Wounded

WOUNDED BLACK DIAMOND NOVEL UNLUCKY 13 ASHLEY JAMES Copyright © 2023 by Ashley James All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover by Rebel Ink Co. Photographer: Wanderlust Formatting Editing by Nice Girl Naughty Edits CONTENTS Keep In Touch With The Author Welcome to Black Diamond Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Journal Entry No. 1 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Journal Entry No. 2 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Journal Entry No. 3 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Say My Name Sneak Peek Need More? Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Ashley James ABOUT YOUR BOOK Welcome to Black Diamond Resort and Spa… Where the rich and famous go to disappear. Some to relax, some to get sober. For me… It’s my last shot, my final chance at redemption. I’m hotheaded. Reckless. Self-Destructive. I don’t want to be here, but not doing so means losing everything I’ve worked my whole life for. It means losing my band. The only family and the only constant I’ve ever known. They say I have a problem. That I need help. I say it’s just part of fame. The drugs help numb the pain. Keep the demons away. I’m doing my best to keep my head down and bide my time until I can go home. Then he comes and makes himself at home at my breakfast table… Rowan Davies. Son of Hollywood’s most famous movie producer and my new pain in the ass. He’s nauseatingly cheerful. Buoyant. A presence refusing to be ignored. And he’s set his sights on me. He wants to fix me. Make me feel. He wants me to let him in. Love him. But he’s here against his will too. We’re both broken. Wounded where no one else can see. Is a bond derived from lies and vices really a bond at all, or only a setup for yet another epic failure? KEEP IN TOUCH WITH THE AUTHOR https://authorashleyjames.com/links/ To the Unlucky 13, Love this journey for us. This has been fun, and only slightly chaotic. I love this little world we all created. WELCOME TO BLACK DIAMOND Black Diamond Recovery Center was founded in 2001 by father and son, Craig and Dexter Diamond. Wanting a place for those in the public eye to go to seek help with their addiction and mental illness, Black Diamond came to fruition. We recognize that addiction and mental illness are complex diseases that affect every aspect of a person’s life, and we provide comprehensive care that addresses all of our clients’ needs. Unlike other recovery facilities, we don’t just treat the addiction; we treat the whole person. Our approach is designed to provide support and healing for our clients’ physical, emotional, and mental well-being, helping them achieve lasting recovery and a brighter future. During your stay, you’ll enjoy relaxing living quarters, gourmet meals, and luxurious amenities—all carefully curated with your healing and comfort in mind—while still receiving the utmost levels on anonymity. PROLOGUE Caspian Glass shattering startles me from my state of almost asleep, followed by my aunt shouting. This is nothing new. Tonight, like most nights, I find myself wishing my life was different. That maybe I could live like the other kids in my grade who seem to have it all put together. They don’t come to school in clothes with holes, or that look and smell like they haven’t been washed in over a week. They never seem to have a chip on their shoulder, like smiles and laughter are a regular occurrence. They’re also able to focus and do their schoolwork without trouble. They don’t come in with their assignments left unfinished because their house was in such a disarray the night before, they couldn’t find a single quiet, clean place to complete it. They can read and write; they don’t stumble over sentences or misspell easy words. Their families love them. They’re normal, and kind, and do things like sit together at the table to eat dinner, talk about their days, maybe even watch movies on the weekends. I’m starting my first day of high school tomorrow. I don’t have new clothes, my backpack is one I’ve had since last year—the zipper doesn’t work anymore, so I have to hold it together with a clothespin—and I haven’t been able to take a shower since Friday because the hot water was turned off, and Lord knows my aunt doesn’t have the means to turn it back on. Not when she spent what little money she gets from the state each month on the shit she probably just injected into her arm. Bought from the man who she probably chucked that glass at that shattered all over the kitchen or dining room, or maybe even the hallway. Wherever it is, I’ll bet anything it’ll still be there in the morning when I leave for school. Heck, it’ll be there when I get home too. The glass will sit there, broken into a million pieces just like my life, until I finally have enough and clean it up myself. The pressure pushing down on my bladder is painful, and I know with certainty I will not be able to ignore it in favor of going back to sleep. Shoving my ratty blanket off me, I swing my legs off the bed until they hit the cold, hard floor. The bathroom is down the hall. Another reason to be envious of the kids in my grade… the rich ones—actually, even some middle-class ones—have the luxury