Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels

by Aly Martinez

  “Nice to meet you too. Stewart spoke highly of your facility.”

  “Well, that was kind of him.” He smiled. “Come on. Let’s get you checked in.”

  The doctor walked away, but my feet remained rooted. My stomach twisted with nerves. I didn’t want to do this anymore. It wasn’t necessary. Well, that was a lie. It was totally necessary, but it still scared the shit out of me. I was already feeling better, so maybe all of this was overkill. Sure, something had to change, but like this?

  Henry linked his arm with mine and tugged me forward. “Stop freaking out.”

  “I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go home.”

  “Well, I want you to get better. So suck it up.”

  “Henry, please.”

  He released my arm and stepped away. “No. You’re not talking me out of this. Going home and falling back into your same routine isn’t going to help anyone. Not you. Not me.” Then he pulled out the big guns. “Not Sam.” He arched a knowing eyebrow. “You’re only freaking out because shit just got real. Well, guess what? Shit got real for the rest of us when we found out why you were really going up to that bridge every night.”

  I frowned, but we both knew he was right.

  “Just let these people help you for thirty days. That’s all I’m asking, Levee.”

  His little guilt trip didn’t still the angry butterflies in my stomach, but it did get my feet moving.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “Shut up,” was my only response.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam

  THREE DAYS.

  Three fucking days without a single peep from Levee. I was losing my fucking mind. I wasn’t riddled with self-doubt or insecurity. Whether she knew it or not, she was mine on every possible level. I was, however, overwhelmed with worry. How was she doing? Had she made any breakthroughs? Why the fuck was she even there?

  Oh yeah, I’d chickened out of that conversation big time the last night we were together. After we’d had sex in her dressing room, she’d seemed so happy. The last thing I’d wanted to do was fuck all of that up by easing my own curiosity. So, instead, I touched nearly every inch of her body. I had a feeling she’d enjoyed that more than talking about her past anyway.

  I’d told myself that I was going to give it a few days to let her get settled in, but after that, I was going to head up to her house in search of Henry. I was sure he wasn’t in the dark about her, even if I was.

  Thankfully, that was rendered unnecessary when my phone pinged in my pocket while I was working on an old piano I was transforming into a dining room table.

  Levee: I just wrestled a bear for custody of my phone.

  Me: A bear?! That sounds dangerous. But it explains all the “rawr” texts I’ve gotten over the last three days. I thought you were just being kinky.

  Levee: Ha! We’ve already established you aren’t kinky, but trust me, there is nothing even remotely sexy about this place.

  Me: Well, obviously. I’m here.

  Levee: Obviously. Anyway… Hi. How are you?

  Me: My soul is trembling that I’ll forget your touch.

  Levee: Hey, plagiarist! I wrote that!

  Me: Yeah, I know. I binged on your music last night. It’s pretty good. I bet if you keep practicing you’ll be able to make music a full-time career one day.

  Levee: Hilarious.

  Me: I do what I can. How’s the vacation going?

  Levee: Actually pretty good. The place is nice and I really like my doctor. My “helper” (aka: nurse) is a forty-year old man who’s covered in hair and makes Devon look like a member of the Lollipop Guild.

  Me: The bear I assume?

  Levee: Yep. He’s been holding my phone hostage since I got here.

  Me: So does this mean you have it back for good now?

  Levee: Double yep. Now, I have to go, but when I get back, I expect my phone to be filled with beer and chicken pictures. ;)

  Me: Sweet! Do I get kitty-cat pics?

  Levee: Be real, Sam. They don’t allow pets here.

  Me: Improvise.

  Levee: I miss you.

  Me: I miss you too.

  Levee: I’ll call you tonight.

  Me: I’ll probably answer.

  I smiled to myself as I lifted my shirt and flexed my abs for a quick picture. I’d barely pressed send when I noticed my mom standing in the doorway of my shop.

  “Did you just text someone a crotch shot?” she asked in her best “mom” tone.

  “Oh, God, Ma. No.” I walked over and pulled her into a hug. I couldn’t wipe away the grin that was threatening to split my face in half after even such a brief conversation with Levee.

  Mom hugged me back before stepping away. “You know, women share those pictures with all of their friends. Just last week, this guy sent me one of his bait and tackle and I showed it to—”

  I curled my lip in disgust. “Jesus. Why was some asshole sending you dick pics? And better yet, what in the hell made you think I would want to know that?”

  I was still riding my Levee high, but my mom’s talking about anyone’s “bait and tackle” was more than enough to ruin it.

  “I just want you to be prepared. You show one woman, you might as well just send it out as a group message, because all of her friends are gonna see it eventually.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up, but I didn’t send any ‘crotch shots.’” Yet. “Thanks to you, my genitalia is safe for yet another day.”

  “Oh good. That will make it even more special when you finally lose your virginity on your wedding night.” She gave me a look that dared me to argue otherwise.

  Given the fact that she’d walked in on me having sex with Stacy Davis when I was seventeen, she knew better. However, I assumed she didn’t want to know any more about my “bait and tackle” than I did about her looking at pictures of some random dude’s.

  Patting me on the chest, she headed over to the claw-foot loveseat in the corner, which was still waiting to be picked up. “This is gorgeous, baby.”

  “Thanks. I love the way it turned out. You should have seen it before I started. There were—”

  “Yeah yeah yeah. Save your breath. You know I don’t understand a lick of what you say when you get all technical about tools and stuff. Besides, we have stuff to talk about.” She lifted my overflowing ashtray in my direction. “This is ridiculous, Sam. You have to quit. I will not bury anyone else. I can’t…lose you too.” She glared at me.

  She and Anne had been on my ass to quit smoking for years. I couldn’t count how many times I’d promised them I would. But, after Anne had passed away, I’d found myself with a cigarette in my hand more often than not. Guilt will do that to you. I needed to stop—I knew that much. But knowing and doing are a totally different story though.

  “I’ll stop,” I said, sheepishly shoving my hands in my pockets.

  “Swear to me,” she pushed further.

  “Come on, Ma. I said I’ll stop.”

  She dropped the whole ashtray into the trash can and took a large step forward. She was all of five feet five and a hundred and twenty-five pounds, but she was my mom. That one step was scary as hell.

  “Swear. To. Me.”

  “Fine. I swear,” I huffed like a sullen teenage.

  “Good,” she exhaled in relief, and a loving smile warmed her face. “Okay. Now that we’ve dealt with that.” She took another step toward me and turned serious once again. “Meg tells me that you’re dating Levee Williams.”

  “What? Since when do you talk to Meg?”

  “Since my son doesn’t feel the need to tell his mother anything anymore.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled me with a glare of guilt only women are able to shoot from their eyes. “You’re dating a celebrity, Sam. You didn’t think, ‘Hey, maybe I should call and tell my mom.’”

  I twisted my lips and arched an eyebrow. “Mom, don’t even pretend that you know who the hell Levee Williams is.”

 
“No. But I’d like to know now that my son is sending her crotch shots!”

  I barked a laugh and threw my hands out to my sides. “It was just my abs! And, for the love of God, stop saying crotch.”

  She narrowed her eyes then very slowly enunciated each letter as she said, “Crotch.”

  Even as she continued to glare at me, I couldn’t help but laugh, and because she was crazy in the best possible way, she did too.

  When we both sobered, she went right back to the serious. “All right. Tell me about this Levee girl.”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about this, Mom. I need to call Meg and tell her to shut her mouth.”

  I was fucking smitten, and if I’d had my way, I would have told the world.

  However, I was smitten with Levee Williams, so the world would have to wait until she was ready to tell them. It sucked, but whether people knew or not didn’t change our relationship.

  She was still mine.

  I smiled to myself, and I knew that my mom saw it when she laughed.

  “Don’t think I’m letting this go. I Googled her. She’s a kind of a big deal.”

  I’d told Levee that we’d keep things quiet for a while, but my mom was safe. Right?

  “I guess. I mean, she’s not that famous. She’s never done a duet with Lionel Richie or anything,” I teased, knowing the distracting effect it would have on my mom.

  Her eyes grew wide at the mere mention of his name. “Do you think she knows Lionel?”

  I slung an arm around her shoulders. “I doubt it, but if it will stop the inquisition, I’d be happy to ask for you.”

  “No, you are going to ask her because you know I’m obsessed with that man. The inquisition will most definitely continue. Tell me about her. Are you two serious?” She tugged on my arm until I followed her to our old dining room table, which I’d been using as my desk for the last few years. I’d never even taken the time to refurbish it. Or, more accurately, I didn’t want to change it. Dad had built that table. Even repurposing it felt wrong.

  I settled on the wooden stool next to her. “We haven’t been dating long, but I think it might become serious.”

  I’m in love with her.

  Fuck.

  “Nice girl?”

  “I really think you’d like her.”

  “Well, I can’t like her any less than I did that last one. What was her name again?”

  “Lexi.”

  “Yes.” She lowered her voice and mumbled to herself, “I hated that bitch.”

  “Mom!” I scolded on a laugh.

  “I’m sorry. She was”—she exaggerated a shiver—“toxic.”

  “She wasn’t that bad… Well, not all the time. But yes, Levee is definitely better. She’s so funny.” I glanced away, smiling as I remembered her laugh. “And smart. She’s not at all who you’d expect her to be. She’s really down-to-earth and kind.”

  I scrubbed my hands over my jeans, wishing Levee weren’t so far away. How the hell was I going to go a month without that woman? I looked back up to find my mom watching me with a gentle smile.

  “She’s amazing,” I breathed.

  Her smile grew. “I already like her, then.” She patted my leg, squeezing it firmly before asking, “How’d you meet Miss Fancy Pants?”

  I scratched the back of my neck. Shit. I’d known that this question would eventually come up, and while I hated to lie to my mom, there was no fucking way I was telling her the truth. She would have freaked if she knew how I’d really met Levee.

  Evade.

  “We…umm, frequent one of the same places. I saw her a couple times before I got the nerve to talk to her.” After the partial truth, I decided to switch gears and distract her with humor. Waving my hands over my chest, I said, “I mean, no way she could resist all this.” I threw in a bicep curl for good measure.

  “Oh, please. Put those wet noodles away. I saw a picture online of her with her ex-boyfriend. All I’m going to say is you’re lucky you got my sense of humor.”

  “Wait? Who’s her ex-boyfriend?”

  “I can’t remember his name. One of those big football players.” She waggled her eyebrows while fanning herself.

  I wanted to gag—then Google this guy. “Gross!”

  She laughed, pushing to her feet. “Okay, well, I have to get back to work. Bring Levee over for dinner sometime.”

  “Okay, Ma.”

  She gave me a quick hug then headed for the door. “I’ll see you later. Don’t forget what I said about those crotch shots.”

  That time, I really did gag.

  * * *

  I was sitting outside on my porch swing with a cigarette burning between my fingers and Sampson at my side when my phone finally rang.

  “Hello,” I answered, thrilled to hear Levee laughing on the other end.

  “On the first ring? Really, Sam? You couldn’t even make it look like you weren’t holding your phone.”

  “Laugh it up, Designer Shoes. I was only holding my phone because I was reporting a video montage on YouTube of you tripping and falling.”

  She groaned. “Oh, God. Please tell me you’re lying.”

  “Nope.” I popped the P at the end. “User HenryisMine7765 set it to a lovely remix of Henry’s song ‘Goodbye, Lover.’”

  “Great,” she huffed. “So many of his fans think I’m their competition. You have no idea how many of those videos there are out there.”

  “Ohhhh, after the last few hours, I have a pretty good idea. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. I reported all of them,” I stated proudly.

  “You’re too good to me,” she whispered teasingly in a tone that made me miss her that much more.

  “Nah. I’m not that great. I watched them all first.” I put the cigarette out and headed back inside, ready to sink into my bed and keep Levee for whatever time she was willing to give me.

  “Well, I forgive you.”

  “Good, because some of them, I watched twice,” I admitted. Then I quickly amended, “But it was only because I liked the way your boobs bounced when you jumped back up.”

  She laughed, and it forced a smile to my face.

  “I guess I can’t be mad about that now, can I? So, how did you end up watching YouTube videos of me?”

  “It started earlier when, against my better judgment, I looked up pictures of you with Thomas Reigns. I have to say I’m feeling a little inadequate now.”

  “Oh, whatever. Your cock is way bigger than his.”

  “Aaaannnnd…now I feel better. Thank you.”

  She laughed again, and as I crawled into bed, I closed my eyes and got lost in the musical sound.

  “It must be nice to be able to look up everything you want to know about me. I want to be able to search your past.”

  “All right. Let’s level out the playing field. If there were a computer in front of you right now, what would you type into the search bar?”

  “Ummm, I don’t know. When was your last relationship?”

  “We broke up about two months ago, but we hadn’t really been together since Anne died. She’s a nice enough girl, even though my mom called her a bitch today.” I chuckled at the memory.

  “What?” she half gasped, half laughed.

  “Yeah, so, apparently, Meg called and told Mom we were dating. She stopped by for an interrogation.”

  “Oh shit. Did you tell her the truth?”

  “Uhhh…” I mumbled, trying to buy myself some more time. “She’s my mom, Levee. I swear she won’t tell anyone.”

  Hesitance colored her voice, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it. “Well, what did she say about us seeing each other?”

  “Nothing really. She’s cool with it. Oh! She made me promise to ask if you know Lionel Richie.”

  “Actually, I kinda do. I did a collaboration with him at an awards show a couple years ago.”

  “Okay, well, I’m going to lie and tell her you don’t.”

  “Why? I know his agent. I could probably get him to sign
some stuff for her.”

  “Because my mother is an incredible woman and mom, but when it comes to Lionel, she loses her ever-loving mind. You do not want to be the only person standing between her and that man.”

  “Shut up. Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately, I am. When you get back, I’ll have her break out the photo album. I was Lionel for Halloween every year until I was six. I’m pretty sure she would have named me after him if my dad hadn’t stopped her.”

  “Oh. My. God. I need those pictures. ASAP.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Now, what else do you want to know?” I sucked a deep breath in through my teeth, anxiously awaiting her next question.

  “Are you smoking?”

  “No. I’m in bed, actually.”

  “Is it too soon for me to ask you to quit?”

  “Too soon to ask? No. Too soon to expect me to follow through? Yes. But you’ll be happy to know my mom also chewed my ass out today and made me swear that I’d quit.”

  “I’m gonna need your mom’s address,” she rushed out excitedly.

  “For what?”

  “Because, if she actually gets you to quit, I’m going to figure out a way to get Lionel Richie to personally deliver her flowers.”

  I barked a laugh. “Please don’t do that. She’d either die of a heart attack or end up in jail for refusing to let him leave.”

  She giggled then sighed, “I wish I were with you right now.”

  “Me too,” I breathed. God, did I wish that too. But harping on it wouldn’t help her. So I changed the subject. “Well, at least you got your phone back. Did you get my beer picture earlier?”

  “I did. It’s my home screen now. It’s also the reason I missed dinner because I was busy in the shower.”

  I practically choked on my tongue. She giggled as I coughed.

  “Reallllly?” I drawled.

  “Really,” she whispered on a moan. “It wasn’t as good as one of our showers. My hands were too soft, but they’ll have to do for the next few weeks.”

  My cock swelled in my jeans at the idea of Levee’s fingers playing between her legs while images of my body danced through her head. It guaranteed I’d probably miss dinner in lieu of a long shower tonight too. It also guaranteed that sit-ups and a new gym membership would be happening tomorrow.