Leap of Faith (Iris Boys Book 3) Read online

  Synopsis

  The Iris Boys crash landed into my life and changed everything in it. Now, I’m surrounded by four incredible men—five, if the last one will ever fully open up to me. Never in a million years did I think I’d fall in love. Much less with more than one man. But that’s what I did. I’m in love with the Iris Boys.

  They are my confidantes.

  My friends.

  My closest allies.

  If I thought things were going to get easier, I was sorely mistaken. I have to find Erika and keep her from making, quite possibly, the biggest mistake of her life. But ties of friendship mean nothing when you don’t want to be saved. Even if the bond between friends is broken, the bond between lovers is stronger… right?

  Leap of Faith

  Lucy Smoke

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Iris Boys 4: Sneak Peek

  Excerpt from Expressionate

  Also by Lucy Smoke

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 Lucy Smoke LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission in writing from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no endorsement, implied or otherwise, if any such terms are used.

  Leap of Faith is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The author holds all rights to this work and it is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

  Cover Design by Olivia Designs

  Acknowledgments

  This series has taken off far more than I ever truly expected. What started as an innocent little story for a friend has turned into a series that continues to grow. I am so thankful to so many people and that is what this section is for. It is for the acknowledgement of all those who have supported me on my journey to making my dream come true.

  I would like to give a major thank you to my special team of support. To those in the industry with me, thank you. To Coralee June, Tate James, Anita Maxwell, and Jen Borne. I am truly grateful for your words of kindness and wisdom, and for the countless hours of sprinting, laughing, sarcastic remarks, and friendship.

  I would like to recognize my amazing editor for her love and straight talk. Thank you for breaking me down and making me a better writer. Thank you as well to my beta readers, Anna, Kelly, Melanie, Kate and Eveis, and my proofreader, Ellen.

  I would not be able to do what I do without your care.

  Dedicated to Kristen Breanne. Thank you for your patience and grace.

  Prologue

  Harlow

  5 years ago...

  The swing squeaked, an old and rusted thing, as I pushed off with my feet. I hoped that it wouldn't collapse under my weight. That would just be another bad thing to happen to me on the worst day of my life. I sighed and pushed off again. The squeak was becoming monotonous, flitting off in the distance—an echo that drifted and drifted away. I didn't even hear it anymore. Nor did I hear the footsteps of my best friend as she approached.

  "Hey," Erika said, taking the equally rusted swing next to me. I nodded her way but remained quiet. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You never come here. I thought it was too far to walk."

  The park wasn't too far of a walk. Not if you really wanted to get away from something, which I really did right now. It was a little over a mile from my house. Technically, if my mom came outside and called for me, it was too far. Right now, though, I doubted she would come looking for me and, even if she did, I wondered if I would care. It was an interesting thought—not caring. I couldn't do it, but I fantasized about it. About draining all of my emotions—the negative ones most of all. It felt like my life was ending and that was selfish. I wasn’t the sick one. I was perfectly healthy. I knew if I tried to talk to anyone at school—the counselors or a teacher or someone—they'd say I was being overdramatic. I was being overdramatic, but I was fourteen. Didn't I have that right?

  "Harlow?" Erika prompted.

  I shook my head and looked at her. "My mom says I have to quit gymnastics," I said.

  Her eyes widened. "What? Really? Why?" she demanded.

  I turned back to looking at the ground and pushed at it every so often with my feet to keep my swing in motion. "We don't have the money," I confessed, "and she says she's going to have to go to the doctor's more often."

  Erika was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "That really sucks, Harlow. I'm so sorry."

  I didn't know why she was sorry. It wasn’t her fault that my mom was always sick. It wasn’t her fault we didn't have any money. Michael couldn’t exactly do anything from New York. But I guess people had to say something when they didn't know what else to say. My chest hurt. Gymnastics wasn't glamorous or anything—it was a lot of work—but it was my escape. It was the one thing I was really good at. Life wasn't fair.

  "So..." Erika said. "What now?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know," I replied. "Maybe I'll look for a job."

  "You're not old enough to get a job," she reminded me.

  "I'll babysit or something," I said. "I can do that, and then maybe in a couple of years I can apply to that place on the other side of the interstate."

  Erika pursed her lips as if she wanted to argue, but eventually she just nodded and fell silent. We pushed ourselves back and forth on the swings for several moments before we were interrupted by a scratchy laugh and the shuffling of boots over dead grass. I was quickly reminded why I really never came to the park in the first place as Kyle Bloom came around one of the trees on the edges of the park and headed straight for us with his younger brother in tow. Jimmy Bloom moved along behind him awkwardly, but he was just as mean as his older brother. While Kyle had an anticipatory grin, Jimmy scowled. I had never actually seen him smile. I wondered, briefly, if he even knew how.

  "Well, if it isn't the Bimbo and the Harlot," Kyle called.

  To my side, Erika rolled her eyes. "Do you even know what that word means?" she scoffed.

  "Oh, Bimbo," Kyle sneered. "If you looked it up in the dictionary, you'd see your face. So, of course, I know what it means."

  "I meant the word harlot, Kyle," she snapped. "I'm surprised you even know what a dictionary is much less...larger words."

  "Mom says harlots are girls who sleep around and get bad diseases," Jimmy piped up.

  I studiously ignored them, keeping my gaze trained on the ground. More than likely, their mom had told them that. Mrs. Bloom was a regular churchgoer and I knew from brief bouts of my own mom's church-going status, that the term came straight from there. Maybe not originally, but I hadn't really cared much about looking up stuff like that, much less paying more than a cursory attention in Sunday school. I knew they had only chosen the insult because it was so close to my actual name. Har
low the Harlot, they called me. I didn't care.

  Erika stood up as Jimmy and Kyle came closer. "We don't feel like dealing with you today," she snapped. "So, you may as well just turn your tails around and walk the other way, Kyle."

  "Awww, is the Harlot feeling blue today," Jimmy taunted as they came closer.

  "You, too, Jimmy," Erika sneered.

  "Too bad, Bimbo," Kyle laughed. I sighed as they circled us. I guessed it was time to leave. Putting my feet down hard, my shoes skidded against the mulch under the swing set. I stood up and motioned over to Erika.

  "Come on," I said. "Let's just go."

  Kyle stepped in front of me. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

  I looked up at him. "I'm not in the mood, Kyle," I said blandly. "I'm leaving. The park's yours." I turned back to Erika. "Ready?" I asked.

  She nodded, but before she could move closer to me, Jimmy cut her off as well. "You can't leave until we say you can," he said.

  "Yeah," Kyle mimicked. "Not until we say."

  "What are you going to do?" Erika demanded. "Stop us?" She pushed past Jimmy and grabbed my hand.

  Kyle's own came out and snagged my other arm before she could pull me away. "Aww, is the Bimbo scared we're gonna hurt her friend?" he taunted.

  Jimmy laughed. "It's the only one she has."

  Erika gritted her teeth and I tried to pull my arm from Kyle's grip. He squeezed harder. "You're hurting me," I said.

  He looked down at me and squeezed harder, grinning. Just as I was about to knee him in his groin, a small dainty fist came out and slammed into his nose. Kyle's hand fell away as he cried out and tripped backward. Eyes wide, I turned to Erika, who held her fist close to her chest.

  She winced. "That freaking hurt!"

  "Hey!" Jimmy yelled, lunging for his brother to make sure he was okay.

  "Come on," Erika snapped. With her free hand, she grabbed mine and then pulled me away as fast as possible.

  "That was so..." I tried to say as we ran towards the road.

  "I know," she said, sounding surprised. "I don't know what came over me."

  "Whatever it was," I said, "you should let it happen more often."

  Erika's grin was blinding. When we were a suitable distance away, I tugged on her hand to pull her to a stop. I could take care of myself. I would have punched Kyle if he had gotten too irritating, but I needed to hug her. When Erika slowed, I dropped her hand and put my arms around her.

  "You're my best friend," I said as I inhaled her smell. Erika smelled like her mom's faded perfume and the lemony cleaning supplies her parents used to clean their house. It was comforting.

  "And you're mine," she replied.

  “I promise I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,” I said quietly, tears stinging at the back of my eyes.

  I could feel her lips pressing into my hair as she smiled and squeezed me tighter. “I know you wouldn’t.”

  I held her for a long time. I didn't know how long, but it was long enough that when I pulled back I could feel the extra warmth on my cheek from pressing against her shoulder. It was good to have a friend I could count on. Even though I could take care of myself and I wasn't so spineless as to let people like Kyle and Jimmy Bloom hurt me, Erika wasn't the kind of person who stood for it. Sure, she was girly, and she was a little forgetful at times, but she was a good person. She was my person.

  Grayson

  4 years ago…

  Iris.

  On one side of the coal-black card in my hand, the name was scribbled in a light, cursive, silvery ink. Beautiful printing, I thought, turning the card over and sliding my thumb across the elegant script. A single phone number marked the other side. I flipped the card again, holding it in my hand.

  “We’re nearing the main gate,” the driver said, alerting me to the roll of the town car’s tires as it slowed to turn into the Vandersen-Caruso entryway. Scowling, I slid the card into my pocket and folded my arms across my chest. We turned into the gates and slowly rolled up the mile-long driveway.

  When the driver stopped the car and got out to open my own door, I barely spared the man a glance as I ascended the front marble steps. The twin columns on either side of the solid oak, double front doors were cloaked in rich green ivy. It, too, was as fake as the people who lived in this godforsaken house. It was planted and grown to look natural and then twisted around the columns as a statement of architectural beauty. That’s all she was fucking obsessed with—beauty.

  As I strode through the front doors, a butler stopped at my side. Before he could say a word, her voice flitted down the front staircase. “Grayson? You’re home.”

  Tingles of rage poured into my veins every time I looked up at her beautiful, scheming face. Oh, yes. Theodora “Teddi” Vandersen-Caruso was quite possibly one of the most beautiful women in Charleston at one point in time, but years of attempting to stop aging had really ruined that for her.

  “Yes, Mother.” I let the butler take my coat and scramble away as she descended the staircase. Even her own damn servants didn’t want to stay in the same room as her if they didn’t have to.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I was at Marv’s house.”

  Her lips pinched down as she reached the bottom and stepped onto the mahogany flooring. “The Carter boy? What were you doing over there?”

  “We’ve become…friends,” I said, casually straightening the cuffs on my dress shirt.

  One elegantly carved, perfectly plucked eyebrow arched and her mouth turned down in a frown. Well, as much of a frown as she could manage after so much plastic surgery. Teddi Vandersen-Caruso looked as fake as she acted. She moved towards me, gliding across the floor and I stiffened when her long nails brushed against the fabric of my shirt as she reached out and touched the collar.

  "I didn't know you were interested in the Carter family," she said, straightening my collar. I should have known better than to come home looking anything but perfectly pressed and put together. I barely resisted the urge to yank myself away from her. Of course, she would think that all I was interested in was Marv's family. God forbid I actually wanted to have a friend.

  Relieved when she finally pulled back, I turned my face away and moved down the hall. The soft click of her heels on the hardwood echoed through the mansion like the sound of nails in a coffin as she followed. I kept moving until I turned the corner into the small study that had once been my father’s. That is, it was before he eloped with his secretary. We were a family of stereotypes. My father, the one who couldn't keep it in his pants. My mother, the frigid ice queen. Josh, the party boy and royal fuck up. And me. Whatever I was.

  "So, when are you seeing this boy again? Have you met his father?" I stiffened at the interest in her voice and turned slowly as I stopped in front of the antique, neoclassical, executive desk. "Perhaps we should invite Marvin and his father over for dinner."

  "Why do you care and why would we do that?"

  "Grayson, dear, you know I care about who you decide to align yourself with." Teddi moved across the room to drape herself across one of the two matching, dark gray, chaise lounges.

  That might have been true had I mentioned a family of less substantial wealth and power in Charleston. But she had never before mentioned her interest in them. In fact, she had been averse to inviting anyone over, lest they realized that my father had moved out and disappeared to somewhere in Bermuda with his new wife, and that her divorce was now not only filed, but finalized. Funny, what money could accomplish in the span of a few months; that and a few well-placed affidavits and fabrications.

  "I'm just saying, Grayson, darling, that it might behoove us to invite them over." She sighed as though I were causing one of her famous migraines to appear out of thin air and shot me an irritated glance before flitting away again. "It'll be nothing too fancy. Perhaps something here. Something intimate. Just call your friend and ask him if he and his father would like to come. Friday sounds like a good day."

 
; The father. Did she think I hadn't noticed? She was only mentioning Marv's father. A part of me wanted to think that perhaps she didn't know that Marv's parents were happily married, but I knew better. I had met Caitlyn Carter and she was nice. Much nicer and warmer than Teddi Vandersen-Caruso could ever hope to be.

  I turned fully, facing my mother. "I will not be asking Marv or his father to come to dinner," I said quietly. Her eyes shot back to mine and she raised halfway up on the lounge, her features strained as she tried to convey her disappointment past her Botox. I smiled. "But perhaps, I could ask his mother if she'd like to join us. I'm sure Mrs. Carter would be more than happy to come. I know how you like to have your connections."

  My mother sat up and eyed me. At one point, she had been the most beautiful of the Charleston debutante society. That beauty, while still somewhat remaining under her surgical attempts to appear nineteen again when she was pushing into her late thirties, was only a mask for the snake lying within. I didn't doubt the reason she wanted Marv's father to come over without his wife. I doubted that even a good man such as Mr. Carter could withstand her for long once she set her sights on him.

  Teddi stood, gliding across the study. When her hand landed softly on my cheek, her thumb rubbing up and down, she smiled. "Oh, Grayson, dear. You're too young to worry about things like connections."

  Too young? Maybe. But this woman had aged me before my time. I grinned back at her. "I only want to support you," I lied.