Copyright (C) 2020 Kandi Steiner
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law.
The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Kandi Steiner
Cover Design by Kandi Steiner
Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Publishing, www.allusionpublishing.com
Table of Contents
WEIGHTLESS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Want More?
A LOVE LETTER TO WHISKEY
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Epilogue Part II
MAKE ME HATE YOU
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
More from Kandi Steiner
Weightless Acknowledgements
A Love Letter to Whiskey Acknowledgements
Make Me Hate You Acknowledgements
Weightless Bonus Epilogue
About the Author
To Staci and Becca, for believing in me even when I didn’t.
This one’s for the Tribecycle.
Prologue
I REMEMBER THE LIGHTS.
I remember I wanted to photograph them, the way the red and blue splashed across his cold, emotionless face. But I knew even if my feet could move from the place where they had cemented themselves to the ground and I could run for my camera, I wouldn’t be able to capture that moment. There was no shutter speed, no lens, no lighting technique that could properly encapsulate everything I felt as I stared into his eyes.
I had trusted him, I had loved him, and even though my body had changed that summer, he’d made sure to help me hold on to who I was inside, regardless of how the exterior altered.
But then everything changed.
He stole my innocence. He scarred my heart. He took everything I thought I knew about my life and fast-pitched it out the window, shattering the glass that held my world together in the process.
I remember the lights.
The passionate, desperate, hot strikes of red. The harsh, cruel, icy bolts of blue.
They symbolized everything I endured that summer.
And everything I would never face again.
Chapter One
MY MOM AND STEP-DAD thought I couldn’t hear them mumbling in the kitchen about my well-being over the volume of the fifth consecutive episode of Lost I was watching, but I could hear every word. So I sighed heavily and turned the volume up when they approached the couch.
I was still in my pajamas, and I knew I should have at least changed into shorts and a t-shirt so they thought I got up and lived a little that day. The truth was I hadn’t done a damn thing, other than watch that utterly confusing show, anyway. But I lost the ability to care after my second Little Debbie snack.
“Love this show,” Dale said, sitting casually on the arm of our dark brown leather sectional. I pulled my legs up to my chest so Mom could sit down next to him. “Hated the ending, but still.”
“No spoilers, Dale!”
He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. You’re going to wish you didn’t waste the hours.”
Mom appraised my sweatpants, her eyes lingering a little longer when she spied the frayed edges where I’d dragged them on the ground. Jillian Poxton didn’t do sweatpants and she didn’t think any other woman, or girl, should either. Her choice was always a dress or neatly pressed skirt paired with the perfectly complementary top. Even then, on a Sunday afternoon hours after church had ended, she sat with her hands in her lap and her ankles crossed in a bright, summery-blue dress that cinched her tiny waist and flowed down to her knees.
“Sweetheart,” she sighed the word, her hand reaching to gently squeeze my leg.
“Mom, please.” I leaned up and away from her touch, keeping my eyes fixed on the television. “Don’t.”
“Honey, don’t you think it’s time to get out of this house? I let you stay home all week, but today was the second time you missed church… and you know how people talk.”
I chewed my lip because as much as I wanted to argue, she was right. People did talk in Poxton Beach, SC. The fact that my step-dad, Dale Poxton, owned pretty much everything in the small tourist map-blip didn’t help my case much, either. His ancestors founded the cozy beach town and, surprisingly, the family never did pull up roots and venture out. Dale had lived there his entire life and he knew he would die there, his grave filing in right next to his parents’.
Still, I hated how stern Mom was being with me. Given the circumstances, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal to wallow in self-pity and Zebra cakes for a while longer. But apparently Mom had reached her limit. She may have been my mom, but she was also Dale Poxton’s wife, which meant she had eyes on her, too. Questions. Still, I wasn’t ready to face the music of my new reality.
I had graduated high school just a week prior, and on that same night, my boyfriend of two years had broken my heart.
“Exactly. I do know how this town talks. Which is why I’m not keen on leaving the couch at the moment,” I challenged, trying again to end the conversation by raising the volume on the TV.
“Now listen, Natalie,” Dale chimed in, grabbing the remote from where I’d just dropped it next to me. He pressed the pause button and I sighed heav
ily. “Your mom and I understand what you’re going through, we do. Believe it or not, we were young and in love once, too. But you can’t waste your summer lying around and…” He trailed off, but his eyes fell to the mess of processed food wrappers gathering on the mahogany coffee table.
“Eating my feelings?”
He exchanged a worried glance with Mom and I wanted to crawl under the couch cushions and die. I hated being looked at, I hated being judged, and I felt both happening from the two people I trusted and loved most.
I was thicker than most girls my age —hell, than most girls, period. I had love handles that hung over my jeans and arms twice the size of my best friend Willow’s. My cheeks were chubby, there wasn’t a single space my thighs didn’t touch when I stood ankles together, and I couldn’t remember a time I’d bought anything smaller than a large when I went shopping with my friends.
I had always been the “big girl”, and up until that point, I had never really thought to feel ashamed about it. It was only the Friday before, at my graduation party, that I realized how insecure I had always felt but had never admitted. I didn’t come to that realization softly. No, I was hurled into it like a high-speed train. Because Mason didn’t just break up with me that night, not for the reason he gave me. He said we were growing apart, that he had plans and I didn’t, that he needed to start thinking about his future. But when he started dating a petite little brunette not even a full two days later, I knew the real reason he let me go. I didn’t even know who she was, but I saw a photo of them on social media and that was enough for me. She was skinny. She was gorgeous.
She was everything I wasn’t.
“Can I have a minute with her, Dale?” Mom asked, like I wasn’t still in the room with them. Or like I was twelve and not eighteen. He nodded, smiling and ruffling my hair before excusing himself. Again, I felt the need to shove my diploma in their face and remind them of my age. Once he was gone, Mom turned back to me.
“Do you want him back?”
I blanched. “What?”
“You heard me. Do you want him back?”
“I don’t really think that’s an option, Mom,” I mumbled, picking at the already chipping gold nail polish on my thumbnail. I wanted to peel every last inch of that high school off of me forever, including the forest green and gold colors I had sported so spiritually every year of my life. “He’s…” I paused, crossing my arms tight over my chest. “He’s not available anymore.”
Her face softened and she moved closer to me, reaching out to place a hand on my leg again. I didn’t pull away this time. “Oh sweetie, you give up too easily. If you want him, fight for him.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that easy, Mom. This isn’t a Rom Com.”
“I’m serious,” she said, lowering her head and forcing me to meet her bright blue eyes. They were so different from my own chocolate ones. I assumed I had my father’s eyes, though I couldn’t be sure. He was around for a total of ten months of my life and I’d never seen so much as a picture of him. Not that I ever asked to see one — Dale was the only father I needed as far as I was concerned. “You know what the best revenge is after a break-up, right?”
I lifted a brow, clearly not versed in the subject. At all. Mason was the only boyfriend I had ever had. I was going through my first break-up, my first heartache, and all I knew was that it hurt like hell and eating on the couch seemed like a perfectly fine way to spend my summer — especially the summer after I graduated high school. I just had two and a half months to make it through and then I’d be gone, anyway.
Maybe.
If I could decide what I wanted to do with my life, that is.
Or maybe I’d still be right here, on this couch, eating Oatmeal Cream Pies.
Mom stood, pulling me up with her to give me the answer to her question. “Looking drop-dead gorgeous the next time he sees you. And if you can score some man-candy to tote you around, that helps, too.”
She winked and I scoffed. “Yeah well, I don’t think that plan is going to work in my case,” I pointed out, gesturing to my body with an open hand. Sure, I had long, thick, dark blonde hair and skin that easily tanned in the southern sun, but I was a size fourteen. And everyone in my circle of friends, including Mason’s new… thing, was a size four or smaller. It wasn’t that I was ever really confident, but before graduation, I hadn’t really thought that much about my size — at least, not enough to care. Whether because of Dale’s money or stature, I had always been a part of the “in” crowd, and I never had to try to be anyone I didn’t want to be. I was shy, quiet, but fun once I opened up. At least, that’s what I liked to think.
“Well, I have an idea that might change your mind. But you have to promise you’ll hear me out before you say yes or no.”
I crossed my arms again. “This doesn’t sound good.”
“Just listen,” she insisted, holding out her hands. I was already skeptical, given that my mom’s ideas usually involved retail therapy or traveling. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with either at the moment. “There’s this personal trainer at the country club. He’s completely transformed at least a dozen of the women members. I swear, the guy has a gift. And I know if you would give him a chance, he would be able to help you look and feel amazing.”
“A trainer? Really, Mom?” I shook my head, turning toward my bedroom. I was doing my best to seem annoyed, but in reality, it stung a little hearing my mom essentially say that I needed to hit the gym. “Not happening.”
“Just try it,” she pleaded behind me. “Just for a week or two. If you hate it, you can quit.”
“Maybe I like being fat,” I threw behind me, still stomping toward my room. “Ever think of that?” I knew I was being dramatic, but I was still clinging to my adolescence and using it as an excuse to act as desperate as I felt.
“At least promise me you’ll think about it, Natalie.” She sighed, pleading again. “You’re not fat and you know I don’t think that. I’m just trying to help you look and feel your best.”
I paused at the bottom of the staircase, looking back at my beautiful mother. Shiny blonde hair, thin frame, high cheekbones. She had always been gorgeous, it had always been easy for her, and maybe part of me resented her for it. Maybe I was jealous. Maybe I was in denial, thinking my weight didn’t matter. Maybe I was just deathly afraid I’d fail. Regardless, I nodded, promising to think about it, but I knew I would never set foot in the gym at the Poxton Beach Country Club.
Mom seemed satisfied with my promise. She smiled and clasped her hands in front of her again. “Mason is a great kid. He’s from a good family, and he’s going places. Don’t give him up so easily.”
I didn’t get the chance to respond because Willow bounded through the front door, pulling a glittery purple suitcase behind her. “Alright, where is she?”
I groaned, my right hand hitting my forehead with a slap before I dragged it down over my face. Mom chuckled.
Willow and I had been best friends since kindergarten, and she was the kind of friend who took charge. This was the first break-up I’d experienced in our thirteen years of friendship and she’d jumped into action as soon as it happened. If I couldn’t get my parents off my back about binge-eating my summer away, there was no way I could escape Willow.
Her deep brown eyes found me on the foot of the staircase and she smiled, white teeth bright against her dark skin. “There you are. Okay, here’s the deal.” She yanked her suitcase up the first stair when she reached me and kept heaving it up, talking through labored breaths. “We’re going to get you all dressed up.” Another stair. “I’m doing your hair and makeup,” she exhaled, still tugging. “We’re going to go out to Hay Stacks tonight, and you’re going to show Mason what he’s missing.”
“That sounds like a really terrible idea,” I assessed, leaning back on the stair railing and watching her struggle. It was comical really, her slim frame lugging a glittery piece of luggage at least twice her size. “What do you have in there, anyway?”
“Just the essentials. Now come on, you need to find your cutest pair of boots.”
I scrunched my nose but Mom placed a dainty hand on my shoulder, reassuring. “She’s right, honey. Just get all prettied up and go have some fun.”
“Being around Mason sounds far from fun.” Willow and Mom both sighed together, which made me chuckle and throw up my hands. “Ugh! Fine. But if tonight sucks, I get to spend my entire Sunday on that couch with Josh Holloway.” I pointed my finger up at Willow first before turning back to my mom. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Willow answered quickly from the top of the stairs, bending down to grip her knees and catch her breath. I cocked a brow at mom, who was chewing her lip, but finally she nodded.
“Okay. Tonight will be great, so I don’t have to worry about it.”
“Mm hmm.”
I drug myself up the stairs unwillingly and followed Willow back to my bedroom. She already had the suitcase open on my bed with everything inside it sprawled out on the white and gray comforter. I fell face-first onto the puffy goose down comforter and sighed, letting my hot breath warm the cool fabric.
“You have ten minutes to mope before I start curling your hair,” Willow said, popping into my bathroom to plug in her iron. She brought a small makeup mirror, too, which was smart because she knew I didn’t have any in my room or bathroom.
I never was a fan of mirrors. I didn’t particularly like to stare at myself, especially since I could look down at my body and see quite enough.
Willow sat down next to me, braiding her hair over her shoulder before placing a hand on mine. “Talk to me.”
I sighed again. “Mom is disappointed I lost Mason.”
As much as it stung, it made sense. After all, his family was one of the most well off in Poxton Beach other than ours. He was heading to college in a couple of months to take the same path to being a lawyer as his father did. And after graduation, he’d be right back here in Poxton Beach until the day he died. To my mom, that sounded like the ideal situation for my future marriage.
But I didn’t care about any of that.
What I did care about was that Mason would no longer be kissing me. He wouldn’t be holding my hand as we walked the beach with our friends. He wouldn’t brush my hair behind my ear or wrestle me for the remote on a Friday movie night at my place. I may not have agreed with my mom about why I should be with Mason, but we did both feel the same. I wasn’t the same without him — that much I could tell in just the week it had been since he broke up with me. For the first time, I was trying to figure out who I was as a solo entity, as Natalie Poxton without Mason Carter as my boyfriend. And I was failing.
The Pain in Loving You Page 1
