by Remy Blake
CLIPPED
Remy Blake
Copyright © 2017 Remy Blake
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Cover design by PopKitty Design
Edited by Vivian Freeman
Proofread by Laura Martínez of Hawkeyes Proofing
This book contains mature content
Contents
Prologue
1. Avery
2. Wesley
3. Avery
4. Wes
5. Avery
6. Wes
7. Avery
8. Wes
9. Avery
10. Wes
11. Avery
12. Wes
13. Avery
14. Wes
15. Avery
16. Wes
17. Avery
18. Wes
19. Avery
20. Wes
21. Avery
22. Wes
23. Avery
24. Wes
Epilogue
About the Author
GUARDIAN
Brock
Ivy
TEMPT
Charlotte
Lucas
Acknowledgments
AVERY
Sophomore Year
Like usual, It’s been a long day at school. But with the end of the year approaching, I’ve got so many exams to study for and even more essays to write. While everybody goes home or meets at the popular after school “spot”, my day is just beginning.
The library is the only place I can get work done, so I often bail and lock myself in the confines of these four walls. I work towards chasing my goals; AKA getting the hell out of Piney View.
I pull all my English books out of my bag and set them in a neat pile to my right. With my yellow notepad front and centre, I go to open my pencil case and grab my pens and matching highlighters. But the name written in big red letters across the blue leather catches my attention instead. A loud sigh leaves my mouth when I realize that my pencil case has been tampered with. Again. Blazing bright are the words “Anal Avery.”
Unfortunately this isn’t a surprise. Actually this is the fourth time it’s happened this month and I know exactly who is responsible. Earlier this year, a few people at school realized that not only do I study a lot, but I have a specific routine. Certain things need to be done certain ways and specific things need to be matching and in order, for me to be comfortable. A disruption sets me off and puts me behind schedule. So what started as name calling, turned into putting notes inside my locker, to plastering Anal Avery all over my books and stationery. Their sole purpose is to try and mess up my routine.
The culprit is Wesley Steele. He’s older, he’s way more popular and lucky for me it’s like dealing with a first grader. Initially, I didn’t care. I could handle an immature boy, poking fun at something he didn’t understand. But when it got bigger than him and me, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Anal Avery is now my name. What I presume started out as an innocent joke, turned into the very reason I want to leave these people and their small minds behind.
Looking into my pencil case, I notice the damage on the outside isn’t the only thing that’s taken place. All the lids have been put onto the wrong pens and highlighters, and my post-it notes have been meticulously pulled apart and reattached in the wrong order. It seems stupid to cry over something so trivial, but I can’t help the tears that slide down my face. I’m sick of asking my mom for money to buy a new pencil case and I’m sick of having my stuff tampered with. Then on the odd occasion where Wesley wants to rub salt in my wounds, and make me almost beg to get some of my stuff back; I just want to crawl in a hole and die from the embarrassment.
I have to keep reminding myself this will all pay off one day. Soon, this place will just be a memory and I will never have to see Wesley Steele ever again.
1
Avery
It’s six am and I’ve finally made it to my gate with a few minutes to spare until boarding time. While the adrenaline from earlier is finally leaving my body, nerves and fear are becoming more of a permanent fixture. I clutch onto the hot styrofoam cup that holds my coffee and try to steady my breathing. Everything's a mess.
At two am I got a phone call that nobody ever wants to receive. My sister Lucy went to my mother’s house and found her on the floor unresponsive. She’d had a stroke and now with the delay between the incident and someone finding her, there’s no concrete answer to how bad the damage is. Swelling on the brain means the doctors have put her in an induced coma, hoping to wake her up once it goes down. But what if it doesn’t?
I’ve spent the last four hours finding flights and trying to condense everything I could possibly need for an indefinite stay, into two suitcases. When Lucy called me, she was hysterical. And when your usually cool, calm and collected older sister breaks down, you know it’s bad.
I haven’t been home in years. My mom, my sister and my nephew are the loves of my life, but I loved letting go of the chains of small town living a little bit more. When I was eighteen I left home for college and got myself a degree in Business, minoring in Social Media Marketing. Working for Facebook was my dream, and when an internship popped up in California allowing me to do just that, I jumped at the opportunity. Four years later and I’m now a Social Media Marketing Assistant and I’ve never been happier.
I feel my phone vibrate in my bag and I pull it out to see who it is.
Lucy: Wes will pick you up from the airport.
With a lump forming in the pit of my stomach, I quickly type out my response to Lucy, praying Wes is a new guy she’s seeing and not who I think it is.
Me: Who’s Wes?
Lucy: What do you mean who’s Wes? Wesley from school. Wesley my neighbor. Wesley my friend.
Me: Why does he need to pick me up? I can just call an Uber
Lucy: An Uber? It’s not California Avery, Just let him pick you up. He’s been here watching Jeremiah all night while I’ve been at the hospital. He’s been amazing and offered to help. I’ve got Jeremiah’s school play this morning and I can’t miss it. Please don’t make it difficult.
“Fucking Hell,” I mutter under my breath
Me: You’re lucky I love you. See you soon.
I see all the other people around me gathering their hand luggage and moving toward the ticketing desk. Annoyed, I throw my cell in my bag and pick up the laptop bag I’m taking on the plane. As I near the line, I toss the coffee in the bin, and begin anticipating the awkward reunion between me and Wesley fucking Steele.
The sound of the wheels being lowered before landing startles me, waking me up suddenly. I don’t even remember falling asleep. My eyes do a quick scan of my surroundings, it seems I’m not the only one who was in need of a nap. Lying my head back on the seat, I take a deep breath before the plane finally lands. Out of all the reasons I conjured up in my mind to ever return home,
this wasn’t one of them. My mom is the strongest woman I know, coming in a close second is Lucy. I’m the baby of the family, the cool aunt; but I’m also the selfish one. I know it’s weird to admit, but we all have our roles and in this moment of panic and crisis I’m beginning to realize I’m not capable of handling change. I like plans, lists, and organization. Unexpectedly moving, being back here, and being responsible for people other than myself - I don’t think I’m built for that.
Waiting at the carousel for my luggage to appear, the thought of having to see Wesley Steele has tension creeping up into my shoulders. I haven’t laid eyes on him since high school ended and even this many years later is too soon. He was an arrogant dick, walking the school halls like he was king shit; expecting everyone to fall at his feet. And from the snippets of information I’ve heard over the years, nothing much has changed. I spot my suitcases and walk a little closer, preparing myself to drag them onto the ground. They each weigh a ton. It’s a miracle I wasn’t charged any extra, due to how heavy they are. As I lean over to grab the handle, a large hand beats me to it. Startled, it takes me a few seconds to stop staring at the hand and turn to see who is reaching for my stuff. Holy shit he’s gorgeous.
Stunned into silence, I put my hands on top of his, and mutter an incoherent “Thank you”
“No problem.” He says. “They look like they’re about to burst.”
Finally managing to close my fly trap, I find the words to show my appreciation. “And who said chivalry is dead?”
He chuckles. “My mom would kill me if she found out I watched you struggle pulling those bags.”
“Well, tell your Mama I said thanks,” I say, sliding the handles up and preparing to wheel them with me toward the exit. We walk alongside one another and I’m unsure as to whether or not we’re supposed to continue the conversation.
“What brings you to West Virginia?” He asks.
“I’m from Piney View and I’m getting picked up to go home for a family emergency,” I ramble. He’s probably being polite and doesn’t actually care about my life details. We exit through the automated doors and step out into the mild late spring weather. But that’s not what catches my attention, it’s the big fuck off sign that says “Welcome home, Anal Avery.”
“Is that you?” The stranger asks, reminding me there are others around to witness my humiliation.
An audible sigh leaves my mouth. “Yep, that’s me.”
“Well, I better go.”
I don’t even bother responding as he rushes off, desperate to get away from this type of crazy. It seems Wesley Steele still knows how to clear a room.
With my teeth clenched, I speed walk toward him and the sign. My face must give away how angry I am, because his smile falters and he slowly lowers the sign. We stand toe to toe and the fury is radiating off my body.
“Can we get the hell out of here?”
2
Wesley
Shit. She’s angrier than I expected. I don’t know why this surprises me. She’s always had a giant stick embedded in her sexy ass.
I try to smooth things over by flashing my famous grin that’s been known to steal an unsuspecting heart or two. “Come on An...I mean Avery. My truck’s this way,” I gesture to the right side of the large parking lot.
She clenches her jaw at my slip up, but silently follows me.
Clicking the remote to unlock the door of my black Ford F350, the lights flash and I hear her gasp. “What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I have to ride in this?” Her expression of horror is confusing. What’s not awesome about my truck? It’s a big, bad beast on the road - like me between the sheets.
“Good Wood Tree Removal Inc.,” she reads the name on the door. Her surprise filled eyes rise to meet mine. “Is this your company?”
“Mhm, yes it is, An...Avery.”
She covers her mouth with her hand, but her eyes are filled with mirth as she snorts. “We’re good with wood.” She reads the slogan under the company name then giggles. “This is so bad, Wesley. You don’t mind driving around in this giant cheese mobile?”
“Mind? Are you kidding? This truck is a chick magnet. They read ‘Good Wood,’ and automatically assume I bring a lot to the table - or should I say bed?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. She probably thinks I’m joking, but it’s the truth. “Which is a correct assumption, by the way. I wanted to call it Greatest Wood, but that seemed too boastful,” I wink, “and I don’t need to brag.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” She rolls her eyes. “Humble and Wesley Steele are synonymous,” she says, dryly.
Once we’re on the road, my truck eats up the highway miles as we drive further away from the city and closer to our hometown of Piney View, West Virginia, population nine-hundred-eighty-three. It’s where I still reside and the place Avery couldn’t get away from fast enough. I haven’t seen her since she left for college eight years ago and the time has been extremely kind to her. She’s matured into a sexy as hell woman, one I’d like to see naked as soon as possible.
She sighs loudly and rests her head against the passenger window. “Is it really that bad being back here?” I ask, my eyes flick in her direction.
“The circumstances are horrible. I’m worried about my mom and no one seems to know what her prognosis is.”
“I get that, but how do you feel about returning to Piney View? If I remember correctly, you couldn’t wait to move away.”
She shrugs. “Obviously, I didn’t want to come back or I would have done it before now. But now that I’m here, I’m going to make the most of it and enjoy this time with my family.”
“I know Lucy’s excited to see you. She texted three times while I was waiting for you at the airport.”
She smiles. “Yeah, she texted me too. It’ll be great to spend some time with her and Jeremiah.”
“He’s a handful. She’s a great mom though and does better than most in her situation.”
“Are you guys a...couple?” she asks cautiously.
I smirk. “No, Lucy and I have always just been friends. She’s like a little sister to me. Would it bother you if we were together?” I ask, cocking my brow.
“No. God no,” she laughs nervously. “Why would you think that?”
It took me about two point two seconds at the airport to recognize the attraction between us and it goes both ways. She can pretend she wouldn’t mind if I dated Lucy, but I know better. I’m not going to call her on it today, though. I’ll let her think she’s in the clear for now. “Just a hunch.”
“Well, your hunch is way off base.” She glances at her watch. “How much longer until we’re there?”
We’re barely out of my truck before Lucy comes barreling out the front door of her house. She lets out a shriek of excitement that could give some of the wild animals in this area a run for their money.
Avery laughs and hurries to meet her halfway. The two of them crash into each other with a hug and then the smiles turn to tears. I shake my head. Women. I might consider myself an expert when it comes to their bodies and what buttons to push to make them go off like a rocket launched into outer space, but I have no fucking idea what goes on inside their heads. The women’s psyche is truly one of life’s greatest mysteries - one, I’m not prepared to solve. I’m a lumberjack, not a detective.
Which is why I don’t get involved beyond a physical release.
Grabbing Avery’s suitcases from the truck, I walk past the two crying women and set them down inside the entryway. The two of them follow through the door right behind me.
“Thank you for picking Avery up for me,” Lucy says, with a smile.
“No problem, Luce. I’m glad to help out and it was great to be there waiting to greet Avery.” My eyes flick in her direction just in time to see hers narrow in a glare. I smirk and wait for her to rat me out about the sign, but she says nothing.
“I hate to leave you ladies, but I have to get to work now.”
“No problem, thanks again, Wes,�
�� Lucy says, before giving me a quick hug.
I study Avery’s face as her sister squeezes me. The wrinkle between her eyebrows tells me she’s definitely not happy about it.
“Give me a shout if you need anything. Avery, don’t be a stranger while you’re here. I live right across the street and I like company.” I wink at her and she scowls back. Pushing her buttons is easier than I imagined and more fun too. I can’t wait until I see her again.
3
Avery
My eyes spend way too long watching Wes walk away and drive off in his monstrosity of a truck. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked at how he’s aged over the last few years. He’s much taller, and every inch of him has filled out perfectly. His body is like a wall of stone, each muscle carved out with perfection. The way his tee stretches across his shoulders, accentuates every move he makes. His presence is overwhelming because there’s no denying he is the epitome of “good wood”. But the minute he opens his mouth, none of that matters. I’m taken back to high school, coupled with the sign at the airport and I’m immediately repulsed by him. He oozes arrogance, and his belief that women should fall at his feet has me wanting nothing to do with him. Lucy nudges me in the side with her elbow, her lips lifting in a smug smile.
