by Evans, LJ
I ached to call Jenna. The only remorse I had about what I’d done was leaving without telling her, without giving her my new number. I didn’t want her to have to lie to my dad when he questioned her. She’d be his first line of attack once he realized that I wasn’t at graduation. That I wasn’t sitting in the chairs waiting for them to call my name like every other dumbass senior at that dumbass school he’d forced me to attend.
He'd be furious that I’d embarrassed him.
The three men finished putting away most of the food they’d bought in silence while I fought with my emotions, the pleasure of leaving tainted by the age-old fear and despair that came whenever I went against him. I had to remind myself there was nothing more he could do to me. Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.
My country music was still blaring. It didn’t seem to bother the cadets, but it was making me itch, making me want to pull out my guitar and start strumming along to forget everything but the music. So, I jumped down and went over to where I’d left my phone after syncing it to the expensive equipment Dad had recently bought for the home he rarely visited.
I switched over to a random playlist that Jenna and I used when we were getting ready to go out. Upbeat. Eclectic. Oldies and newbies mixed together. Hoping it would chase away some of the anxiety that had crawled over my skin.
When I turned back to the men, they’d moved on to preparing dinner, working as a team with minimal communication on a simple meal of hamburgers and tots. Eli moved past me to the deck and the expensive, built-in barbecue.
I followed and watched as Eli lit the briquettes. The smell sent my brain into a swirl of memories of parties that Dad had held at our home in Galveston. Parties for his fellow faculty members. Sometimes his favorite cadets. I’d never seen these three among them. That either meant he didn’t think they were connection-worthy, or it meant that they were smart enough to see Dad’s slime for what it was.
Greediness. A need to be connected to someone who would make a bid for some high-powered government position someday. Someone he could ride along with, like he’d once tagged along behind my grandfather. Before I could remember. Before my mom and grandparents had been taken away, leaving me with just Dad.
I hated that I couldn’t escape my thoughts of him today. I wanted so much to be free. Free of everything that was him.
I hopped up on the railing and slyly took a picture of Mr. Silent so that I could send it to Jenna later. She’d be all drool and no cool when I shared it. I already missed my best friend more than life. It was something I was going to have to get used to: life without Jenna beside me. Jenna was a typical Texas wildflower. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Perfectly done. She’d been my sanity since middle school, and now I was leaving her behind. I didn’t think she’d be surprised, but I knew she’d be as sad as I was.
Eli finished stoking the fire and then turned, stopping when he saw me on the rail. His eyes squinted together in disapproval. I wanted to laugh. He belonged in the military. He was going to be a natural.
“I don’t think you should be up there.” His voice was still deep and guttural. Maybe I brought it out in him, or maybe it was his natural tone. My body liked it even as my mind protested.
“Does what you think always matter?” I asked.
A flicker of emotion went through his eyes. He hid it well behind his control and authority. Maybe like I hid my torn heart behind my sass and music.
“Just not interested in picking up blood and bones today,” he said.
I looked down. Below me was the shell pathway that led out to the dock and the water. I wouldn’t even be there on the deck or on the rail if I’d had another choice.
The room I‘d sublet wouldn’t be ready until the end of the week, and I didn’t have enough money in my measly bank account to stay at a hotel and still pay my first month’s rent. So, I’d come here because Dad didn’t know that I knew that the renovations were done. That meant he wouldn’t think about coming here until he’d run out of the possibilities closer to home. I intended to be gone before he did.
Now, my plans were in jeopardy because of the arrival of three muscled men. Cadets who might tell their professor about the arrival of his wayward daughter. Apprehension filled me.
“How worried do I need to be?” he asked.
His voice at my side startled me. I hadn’t even heard him move. I wobbled on the rail, and he grabbed my waist before I could rebalance myself. His rough hands on my bare skin scorched me. They sent waves of desire and heat through my entire body, and when I met his eyes, I could see that it wasn’t just my body that had reacted to our touch.
He removed his hands, tucking them into the pockets of his cargo shorts. Shorts that didn’t seem to fit him as much as—I would bet good money—his uniform did. He backed away, taking my beer with him one more time.
“As long as you don’t sneak up on me, there’s nothing to worry about,” I said, jumping down.
“Then what are you running from?” he asked. I could feel those hazel eyes taking me in, but I just turned to the ocean. The humidity filled the air and my lungs with every breath. Like it was a part of me. Part of this life that I was trying to leave behind. Weighing me down when I needed to be light so that I could fly away.
“A future that isn’t mine,” I said, looking back at him.
I could tell he was considering my words, assessing them. As if that was something he did with every comment anyone made. Careful consideration. Planning.
Mac made it out to the deck with a pile of burgers. He handed another beer to Eli, eyeing the one on the barbecue that Eli had taken from me, and then went to work at the grill.
“So, Ava, is Daddy going to show up pissed at the three of us?” Mac asked without looking at me.
I didn’t blame him for asking. It was more than just the standard, “don’t get involved with the professor’s kid.” Dad’s reputation for reprisals was well-known and well-earned.
“I figure we have a couple days before he even thinks I might be here. He’ll want to exert the least amount of energy possible in order to retrieve me, so he’ll call before he shows up,” I told them honestly, hoping they wouldn’t rat me out.
“You’re not staying here,” Eli spoke up from his position leaning up against the doorframe.
I laughed, thinking he was joking, but then I saw his serious expression, and I knew he wasn’t. I wondered if he ever joked about anything. “Look, jerk, this is my house, not yours. You can’t kick me out. If you don’t like that I’m here, then run along and get yourself a hotel.”
“I told Professor Abrams that we’d paint the house,” Eli said matter-of-factly.
“You can still do that while staying at a hotel,” I responded.
Mac shifted uncomfortably.
They didn’t have the money either. Staying in a hotel at the beach in the middle of the prime summer season was unlikely to be anything that three measly cadets could afford.
I just let the whole subject drop, but Eli was still watching me, waiting to see what I’d do. I just watched Mac at the grill.
The burgers smelled good. And I was hungry. I hadn’t had anything since the caramel latte I’d grabbed at the gas station after making my escape. Food hadn’t been on my list of priorities. Getting away had.
My stomach growled loudly enough for both the guys on the deck to hear it. Mac smiled, Eli almost smiled, and I chuckled.
“You going to try and kick me out before you feed me?” I asked.
They weren’t kicking me out. They didn’t know how stubborn I could be, but they’d find out. I wasn’t planning on going to blows or anything—not that I could ever hope to fight off three muscled guys—but I wasn’t going to be around enough for them to argue about it with me.
“Nah. You can eat with us,” Mac said. I could tell Eli didn’t like it. He wanted me gone. He didn’t want me anywhere near their beach adventure regardless of how our bodies had reacted when he’d had his hands
on my waist.
I didn’t really want me anywhere near them either. For many of the same reasons.
Truck joined us on the deck.
“Tots are ready.”
“Did you burn them to a crisp again?” Mac asked.
“No, wedgie-face, they’re appropriately crisp.”
“I didn’t know cooking tater tots required a culinary degree,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. Lighten the heaviness inside me.
Truck gave me a serious look. “Tater tots are an art form, honey. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I laughed, and he pretended to look offended.
No one said anything when I joined them in making up a burger and scooping tots from the pan. I was the first one to make it back out to the deck, and I found a spot on the top of the table. All three men stopped at the door when they saw me there.
I’d always felt more comfortable on top of things. It drove my dad crazy when I’d sit on the coffee table instead of the couch. Or the back of the couch instead of the cushions. Maybe that’s what had encouraged it. Pushing the limits on the little things that I could get away with without being reprimanded.
None of the guys said anything. They just found seats in the chairs. So predictable. I’d give my right arm to find a guy someday who would join me atop the table. Like Michael Schoeffling with Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles that Jenna had made me watch. I didn’t consider myself a romantic. And I definitely didn’t want to find love yet, like Jenna had, because I had bigger plans for myself. But someday…someday, I’d love to find someone who would see things, even momentarily, the way I did.
The guys were a quiet group. It was something I was unaccustomed to. The boys I was usually around were rowdy and obnoxious, striving to gain attention and top dog status at a high school that was considered the next coming of God. But really, they were all bottom dwellers. More reasons for me to not want anything romantic with any of them.
I’d take this silence over the stupid teen jokes any day of the week. Plus, I guessed these men were used to being silent during mealtimes. Military code everywhere they went at school. Not exactly your normal American college experience.
Once I was done, I slid down and brought my plate back to the kitchen. I could hear their hushed conversation but not the words. Even so, I knew it was about me.
I cleaned up the kitchen a bit as a thank-you for the meal and then walked back to the doorway. Their conversation halted.
“Well, it’s been nice Mac Truck and Mr. Grumpy, but I’m outta here. I’ll catch you later.”
I grabbed my slouch handbag, my guitar, and my phone and headed out the door. I could feel their eyes on me when I got into my car and did a three-point turn to get around the black truck parked behind me, using the seagrass as a drive-way and probably leaving tire tracks where Dad wouldn’t want them.
I rolled down the windows, waved my hand, and drove toward town. They didn’t know, but “later” was going to be tonight when I needed a place to crash my head. I didn’t have a choice about it, but for now, they could think I was gone.
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This book was inspired, as all my books are, by music―by a song. Lewis Capaldi’s “Bruises” had all the vibes and words that I wanted for Mac and Georgie’s story. Many of the songs in the book were songs my reader group suggested to me for my angsty love stories. So, thank you to Leisa Ann, Lisa, Cierra, Misty, Melissa, Michelle, Stefanie, Robyn, and all the folks who gave me song ideas. I hope you find some of your suggestions here.
I’ve done my best to not consciously misrepresent anything about the military or the political world. But I may have taken a few liberties for the sake of entertainment. I hope that nothing I’ve written disrespects the honor and service of these men and women as I hold them in the highest regard.
There is no ride share service called CarShare. That is my invention for my writing purposes. Any other errors I made in facts, I beg your forgiveness, for it was done without intention and with the heart of the story in mind.
I hope that you’ll let me know what you thought of Mac and Georgie’s story by leaving a review on BookBub, Amazon, and / or Goodreads. More importantly, I hope you’ll reach out to me personally. I’m in my Facebook Group, LJ’s Music and Stories, on a daily basis. If you joined us there, you could find out about my secret National Day obsession and see how the group is helping each other through this crazy thing called life with books, music, and inspiration.
If you still can’t get enough (ha!), you could also sign up for my newsletter, so that you’ll be able to keep tabs on all my stories as I write them. Not only will you get the details on releases, but you’ll get exclusive content, giveaways, and more.
You can find me on most social media sites @ljevansbooks.
Thanks for reading my little story.
LJ
My first acknowledgement is to my husband, who I adore more than words, thank you for being the person to take me from my moments of seriousness and self-doubt to laughter. Thank you for not letting me give up on this dream of mine and for supporting it with your time, our money, and your own effort. I am so lucky to have you as my partner in this crazy thing called life. I love our life together. I promise I’ll try to be back on my feet soon. I love you.
To Ally, thank you for being the best critic and line editor I could have. Thank you for not only helping me craft my words but encouraging me, for understanding my creative drive and allowing me to be a part of your own creative world as well. I am amazed every day by your strength, your love, and your own personal journey. You were the very best gift to have ever entered my world. I love you.
Thank you to my big sister who wouldn’t let me quit till I published, for always being my first alpha reader, and for telling me when I’m being stupid. Isn’t that what siblings are for, after all? Ego checks and ego lifts!
Thank you to my parents who have been so proud of me that they show my book off wherever they go. To my mom, thanks for loving all my words even when they were oh so bad when I was a kid. And to my dad, thanks for reading my books even when they’re romances novel instead of westerns.
Thank you to Megan Keith at Designed With Grace cover designs for not only my beautiful cover, but understanding the creative need in all of us. For reading my words and sharing them with the world when that wasn’t part of your job. I’m blessed to have found you.
To Jenn at Jenn Lockwood Editing Services, thank you for being a partner in my creative process and for showing your love and support for my books. I never thought I could find someone who would completely get what I was trying to say even as I rambled. Thank you.
Thank you to Karen Hrdlicka for making sure the book was perfect before it went live.
To the bloggers who have shared my stories with the world on your own time and your own dime, I cannot say enough. The independent book world would not be what it is today without you. An extra special thank you to these bloggers who helped me get this book out into the world: Rachel at NovelMomma, Launa at Energy Rae, Ashleigh at Page Once Turned, Candyce at The Book Dutchesses, Heather at Books and a Blanket, Stacie at Boren Books, and Korrie the Curlyhairlass, as well as a whole host of other bloggers. If I didn’t name you, it isn’t because I appreciate you less. Thank you also to the ladies at Give Me Book PR for helping me share this story with a new group of readers.
To the other independent authors who have helped keep me sane on this journey, including Clare Lesbirel, Jami Albright, Mia Kayla, Annie Dyer, Kelsey Kingsley, Amanda Johnson, and Jennifer Hanks, I have not enough words. Thank you for sharing and supporting each other in ways that I never thought possible…without jealousy and while truly holding each other’s crowns up when they fall. Hugs to all of you.
Thank you to Amy Harmon for not only inspiring me with your words but with your kindness and generosity. Every time I rea
d your words, I’m encouraged to make mine better. Your talent truly blows me away.
Finally, but certainly not least, thank you to my readers. To those of you that I’ve come to know personally and those that I have not. Michelle Fritz, you are selfless and beautiful in all you do for us authors. Dee Shelvey thank you for making me smile very day when I’ve been ill. Michelle Odland, you allow me to be weak and then show me how I am strong, thank you. To Lisa and Leisa Ann, I’m so happy that Guarded Dreams brought us together, and I can’t thank you enough for sharing my stories everywhere you go. To Misty and Melissa, thank you for being with me since the beginning and also sharing my words all over the place. To every one of you who have read even one of my stories, THANK YOU!
Award winning author, LJ Evans, lives in the California Central Valley with her husband, daughter, and the three terrors called cats. She's been writing, almost as a compulsion, since she was a little girl and will often pull the car over to write when a song lyric strikes her. While she currently spends her days teaching 1st grade in a local public school, she spends her free time reading and writing, as well as binge-watching original shows like The Crown, Victoria, Veronica Mars, and Stranger Things.
If you ask her the one thing she won’t do, it’s pretty much anything that involves dirt—sports, gardening, or otherwise. But she loves to write about all of those things, and her first published heroine was pretty much involved with dirt on a daily basis, which is exactly why LJ loves fiction novels—the characters can be everything you’re not and still make their way into your heart.
Her debut novel, MY LIFE AS A COUNTRY ALBUM, was the Independent Author Network's 2017 YA Book of the Year and Audiobook Obsession’s 2nd Most Recommended Romance Audiobook. For more information about the MY LIFE AS AN ALBUM series, check LJ out at any of these sites:
LJ Evans Books
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