by Grea Warner
Table of Contents
Title Page
Tails California (Heads and Tails)
OTHER BOOKS BY GREA WARNER
Dedication
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
SneAK PEEK AT WHISKEY GIRL
See how Bethany and Ryan’s story began ...
Excerpt:
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tails California
Heads and Tails: Book 2
Grea Warner
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Tails California
Heads and Tails: Book 2
Copyright © 2021 Grea Warner
All rights reserved.
ISBN: (ebook): 978-1-953335-59-3
(print) 978-1-953335-60-9
Inkspell Publishing
207 Moonglow Circle #101
Murrells Inlet, SC 29576
Edited By Yezanira Venecia
Cover art By Najla Qamber
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
OTHER BOOKS BY GREA WARNER
COUNTRY ROADS SERIES:
Country Roads
Almost Heaven
Take Me Home
Teardrop in My Eye
The Place I Belong
All My Memories: A Prequel
STANDALONE:
Every Mile a Memory
HEADS AND TAILS DUET:
Heads Carolina
Tails California
COMING SOON:
Whiskey Girl
Dedication
The dedication I never wanted to write ... this one is for my dad, who passed away shortly before the release of this book. He was and will continue to be my model of what a true hero is, embodying everything a father and man should be. Although my grief is deep, so is the love.
Hope your ride into the sunset was in a gorgeous classic car, Dad. I will always watch for the warm summer rain whispering on my windows.
And for my mom, whose love for my dad and her family is an unparalleled story all of its own.
Chapter One
Nearly every woman enthusiastically added a point to their bridal shower scorecard. Aside from how Ryan and I met, how he proposed was the easiest question. After all, it had been shared in numerous media outlets. There had been four roses—three had thorns, but the final one did not. Instead, it hosted a spectacular, sparkling ring with the words “for real” inscribed inside. The proposal definitely personified all we were to each other and all that our future held.
“But tell them what he said right before that.” My younger sister, Ella, was far from being a romantic, but she did love my engagement story from three months prior.
My internal smile was probably even greater than my external one. I couldn’t help it. When it came to Ryan and our life together, I couldn’t be happier. “We were playing a game we sometimes play with one another—naming a song about what we are feeling at that moment. He went first, which is never the case.”
During my retell, the church’s wooden basement door opened and the man himself appeared. But no one else noticed, since their attention was solely on me. I brought my hand up to my face and smiled the teensiest but happiest of bits.
“He said his song was Train’s ‘Marry Me.’ And, at first, I didn’t get it. But then I made the connection to the video’s coffee shop girl, and the lyrics, and the title. And I ... it was ...” I met his eyes. “He is ... everything.”
A collective “awww” hummed from the group of women as my mother, looking every bit the part of a matron in her black skirt and red floral top, pronounced, “Speaking of ...”
Next to me, Ella quietly growled. “He had one job to do—bring flowers. Geez, men!”
Both my sister and mother had been relentless about my groom-to-be bringing me flowers when he arrived at the end of the bridal shower. Ryan and I had even laughed about it. He’d said he would stop by the florist on the way from my parents’ house, where he and the kids were visiting with my dad and Garrett. But where was the bouquet? In fact, where were the kids? He was supposed to bring them, too. And why was he so early?
Since he hadn’t moved from the entry of the door, I walked to him, ignoring the soft murmurs and looks as I did so. He could broker major talent deals and appear live on national television, but it seemed he was intimidated by a room full of my female Carolina friends and family. It was only after I said hi and wrapped my arms around his burgundy button-down covered chest, that I realized something was wrong ... very wrong.
“Ry?” I whispered, feeling the constriction of his muscles and witnessing up close the almost blank, yet weary, look in his eyes.
“Bethany, are you ... Is this almost over?”
“Yeah. Dinner and gifts are done. Just having dessert and a last game,” I replied. “What? What’s going on?” All the happiness in my body was draining, and fear was rapidly taking its place.
As if to confirm the feeling, he pulled me away from him. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Uh ...”
“I thought you were with the men,” my mother questioned her future son-in-law as she approached with my sister at her side. “My husband didn’t scare you off, did he? He’s harmless.”
“It’s a passive-aggressive, I’m-a-man-of-God kind of scare,” Ella added.
“Ella ...” Our mother practically tsked out her middle child’s name.
“There is some truth to what she said,” I admitted, and wondered if my father did have something to do with Ryan’s disposition.
“No,” he denied. “No. I’m sorry. Bethany?” He was never so short with his words ... even in his role as a “mean” TV talent show judge on Singer Spotlight.
Was that it? Was it business-related? Did Ryan find out some kind of bad news he had to tell me as my manager? I had sold a couple of songs to country artist Finn Murphy that weren’t released yet, but the process had been beautifully smooth. So, I doubted Ryan’s demeanor had to do with that, but whatever it was, he was scaring the daylights out of me.
“I need to talk with Ryan.” I looked to my mom, and for the first time I think she saw there was something tilting our happy world in an unbalanced way.
She glanced at Ryan and then back at me. “Use your daddy’s
office,” she suggested.
“Okay?” I questioned the handsome, dark-haired man next to me, trying to somehow, by just looking in his eyes, figure out what was troubling him.
“Yeah ... yeah,” he agreed.
He let me take him by the hand and guide us through the women gathered at the tables and serving window of the adjacent kitchen. Some came up to us, wanting introductions. And while Ryan was polite, it was obvious he was also distracted. Luckily, my loudmouthed sister saved the day by saying she was going to announce the final raffle winner.
We made our way past the bathrooms, through the old narrow hallway, and started up the stairs. The crowd noise began to fade at the landing with the stained-glass window. It was there, when I had lived in Carolina, where I had liked to sit and think. Glancing again at an introspective Ryan, I continued to lead him up the remaining steps, surrounded by walls decorated with spiritual quotes.
Finally, we turned left to find the door that led into my dad’s office. It was only steps from the serene, empty sanctuary where Ryan and I were set to wed in a few days’ time. The silence in the room and the nearby chapel was a sharp contrast to the boisterous women a floor below. And I hoped it would provide the right setting to help explain whatever was going on.
When I shut the door behind us and looked at him once again, he immediately pulled me to him. Admittedly, a wash of relief flooded my body. He wanted us close. Good. But the fierce hold he had on me, combined with the fact his body was actually trembling a little, brought back my initial concern. I tried to meet his eyes, but he wouldn’t let me right away. He kept me too secure to his torso.
After another moment, he allowed my release, tried a half-hearted smile—that nowhere near met his usual full-teeth grin—and said, “Any toasters? We could—”
“Ryan!” I quickly admonished.
“I love you,” he said plainly but with an earnest heart—a positive sign in an ocean full of scary uncertainty.
“I love you, too. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Bethany?” His voice cracked on my name. The vocal delivery and the fact he actually called me it instead of his usual loving “Lenay”—my middle name—worried me further.
“Yeah?” I tentatively replied.
“Kari is ... she’s dead.”
And then my world spun one-eighty, three-sixty ... ten thousand. I had heard him. But I couldn’t quite comprehend.
“Wh ... what?”
Ryan rapidly blinked a few times and seemed to be a step away from hyperventilating. And I wasn’t sure I was much better. But I knew I needed to be. I needed to at least do or say something.
“What? What happened? What ... Oh, man. I ... she’s ...” I wasn’t helping. “Oh, geez. Here, let’s sit down,” I finally managed.
Somehow our two bodies managed to meet the old, weathered, brown sofa in my dad’s office. We gave ourselves a collective moment to catch our breaths. And then I covered and caressed my hand on his.
The tender touch must have allowed him to unleash a little more. “OD’d,” he announced the cause of death. “The cleaning service found her at her condo. Not sure if it was accidental or her choice.”
“What?” Because everything was still so new ... so fresh ... so shocking, my question was still mostly to reiterate that his ex-wife was dead.
Kari had been clean since the prescription drug issue ... since rehab. It had been a year. She ...
I stopped my internal thoughts and outwardly tried to clarify. “Suicide?”
“They’re not sure,” he repeated blandly.
“Who? Who is ‘they’? How did you find out?”
“Maks called me.” Ryan gave Kari’s younger brother’s name in the same monotone of his previous answer.
“Oh.” I was starting to realize the truth of our conversation ... of the situation. “Did you talk with her parents?”
“Not returning my calls.” His eyes, which had been partially withdrawn from mine since sitting on the sofa, lifted, and I could understand, just with his look, the contempt he felt when dealing with his ex-in-laws.
“Hmmm.”
There wasn’t much else to say regarding the Hynes family. Besides, they weren’t whom I was concerned about. Of course, it was Ryan. But also ... also ...
“Ryan, what about the kids?”
His eyes became misty and almost spooked at the same time. Along with needing to feel successful and having to prove himself, his children were definitely Ryan’s weak spot. “I ... I don’t know. How am I ... Oh, man, how am I supposed to tell them?” On top of absorbing the shock and sorrow of her death, the responsibility of telling their kids had to be overwhelming.
I leaned onto him, hoping my touch and bond would bring him some comfort. “Where are they now?”
“With your dad.”
“Does he know?”
“Yeah. I needed him to keep the kids away from it, and I wanted to be here. I wanted to be here with you. To ... tell you.” After I kissed his cheek, he kissed the top of my head. “Your dad’s a pretty good listener.”
“It’s a big part of a pastor’s job.” I looked across the room at my father’s simple wood desk. The desktop calendar was cluttered with ink markings indicating such jobs—hospital visits, counseling sessions, and more.
“Yeah, I guess.” Ryan sounded as though he was only half in our conversation.
“What do you want me to do? What can I do for you?”
He pulled me a little away from him. “Will you be there when I tell the kids?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” I immediately agreed. “Yeah.”
Looking into his normally sparkling deep blue set, which housed such sadness at the moment, made my own eyes fill with tears. That, along with anticipating the grief of a seven-year-old little girl and a five-year-old little boy. They had already dealt with too much in their young lives and, somehow, had remained innocent. How would the latest shocking news affect them at such a young age? Geez, I couldn’t even process it myself at the age of twenty-four.
“Bethany?”
“Yeah?’
“There’s something else.”
Something else? Oh, my stars. What else could there be?
“We have to talk about the wedding.” His voice reached a whole new low, sad tone, and my heart felt as if it had exploded and left my body. “It’s ...” he continued when I didn’t—or couldn’t—speak. “I don’t think we can.”
“Huh.” I had somehow said a sound, trying to still process everything that was coming down in the matter of minutes. Had it really only been less than fifteen when I had been beaming so brightly, surrounded by friends and family and knowing my heart couldn’t possibly be filled with more love?
“Maks said they want the service to be as quick as possible.” Ryan was still talking, and I needed to focus on him. “I’m guessing by the end of the week.” The end of the week ... He meant our wedding day. “And the kids ... they need me, and they ... they need to be there and home in LA.”
“Closure.”
That word was more solid coming out of my mouth and also so fitting. Closure meant an end. And I was beginning to understand it might be in more ways than one.
“Mmmm-hmmm. Lenay?”
A tear actually rippled down my cheek when he used my favorite version of my name. “But if the funeral’s not on Saturday, could we still ...?”
He breathed through his nose before answering. “Do you really want our wedding to be at all associated with this? The press is already trying to contact me as it is.”
Of course they were. Kari wasn’t only Ryan’s ex-wife. She was an international singing superstar. And she somehow, despite an extramarital affair and rehab, had remained a sweetheart in the eyes of her fans.
“I want our day to be our day.” He said the last two words slowly and poignantly. “I don’t want it marred by—"
“I know.”
I knew all along. I had just been holding on to a glimmer of hope that
our special day was still going to happen. That was selfish. And for all the places for me to be self-centered—in the holy setting of a church. I internally berated myself.
“And the kids. They need support.”
“I know,” I repeated.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He touched my hand.
He didn’t need to apologize, and I told him so. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Hmmm.” He looked down.
“Ryan.” I touched his smooth, chiseled face that I loved so much and waited until he looked back up at me. “We’ll figure it out. The first priority is the kids.” I gathered my strength and became the woman I knew my parents had raised me to be. “My mom and sister ... they can contact whoever we need to about canceling the wedding.”
“Postponing,” he amended, which, admittedly, made me smile.
“Yeah, postponing.” I hesitated for the slightest of moments and then went for it—because, along with thornless roses, our witty banter was a cornerstone of our relationship. “Good thing because I’m not returning the toaster.” I was glad I said what I did since it produced the smallest of smiles on Ryan’s face. “I’ll tell my mom we’re leaving.”
“You okay doing it yourself? I don’t—”
“I understand.” It was going to be hard enough for me to repeat the words Ryan had divulged to me, never mind him having to do it again ... especially in near a bunch of strangers who couldn’t help but gawk a little at his own celebrity status. “I’ll tell her to be discrete.” I had plenty of practice with that, I thought.
“It’s all right. It’s already out.” He joined me as I stood.
“But she can tell them not to gossip.”
“Is there such a thing?” he mocked. “At least they’ll know I wasn’t the runaway groom.”
I half-smiled at his attempt to bring his own lightheartedness back to our extremely depressing conversation. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I clasped my fiancé’s hand, gave a reassuring squeeze, and left the still room. On my way down the stairs, I took a moment to pause on the landing with the stained glass. An extreme gust of air left my lungs as I thought about what had just taken place. I had imagined all kinds of wedding horror stories over those past couple of days—someone spilling red wine on my dress, there being a huge tear in it right before I was to walk down the aisle, or a snowstorm hitting Carolina ... in the beginning of June! But not ... not ... I breathed in a few more times.
