Copyright © 2013 by L.B. Simmons
Paperback: ISBN-13: 978-1493539499; ISBN-10: 1493539493
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Playlist
Prologue
June
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
July
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chpater 12
Chapter13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
August
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
December
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Glass — Thompson Square
Only If For A Night — Florence + The Machine
Cut- Plumb
Hurricane — Lisa Loeb
Heart of Stone — Iko
Sexy Bitch — David Guetta, Akon
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend — Miranda Lambert
Stuck Like Glue — Sugarland
Heavy In Your Arms — Florence + The Machine
Rush — Ferras
No Lies — Jason Reeves, feat. Colbie Caillat
Poison And Wine — The Civil Wars
Ride — Lana Del Rey
Comforting Sounds — Birdy
Existentialism On Prom Night — Straylight Run
Fix You — Boyce Avenue, feat.Tyler Ward
Call Me Maybe — Carly Rae Jepsen
22 — Taylor Swift
We Found Love — Tyler Ward, feat. Jess Moskaluke
Summer is Over — Jon McLaughlin
The District Sleeps Alone Tonight — Birdy
I Almost Do — Taylor Swift
Right Back Home — Lifehouse, feat. Peter Frampton, Charles Jones
Back From The Dead — Skylar Grey, Big Sean, Travis Barker
Dear Daddy,
I had a dream last night. It was a good dream. We were at the park you used to take me to when you were alive. Remember? The one with the pond and the ducks. The sun was shining bright, and it was warm just like it used to be. I was wearing your favorite dress — the blue one with the white flower on my tummy. You used to tell me I looked like a princess when I wore it. You were pushing me in the swing and we were laughing. I was happy. Really happy. But it didn’t last long.
Mommy woke me up again screaming and yelling downstairs. I heard some glass break and I was scared. Really scared, Daddy. I heard her coming up the stairs and I tried to make it to my secret hiding place, but I didn’t make it. She threw my door open so hard it made a hole in my wall. I tried to run back to my bed, but she yanked my arm back so hard it popped. I didn’t scream, though. I knew better after the last time. I just held my arm and cried while she yelled at me, saying things that didn’t make sense. She said that I stole you from her. She told me that I was the reason you died and that because of me, Trace left and is never coming home. I tried to tell her I didn’t mean to. But she wouldn’t listen.
I cried and cried while she screamed at me and beat the wall with her hands until they bled. I tried to help her, but she just pushed me away and told me she hated me.
But that wasn’t the worst of it, Daddy. When she was leaving, she saw the very first book of letters that I wrote to you right after you died. I forgot to put them back up in the top of my closet where I hide all of my letters. I have so many of them, but that one was the most special. In the first book of my letters, I made sure to write you every single memory I had of us so that neither one of us would forget.
But they’re gone now.
She made me rip them up, one by one. I cried the whole time.
I’m so sorry, Daddy. I wanted to keep those memories forever, and I hope you don’t hate me too, now. But I still have some of them, in a place where she can’t get to them. I have them safely locked up in our dreams. I hope you still come to see me.
I miss you. So much.
I love you, Daddy.
Tatum
“Cash. I’m going to give you about five seconds to backtrack your ass out of what you just said to me and think about it before you decide to break the date I have been planning for months.” My voice shakes as pure anger courses its way through my vocal cords, but if I have any chance to salvage this evening, I have to play it cool. Yelling about what a shithead boyfriend I have to my shithead boyfriend really isn’t going to help matters.
“Babe. I said I’m sorry, but no can do tonight. We’ve got some family coming in from out of town at the last minute. Gotta be there. Rain check?”
Rain check?
Total shithead.
Facing the mirror, my mouth dips in disappointment as my eyes rake over the gorgeous black mini-dress I bought specifically for this evening. I don’t want to even think about the money I spent on the shoes. Money I definitely don’t have.
I let out a breath as I slide my feet out of my fabulous five inch black patent leather heels. “Fine. I guess.”
“Aw, babe. Don’t be like that. It’s not like we can’t do it some other time.”
An audible gasp escapes my mouth as it drops wide open, only to be followed by pinched lips and narrowed eyes as I gaze at my reflection. Some other time? It’s official — he’s an idiot. It’s not like I wasn’t aware of this fact before this very moment, but yeah, this pretty much seals the deal in my mind.
This date was not just a normal date. It was supposed to be a nice, romantic evening to celebrate our one year anniversary. Well, actually, that was about two months ago, but I’ve been trying to get shithead nailed down on a night to take me out. A night like, I don’t know, tonight maybe?
He’s officially upgraded to asshole.
My eyes roll on their own accord as a loud exhale escapes my lips. “Yep,” I state with an exaggerated popping sound at the end of the word. “Totally fine, Cash. Though, I’m already dressed since we were supposed to head out in thirty minutes — nice notice, by the way. I’ll just call Sadie. See ya.” I push the “end call” button before I’m subjected to any more of his half-ass apologies.
After setting the phone down on the bathroom counter, I release my long, black hair from the make-shift French twist I attempted and shake it out until it falls over my shoulders, tickling the middle of my back. Yeah, no back on this dress either. I sigh out loud, defeated.
Oh well, his loss.
Bending toward the floor, I hook the straps of my heels with my finger, throwing them over my shoulder while carrying them into the bedroom — Cash’s bedroom. Placing them gingerly in their box on his bed, I make sure to wrap the tissue paper around each one so that they don’t scuff. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll get to wear them. With one last lingering touch, I place the lid on the box and set them by my overnight bag.
Throwing myself onto
his raggedy ass comforter, I fold one of his pillows underneath my chin and breathe in deeply, once again contemplating my life.
What the hell am I doing?
Nothing, that’s what I’m doing.
Absolutely nothing.
After Mother died last year, I pretty much have been doing precisely that. Not-a-damn-thing.
I have no place to call home because I refuse to go back there, so I crash in this hellhole. I do pay half the bills, and for my part of the food because I refuse to be a mooch. But it’s not really a place I can call mine. I feel like more of a guest here, never really bringing more than what I can fit in my bag. I could stay with Sadie I guess, but she has three roommates that I absolutely cannot stand. Rich entitled bitches. No, thank you. I could stay with Trace, my wonderful all-of-a-sudden-want-to-be-present-in-my-life brother. I laugh out loud to myself. Um, again, no thank you.
I have no money to my name and I can’t get any of my inheritance until I graduate, a wonderful stipulation that my mother fucked me with. I’ll be damned if I ask Trace to co-sign a loan for me, which I would have to do because Baylor isn’t cheap. And Baylor happens to be where all of my one hundred and forty-five hours are. Maybe dropping out with one semester left to go wasn’t the smartest thing to do, I’ll admit, seeing as how I lost my scholarship when I withdrew, but the decision was mine. I had my reasons, and I stand by it regardless of how stupid it was.
I do, however, have a job. A job that I was pretty much forced to take, due to the fact that I’ve worked and quit most of the equal opportunity employers here in Waco, TX. But, unfortunately, it requires constant contact with my wonderful all-of-a-sudden-want-to-be-present-in-my-life brother since it’s his bar and all, that employs me. Well, technically it’s Trace and his best friend’s bar. Blake Morgan. Now, I like him. Why couldn’t he be my brother?
Over the last year, I’ve become very well acquainted with him, his beautiful wife Alex, and their son and his adorable step-girls. I babysit often for them and I love every minute of it. But still, I need to figure out what I actually want to do with my life, and I’m pretty sure babysitting doesn’t hold much potential as a long-term career.
Rolling over, my stare drifts to the ceiling and an empty feeling begins to claw at my chest. So, I’m twenty-three years old. I work as a waitress and a part-time babysitter while pseudo-living with my shithead boyfriend. I have no money because I give it all to my shithead boyfriend so he can pay my half of the expenses for the place I don’t technically live in. Oh, and I have no college degree because I dropped out of school.
Tears surface, burning my eyes. I’m sure Daddy would be so proud. The feeling in my chest begins to ache even more.
I’m lost.
I’m alone.
I’m going nowhere in my life, and I have no reason to.
How fucking depressing.
Well, enough of this shit. Wiping the moisture from the corners of my eyes, I sit straight up and push myself off the bed towards my overnight bag. After removing my dress and laying it gently inside the bag, I grab my frayed jean shorts, white tank top, and my old worn out cowboy boots. Definitely not a gorgeous black dress and stiletto heels, but it’ll do for what I have planned tonight. Which is getting utterly shitfaced.
Zipping it closed, I throw my bag on the bed next to the shoe box before fetching my phone out of the bathroom, unlocking the screen and selecting Sadie’s name from my recent calls list. Another reminder of how sad my life is. There are only three call names that fill the screen — Sadie’s which I accept, Trace’s which I avoid, and Cash’s which are all outgoing since he never bothers to call me.
“’Sup girl! Where are you? Ready for your hot date?” Sadie’s sunny sing-song tone filters through the phone. I breathe out a small breath of relief as the dull pain in my chest lessens with the sound of her voice.
“Well, I was ready for my hot date. Now I’m just ready to get the hell out of here.” I glance over my new attire as frustration resurfaces. The smoky grey outlining my blue eyes is definitely a little too city for my country apparel. I force a fake smile at my reflection, knowing damn good and well that it will remain plastered on my face no matter how shitty I feel. “But, it’s cool. I always have you, right?”
“Are you kidding me? Again? What the hell happened?” The anger in her voice along with the twang of her strong southern accent replaces my fake smile with a genuine one. She’s pretty funny when she’s pissed.
“Are you capable of communicating in any other way other than in question form this evening? Is this a requirement for me as well? I’m just trying to figure out how to word my next sentence,” I add through my grin.
“Seriously, Tate, what the hell?”
I let out a laugh. “Well, I guess that answers my question.”
Sadie exhales loudly into the phone. “Tate.”
“What do you think happened, Sadie? He cancelled. He has family coming into town, last minute. There’s nothing I can do about that, so now my dear, you are my date for this evening. Are you dressed?”
“Tatum O’Connell! Are you kidding me? I picked up your shift at the bar so you could go out tonight, dumbass! I’m talking to you on my break!”
Shit. That’s right. She did.
Damn it.
“Well, can’t you switch with someone? Maybe get off earlier? Aren’t you screwing Daniel now? Can we not use that to our advantage?”
Sadie giggles into the phone. “Who’s speaking in questions now?”
Another broad smile magically appears on my face. “Well?”
“Ohh, okay. I’ll see what I can do. Just come up here and hang out at the bar until I can get something worked out. He owes me a favor anyway…” she trails off with another giggle.
“Gross, Sadie. Is this fellatio related?” When I’m met with silence, I make exaggerative gagging sounds into the phone.
Laughing she responds, “Just come up here, Tate. I’ll be off soon. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Okay. Who’s managing tonight anyway? Please tell me it’s Daniel.”
“No such luck. Noah’s on duty. No free shots for you tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “Wonderful. As if my night didn’t suck enough.” Grabbing my purse, I head towards the door. “I’m on my way. See ya soon.” Chunking my cell into my purse, I exit Cash’s house.
Noah Reese. The bane of my existence. I’m absolutely overcome with joy.
Getting in my old mint green Honda Civic, I shut the car door and pause in thought before starting the ignition.
Noah Reese.
Mr. Perfect. I honest to God cannot stand him. He’s always watching me, most likely judging every single imperfect thing that I do.
I chuckle to myself as I turn the key.
Well, there’s no doubt about it. I can feel it.
He’s definitely going to get a good show tonight.
Damn. I can’t get these lyrics out of my head. I need my goddamn journal. I should have just brought my Jeep instead of letting Ryder bring me up here today. I know better, but it just couldn’t be helped. Still in the throes of sexual bliss, I was apparently unable to form words when she asked to take one car.
Angrily grabbing the nearest cocktail napkin, I jot down the words that keep relentlessly pummeling my brain. I won’t be able to fucking function until they’re out of my head. This is the very reason why I always keep my journal in my Jeep. Otherwise my room would be littered from floor to ceiling with these things.
Folding up the napkin, I slide it in my back pocket and turn back toward the lovely cougar patron who has been trying to get my attention with her cleavage for the past thirty minutes.
I have to admit, they’re not half bad. Still perky, even though she’s pushing fifty.
Placing both palms on the bar, I lean in close and flash her one of my most irresistible grins.
“So, Mrs. Harris, where’s Mr. Harris this evening?” I ask, giving her a sly wink as she smiles flirtatiously in return.
“Mr. Harris? He’s at home. Such a bore, that man. When we married, he was so full of energy,” she draws out the last word, making sure I pick up the not so indiscreet hint she’s just throwing my way. I field it well and toss her one back. We play this game often.
“Really? That’s a shame. A beautiful woman, such as yourself? You deserve to have someone very…energetic.” I lean in a little closer to up my tip value.
“Oh, well…” Flustered, she turns about twenty different shades of red before taking a sip of her Cosmo. It’s my personal goal to make her blush at least once when she comes in. She loves it.
After giving her another wink and half-smile, I press myself away from her and turn toward the order printing at the end of the bar. Ripping off the piece of paper, I barely have time to read it before I’m greeted by a pair of cheerful brown eyes and huge dimples in the wait station on the other side of the printer.
“’Sup, Sadie?” I ask, returning her smile.
“Nothin’. I need a Texas Tea and Chardonnay for table forty-one. I think that’s my ticket that just printed.” She pauses and nervously shifts her weight, the tell-tale clue telling me she’s about to ask to get off early. Holding her stare, I stand with her drink order in hand, patiently awaiting her request.
“Soo… I switched shifts with Daniel. I’m gettin’ off in about an hour, ’kay?”
“I didn’t approve any shift changes, Sadie.” My left eyebrow raises and I internally cringe because it reminds me of my father. Relaxing my face, I decide to give her a tilt of my head instead.
“I know, Noah. But, please. I need to get off for Tatum. She planned this huge date for her and Cash and the asshole bailed on her, again. Please?” She gives me huge puppy dog eyes and damn it if it doesn’t work. Well, it was either that or the mention of Tatum and Dickhead the Douchebag. A whole new round of lyrics starts buzzing around in my head. Mainly about beating the shit out of a guy named Dickhead the Douchebag.
Running in Place (Mending Hearts) Page 1
