by L A Cotton
Also by L. A. Cotton
Black Hearts Still Beat
Rush
Chastity Falls
Loyalty and Lies
Salvation and Secrets
Tribulation and Truths
Affliction
Redemption and Regrets
Penance and Promises
Absolution
Fate's Love
Fate's Love
Love's Spark
Love Collides
Liar Liar
Liar Liar
Truth or Dare
Rixon Raiders
The Trouble With You
The Game You Play
The Harder You Fall
The Maverick Defense Series
Deliverance
Wicked Bay
Wicked Beginnings
Wicked Rules
Wicked Lies
Wicked Games
Wicked Needs
Wicked Surprise
Wicked Hearts
Wicked Promises
Standalone
Lucky Penny
Chastity Falls: Box Set
Watch for more at L. A. Cotton’s site.
Rush
BLACK HEARTS STILL BEAT: THE BEGINNING
l a cotton
Contents
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Playlist
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Published by Delesty Books
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RUSH
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eBook edition
Copyright © L A Cotton 2019
All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
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No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
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Edited by Andrea M Long
Cover Designed by Lianne Cotton
Formatting by The Graphics Shed
Images licensed from Adobe Stock and Shutterstock
Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives
put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us.
~ Unknown
“Well, don’t just stand there, open it,” my best friend, Molly, stared at me expectantly, a glint of excitement in her eyes.
“What did you do?” I asked, turning the envelope over in my hands.
“Just open it already, the anticipation is killin’ me.”
Trepidation swam in my veins. Molly meant well, but she was always trying to push me to live. To step out of my comfort zone and try new things. The only problem was I didn’t like leaving my bubble, and my parents hated it even more. Especially Mom. She preferred me safe; tucked away at home where they could keep an eye on me. It was suffocating at times, but there was something strangely comforting about it too.
Hands planted on her hips, with a scowl not even old Mrs. West, our third-grade teacher, could rival, Molly groaned, “Oh for Pete’s sake, Evangeline Star Walker, will you just open the damn letter already?”
With a heavy sigh, I picked the corner loose and slid my finger underneath, tearing it open. “Dear Miss Walker,” I started, “We are pleased to acknowledge your entry into the 2019 Jamesboro Talent Showdown...” My eyes flew to Molly’s. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
“Oh it is,” she clapped, unable to hide her excitement, “it so is.”
“No way. I can’t...” The words got stuck, my throat suddenly dry. “I’m not ready.”
“I think you’ll find that letter says otherwise.”
“But how...?” I scanned the letter again. “Don’t you have to audition?”
The bi-annual Jamesboro Talent Showdown was a big deal around these parts. Probably because it had scouted some of country’s biggest stars over the last three decades. What our county lacked in size it apparently made up for in talent.
“They accept video auditions.”
“So you sent them a video of me, without my permission?” I gawked at her.
“Eva, you were born to perform, the way Michaela Farrow was born to suck dick.” We both snickered at that. Michaela was the Queen Bee of our high school and made Regina George look angelic.
“It’s been too damn long since you played and you know it.”
“I don’t know, Mol. Mom and Dad won’t—”
“Actually, they think it’s a great idea.”
“They do?” My brows pinched as I tried to process the bomb she’d just dropped.
She nodded eagerly. “Helped me pick out which video to submit and everythin’.”
“Sneaky, very sneaky.” I clutched the letter in one hand, hardly able to believe my eyes. I’d attended every showdown I could; watched with stars in my eyes and hope in my heart as performers from all over our small corner of Tennessee came to compete for the coveted title of Jamesboro Talent of the Year, not to mention the twenty-five-thousand-dollar prize check.
“So, what do you say?” Molly could barely contain herself now. A wide grin split her heart-shaped face, anticipation dancing in her hazel eyes.
“I’ll need to practice.” Something stirred inside me. Performing had once been my passion, my life. I’d been singing and playing the guitar for as long as I could remember. But I hadn’t played for an audience in over two years.
“You have time. The regional shows aren’t for another month.”
“A month?” I grumbled. Of course, it was only a month away, held the weekend after July fourth, with the final a couple weeks after.
“Just imagine if you win… twenty-five-thousand-dollars.”
“Let’s not get carried away just yet. I’m out of practice.” And confidence. But I didn’t want to tell her that, not when she looked so happy, and when she and my parents had gone to so much trouble submitting my video.
“You’re a natural, Eva. You could be ten years out of practice and still hold your own against any country star out there right now.”
“I don’t know about that.” Strained laughter spilled out of me, my stomach twisting into a string of knots.
“I do. I believe in you, babe. You should too.”
I gave my best friend a tight smile. My guitar had once brought me happiness. Moving my fingers over the frets, tapping my foot to riffs created in my head; I’d felt free. But where music had once been my escape, it was now my burden. A heavy weight settling in my chest every time I slid the strap of my cherry red Gibson around my neck. A reminder of dreams lost, never to be found again.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Molly’s voice jerked me from my reverie. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her slender arms enveloped me. “You know me. I act first, thi
nk later. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I swiped the rogue tears away, sniffling. “You did a nice thing. A good thing. I just—”
“Yeah, I know.”
Silence descended over us. It wasn’t uncomfortable silence with Molly, my best friend in the entire world. It never was. But it was heavy with the pain of my past. Tainted with the uncertainty of my future.
“I still think you should do it, Eva. It’s all you ever wanted when we were kids... before.”
“I still want it,” I whispered, the knots in my stomach tightening, as longing edged into the corner of my thoughts. “I’m just not the same girl I was back then.”
“No,” a slight smile played on her lips, “you’re stronger.”
“You’re a good friend, Molly Steinberg.”
“The best.” She was grinning again.
“You are.” When so many of my friends had forgotten about me, Molly had been there every step of the way. Through every treatment and hospital admission. Every good day and bad. And there were plenty. Molly was the definition of best friend and my heart swelled that she’d done this for me.
For the old me.
“I’ll do it.” The words slipped from my lips before I could consider their meaning.
Molly blinked, her eyes widening with surprise. Then she was pulling me into her arms, shrieking with delight. “This is a good thing, Eva, the best. You’ll see.”
It was just a talent contest. Hundreds of other singers and musicians from all across Jamesboro County would be attending.
The best of the best.
Competing would give me a focus; help me forget real life for a while. The one where I had to return to school soon and learn how to live my life again. It was just what I needed.
A little fun.
A big distraction.
Besides, it wasn’t like I actually stood a chance of winning.
Molly couldn’t stay long. She had to help her mom with her younger twin brothers, Silas and Tim. So I’d picked up my guitar and started playing. Letting myself imagine what it would be like to perform at the Talent Showdown. To stand up there in front of the crowds and pour my heart out on stage.
“Sweetheart, you in there?”
I smiled to myself, placing my guitar down against the bed. “Sure, Mom.”
“I’ve missed that sound.” She slipped into my room, tipping her head to my Gibson.
“Just playin’ around.” I shrugged as if it was no big deal.
We both knew it was.
“Figured I’d better brush up my skills before the showdown,” I added when she didn’t say anything.
Surprise lit up her face but was quickly washed away with tears. “Oh, Eva, that is...” She swallowed hard, moving to the edge of the bed. I reached for her the same time as she reached for me, our hands linking together the way they had so many times over the last eighteen months.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. And this is a good thing. Darn good. You have such a gift. Your daddy and I always hoped you’d play again.”
“It feels good,” I whispered, blinking back my own tears. The familiar feel of the strings underneath my fingers was like home. But I couldn’t deny I was out of practice. That a deep ache had spread through my muscles as I cradled the guitar against my body.
There had once been a time it was like an extension of me, another limb, but that was before.
Before chemo wrecked my body and cancer infected my soul.
But strumming, that was second nature. I didn’t even need to think about it. I simply ran my fingers up the fretboard and let them work their magic.
“The Ploughton show is in a month?” she asked, and I nodded. “And the final is a couple of weeks after school starts?”
“Yeah, but come on, Mom, it isn’t like I’ll actually make it.”
“You always were modest, even as a child. But you have a rare gift, baby. You just need to find your spirit again.”
I was pretty sure my spirit was back in Jamesboro General Hospital. Chemo and surgery might have saved my life, but it had also stolen something from me.
Something I wasn’t ever sure I’d get back.
Mom squeezed my hand again. “You have so much to live for, Eva.” Tears threatened to fall again, clinging to the corners of her eyes.
“I know, Mom. I’ll get there. I will.”
“Okay, it’s almost time for church. Are you—”
I shook my head, feeling panic claw its way up my throat. “I’m not ready.”
She nodded, disappointment washing over her. “If you need us for anythin’, I’ll leave my cell phone on vibrate. Just don’t tell Pastor Branneth.”
We shared a smile and she left me to it. I sank back into the pillows, letting out a heavy sigh, and my hands found their way to my stomach—my battle scar as Molly liked to call it. Two years ago, I’d been a teenager living life to the fullest. A tenth grader, I was popular and had good grades.
I had my whole life ahead of me.
I’d wanted to pursue a career in music. Everyone said I had what it took. Said that one day, it’d be my name in lights. But then I got sick and everything changed.
Cancer had taken away so much from me. I knew I had to do this. If not for myself, then for them.
I should have died.
Only I’d lived.
I’d been granted a second chance—a miracle, they’d all called it. But even now, even as every day passed and I got healthier, I knew I wasn’t really living. I was hiding. This was my chance to step out of the shadows and into the light again.
I just had to find the courage to take it.
Leaning over, I grabbed a pencil and struck out the last couple of words, replacing them with the new ones. “Woke up this morning, with tears on my pillow,” I sang the words softly, strumming a basic riff, “And I cried. Went through the motions, the questions and anger.”
“Eva?” A knock sounded on the door.
“You can come in, Mol,” I answered, and she slipped into my bedroom, closing the door behind her.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“How long were you out there for?” I raised a brow.
“Who, me?” She winked, coming over to the bed. “It’s soundin’ good.”
I shrugged, closing my notebook. “It’s a work in progress.”
“So you won’t play it for me?”
“Not yet, no.” The words were too personal.
Too painful.
When Molly had informed me she’d entered me in the Talent Showdown, I’d been flooded with ideas. As if deciding to do it had torn open the floodgate I’d kept closed for so long. Creating an original song wasn’t the problem; the thought of standing on stage, in front of the judges, of hundreds of spectators was.
“You’re writin’ again.” She eyed my notebook.
“I never stopped.” I had book after book filled with song words: some articulate, beautiful lyrics spilled straight from the heart; others jumbled irrational ramblings that made little sense to me, let alone anyone else.
But all were important to me.
A part of my soul.
“If I get to the final—”
“Which you will.”
“If I do, I’ll play it for you. But until then,” I snatched the book toward me, “No peekin’.”
“Spoilsport.” Molly stuck her tongue out at me. “Have you decided on a song for the Ploughton Regional?”
“I think I’m goin’ to go with ‘Look for Me’.”
“No freakin’ way.” Her eyes grew to saucers. “You’re goin’ to sing our song?”
“Your song, Mol. You know you were the inspiration for it.”
Launching herself across the bed, our laughter filled the air as Molly tackled me to the mattress, smothering me with appreciation and love. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she breathed the words, rolling away to lie shoulder to shoulder beside me.
“I take it I have your approval then?”
“Hells yeah.” Molly grabbed my hand. “Whenever the road gets hard, and things look impossible…” she sang the bridge.
“Whenever thunder rumbles overhead, and you think you can’t survive the storm,” I joined in.
“Just remember, all you have to do is look for me.”
“Look for me,” I echoed. “Cos I’ll be there, I’ll always be there. And there isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for you.” I held the note, letting it drift off until silence lingered between us.
After a beat, Molly whispered, “You can do this, Eva. I know you can.” She squeezed my hand. “I know you’re probably terrified, and I know it isn’t easy playin’ again. But I wouldn’t have entered you if I didn’t think you could do it.”
“Molly, I…” The words died on my tongue. I couldn’t tell her the truth. Tell her how I didn’t doubt I could do it, but how, deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Tell her how I wasn’t done being angry, so angry at life, at the universe, and at God.
I’d spent almost nine months of my life in Jamesboro General, another six months before that in and out of appointments. Not to mention months before that not feeling myself. I’d seen kids like me, kids with cancer, come and go. Some came and left healthy, granted the same second chance I’d been given. But some didn’t. Some were there one day and gone the next. They would never get to return to school, to their friends and families; they would never get the chance to chase their dreams.
And I didn’t know how to deal with that.
