Dare to Kiss (The Maxwell Series Book 1) by S.B. Alexander

street. I had to tell Dad about it. I wanted a new gun. Joe, who worked at the gun range, recommended I check out a Glock. He’d said it was lighter than the Kimber I had.
    Driving back to the house, I turned up the radio. They were playing Zeal’s new song. Oh, my God. Dad didn’t tell me that they’d released it . I loved them. Their songs were alternative rock, and the lead singer had a raspy voice with a great tone. All the females loved J.J. When he sang I always felt like he was singing just to me. When he stared into the camera with his deep green eyes in his music videos, it was heart-stopping, especially when he sang his gut-wrenching ballads. The emotion he put behind each song made women want to drop their panties. I’d hung out with the band when they were in the studio recording. I knew J.J. had had a bad breakup with a pretty model, and from that he wrote killer love songs.
    As I listened a tear came to my eye. I’d watched them rehearse this song, but I hadn’t heard the final version. Wow ! J.J’s fans were going to weep. The chorus was amazing. However, the part of the song that sent my body into tingles was, “ Her touch was magical, her caress was soothing, and her silky voice slid along every nerve, awakening the man in me.”
    Sniffling, I pulled into my driveway as the song ended. When I did, Dad came storming out of the house, grimacing. Uh-oh . Cutting the engine, I jumped out. Dr. Davis must have called him.
    “Where have you been? You missed your appointment.” His tone was deadly as he came down the brick path from the front porch to my car.
    “I’m sorry, Dad. I ran into that Kade guy in front of Dr. Davis’ office, and I didn’t want him to know I was seeing a psychiatrist.” I’d never lied to my dad, and I wasn’t going to start now. Besides, fear fueled his anger. He knew I could handle myself a little better now. Still, he worried about me. I mean, he couldn’t be with me every minute of the day. Dr. Meyers had told him that he needed to let me breathe and not suffocate me. The only way I was going to learn to deal with life was to get out and face my fears.
    “Lacey Robinson,” he said, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “I thought something happened to you.” His chest rose then he let out a breath.
    “I’m sorry. I should’ve called you.”
    “You’re damn right.” He threw his arms around my neck, hugging me. “I know I need to let you live your life, but…I can’t lose you, Sweet Pea.”
    Forget the one tear that fell when I listened to the song—I now had a river of them coursing down my cheeks. “Dad, you’re not going to lose me,” I said between sniffles. “I’m so afraid of people in school finding out about my PTSD.”
    “It’s okay. I explained to Dr. Davis about our concerns about privacy. He understands. But you can’t keep missing appointments because you run into classmates.” His voice was firm yet gentle.
    “I know, but I panicked.”
    “You’ve got to learn to trust a few people in your life,” he said as we walked into the house.
    “I don’t know, Dad. It’s not like I’m going to be here another year, especially if I get the scholarship to ASU.” I was afraid to get too close to anyone. Not because I was off to college in another year—I didn’t trust myself. The whole breakup with Brad hurt, but part of me was also humiliated for not seeing the signs: he cheated on me with another guy.
    Dad shrugged. “Trust your friends. I’m not saying that you have to tell them your life’s story, but you do need to relax. You know that’s going to help you with your PTSD.”
    Again, I couldn’t argue. I was frightened I would snap at school, in front of everyone. I didn’t want people to know I had a mental illness. The bullies would come out of the woodwork like cockroaches. Oh, God —what if I wasn’t allowed to try out because of my PTSD? After this past week, I was beginning to think that moving to Massachusetts might not