by S. Moose
Copyright
Offbeat
Book 1 in the Offbeat series
Copyright © 2015 by S. Moose
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
Photography and cover design by Allan Spiers @ Allen Spiers Photography
http://www.allanspiers.com
https://www.facebook.com/AllanSpiersPhotography
Interior Formatting by Cassy Roop @ Pink Ink Designs (http://www.pinkinkdesigns.com)
Model: Gunnar DeWitt
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Gunnar-DeWitt/691299197635070
Editing by Kellie Montgomery
Proofreading by Jessica Glover
Offbeat Playlist
Other books by S. Moose
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Cut by Plumb
Come Back When You Can by Barcelona
Fix A Heart by Demi Lovato
Love You Like That By Canaan Smith
Photograph by Ed Sheeran
How Did I Fall In Love With You by Backstreet Boys
From Where You Are by Lifehouse
Fight Song by Rachel Platten
Why Can’t I? by Liz Phair
Hate That I Love You by Rihanna
Thinking Of You by Katy Perry
In Your Arms by Nico & Vinz
Don’t Deserve You by Plumb
Be Still by The Fray
See You Again by Wiz Khalifa feat. Charlie Puth
Wherever You Will Go by The Calling
Goodbye by Who Is Fancy
Other books by S. Moose
Never Letting Go series
Reaching Out For You
Holding Onto You
Next to Forever
Infinity Series
Vision of Love
Vision of Destiny
Vision of Hope
Interrupted Series
Interrupted Vol 1
Interrupted Vol 2
Interrupted Vol 3
Standalones
Teach Me Love
Beautiful Lessons with Rebecca Brooke
Take Me Away
Dedication
To the one who makes me strong and believes in me. Without you I wouldn’t know what a forever love is.
You are my forever, Kevin.
Dear Tyler,
People say you fall in love only once, and when you find that love you have to hold on tight and never let go. They say when you look into the eyes of love your heart beats wild and free; nothing else matters. The air around you becomes too thick and unless you’re holding on to love’s hand, you’ll suffocate. That love is the most important thing, and your reason to wake up with a smile on your face.
When we first met, I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love. You were this little boy with bright blue eyes and brown hair. I went to my mom and told her I found Prince Charming. For seven years you stayed by my side and were my best friend. On my 12th birthday, you asked me to be your girlfriend and that was the best gift ever. You’ve been my light, my reason, for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I wonder what life will be like without you and I can’t imagine it. We’ve been through so much together and have stood by each other’s side. I never needed to date other guys and you never doubted your love for me.
The thing is . . . Sometimes love isn’t enough; the most powerful feeling in the world, the one feeling people want to experience, just can’t fix everything.
That’s the problem when bad things happen to good people.
I don’t even know where to start. I could go on and on about how much I love you and how much you mean to me. I can tell you that you’re my world and the very reason I can breathe. You’ve fixed my heart so many times¸ but this time you can’t.
I have to let you go. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how else to tell you this, because I know if I look into your blue eyes I’ll take back everything. I know you think I’m selfish, but I’m doing this for you. You deserve the world. You deserve someone who isn’t broken. I’m giving you the chance to live again without worrying about me. I won’t ask you to wait for me and I won’t promise you I’ll get better, because I don’t know when or if I will. I know that if I make that promise you’ll stop living your life and wait around for me. I can’t allow that to happen.
The problem with making promises is that there’s no guarantee they can be kept. Promises set up expectations, and expectations leads to disappointment and resentment. That’s why I have to do this, so you don’t miss out on your life.
Please find someone who’ll bring the light back into your eyes . . . for me. She’s going to be the luckiest girl, because you’re an amazing guy. The past seventeen years have been magical and I’ll never let go of everything we’ve experienced together.
Please don’t hate me. I beg this of you. I want you in my life. You’re my best friend and that’s something I can’t let go of. My love for you will remain and maybe one day, if I get better, we can find our way again. Until then I need you to move on and be happy; the way you’re supposed to live. I need you to understand my reasoning for this letter, and when you’re ready to talk to me, I’ll be here.
There will never be a day that I don’t think about you. I love you so much, Tyler Scott. You’ll continue to be the reason my heart beats, forever.
Forever yours,
Bay
I hold the letter in my hands, reading the words through my blurry vision. The pain in my chest rips through and the madness in my head is spiraling out of control. My eyes search the letter. Maybe she wrote something to give me a clue that she just needs space and she doesn’t truly mean what she’s written. Girls are like that. They’ll say one thing and mean something totally different. Bayleigh is the queen of being secretive and tries hard to hide how she really feels from me. The only time I can get her to open up is when we’re face to face. Throughout the years I’ve studied her. I know her inside and out. I think I know her more than she knows herself. That’s why I know this letter isn’t what she feels. It’s a fucking copout.
At first I don’t panic. I read the letter again and try to picture her playing
a joke or doing something funny. A smile is on my face when I call the front desk, asking if there are any other letters or packages for me. They confirm this is it and ask if I need anything else. I hang up the phone and open the door, looking both ways down the hall, wondering if she’s going to jump out and say gotcha.
Again, nothing.
Closing the door, I sit back down and read the letter again. This time I believe that it’s real. I know nothing will change. Words don’t magically appear. In my head I know that, but I can’t admit it.
Did I do something wrong?
Did she find someone new?
Why is she doing this?
My world falls apart and I can’t sort out the feelings and raging emotions. I grit my teeth and nearly rip the letter apart. Setting it down on the table, I pace the hotel room, fuming with insane anger. My breathing is erratic and I can’t talk.
I imagine her writing the letter and the look of relief on her face. She wants this. She wants to leave me, and thinks I’ll let her and seventeen years go without a fight. Love is a powerful emotion. Our love is powerful, and we’ve been through too much to let it go.
“Ahh,” I scream. Lashing out I take my anger out on the couch and table, flipping them over. Glass smashes on the carpet and tears roll down my cheeks.
Turning, I see the letter again and pick it up. She wrote a fucking letter to break up with me. Stomping into the bedroom, I throw the pillows off the bed, ripping the comforter and sheets.
Red. All I see is red.
Consumed with anger, I stand in the room looking at the destruction caused by my rage. Sliding down the wall, I fall to the floor and try to calm down. Only there’s nothing calming me down. My heart is breaking. I’ve lost everything; my world, my heart and my soul.
Taking my cell phone out of my pocket, I call her. The call goes straight to voicemail.
Hi, you’ve reached . . .
I hang up and keep calling. After the eighth time, I decide to give her my own letter.
“I’m never letting you go. I’m the guy for you, Bayleigh Murphy, and that’ll never change. I will see you again.”
1. Conquer my fear of heights
2. Learn how to whistle
3. Sing and dance in the rain
4. Go to the batting cages
5. Go to a Sam Smith concert
6. Submit a painting to an art gallery
7. Learn how to hula hoop
8. Forgive him
I look at the last item on my bucket list. My eyes don’t move from the two words staring back at me. These two words hold much more meaning to me than they should. I spell out the words in my head, and mentally repeat them, hoping I can convince myself to do that one thing. The problem with forgiving him is, he doesn’t deserve it. If I do, it’ll be to find inner peace and move on. People say grudges weaken your heart and soul, clouding your mind with fear and debilitating your ability to be free. In some ways that’s true, but I bet you those people didn’t go through my hell. Even if I can forgive, I’ll never forget. That night needs to stay with me so it will never happen again.
Eventually, I’ll have to let go in order to move forward.
Eventually.
Then my mind goes to the possibility of forgiving him. I wonder if it’s possible to forgive someone who purposely stole a piece of you and left you for dead. Can someone truly let go of the hurt they’ve felt or are they doomed to live a life of fear?
I’m hoping to hear a voice telling me it’s okay to move on and let go, but there’s no such voice. All I have is my own voice laced with fear. No matter how hard I try there’s nothing else I can do to forget that night. I wish I could forget. I wish I could move on and never look back. If I could do that I’d still be happy and I’d still have everything I want.
I take a minute to set down my journal and put myself in another place. The place before my life changed. Gripping my journal a little harder, my eyes glaze over the last line, sending a small shiver down my body, to the tips of my toes. Forgive him is taunting me and I can’t wrap my head around the possibility. It’s hurting my heart to think that in order to get on with my life, I have to let what happened to me go. Not likely to occur, but I still like to think I can.
How can I move on and pretend I’m okay when in reality, I’m not?
Each time I think I’m getting better, something happens and I’m brought back to that night. My fears escalate and I shelter myself away from the world. I bury myself in books or painting. It’s my release, and what helps me stay calm. I tell myself he’s taken too much of my time and life and I don’t deserve to feel this way. I deserve to live and let go. I don’t want to live my life like this. It’s hard to move on when you’re shackled to the past.
The anchor bracelet around my wrist reminds me of the strength I know I have. But it’s hard to believe. We can tell ourselves everything will be okay and believe the world is going to be on our side, but sometimes, when we’re alone, all we have is the darkness. It’s too difficult to think everything will be okay. The shadows lurk around the room and hide in corners, ready to pop out and scare you.
The days and nights are hard and I struggle with getting through every day without breaking down. I used to love being outside, going to the beach, hanging out with friends and sitting by the water, tanning and drinking. You miss the little things when you stay inside and hide from the world. It’s not the big things you miss, like going on vacation or celebrating an event, no, it’s the little moments that we take for granted. Once they’re gone, you’re left wondering if those moments will come back.
And then life throws a little happiness your way. Sometimes, out of nowhere, the hope we need is right in front of us. Even when we push it away, that hope comes back and wants to help. Only you refuse it. That hope reminds you of the past and protects you from the self-loathing and self-inflicting pain. Hope reminds you of who you used to be and who you still can be.
As lucky as I am to have that, at the same time that’s not what I need.
I want to breathe again. I want someone to show me the meaning of being alive and the beauty of life. Do you know that feeling of being on a cloud and flying through the sky without a care in the world? I want that. There’s a protective bubble around me and I need someone to pop it. Right now, I’m not strong enough to do it. I’m all for girl power and being independent, but when your life has been taken from you and you’re left with bitch ass demons, a little push in that direction would help.
The dreams I have still live on within me. It’s not too late to get back on track, but honestly, I don’t know where to start. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt remotely like me. I’d rather stay in the comfort of my own room, painting, drawing, listening to music and lying in bed. I know it seems dull, but it’s safe.
I put the list down and lean my head against the headboard. Turning on the music app on my phone, I press shuffle. Music surrounds the quiet in my room, settling deep in my soul. It’s a sad song about letting go and moving on; not being good enough.
The song reminds me of when I lost hope. When things went downhill and I had to find the strength to be me again.
I’m trying, taking baby steps, but I’m not a patient person. I like to get things done at that moment and not wait. The waiting game and I have never been friends. Part of me yells to live and the other part yells at me to calm the fuck down so I can be safe. I don’t want to be a hostage to his hold anymore. I only have this life to live and it’s going on without me.
The pain from that night is too strong. There are nights I lie in bed with regret and hurt in my heart. There are so many things holding me back and the fear that someone is going to hurt me again stands right in front of the line. It’s impossible to believe I’ll ever be one hundred percent okay.
Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I get up and walk over and sit by my window, looking outside, wondering about the simplicity of life. I think about the constant motion of life and how it doesn�
�t stop because you want it to. Regardless of what’s going on, life goes on. Sometimes we want to yell pause or stop and other times we want life to quickly go past us. That’s not how things work. I’m obsessed with how life goes and why bad things happen to good people. When all you have is time, you find things to obsess over like time and life.
I look back to my list sitting on my bed. It’s funny how one list can give you a small glimpse of what can be and push you a little bit more than you or your family and friends can. You try to see the beauty of life and the beauty of surviving. In a tragic poetic sense, there is beauty behind the scars. Sometimes we don’t see it at first because the hurt we feel clouds our judgments. Eventually, beauty comes out and soon we’re ready to fly.
It’s been two years since the night my life was thrown offbeat, yet it feels like yesterday. Maybe I did something to provoke him. Maybe I was dressed like I was asking for it. I mean, that’s what his lawyer said. Sitting on the stand, recounting that night in full detail, the defense attorney looked at me, without any emotion, and asked if I thought about my outfit, that maybe I was asking for it. My lawyer stood up so fast and the gasp from others sounded so loud. I remember responding and how shitty he made me feel.
“I never asked for this,” I screamed, standing up and pointing at him, “you stole my life. Don’t you feel bad at all?” When he doesn’t respond I cry out, “Why didn’t you kill me that night?” As I sat back down, his attorney took his seat and said nothing further. I looked at the jury and some of them were crying, while others looked down. No one could look at me. I couldn’t look at me.
Stepping off the stand, I walked back to my parents and felt Tyler’s arm around me. I wanted to scream and push him away. Instead, I welcomed his touch, laid my head on his shoulder and cried.
“Will I ever be okay?”
“You will, Bay,” he kisses the side of my head, “you will.”
Sliding under the cover of my bed, I pull a blanket over me and turn to my side, facing my bedroom wall. I replay the past two years of my life in my head. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I was unhealthy and therapy wasn’t working. My therapist brought up topics I didn’t want to talk about and after a year, I gave up. I was barely living and when I tried, I ran back to my room and hid from the world.
