Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (Eight Fun, Romantic Novels by Eight Bestselling Authors)

by Violet Duke

  “Dammit, Brit, you’re not listening to me!” Hunter yells, slamming his hand against the wall.

  “Your actions are speaking loud and clear.” I lift my head, one final burst of determination carrying me forwards as I stare straight in his eyes. “If you can’t say it, then I will. It’s over. You don’t want me here. I don’t belong.”

  I hurry away from him, tears already filling my eyes.

  “Brit!” I hear him call after me, but I don’t slow. I race desperately back through the house, but I’m sobbing and turned around—the rooms circle back into each other, a never-ending labyrinth of polished floorboards and velvet chaise. I find myself right back where I started, running headlong into Hunter’s solid body.

  He grips my arms, holding me up. “You’re not leaving like this!”

  I choke back my tears, hating the way his touch still affects me, the heat that sweeps through my body just to have him near. “Why can’t you let me go?” I cry.

  Hunter’s eyes flash with conflict. “How many times do I have to tell you, this isn’t about you? This is my bullshit, Brit. I’m trying to protect you!”

  “I don’t need protecting!” I shove him hard, and Hunter stumbles back, finally releasing me. A wave of grief sweeps through me, so deep I can barely stand.

  When am I going to learn? There are some things girls like me don’t get to keep.

  “I thought you were different.” I sob, wretched. “But you’re just like the rest of them.”

  Hunter scowls. “Don’t put that on me!” He roars. “I’m telling you, but you won’t listen. You’re too blinded by the past to see things straight!”

  “Me?” I reel back, “Look around, Hunter. If I’m blinded by the past, then you’re trapped by it! You’ll never be free from this, not until you realize it’s not your fault. But you won’t leave them, will you?” I sob, this time not for myself but for him. Because even in the depths of my pain and rejection, it still breaks my heart to see Hunter so tormented, trying to pay penance for sins that aren’t even his to carry. “You’ll waste your whole fucking life trying to make it right, but you never can.”

  Pain flashes across his face, and for a moment, my rejection doesn’t matter. I want to go to him, hold him tight, tell him that he can be strong and brave and leave all of this guilt behind. I want to heal his scars with my kisses, and chase away the dark shadows in his eyes. He would let me, I know. He can feel my body calling to him, just the way I hunger for his.

  But what happens come morning, in the harsh light of day?

  He’s still the golden boy, and I’m no-one.

  Nothing.

  I force myself to take a step away from him, using every last drop of strength I can summon. “This was doomed from the start,” I whisper. “Goodbye.”

  “Brit,” Hunter protests again, his voice hoarse and broken. His eyes are filled with pain. “Please.”

  It’s a desperate request, but I can’t hold it together another second longer. I turn and flee, the pain overwhelming me, sobs wracking my body with rejection as my heart breaks clean apart and shatters into a million tiny pieces.

  I find my way to the front hall and burst out of the door. I can’t breathe. The hurt is too bad, I can barely put one foot in front of the other as I stumble down the driveway to the truck. I wrench open the door and climb inside, blindly fumbling with the keys and ignition until the engine sparks to life and I speed towards the gates, the tires screeching.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes long enough to look back through the rearview mirror at the house. A figure appears on the front steps as I drive away: Hunter, staring after me, getting smaller with every passing second.

  And then I turn the corner and he’s gone.

  I fix my eyes on the road ahead, while my heart keeps on breaking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  HUNTER

  I MAKE IT OUT of the house after her in time to see the truck speed away in a cloud of dust. I sink back against a column, gasping for air. It feels like Brit’s yanked my heart right out of my chest and taken it with her, like everything that matters to me in the world just up and walked away.

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  I charge back inside and up to my old room, grabbing my keys and a bag to leave. I can go after her, back to Beachwood. I can get through to her, I know it. I can make her see…

  What? That she’s right about everything? That you’re trapped, and broken, and no better than every other man who’s ever made her cry?

  The truth of her words cuts through my desperation, sending a fresh shard of guilt slamming straight to my heart.

  I sink down onto the bed, and try to gather my thoughts. How could I have been such a fool?

  I never meant to hurt her, but that didn’t stop me from doing it, all the same. God, I can’t imagine how she must have felt, showing up here and seeing the preparations for a party I never thought to invite her to. I figured I was sparing her another useless night of society bullshit, but to Brit, I’m no different to that scumbag I saw on my first night in town: acting like I’m ashamed of her, like she’s just some dirty little secret.

  The truth is, she’s my everything.

  And now she’s gone.

  I fall back, so I’m laying flat out, staring at the ceiling. My heart feels like it just went ten rounds, raw and bruised, but that’s nothing compared with the crashing weight of shame as I realize all the ways I’ve fucked this up.

  I told her I’d never leave, and I did it anyway. She told me she loved me, and I broke her heart in two.

  I can’t live without her.

  Even when she was yelling and screaming at me, and I was so frustrated I couldn’t see straight, I needed her. Strong as water, true as air. I clench my eyes shut and picture her beautiful face, the depths of sad bitterness in those crystal clear eyes. My whole body is crying out for her, not just with lust, but something deeper, like our atoms are fused together now, a bond even distance can’t break.

  I need to fix this. Fuck, how do I fix this?

  How do you fix yourself?

  I get up, my mind racing. I thought I was doing the right thing, coming home and shouldering whatever guilt and blame my parents wanted to throw on me, but everything Brit said was true. I’ll never be free. I can see it stretching out in front of me, years of parties and client meetings, mom’s guilt-trips and dad’s stoic disappointment. A suitable wife, a proper home. Everything I decided to leave behind.

  My whole life, wasted, and for what?

  To make amends for a past that can’t be undone? To honor the brother who would have kicked my ass to see me like this?

  It’s no way to remember him, I realize. Forcing myself to live in Jace’s shadow won’t bring him back to us. Hell, if he was here right now, he would be telling me to get up off my dumb ass and take back the things I love: stop beating myself up, and build a life for myself, go out and take every moment of happiness that he doesn’t get to taste; love hard enough for the both of us, until my very last breath.

  And God, he would knock me flat on the floor for messing things up with Brit.

  I feel a smile on my face, for the first time in what seems like forever. I know now what I have to do. I can only hope to God I haven’t left it too late to make things right.

  I’m going to make that girl see, she’s the only one for me. My light, my heart, my everything.

  Forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  BRIT

  I DRIVE AROUND the city in a sobbing, wretched mess. I can’t go back to Beachwood right now, not when my heart is broken in a million pieces and every street holds a memory of him. The thought of being back in that house—on the porch where he ki
ssed me, in the rooms we talked and laughed—is too much for me to bear. I don’t know what to do, so I go the only place I can think of, the one place I’ll always be safe.

  My brother.

  “Brit?” Juliet opens the door and gasps, finding me dazed on her doorstep, so heartbroken I can barely stand straight. “Oh God, Brit, what happened?”

  “It’s over,” I whisper helplessly. “He’s gone.”

  The grief has finally left me, now I’m nothing but numb and dizzy and aching, the pain in my chest threatening to consume me completely. I meet her eyes with empty desperation. “I wasn’t enough for him, I’m never good enough to make them stay.”

  “Shhh!” Juliet pulls me into a hug, stroking my hair softly, then guides me into their apartment. I follow blindly, letting her settle me on the couch, draping a blanket around my shoulders. “Emerson will be back soon,” she soothes me. “Can I get you a drink? Some tea. Tell me what you need.”

  “Hunter,” I hiccup, a fresh wave of tears slipping free. “He’s all I ever need.”

  Juliet presses her lips together. “OK then, whiskey it is.”

  She fetches a bottle and pours me a shot. I knock it back without flinching, and take another. I hold my glass out for more.

  Juliet wavers.

  “I can’t take it,” I tell her, pleading. “Please, just make the pain go away.”

  “Oh, baby,” Juliet puts the bottle aside, and pulls me against her instead, nestling my head against her shoulder, her arm around me. “I’m sorry, but the only thing that helps is time.”

  I stay there, crying against her, replaying every terrible word from the fight. The sight of Hunter with Alicia, the smug victory in Camille’s smile. And the worst thing of all: the moment I realized Hunter wasn’t coming back to me. That he’d made his choice, and I didn’t belong in his life anymore.

  I cry for what feels like forever, but my body can only take so much. Slowly, the sobs fade away, leaving nothing but an emptiness behind my ribcage and a sharp ache in my head.

  “Better?” Juliet asks softly, when I finally stop.

  I nod, sniffling. She finds me a box of tissues, and gets up. “I’ll make you that tea.”

  She bustles off to the kitchen, leaving me in the bright, sunny living room. I look around for the first time, noting the fresh paint on the window frames, and new photos framed on the wall. They’ve only been living here a couple of months, but already, it feels like a home. I can hear traffic on the street below through the open windows, and in the kitchen, the radio is playing a country station Juliet loves.

  A sound comes, a key in the door. “Brit?” Emerson calls, striding into the room. Juliet must have texted to tell him what’s going on. He sees me, curled up on the couch, and his face changes, his dark eyes full of concern. “Oh, Brit.”

  I hold out my arms like I’m a little kid again, and just like he always did, Emerson comes and lifts me into a bear-hug. I grip him tight, wishing we were back in time again, and all I was crying over was some bullies at school, or my favorite dress getting ripped. Emerson could always make it right: finding a way to mend the tear, or go beat the hell out of the boys in school.

  “I’ll kill him.” He curses through a clenched jaw, pulling back to look at my face. “I swear, I’ll fucking kill him.”

  I shake my head. “No, please, it won’t help. You can’t fix this.”

  Emerson scowls. “I can fix that pretty-boy face of his.”

  “Emerson, no!” I protest louder. “It won’t, it won’t make any difference. Promise me you won’t hurt him,” I beg, seeing murder in his eyes. “Please, Emerson, promise.”

  “Give me one good reason why not.” Emerson folds his arms.

  “Because I love him.”

  My words sit quietly between us, and after a long beat, Emerson exhales. “Aw, hell.” He shakes his head, wrapping me in another quick hug as Juliet comes back in with a tray of tea and cookies.

  “Are you sure this isn’t some big mix-up?” she asks hopefully, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Maybe if you both cool down, and have a chance to talk—”

  “There’s no point.” I stop her, before she can pull me into her fantasies where everything really does work out in the end. “No matter what he says, it won’t change a thing. This is what always happens,” I explain, broken and ashamed. “There’s something wrong with me. I’m just not good enough for them to love. I never have been. They always leave in the end. Hunter, Mom, Dad…”

  I see Emerson and Juliet exchange a look over my head.

  “I have to pick up some prints from the lab,” Juliet says quickly. “You guys talk, and then I’ll be back to make dinner. I’ll make up the spare room, and you can sleep here.”

  “It’s fine,” I reply, not wanting to impose. “You don’t need to—”

  “You’re staying,” Juliet says firmly. “I’ll pick up some groceries while I’m out. We can make your favorite, lasagna.” She gives me a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek, then Emerson walks with her to the door. They talk quietly for a moment, then he leans down to kiss her goodbye. It’s a brief embrace, their lips barely touching, but the love between them is clear, so strong, it makes my heart ache all over again.

  I want it, so bad. What I thought I had with Hunter. What my brother shares with Juliet. That. That forever, all-in, everything kind of love.

  Emerson sees her out, then comes to sit beside me on the couch. “So, kid…” he sighs, pulling my legs up over his lap. “Start at the beginning.”

  I tell him everything, curled on the couch in the afternoon sun. Emerson listens without saying a word, as I share the story of how I was foolish enough to think it could be different this time. When I finish, I take a breath, looking around the apartment, and my brother, in the middle of it all, finally at peace.

  “You really did it,” I tell him, full of wistful pride. “You got out, you made it.”

  “It wasn’t easy.” Emerson replies. “Trusting Juliet, forgiving each other for our mistakes, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But that’s life, Brit. That’s love. You have to figure out what you want and then fight like hell. Because it’s never easy, not when your heart’s on the line. You get hurt, and angry, and scared as hell.”

  “So how do you do it?” I ask, desperate. “How can you tell it’s worth the price?”

  Emerson looks at me with certainty in his smile. “You just know. You know it like you know your own name. It’s a part of you, it’s who you are: loving them.” He looks away, suddenly bashful, but his words echo through me.

  Hunter.

  “Loving him was so easy,” I find myself telling Emerson. “I didn’t even see it when I fell. My brain was making up so many reasons for us not to be together, but my heart just went right ahead and did it anyway.”

  Emerson grins at me. “Like me and Jules. I fought it kicking and screaming, but man, I was done from the very first moment we met.”

  I swallow back a swell of tears. I’m glad Emerson got his happy ending, I truly am. Nobody deserves it more than him. But it just reminds me that I didn’t. Hunter isn’t mine to have and to hold, I’m still in this world alone. And I probably always will be.

  “I don’t know what I can do,” I whisper helplessly, my darkest fears slipping through this cocoon of warm belonging. I feel an ache, the same wretched pain I’ve carried my whole life. “What is it about me that makes them leave?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with you,” Emerson objects, but I shake my head.

&n
bsp; “There’s no point denying it. God, Em, just look around. Mom couldn’t wait to get away from us, and Dad… I never even got to know him. He was already gone.” I look down, shredding my tissue into a dozen tiny pieces. “I guess I know now, I’ll never be enough to make them stay.”

  “Bullshit.” Emerson leans forwards, gripping my hand. “You deserve to be happy, more than anyone I know. Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents is all, but that doesn’t mean we’re doomed to pay for their mistakes. We can do it differently.”

  I look up, my mouth drops open. “Does this mean… You, and Juliet—?”

  “What? No! We’re not even married yet,” Emerson says, but he can’t hide his grin. “But that doesn’t mean we haven’t talked about it. Not now, but later, one day. You can have the life you want, Brit,” he adds, “Trust me on that.”

  I shake my head. “I just can’t help thinking, there’s some reason. That if I try harder, or act better, then they’d stay.” I swallow. “When I was little, I used to tidy my room. Do you remember? I was obsessive about it.”

  “I remember,” Emerson smiles. “You were so crazy about everything else, I could never figure it out.”

  “I thought, if I kept it neat enough, if I was good, then Dad would come back.” I whisper my confession, avoiding Emerson’s eyes. “It was all I wanted, to be like the other kids. They had fathers who loved them, they took it for granted, every day. But he never came back. And then when Mom started using… That’s when I gave up.” I shrug, remembering my teenage decision, the freedom I finally felt. “I figured if I couldn’t be good enough to make him stay, then I wouldn’t bother with being good at all.”

  Emerson squeezes my hand.

  I snap out of it. “I just… I can’t help thinking it’s me. If I knew what happened with dad, if I had some answers, maybe I could understand why he left…” I stop, and shake my head, selfconscious. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling on, I know. This is probably the last thing you need, dragging up the past.”