by Ava Alise
Table of Contents
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
A note from Ava
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2017 Love’s Ache by Ava Alise
All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Love’s Ache is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.
Editing by Misty Pack Masque of the Red Pen
Proofreading by Silla Webb Masque of the Red Pen
Formatting by Silla Webb Masque of the Red Pen
Cover Design by Bex Harper Designs
Table of Contents
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
A note from Ava
Acknowledgments
LIZ
The worst day of my life was the day my sister died. Second worst, the day I married the man who would kill her. The entire situation is fucked up. Technically, Grayson didn’t kill her but it’s still that assholes fault she died, and I will never forgive myself for it. The funny thing about life though, most days start the same and you never know the level of crap you’re going to end up with until you’re already living it. I wish there was a meter we could check every morning that would clue us in to the type of mess that will be thrown our way that day, this way we could choose to skip it and stay in bed if we felt it was needed. Today, for example, would’ve been one of those days I would’ve flipped off my alarm and rolled back over because this… this is bullshit.
“I just can’t take it anymore, I’m sorry, Liz,” Sean says while looking down at his living room floor. I’m left stunned. Stuck.
Is this fucker really breaking up with me?!
His voice sounds loud but distorted, and everything in this moment seems to slow down.
“Love you… too hard… still married… divorce.”
Those are the only words that register through the haze as my heart pounds loudly in my chest. I have to remind myself to breathe, to think, to listen. I can’t focus. He’s a walking pile of bullshit, and an all too familiar emotion bubbles to the surface. Anger.
“Sean, are you fucking serious?!” I scream. Sean’s eyes snap up from the floor and confusion riddles his face; he’s not used to me talking to him like this.
“Liz, you’re still married.” His tone is almost patronizing as if I’m being unreasonable, like I should understand why he’s doing this.
“I’ve been married this whole time.”
“Yeah, and I thought I could take it, but I can’t—not anymore.”
My throat begins to tighten, and a sob pulls at my stomach causing it to clinch.
“You know I don’t love him. You knew what my life was like when we met, and you knew our relationship would be hard for a while.”
“At the time, I was up for it, but I didn’t expect to be going through the same thing a year later,” he says.
“No!” I seethe. “I told you we should take it slow for this very reason, but you begged me to try! You know I don’t love him!”
“You keep saying that, but why in the FUCK is it taking so long, huh? I love you, Liz, but how would you feel if you were me? Fucking a married woman, being in love with someone who isn’t really yours and doesn’t seem to be in any rush to make that happen. No! Fuck that! I’m sorry, I can’t do it anymore!” He frowns and shakes his head.
“Oh, that’s bullshit!” I say, my fists clenched at my sides. “I’m sorry if I’ve taken too long to mourn my sister, that I haven’t filed the fucking paperwork by your deadline. You knew what this would be like!”
He huffs and stalks toward the doorway that leads from his living room to his kitchen.
“Why end it now?!” I yell after him. “Why after I send in the paperwork?!”
He blows out a loud, frustrated breath, keeping his back to me as he stops short in the doorway.
“Why?!” I yell again, wetness flying from my lips. A nagging itch has started on my chin, at some point I must’ve started crying.
“I told you it may be awhile before my divorce is final. You spent weeks begging me to believe you, assuring me you could handle it. You said you didn’t give a fuck about him because I was yours…” My voice cracks as I draw in a deep breath and look away from him to avoid completely breaking down. Swallowing hard, my voice returns to me, wounded and low. “…After you made me fall in love with you, then… now you tell me it’s over. Now that my guard is down and my heart is open, you close yours?” My voice comes out as a whisper as I finish the last word.
I pace the floor and run my hands through my hair; attempting to slow my breathing and the tears flowing from my heart. My eyes flicker over the room as I fight the threat of a body-wreaking sob that is hovering just below the surface. I want to scream. I want to demand him to take it all back, tell him he doesn’t mean it. Convince him that we love each other and nothing else matters.
I hear Sean shift from foot to foot uncomfortably before he walks back into the room. I can’t look at him because I know the sob that has been choking me will be too strong to swallow.
“Look, you’re hurting now, but I’ve been hurting every day for months, since the moment I knew I was in love with you. You’re his fucking wife. I have no right asking another man’s wife to be faithful to me,” he says, speaking in a tone somewhere between a yell and a plea.
I can feel his eyes fixated on the side of my face, and the air between us freezes as he waits for a response. A sensation of crushing fills my chest as a different realization hits me—he’s fucking right. My knees buckle, and I drop to the floor of his apartment and begin sobbing.
But no… no. He knew what this was; he knew wh
at it would be like. Why didn’t I just stick to my guns and make him wait until my divorce was finalized? This is so fucked up.
My arms fold into my body as I bury my face in my knees and sit crumpled on the floor. I’m not sure how much time goes by, but when I move my body feels weighed down and it takes extreme effort to lift my head. Sean is now sitting on his couch with his head thrown back staring at the ceiling.
“Sean?” I call to him weakly. His body stiffens at the sound of my voice, but he doesn’t look at me.
Eventually, I pull myself to my feet and walk toward the door. Before I reach it, I look back at him through a watery gaze while praying like hell he stops me from leaving.
Is he really going to let me walk away?
Sean looks at me now with an unreadable expression. I want to say something, but I can’t. I lock on to Sean’s stare, hesitating at the door, but still, he doesn’t speak. Finally, I turn and walk out of his house, wiping my eyes clear of the tears I can’t seem to gain control of. I’m listening, hoping to hear him call out to me or for the sound of his feet coming from behind me. I’m listening, but it doesn’t come.
SIX WEEKS LATER
Rosland stands at the foot of my bed with her hands on her hips waiting for me to respond to her.
“Have you ever been dumped?” I yell at Rosland.
“Uh yeah, you know I have, and yes it fucking sucks, but this mess…” Ros says, waving her hand gesturing to me as a whole, “…Liz, it ends now! If he didn’t realize how much you loved him, then it’s his loss.” She sighs with a tight jaw and knitted brow. “Outside of going to class, it has been weeks since you’ve moved from this room. I’ve had to watch my best friend’s heart break every day for weeks, and it ends now!”
I look away from her, toward the window, to hide the fresh tears that are beginning to burn my eyes. She knows me too well, and she knows I am about to cry again; something about my nose turning red being a bullshit tell. This shit isn’t fair, my heart hurts.
Ros must notice my emotional state because she changes her tone.
“When is your divorce going to be final?”
“Tomorrow,” I respond weakly, eyes still locked on the closed window blinds and drawn curtains.
“Great, we’re going out tonight to celebrate,” she says cheerfully. “We’re going out to listen to music, and we’re going to get wasted—completely wasted. Tomorrow we’ll drag ourselves out of bed and nurse our hangovers with ice cream, so get up!!”
Ros pulls my arm causing my body to jerk in her direction, but I don’t get up, and when she lets go, I let my arm fall limply back onto the bed.
“Ros, I don’t want to go out tonight, and you know I don’t really drink,” I say, finally making eye contact with her.
“You used to before you started dating that asshole, Mr. Straight and Narrow, fun sucker. Come on, honey, we are twenty-one-year-old college students, let’s act like it. If there were ever any night that warranted dressing sexy and drinking too much, tonight would be it,” she says, smiling.
“I really don’t feel like it.”
Ros sits next to me and with a softened expression she places a hand on my cheek. For a moment, I think I might be off the hook.
“Well, too bad,” she says, “…too bad you have an annoying best friend who doesn’t care what you want. We’re going,” Ros says sternly, then bounces to her feet. “I’m going to meet with my study group, but when I get back, we can start getting ready.” She grabs her purse from my bed and shoulders it before she continues. “Oh and I’m telling Kesha and Brooke to meet us at The Lounge tonight. If you try to get out of going, I’ll have them come here instead and we will throw a big ass house party and you will hate it.”
I grimace and watch her with narrowed eyes as she walks toward my window.
“No! Why are you opening the window?!” I yell.
“It’s too dark in here Liz.”
I continue to shoot her a death glare as she hooks back the curtains and opens the blinds.
“No, it’s too bright outside.” I groan.
“The Lounge is your favorite spot, so we will go there and celebrate your freedom from both assholes. New Liz. New start,” Ros says, smiling and continuing to ignore my attitude.
Before I can protest, she walks out of the room and yells that she will be back soon, right before I hear the front door of our apartment shut behind her. I sit for a minute contemplating my options.
I don’t want to go out, but she really will throw a party and everyone will be in my face and in my space. I so hate her right now. Why can’t she just let me work through this shit my way?
Annoyed, I begin to fall back onto my pillow but, as I fall, I catch a glimpse of myself being assaulted by the sunlight in the mirror. Pausing once my head hits the pillow, I slowly begin to sit upright again, angling myself where I can see my reflection. I’m afraid to open my eyes, afraid of what I think I just saw. I glance over and find a shell of myself looking back at me. My brown eyes are bloodshot and almost swollen shut, my curly hair is matted to the side of my head, my complexion, which is usually one of a creamy latte thanks to my biracial heritage, is pasty and dull. I look like horrible meets hell. The shirt my reflection is wearing has stains that look like mustard on the top of it. I immediately look down in disbelief.
Yep. It’s all there.
That boy knocked me off my feet and fucking ruined me.
Unable to tear my eyes from the mirror, I watch my reflection cry for the umpteenth time today.
How did I get here?
…and Ros might be right.
Deciding to run a bath, hoping it will make the tears stop, I stand and walk to my bathroom. I know Sean had valid points in his break up, but he knew what he was getting into, the dumb fuck. After my sister’s death and Grayson’s incarceration, the last thing on my mind was lawyers and paperwork… so yeah it has taken me some time to get divorced. I’m so fucking hurt, I’ve been so hurt for so long that I don’t feel anything but emptiness. Steam fills the small bathroom, causing the mirror to cloud over. I lie back in the water and use my washcloth as a warm compress for my eyes, hoping this will help with some of the swelling.
I don’t want to be that thing in the mirror, the broken-hearted girl. I just don’t know how not to be her. How do I find relief from this shit when it all keeps piling on?
I dip the washcloth in the water a few more times, each time allowing it to sit on my eyes until it gets cold, then I dip my entire head under water. Raising my head from the water, I take a deep breath, grab my shampoo and begin to lather my hair, wondering how much I damaged it over the last six weeks. My fingers quickly become tangled in a nest of hair which alerts me that my normally loose, bouncy curls are in trouble.
I’ve avoided leaving the house for the past month and a half, outside of attending classes. Because of this, I haven’t had to worry much about doing my hair. My entire wardrobe has recently been whittled down to sweaters, yoga pants, and of course… hats. I’ve been doing just enough to drag myself through the halls of Augusta Community College before I head straight back to bed.
I pull the drain stopper, turn the shower on and do what I can with the shampoo, conditioner, and the comb, but there isn’t much I can do to detangle this mess. About thirty minutes later, I realize I’m just standing there under the now cold water, which is running down my face and back. After quickly washing up, I step into my robe and wrap a towel around my head.
Completely frustrated, I sit on my bed and bend down to grab my cell from the floor.
Immediately, I’m assaulted by my lock screen. It’s a picture of Sean and I right before we broke up. Quickly I unlock it and see my home screen picture; the one of my sister Della and me on her twenty-first birthday. God, I miss her. I looked so happy. I knew that girl, she wasn’t broken; she was beautiful and confident and… I want to be that girl again. Moving to my contact list, I click on Rosland’s name and call her.
“Hey, boo, what�
��s up?” she says casually.
“You’re right, okay,” I say, getting straight to the point.
Ros doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“Why didn’t you tell me I look like the Bride of Frankenstein?”
“You’re going through hell,” she says in a careful tone.
I sigh.
“Can you come back and fix my hair? I think I broke it for good.”
“Sure, be home in thirty,” she says.
“Bye.”
Dropping the phone on the bed, I lie back and close my eyes. I can’t believe I let her talk me into going out tonight.
Della’s eyes twinkle with excitement as she pulls me through the room. “Come on, Liz. I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s gorgeous.” Sean… Sean… Sean, she’s been talking my ear off about this guy all night. I hate when she tries to play matchmaker.
The sounds of her heels click against the wooden floor of the quad as she leads me to the ballroom.
“Slow down, Dell. Sheesh,” I say rolling my eyes. Her red gown floats through the air as we make our way toward the gala.
“He’s my lab partner in chemistry and is incredible. Smart, funny, graduating top of our class.” She beams, pointing to a tall guy in a black tux, standing by the punch bowl.
Light music floats through the air of the room as my eyes travel from the guy and back to Della.
“If he’s so perfect, you date him then,” I tell her.
“He’s too young for me; I think he was home-schooled and started college early or something. Plus, he’s not my type. Buuuut…” She grins and says, “He’s perfect for you, Liz, just your type.”
“You know I’m with Grayson!” I say, pulling away from her. “I love him. We’re getting married when we graduate, remember?” I fold my arms across my chest, refusing to move any closer to this guy.
“Come on, Liz. Grayson is great, but he’s a bit of a loose cannon. You should date more before settling down, babe, you’re only seventeen.”
I narrow my eyes at her in annoyance.
“His name is Sean.” She smiles brightly and hugs me before nudging me in Sean’s direction.
I bathe in the comfort of her touch and the familiar smell of her perfume. The hole in my heart feels a little less hollow, and I smile as I teeter between wake and sleep.
