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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Breaking the Cycle

  Copyright © January 2014 by Tricia Andersen

  Hartwood Release: June 2016

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Breaking the Cycle by Tricia Andersen

  Max is excited when Chloe, a girl that works for the same gym he does, agrees to go on a date with him. He is disturbed, though, when she becomes violently ill after he kisses her. Max can’t shake how he feels about her. He sacrifices his job and does everything he can to find an answer to her illness. But is it enough to save their relationship – and save her?

  Chloe can’t believe Max Thomas, the hottest guy at Roadie’s Gym, wants to go out with her. When their date is a disaster, she thinks she’ll never see him again. She is stunned when he reappears in her life and tries to find the answer behind whatever has made her sick since she was a child. However, will he stick around or abandon her like her father did? Can she trust him enough to let him into her heart?

  Acknowledgements

  A Very Special Thank You To:

  Keoni Koch and everyone at Hard Drive Mixed Martial Arts in Cedar Rapids – thank you for teaching me everything there is to know about Mixed Martial Arts and for making me a part of the family.

  Silvia Robey and Marie Pierce for keeping me on track and helping me understand CVS from an adult sufferers point of view.

  The Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome Association for all your support from beginning to end.

  Dedication

  Breaking the Cycle is Dedicated to:

  All those who suffer from CVS and to the caretakers who are by their side through every episode.

  The doctors and nurses who work tirelessly toward a cure.

  My husband and my sons for being my rock…

  And to my Princess, from your Warrior Mom.

  Chapter One

  The sound of machinery and iron, the smell of sweat and strong disinfectant. It was a smell that repulsed most people. To Max there wasn’t a better scent in the world. He bent under the dead lift rack to pick up a couple of discarded towels.

  He loved his job at Roadie’s Gym. The place was modern and state of the art. The exercise equipment was calibrated and perfect. Roadie made sure of it himself. Roadie wasn’t his real name. Truthfully, Max wasn’t sure what it was. Roadie’s wife signed the paychecks. She ran the business while he ran the trainers. And every so often she’d bake a sinful treat that a bunch of athletes shouldn’t indulge in. Roadie got the nickname from working on the road crew of one of the big-time, pro-wrestling companies. He had learned work out tips from the trainers there, and when the time was right, he had quit and opened his gym.

  Max smiled as he gathered the roaming disinfectant bottles scattered around the free weights area. This is the life he wanted, Roadie’s life. Max wanted to own his own gym. He wanted to know that he had made a difference when it came to someone’s health. Max envied Roadie.

  Max spun as he heard a long string of curses come from Roadie’s office. Roadie stormed out, his face and nearly bald head growing redder by the second.

  “Blast it!” Roadie fumed. “Chloe called in sick again!”

  Max slowly exhaled as the rest of the personal trainers he worked with started to gripe. Chloe called in sick a lot, at least once a month. Everyone at Roadie’s Gym was sick of covering her classes and personal training sessions. Even Max had used her name in vain a time or two, especially when he was stuck training Mrs. Rozinski. The rotund woman liked to flirt a little too much and stunk of cheap perfume.

  It didn’t make sense to Max. Chloe seemed to love her job. The petite brunette was always happy, always energetic when she was at the gym. Her big, deep brown eyes were always sparkling. Her shoulder length brown hair was always in a neat ponytail. The clients all loved her when she was there.

  Max sighed. The clients weren’t the only ones who loved her. He had to admit he had a huge crush on Chloe. He had since she had started at Roadie’s. He had worked up the courage a couple times to ask her out. It always happened on those inevitable days when she called in sick.

  Max looked at the nearest calendar, a puzzled look etching on his face. Thursday. Chloe always called in on Thursdays. What could possibly be going on in this city that makes her sick the next day? Is she getting drunk? Chloe doesn’t seem like the party type to me. What bar in Minneapolis has ladies night on Wednesdays? Why is Chloe only getting drunk every third week? This whole thing is bizarre.

  Roadie’s voice broke Max from his thoughts. “Max, you’re going to have to cover Chloe’s kickboxing class. And her appointment with Mrs. Rozinski.”

  Max groaned as he threw the dirty towels he held into the hamper. He wandered to the locker room to retrieve his hand wraps. Granted, for a class of mostly middle aged women he didn’t need them. He unzipped his workout bag and dug to the bottom to get them. He had them since college. Ripping free the fabric closure, he let them unwind to the floor. He studied them lovingly. They were stained dark in places. No matter how many times he washed them they didn’t come clean. It was all right though. They held memories that he would cherish for the rest of his life. Some very, very good. Some really, really bad. He glanced up at the clock. Two minutes until his private training session with Mrs. Rozinski. He wouldn’t have time to come back and get these. He raced out of the room, his wraps trailing behind him.

  The second he stepped out of the workout room he collided with Mrs. Rozinski. “Hey there, Maxy. I heard Chloe’s not here. It’s you and me today, huh?” she purred.

  “Yes, Mrs. Rozinski. It’s you and me,” he answered as professional as he could.

  “Lead the way, cutie.” She winked at him with a devious smile. Max bit back the exasperated sigh that threatened to escape. He cocked his head to her to follow him. The woman was literally on his heels as he led her to the cardio machines. If the subtle brush of her body wasn’t enough, the overwhelming cloud of her perfume announced her presence like a ton of bricks. He motioned to a treadmill. “Let’s do twenty minutes.”

  “Chloe only makes me do ten,” Mrs. Rozinski pouted.

  “I know better. She makes you walk for twenty minutes. So let’s go.”

  He glanced at the clock as she climbed onto the machine. It felt like the hands never moved. This would be the longest hour of his life.

  Once Mrs. Rozinski’s twenty minutes were up, Max escorted her to the assisted weights machine. He fought back his eye roll every time she giggled when he touched her. The woman was older than his mother.

  Finally the hour was up. Max freed himself from Mrs. Rozinski with a pat on the back and a few instructions. He barely caught the blush on her cheek as he raced to the classroom to teach Chloe’s kickboxing class. He wrapped his hands on the s
print. The feel of the fabric compressing his hands gave him a rush he missed, but one he would never indulge in again. He tossed open the door, the memories fading to black as he addressed the class of students. Another sweaty hour later he said goodbye to his class, choked down his sandwich and raced to the fitness area to oversee those using the equipment and offering his assistance when he could.

  Balancing both his and Chloe’s workload wore him out. That night, he barely got back to his apartment and got something to eat before he collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep. The morning came too early.

  Max hung up his jacket in the employee locker room then checked his watch. Seven-thirty. He could get a couple miles in on the treadmill before his shift started. Lifting his foot onto the bench anchored to the ground, he re-tied his shoe.

  “Hi, Max.”

  Max looked up as the soft, feminine voice greeted him. Chloe stood in the doorway, her purple tank top and running shorts clinging tight to her small frame. Her brown hair was tied up in its customary ponytail, brushing lightly against her shoulders.

  “Hey, Chloe. How’re you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. Thanks for covering for me yesterday.”

  “No worries.” Max dropped his foot to the floor and stood straight. He was pretty tall at six foot four. Chloe hardly made it to his chest. The huge difference in size made him feel instinctively protective of her.

  “Well, I have Zumba, so I better go. I just wanted to thank you. I know I put you in an awful position yesterday.”

  “Chloe, wait,” Max rushed out. “I have something to ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?”

  Chloe wrung her fingers together as she stared across the locker room nervously. “I don’t know.”

  Max’s heart plummeted in his chest. “Come on, Chloe. It’s just dinner.”

  Chloe stared at him wide-eyed for several moments. He watched as she swallowed hard a couple of times. Finally, she managed a weak smile. “Sure.”

  “Pick you up at seven?”

  “All right.”

  Max grinned as Chloe gave a timid wave goodbye before jogging off to her class. He grabbed his earbuds then slammed his locker shut. He followed shortly after her.

  He watched the clock slowly tick past as he waited for the workday to be over. When quitting time arrived, he hardly said goodbye to anyone. He was too excited to get home and get ready for his date. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it over the sofa as he near sprinted to the shower. The hot water running over his tired muscles made him groan. If he didn’t have plans he’d stay there until there was no hot water left. The image of Chloe popped into his mind. With a flick of his wrist the water was gone. He grabbed the towel hanging on a hook beside the shower and patted himself down. He tugged his favorite dress shirt on then followed with the matching slacks. After snaking the tie around his neck and knotting it, he dashed out the door with his car keys in his hand. He stopped short at the door of his building to watch the pouring rain. Taking a deep breath to steady himself he dashed out into the storm.

  Max put his car in park then glanced up through the wet paths cut across the windshield at the two-story, white house with the wide front porch. His heart raced in his chest. He watched as the front door then the screen door opened. Max scrambled for the umbrella sitting on the passenger seat of his ’57 Ford Mustang. He left the car running as he flung open his door and opened the umbrella. He jogged to the base of the porch steps and smiled as he greeted Chloe.

  He gazed up at her as she stopped on the top stair, still protected from the rain by the roof. Her brown hair was held up on her head in a mass of curls by a barrette. She wore a burgundy, spaghetti strap sundress that ran down her fit body and ended at her knees. Her feet were nestled in a pair of strappy sandals. He stared at her in fascination for several moments.

  “Are you all right, Max?” Chloe asked with concern.

  Max shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. “Yeah, sure.” He leapt up the stairs to her. “You are so beautiful.”

  Chloe’s cheeks flushed pink. “Thank you.”

  Max took her arm in his as he held the umbrella over their heads. He escorted her to the waiting vehicle, being careful to maneuver her around the puddles. Once she was comfortably inside and the door was shut, he walked to the other side and climbed in.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Max began. “I thought we’d try that new Italian restaurant near the gym. I hear the lasagna is incredible. What do you think?”

  “Sure. That would be great,” Chloe answered weakly.

  Max stared at her for a moment stifling a sigh. She is really beautiful. Why is she acting so nervous? It’s just me. I don’t bite. Much. He fought back a chuckle at his own joke. He slid the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

  The small Italian restaurant was bathed in an amber golden light. The booths and tables were stained in a deep chocolate brown, each tabletop draped in a red and white, checkered cloth. Max smiled. He loved small, independently owned places like this instead of big chain restaurants.

  He glanced over to Chloe standing beside him. She was biting her lower lip with an anxious look in her eye. I hope she likes this place as much as I do.

  They were escorted to a table and given their menus. Max pulled Chloe’s chair out for her. Anything I can do to impress her. He took his seat before looking up to start a little small talk. But she had buried herself in her menu, blocking her entire face from his sight.

  With a sigh, he reached across the table for a breadstick. Only to jump back as his arm knocked over his water glass, soaking the front of his lilac dress shirt and black tie. He ripped his napkin from the table and blotted at the blossoming, ice-cold spot.

  As he heard the sound of giggling, Max looked up. Chloe was pressing her hands against her mouth to hide her laughter. But it was no use. Max chuckled as he sat back in his seat.

  “Are you all right?” Chloe asked.

  “Yep. Nothing but a little hurt pride.”

  She reached across the table and wrapped her hand around his. “If it means anything, I thought you handled it gracefully.”

  He felt a surge of electricity jolt him at her touch. “Well, thank you.”

  What a way to break the ice.

  Chloe offered her napkin to him to help him clean up his mess. “Do you always start your dates this way?” she teased.

  “Not always. Only for the pretty ones.” He winked at her. There was no missing the sudden tinge in her cheeks. He tossed the damp napkins next to his plate. “How long have you lived in the Twin Cities?”

  “All my life. I was born and raised here. I live with my mom in the house I grew up in. How about you? How long have you lived here?”

  “A couple of years. I’m from New Ulm. It’s west of Mankato.”

  “I’ve been there. A little German town. Right?”

  “You got it.”

  “It’s really pretty.”

  “Well, on behalf of the citizens of New Ulm I can say thank you.”

  Chloe laughed. “What made you want to be a personal trainer?”

  “I’ve liked sports since I was a kid. I couldn’t imagine a career that didn’t have some sort of sports involved. So I went to college in Mankato and majored in personal fitness.”

  “What sports have you played?”

  “All types of sports. Football, basketball, wrestling. I was pretty good at all of them.”

  “Did you ever want to go pro?”

  Max stared at he for a moment. Then he chuckled. “I’m taking over this entire conversation. It’s my turn to ask a question. What made you want to be a personal trainer?”

  Chloe shrugged as she sat back to allow the server to set her plate in front of her. “I just want to help people stay healthy.”

  The conversation died when they began to eat. Max looked up from his chicken parmesan to find Chloe watching him, a warm smile on her face
. She reached across the table to brush a brown lock from his forehead. “I can see the German heritage in you.”

  Max couldn’t speak. Her touch sent his heart racing. He nervously returned her smile. She wrapped her small hand around his and held it tight. He didn’t remember handing the server his credit card until she brought back his receipt to sign. He pushed out his chair then offered his arm to her. She wrapped her arm around his as he led her outside. The rain had quit. The streetlights reflected in the puddles randomly scattered around the street and sidewalk. They took the long way around the block to Max’s car.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Max whispered.

  “Maybe a time or two,” Chloe breathed.

  He gazed at her, meeting her brown eyes with his. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes wandered to her lips. The night had gone so perfectly. He dipped his mouth against hers for a soft kiss.

  He heard her sigh as she sank into the kiss. He thought he felt her deepen it. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer. Then, suddenly, she pushed against him, jerking out of his grasp. There was a look of terror in her eyes. She back-pedaled several steps. “So…sorry,” she gasped before she turned and rushed around the corner.

  Max simply stared at the empty street, wiping his hand across his mouth. Was kissing me really that bad? He shook his head, frustrated. Part of him was ready to walk away. But he knew he couldn’t. He had brought Chloe to this restaurant. It was several miles from her home. He had no idea if she had enough money for cab fare. He certainly didn’t want her to take public transportation. With a sigh, Max trotted off after her.

  Max wandered down the city streets of downtown Minneapolis. Traffic and pedestrians made his search nearly impossible. After twenty minutes, he stopped and exhaled, exasperated. She must have found a way home.

  He turned his head as he heard a noise in an alley behind a grocery store. His better sense told him to stop, to stay there. Looking in dark alleys in the middle of major metropolitan areas was suicide. But something inside him fought to pull him in. He followed the instinct and journeyed into the shadows.