by Julie Solano
When Fall Breaks
Copyright ©2015 Julie Solano and Tracy Justice
Front Cover Photo by Taylor Himbert
www.taylorhimbert.com
Cover Model
Kaitlyn Solano
Back Cover Photo by Larry Butcher
www.Panoramic.com
[email protected]
Cover design by Sarah Hansen
Okay Creations
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Interior design and formatting by Stacey Ryan Blake at Champagne Formats
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Web Page Designer
Vianna Bailey
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
DEDICATION
QUOTE
CHAPTER 1: RUFF DAY
CHAPTER 2: FRIENDS?
CHAPTER 3: HAMBURGERS AND FRENCH FLIES
CHAPTER 4: YOU BET YOUR SPLASH
CHAPTER 5: FIRED UP
CHAPTER 6: ITCHES IN OUR BRITCHES
CHAPTER 7: PETTING ZOO
CHAPTER 8: TODDLERS AND TIARAS
CHAPTER 9: HOMECOMING
CHAPTER 10: EXPECTATIONS OF AN OCTOPUS
CHAPTER 11: VICTORY DANCE
CHAPTER 12: LIT
CHAPTER 13: GAMES
CHAPTER 14: SECRET GLANCES
CHAPTER 15: FIGHT OR FLIGHT
CHAPTER 16: SECRETS UNVEILED
CHAPTER 17: RESTRAINED
CHAPTER 18: MIXING IT UP
CHAPTER 19: TORN
CHAPTER 20: TUNED OUT
CHAPTER 21: STUFFED
CHAPTER 22: TRUTH OR DARE
CHAPTER 23: THE HUNT
A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHORS
PLAYLIST
AKCNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
For our husbands and four children who inspire us every day. Thank you for your unending support and understanding throughout this exciting journey. We did it!
~In the mountains a dramatic fall is a given.
As sure as the river will rage and the billowing winds will blow,
the forces of nature will sweep across the land, altering everything in its path.
Some warmly embrace the turn of seasons, while others cling to the past,
trying to evade the dying beauty.
The guarantee lies herein.
As hard as one may try to blind themselves to the destruction,
no one will escape the inevitable death that comes . . .
when fall breaks~
I FEEL THE HEAT CREEPING up my face, as I sit on the front lawn of Jefferson High covered with wrappers, crumbs, and gooey tuna droppings. Cringing in disgust, I quiver, as warm, sticky soda runs through my fingers. It’s the first day of my senior year, and Chelsea Chapman has already managed to humiliate me by subtly sticking her foot out as I distractedly walked by while texting my boyfriend¸ Pistol. Her sneaky little stunt sent me stumbling into the colossal, red garbage can that sits at the front entrance of the school. To make matters worse, as I sit picking stubborn bits of sunflower seeds out of my sweater, I glance up to see a group of hot jocks patting her on the shoulders and laughing hysterically.
“Enjoy your trip Twinkle Toes?” taunts the shorter, husky one near the front of the group.
The temperature rises in my face, as the anger and humiliation I’m feeling finds its way to my cheeks. Darn it, I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye to my beautiful, peaceful summer and hello to these merciless bullies. I’ve played their game for three years now, and I just can’t win. I’m over it. Not wanting to make things worse, I simply send Chelsea’s fan club my best “lick my tuna infected outfit” smirk and shrug it off. Out of the seven guys standing there, not one comes and offers me a hand. I bet their granddaddies would be rolling over in their graves right now. What happened to chivalry anyway? I shake my head and look back down to finish cleaning myself up. Well, if I wasn’t already seen as Chelsea’s punching bag, this little stunt will certainly solidify that golden title.
When I’m finally crust free, I make my way toward the music room. People hurriedly push their way through the crowded hall, making gagging noises as they sidestep around me. Suddenly, Jenna bounces up next to me and stops dead in her tracks. “Wow BFF, I know you’re into the whole philanthropy thing, but did you have to do a stint in the soup kitchen during school hours?” she gags and pinches her nose.
“No Jenna, I just had a run-in with the overloaded garbage can during lunch. That Slouche Chelsea tripped me when I wasn’t paying attention.” I shake my head, disgusted that four hours into a new school year, my longtime rival, Chelsea Chapman, is already at it.
“That’s unfortunate my friend, cuz it’s gonna be a looong afternoon smelling like Hobo Bill from the homeless camp down by the creek.” Jenna curls her lips into her signature pout and sympathetically lifts her eyebrows. “By the way, my little wordologist . . . what’s a slouche?”
“That would be my latest word for a slut who dates a douche,” I reply.
“Good one friend, ” she smacks me a high five. “I’m not sure Chelsea still qualifies. She’s not dating Jackson anymore. Didn’t you hear the latest? Over the summer, she dumped him for a one night fling she had at a rodeo over in the valley. I guess he wouldn’t ever talk to her again, so now she’s back on the prowl.”
“Oh boy gentlemen, get your antibiotics ready. You may need them soon,” I joke.
The meaning behind my wisecrack is not lost on Jenna. “No kidding. Here comes round two of . . .” rather than stating the unspoken STD Chelsea’s rumored to have, she claps her hands together twice, cocking her head back and forth with that funny, open-mouthed, smirky cheerleader face they all use.
As she’s clapping, Jenna catches a glimpse of her watch and drops the Chelsea topic. “Oh my gosh, I’ve gotta get across the street to the gym. It’s weightlifting today and I’m gonna try to sneak a peek at Ty through the locker room door before I go to P.E,” she winks with a chuckle. “I’ll catch you after school and we can go to practice together.” She pinches her face and fans her hand back and forth in front of her nose. “Anyway, it might do you some good to jump in that chlorinated water. I’m not sure if regular soap and water will cut through that stench.”
“Hey!” I giggle. “Thanks for boosting my self confidence, Bestie. I’ll text you later so we can hook up before practice.”
Thankfully when I slip into the music room, Brody is there with his compassionate smile. Wrinkling his nose he chokes, �
�Tough day, Pip?” Coughing out a slight chuckle, he dangles his keys in front of my face and offers to get me out of guitar class a little early. “Mr. S. won’t care, and I’m sure Hotel California can wait another day to get mangled by your stinky, little fingers.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re my hero. Thanks for the rescue Bro,” I whisper as we walk toward the door. Without saying a word, Brody smirks down at me with those darned, heart-melting dimples, shakes his head, and gives me a little booty bump.
“Any time Pip . . . any time.”
Riding to my house in his Abercrombie-scented Rubicon, I can’t help but think of how lucky I am to have Brody Tatum in my life. Since the summer after kindergarten, when my twin brother Caden drug the adorable little brown haired, blue-eyed cutie home from the neighborhood Fourth of July picnic, he has been a permanent fixture at our house, our third musketeer, my BGF “Best Guy Friend,” and a part of every significant childhood memory I hold dear. One of my favorite of those memories is the day he started calling me “Pip,” short for Pip Squeak. Something about Brody’s special name for me makes me melt. I don’t know if it’s the name that does it, or the memory of the way I got it.
It was the fall I turned eleven. Our families went on vacation to Maui for our Thanksgiving break. We were down at the beach and I wanted to go boogie boarding with Caden and Brody. The three of us were giggling and splashing around, as Caden tried to instruct me on how to get inside the tube of a wave. “Just hold onto the board and when I push, kick your feet as hard as you can. You’ll shoot right through. It’s fun and you can breathe in there. Here comes a good one. Ready, set . . .” With a strong thrust, I felt myself smoothly gliding on the glassy surface. Fascinated by the wall of water surrounding me, I laughed and breathed in the salty ocean air.
For seconds I imagined I was flying through the air, until swiftly, I felt the corner of the board catch and jerk from my hand. With my abrupt release I found myself being pulled farther from the sunlight and into the darkness. My body was unexpectedly inverted, my feet toward the surface, and my head submerged in the swirling surge. Crunch, my chin pounded the ocean floor as my body somersaulted inside out. Again, and again, I could feel the searing pain as my jaw repeatedly smacked the sandy bottom. Panic started to rise and I began to run out of breath. Dizziness overcame me, as I kicked wildly trying to right my position in the water. My mind fumbled for options as I realized my fierce kicking wasn’t getting me anywhere. My tiny little body wasn’t strong enough to overtake the fierce current. I strained to stop the impending reflex to breathe. The pain in my jaw was shooting up to my ears.
As I began to take in my final breath, there was an unexpected tugging on my suit straps. I felt water rush quickly down the sides of my body, and I torpedoed upward. Relief overwhelmed me as my head finally broke the surface of the water. My nose stung and my eyes burned from the invasive, merciless saltwater. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I desperately gasped for air. I felt strong hands firmly wrap around each of my shoulders shifting pressure back and forth to help me regain my balance. All I made out through my stinging, blurry eyes was the grimace of his face. With a slightly nervous voice he chortled “Wow, you little pip squeak, look at your tiny little self taking on the big, bad ocean. That must’ve been some ride, huh? Dang, I had to race your bro to get to you, but you’re good now. I’ve got ya. See, I’ll always be here to save you Pip. We’d better get you back to your mom and dad. Hop on.” He gently propped me up on his back and began to carry me out of the water.
Splashing toward us, Caden frantically ran to our sides. “You got her bud? I’m so sorry Sis, I tried to get to you as fast as I could.” At that, I flashed a thumbs up and laid my head on Brody’s shoulder. Exhausted, I closed my eyes enjoying the soft breeze gently blowing across my face. I can still remember the gentle rocking of Brody’s steps, and the retelling of the epic “Pip Squeak vs. The Big Wave” story as my two favorite boys carried me to safety.
From that day on Brody and Caden were my biggest guardians and I was their keeper. Getting ourselves into mischief at every turn, our neighbors all referred to us as “Stinkerbell” and “The Lost Boys.” Together, we defended magical fortresses, hog-tied unsuspecting neighborhood pirates, and slayed late-night bedroom monsters. We were an inseparable force, ready to take on the world.
“Hey Stinky, snap out of it. We’re here,” Brody chuckles as he flings my door open and pulls me out of the car. Without even realizing it, my feet are off the ground and I have a perfect view of his tight, sporty butt. A split second later, blood rushes to my head and my long, curly hair bobs and swirls uncontrollably as Brody carts me up to the front lawn. My eyes blur momentarily and then begin to regain focus.
And boy do they focus. Holy Mr. Universe!!! This guy must be doing some serious football training, or the eighteenth birthday fairy brought him a shiny, new hard body over the summer. I’m caught off guard by the impulse that overtakes me. Why am I so tempted to grab that thing right now? I’m stunned that the thought of grabbing Brody Tatum’s butt just crossed my mind. Kaitlyn Elizabeth Woodley, get your mind out of the gutter. You are completely committed to your boyfriend, and secondly, Brody is your best friend . . . What is wrong with you? The convincing does no good. My heart begins to pump faster, and heat begins to flush across my face. Tingling sensations burst through my chest, and I feel like someone just shook a bottle of soda and opened it inside my stomach. “I must be getting sick,” I whisper to myself as I work to analyze the sensation that just started jumping through my body. Blood rushing to my head . . . check, accelerated heart rate . . . check, warm fuzzies from the feeling of Brody’s hand curled around the back of my legs, his muscular shoulder cradling my stomach, his Abercrombie cologne sending shivers through my . . . wait a second . . . This feeling doesn’t come from merely being turned upside down. I’ve been carted around by plenty of cavemen trying to prove their strength at Dad’s football camps every summer. There’s something different about this. My heart is literally quivering. Then it dawns on me. This is what I felt the first time I saw Noah kissing Allie in The Notebook.
No . . . This can’t be happening; not with Brody. My best guy-friend Brody? The guy that taught me how to throw a cow pie like a frisbee, swallow a noodle and pull it back out of my throat, and spit farther than a man? Definitely not! I won’t stand for it!
I begin to kick my feet, back and forth, crying out, “Put me down you savage beast!” I’m shocked when the sting of Brody’s playful hand smacks my fanny and he drops me to the ground. Stunned into silence, I try to figure out what’s going on inside my head. Maybe during the trash incident this afternoon, I accidentally ingested someone’s discarded drugs. That, in combination with spinning upside down could certainly do funny things to a teenage girl’s brain. Wearing an unfamiliar look on his face, Brody glances at me for an extended moment, shakes his head, flashes his handsome dimpled smirk, and says, “Race you to the door!!!”
My hands are oddly shaky, and I’m completely breathless as I fumble with my key in the front door. What in the heck is wrong with me right now? Can he see my hand trembling? When did this dang keyhole shrink? Crap. The keys slip from my shaky, sweaty fingers and hit the ground with a loud thud. I drop to my knees as Brody bends down to grab them. Simultaneously, our hands reach the key and our foreheads come to rest against each other. We are looking at one another through blinking lashes when his fingers barely graze mine and fold in on the keys. A large gulp sticks in my throat and once again, my new internal carbonation machine erupts, sending an intense zing through every nerve ending in my body. The rush of adrenaline thrusts me backward in such a blur that I trip over the porch step, landing right on my dad’s favorite dog statue. As it hits the ground, its head snaps from its body, and rolls down the sidewalk, coming to rest at the edge of the grass.
Laughing hysterically, Brody roars “Wow, Kaitlyn! You’re truly having a RUFF day, aren’t you? What’s the lab going to do without his head?” Then in his usual
quick wit he chuckles, “Hate to say it, but you’re really gonna get a licking when Coach gets home.” He clicks his tongue, winks, and chuckles, as he spins around, unlocks the door, and opens it for me.
For the second time today, I find myself down on the ground, furling my brow, and pinching my lips together in an exaggerated pout. “Wow, Brody, don’t laugh too hard, you might pee yourself.”
“Oh Pip, I’m just playing. Don’t get all feisty on me.” He extends his hand in my direction . . . His tan . . . muscular . . . Godlike . . . hand. The one that’s connected to that gorgeous, strong, athletic shoulder. . . Suddenly, Brody’s voice snaps me out of my pheromone induced fantasy. “Here, let me help you up.” Mindlessly, I grab his hand, caressing his fingers a little more than I intend to. He pulls me slowly back to my feet. After my gradual ascent, my eyes lock on his full, smiling lips. “Hey Pip . . .” he whispers, so near I can feel his breath on my face . . .
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reply, “Ya?”
“You’ve got a little grass on your butt. Do you mind if I get that for you?” Good grief, even his whisper is sexy today. He’s like the male version of a siren. I’m so entranced by his soft, tenor voice, that I nearly jump out of my skin when he swats at my rear with enough force to kill a mosquito.
“Owww, you didn’t have to slap my grass!” I shout and give him a fierce shove as I barrel through the door.
Brody chases me down the hall laughing, “Well, you didn’t want me to just grab it did you?”
Blowing him a quick, slobbery raspberry, I throw my bag outside my bedroom door, sprint into the bathroom, strip off my smelly trash-infected outfit, and jump in the shower. Man that was gross. I can’t believe Clappy Chelsea Cat is already at it. When is she going to give up on torturing me? It’s not like I’m in direct competition with her anymore. She chose cheerleading, partying, and guys; I chose swimming, academics, and music. We don’t even hang out in the same crowd. Not two minutes after I’m standing under the refreshing stream of water, trying to shake Chelsea from my mind, I see the reflection of a bobbing hand in the mirror. “What the heck Brody? Get out of here! I’m not dressed!”
