by S. M. Soto
There are some loves, some dreams that feel like they’re beyond reach. You never quite feel like you’re going to find both.
But I did.
I found my dream in Roman and our little family that’s now expanding.
And our love may not be the kind people write home about, but it’s ours. It’s one of a kind. It’s the kind of love that brings out the stars on the darkest nights. The kind of love that finds all your missing pieces and puts them perfectly together.
It’s the kind of love that builds a home in your heart. Home isn’t where you’re from. It’s where you belong. Some of us travel the world to find it. Others find it in a person.
I’ve found my home in Roman.
Our love is the kind that makes even the biggest cynics fall head over heels for the annoying girl next door.
It’s eternal.
It’s us.
The End.
IF YOU LOVED THE EPILOGUE/HEA FOR OLIVIA AND ROME, OR IF DEATH MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE DO NOT CLICK THE LINK. BUT IF YOU’D LIKE TO SEE INTO THE DISTANT FUTURE OF THE COUPLE WHO DEFIED ALL THE ODDS, FOLLOW THE LINK AND KEEP READING FOR AN EXCLUSIVE POV FROM THEIR DAUGHTER IN: THE CONSEQUENCE OF HATING YOU.
Kiss Me with Lies Preview
Book One in the Twin Lies Duet
Two sisters. One unsolved murder. A sickening plot for revenge.
When Mackenzie Wright attends her first real high school party, held somewhere deep in the woods of her small California town, no one expects to wake up the next morning to news of a gruesome murder. Especially not her own sister’s.
No suspects.
No motive.
No convictions.
Just one unsolved murder and whatever’s left of the now deserted town.
Mackenzie has spent years with her sister’s death weighing heavily on her shoulders, but it isn’t until she stumbles across a photograph that changes everything for her. The memories, everything from that night, come flashing back in high-speed technicolor and Mackenzie soon finds herself obsessed with the truth.
Determined to find out what really happened to her sister, Mackenzie relies on that one photograph to give her the answers she needs by embedding herself into the lives of five of the wealthiest men in Los Angeles. Consumed by her need for revenge, Mackenzie infiltrates the world of the rich and elite, only to come face-to-face with an alluring complication in the form of an elusive playboy.
When enemy lines are drawn, Mackenzie has to choose between her loyalty to her sister and the man who has stolen her heart.
“God, your sister is such a bitch,” Winnie hisses.
Even though I wholeheartedly agree with the statement, I don’t voice it. Instead, I keep following Winnie as she winds her way through the trees in the forest, heading toward the growing sound of teenagers partying.
End-of-the-year fest.
It’s exactly what it sounds like. This party kicks off the summer at the end of every school year. I’ve lived in Ferndale my whole life. The small town is known for its pies and beautiful redwoods. For the most part, it’s quiet, but every now and again, we’ll get tourists here to visit. Located smack dab in the middle of Redwoods National Park and Humboldt Redwoods State Park, Ferndale is the perfect location for a hiker or nature lover to vacation.
Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead sneaking around in the middle of the night with my best friend, Winnie, especially since gossip travels faster than light in this town. How I ended up here with Winnie is beyond me. I don’t party. I don’t drink. And surely, I’m not on any guy’s radar. So again, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing here.
Winnie has always been an in-betweener—not exactly popular, but definitely not a nobody geek like I am. Athletic and beautiful, she’s everything I’m not. We’ve been friends forever, despite the fact we’re opposites. I’m pretty sure if she had stopped hanging out with me, she’d already have a front row seat in the popular club. Sadly, I know I’m the one holding her back. It’s my status. The way I look. How I dress. How smart I am. It all counts against me in the high school popularity scene.
She’s my only friend at Ferndale High, and quite honestly, I don’t see that changing anytime soon. I’m just glad I’ll have her to help guide me through my senior year. Living in my sister’s shadow is hard enough, so being around Winnie makes everything easier—she’s my backbone, through and through. Where my sister is crass and sassy, Winnie is a mellow wallflower. Where Madison is snobby and rude, Winnie is sweet and feisty when no one is around. She is quite literally a walking, talking contradiction, and I love her for it.
I once thought that having a twin sister would mean I’d be just as popular as she was, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. When Madison was in the womb with me, I’m pretty sure all the good genes that guarantee beauty, popularity, and homecoming queen status went to her. Just another one of the many things in a very, very long list of why my sister makes me feel inferior.
Beautiful? Check.
Insanely smart? Check.
Luscious, gold-spun blond hair? Check.
Incredibly athletic? Check.
Body that rivals the models of Victoria’s Secret? Double check.
I remember when we were little, my mom would dress my sister and me up in these identical outfits, and even then, Mads would always be the star child. Strangers would approach my parents and tell them how gorgeous she was. And where would I be? Clinging to the back of my mother’s legs, hiding. Much as I still do.
My only reprieve from Madison has been the past six months that she’s been gone. It was the first time in a long time that I remember feeling happy. And the main reason being, Madison participated in a foreign exchange program in Italy for half a year. Part of me was jealous that my parents agreed to let her go instead of me—we were twins, after all, so it only seemed fair we both go. But after she left, I started to notice little things, like how much easier it was to breathe when she wasn’t around. I still heard her voice in the back of my mind, telling me I wasn’t enough, but I no longer had to worry about her berating my every move.
She flew back home just a few days ago, and I noticed the change immediately. She was somehow meaner, prettier, and scarier than ever. Madison Wright was the most frightening creature in all of Humboldt County. I was sure everyone knew it, too.
“I still can’t believe your sister told you not to show your face here. Everyone got an invite tonight. I don’t understand how someone can be so…”
“Vile?” I finish for her, darting my gaze down to my ankles that keep getting scratched by the underbrush in the forest. That was Madison in a nutshell. Vile.
Who knew evil girls had the prettiest faces? I did.
Madison never lets me forget how beneath her I am. And it’s not as if her harsh words aren’t true because they are. She is the prettier sister. It wouldn’t kill me to drop a few pounds. And sometimes, my curly, dirty blond hair does look like a bird’s nest.
I never used to care about any of that stuff, but the more Madison tears me down with her comments, the more I realize she’s right. My perception of myself has changed drastically. I never truly thought I was ugly, but now when I look in the mirror, there’s no unseeing it. I understand that the way we perceive ourselves is relative. Facial appearance can be translated to judgments of character, making us all vain and in need of “looking” pretty, instead of focusing on being pretty on the inside, too. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment the idea of my ugliness began. One day, I was blissfully unaware of my looks. I didn’t realizejust how much they’d mean to others and how they dominate society. And the next, I couldn’t stomach looking at myself for longer than a few minutes at a time. Why? Because all that stared back at me was disappointment.
Up ahead, the thick brush of trees starts to clear, and I can finally make out the crowd of bodies and the glow of the bonfire. The closer we get, the more my nerves start to screw me over. I’m not your regular nervous person; no, when I get nervous, I turn i
nto a sweaty, jittery, crackhead junkie, or at the very least, someone who resembles one. The beads of sweat have already made their trek along my spine, and the hair at my neck is matted to my skin in the most disgusting and uncomfortable way.
When Winnie pushes through the last of the greenery, I cringe, trying not to worry too much about the fact that we’ve been brushing against a multitude of plants as we navigate our way through the forest. What are the odds we’ve encountered poison oak? If I’m being honest, probably fifty-fifty. As long as there is no itching, swelling, or symptoms of afever, we should be okay. For now, at least.
Pushing away my worrisome thoughts, I shift my gaze around, and my eyes widen as I take in the party around me. This is my first time at the end-of-the-year bash. It’s always been a legend here in Ferndale, which means it’s usually a very hush-hush, invite-only ordeal. To my knowledge, this is the first year everyone got an invitation. The seniors at our high school run this party like they’re bookies running an illegal operation. They handle the “guest list,” the booze, the drugs, and the debauchery that takes place.
The fire in the pit is roaring, and a bunch of people I don’t recognize from my high school are sitting around on logs. Scratch that, I do recognize them. They’re all the popular kids. What I meant was, they wouldn’t recognize me; I’m a nobody swimming in a sea of stars.
Some people are making out—quite crudely, I might add—and I quickly avert my gaze, taking everything else in: the different cliques mingling with the help of liquid courage. You have the jocks socializing with the stoners, and by stoners, I mean the drug dealers. The cheerleaders chat freely with girls I recognize from the soccer and softball team. “Whine Up” by Kat DeLuna plays on someone’s speakers, livening up the party. Everyone is in their element tonight. Except me, of course. As I glance around, I’m still trying to make sense of what the hell I’m doing here.
I don’t belong. That much is obvious. I stick out like a sore thumb.
It’s still utterly baffling to me that this yearly bonfire happens without a hitch. It never gets shut down, no cops ever arrive, and nothing bad seems to ever happen. Sometimes, I wonder about the intelligence of the police force or that of the sheriff. This is a small town, so how the hell does the sheriff not know there’s underage drinking going on in the same place every single year? I refuse to believe the rich kids and their families have this much power over law enforcement.
“You ready for this, Mackenzie?” Winnie asks from beside me, gripping my sweaty palm in hers. She had to practically threaten bodily harm to drag me here. After Madison made it clear I was not to show my face here, even though I never had any intention of coming in the first place, I threw on my loungewear and started a movie at home. Winnie, being Winnie, wasn’t having any of it. She said we needed this one last hoorah before our senior year. We argued for a while, but she won in the end, like always.
Because, even though I hate to admit it, Winnie is right. Next year is my final year of high school, and I haven’t lived. I haven’t done anything but attend classes, turn my work in on time, and go home. I don’t know what the rallies are like. I don’t know how crazy the football games or homecoming can be. I’ve never experienced any of it because I’m different. I’m the girl in the corner who no one looks at twice. I’m the loser who lives at home with the prom queen. And for once in my high school career, I don’t want to be no one. I want to be someone. I want to be popular and for people to know my name.
I’m not sure what Winnie expects me to get out of tonight. Hell, I’m not even sure what I expect. I don’t plan on drinking anything from those kegs horribly disguised as garbage cans. I sure as hell don’t plan on talking to anyone, not like anyone would start a conversation with me anyway. It’s all a big waste of time.
“This is a mistake.” An icy chill of trepidation shoots up my spine.
She squeezes my hand. “No, it’s not.”
I blow out a wary sigh. “Madison is going to kill me.”
“Oh, screw her. And stop doing that to your teeth.”
I roll my eyes but do as she says. When I’m nervous or anxious, I have a habit of running my tongue over the brackets of my braces. Something about the way the metal snags on my tongue serves as a distraction. It may help me feel better, but I know on the outside, to everyone else, I probably look like a geeky loser with a mouth full of metal.
Winnie leads the way, weaving through groups of people drinking and laughing absurdly loud. We finally step up to a table where the cups are, and the keg is hidden beneath.
“I know you’re going to say no, but I figure I’ll ask anyway. Want a cup?”
Instead of saying no, as I know I should, I dart my gaze around the party and a pair of angry, ice-filled eyes drill into me. Madison stops talking midsentence and is now glaring daggers at me.
God, why didn’t I just stay home?
I flit my eyes from my sister’s death stare to the escape being offered to me in the form of a red cup, and, for once, I do something out of character. I take the escape. With a trembling hand, I take the offered cup from Winnie and bring the plastic rim to my oversized lips. Another thing Madison used to tease me about—my lips. She always used to say I looked like I had fish lips, which never really made any sense to me. But, it honestly didn’t have to. Her vile words still hit their intended mark.
The alcohol is frothy and bitter as I swallow gulp after gulp, surprising myself when I finish the entire cup. Winnie raises her brows and looks at me as though I have two heads. Because seriously, who the hell do I think I am, downing an entire cup like that? The effects of the beer hit me almost immediately. I guess consuming alcohol for the first time can screw with anyone.
“C’mon, I see an open log. Let’s go sit.”
I follow Winnie and perch on the wood. The material of my sweater dress snags on the bark, prompting me to raise my butt over the wood to fix the hellish situation. When Winnie wouldn’t take no for an answer, she dug through my closet, trying to find something suitable for me to wear tonight. All we found was this sweater dress that was casual enough to look like I wasn’t trying too hard, but it wasn’t as homely as my holey jeans and graphic tees. Once I’m positive I don’t have a hole in my dress, I right myself on the log. My gaze dips toward my Converse, and I take in the redness around my ankles.
Good god, I think the chance of my exposure to poison oak just went from fifty-fifty to one hundred percent. I’m pretty sure I’m going to need medical attention soon.
Ignoring my inflamed ankles, I sit in front of the fire and drink in silence, people-watching. When Winnie’s popular teammates call her over, she tugs on my arm to follow, but I shake my head, slipping free.
“No, no, you go.” I force a smile, not wanting to hold her back any longer. With alcohol swimming heavily in my system, I feel like I’m seeing things way more clearly now that I’ve got a buzz. Winnie needs a night like tonight. I can’t hold her back anymore. Especially not with senior year looming.
She’ll never admit it, but she purposely avoids these parties and hanging out with other people from school—all to keep me comfortable. She knows I hate these things, and she knows she’s my only friend. I don’t want to be the one who keeps her from enjoying her last year here in Ferndale.
“You sure, Kenz? I don’t want to leave you alone.”
I smile through my alcoholic haze, my eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m fine, Winnie. I’ll be right here. You go. Seriously.”
For a second, she looks as though she’s going to argue. I know she doesn’t want to leave, but in the end, she decides to go. I take another sip of my beer and wait for her to come back, my gaze riveted to the roaring flames of the fire.
I don’t know how much time passes, but it’s long enough that it dawns on me Winnie is still gone. She’s no longer in the spot she was when she left to go mingle. She’s nowhere to be found actually. My stomach sloshes as I sway when I climb to my feet. I realize I may have consumed way to
o much beer. I’ve obviously overestimated myself and my drinking abilities.
My legs feel weird, and I’m pretty sure if I bit my tongue off right now, I wouldn’t even feel it. Everything feels blissfully numb. In my drunken state, it takes me a while to process the loud voices being directed at me.
“Hey, you! Get over here!”
When I pick my gaze up, hazy vision and all, my eyes settle on the group of hulking guys standing not too far away from me, and it’s then I realize the rowdy group is talking to me. My brows pull down, or at least I think they do, and I look over my shoulder, trying to see if these jocks can be talking to anyone else, but, sure enough, I’m the only one here.
One of them barks out a laugh at my actions.
“Yes, I’m talking to you. Get over here!” The voice is deep. A guy’s voice. When I find the source, my stomach clenches because I recognize who the voice belongs to. Trent Ainsworth. All-around asshole, hot jock, and one of the five Savages of Humboldt County.
Yeah, that’s right. I said Savages.
Honestly, I think they’re more in line with devils.
Because that’s exactly what these assholes are in our small town. Each of their ancestors is a founding family. They’re like great white sharks, swimming amongst a sea of us trout. Or are we sardines? Jesus. I can’t even think straight anymore.
Trent’s bastard, jock rich friends call themselves the Savages. Town royalty. Amongst other ridiculous nicknames.
Why? No one really knows.
They’re like a rabid pack of wolves—the strongest of their pack. They stick together, though it remains unknown who, out of the five of them, is the alpha.
Over the years, I’ve watched them from afar. I’ve heard the rumors, and even though they can be just that, rumors; part of me never truly believed it. They were constantly up to no good. If there was a brawl at school or at a party, everyone already knew who was behind it. If there was a commotion in town late at night, the rest of the people in Ferndale knew to stay indoors. If they destructed town property, the sheriff and the rest of the police were never anywhere to be found. If there was a girl in town who swore one of the five had hurt her, nothing would happen. Every single one of them walked around like they didn’t have a single care in the world—and I guess in a way, they didn’t. They were rich as sin, and had mommy and daddy’s money to get them out of any kind of serious trouble.
