with feminine curves, where I have more of a straight, lean body. Typical ballerina form.