by LK Farlow
Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
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Acknowledgements
About the Author
Excerpt of Coming Up Roses
Preview of Boomerangers by Heather M. Orgeron
Preview of Bashful by Lo Brynolf
Preview of I Don’t Regret You by Jodie Larson
Weather The Storm
Copyright © 2018 by LK Farlow.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase.
For information contact: www.authorlkfarlow.com
Cover Design & Interior Formatting: Jersey Girl Design | Juliana Cabrera
Editing: Librum Artis Editorial Services | Editing by C. Marie
Proofreading: Judy’s Proofreading
First Edition: April 2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To my Phoobs.
No matter what life has thrown at us, we have always managed to weather the storm.
Chapter One
SIMON
Super Bowl Sunday—one of the best days of the year, in my humble opinion. Regardless of the teams playing—although some are far superior to others—Go Eagles!—the commercials alone are gold, and it’s usually a good matchup. Add in some bomb-ass food and my friends, and like I said, it’s one of the best days of the year.
On top of that, this particular Super Bowl Sunday is even better than the ones before it because a certain beautiful blonde will be joining us. My, oh my, there’s just something about Miss Magnolia that really gets my blood pumping.
It’s not just her body, though standing at five-seven with a year-round tan, eyes like a pool, and long, blonde hair I’d love to see fanned out across my pillow, she doesn’t hurt the eyes. She’s mysterious, soft-spoken, and shy. She’s an enigma, and I want to know more—I need to.
Drinks in hand, I make my way from the kitchen to the living room, where Drake is kicked back in my favorite recliner—such an asshole—talking to our other buddy, Cash Carson, about his Valentine’s Day plans with his girlfriend, Azalea.
Cash is married to my neighbor and honorary little sister, Myla Rose. I’ve known her since the day she moved in next door with her Grams when she was eight and I was eleven. She was so tiny, but so damn fierce, and we were instant friends.
Cash and I, though, that’s a whole different story. We got off to a rocky start after all the shit he and Myles went through, but they beat the odds, and turns out he’s an all-right guy—a good man for Myla and her sweet baby boy, a good friend, and a damn good carpenter.
Stepping down into the living room, I offer Drake one of the beers in my hand and the Coke I have to Cash. “Y’all gonna sit around and gossip all day, or are we gonna watch some football?” I ask, just to rile them up.
Cash gives me a good old-fashioned eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, shut it.”
“I’m for real, though. Y’all’re sitting around like a bunch of girls yappin’ about your V-Day plans. Hell, listening to you two, you’d think the girls were here already.” I hardly mean what I’m saying, but it’s too easy to mess with them.
Looking smug as shit, Drake cuts his eyes to me. “Just you wait. One day, you’ll be just as damn sappy as I am with Azalea. You know what they say—the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
Without meaning to, I bark out a laugh, letting his words roll off my back. These guys live to give me shit about finding love. Little do they know, I’ve had my eye on little Miss Magnolia for a while now. I can tell she’s been hurt; she’s always so nervous and shy, trying to make sure she never stands out, but my God…whether she wants to or not, she shines.
We’re thirty minutes from kickoff when Myla Rose flies through the front door like she owns the place, baby Brody cradled in her arms and Azalea hot on her heels.
Just like Myla Rose and I have always been friends, she and Azalea have as well. Now, they co-own a salon—Southern Roots—together, where Miss Magnolia just happens to be the new stylist.
Cash stands and heads for his wife and son while Azzy heads straight for Drake.
“Where’s Magnolia?” I ask, right as the ungodly sound of metal crushing metal ricochets through the house. Bolting from the couch, I sprint toward the front door, the rest of the group following after me. “The hell was that?”
I rip the front door open, slamming it into the wall hard enough to shake the frame, bringing myself face-to-face with Seraphine, Magnolia’s cousin.
“Simon!” Seraphine screams when she sees me, her voice shrill and terror-stricken. “O-oh my God, help! I called 911, but I need…she’s…stuck. It was an accident…” Her words come out garbled and damn near unintelligible, the panic written clearly across her face.
“What? What was an accident?” I ask, stepping around Seraphine, my heart beating a staccato rhythm in my chest. From the edge of the top step, I can just make out Magnolia’s little Honda crunched like a tin can into the bed of my truck. Fuck.
Without any thought or hesitation, I take off at a full run toward her, my momentum so strong I all but skid into her door.
“What the hell? Is she okay?” Drake asks, worry coloring his tone. I hadn’t even realized he was following me.
“I don’t know! Her forehead’s bleeding but I can’t get her door open,” I yell, yanking on the destroyed metal with every ounce of strength I possess.
I hardly notice as Seraphine cautiously approaches us. “I followed her here, since she’s not the best driver. I’m not sure what happened…it’s almost like she missed the brake and hit the gas instead. Is she okay?”
Defeated, I step back from the car, tugging on the ends of my too-long hair. “I…I don’t know.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when the sound of sirens fills the air, their flashing lights bathing my yard in blue and red.
Drake, Seraphine, and I stand helplessly off to the side while emergency workers cut away the door to Magnolia’s car. Frozen and silent, we watch as they transfer her from the c
ar directly onto a backboard.
Magnolia’s smooth, tan skin is marred with dust from the airbag, and a cut runs along the front of her hairline. “I-I’m fine,” she croaks out.
At the sound of her voice, full of pain, I rush to her side. “Bet you wish you’d taken me up on those driving lessons, huh, Goldilocks?”
She tries to smile, but it’s really more of a grimace, and the effort sends her unshed tears spilling down her cheeks, washing a path through the grit on her face. “A-are you m-mad at me?”
“No, never,” I assure her, gently brushing her hair back from her forehead.
One of the EMTs hustles me to the side. “Sir, we’ve gotta get her loaded up. You’re welcome to follow us.” The three of us watch as they load Magnolia into the back of the ambulance, Seraphine and Drake both wearing identical masks of worry, and my jaw is clenched so tight I’m shocked I haven’t cracked a molar.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, rubbing my hands over my face, wondering how in the hell this happened. “Drive me?”
Seraphine nods, and I look over to Drake. “Take care of shit here and lock up?”
“You know it, brother. Get outta here,” Drake tells me as we load up into Seraphine’s Rav4.
“Hang on!” Seraphine exclaims. She jogs over to Magnolia’s car and grabs her purse from the passenger’s seat. “Okay, let’s go!”
I climb into her small SUV and immediately push the seat back as far as it’ll go. “You have any idea what happened?” I ask Seraphine as she follows behind the ambulance, passing two tow trucks already on their way to my house.
“No clue. I was right behind her, but when she turned down your driveway, I lost sight of her for like ten seconds. Ten seconds, Simon—that’s it. I had to wait for a passing truck before turning in after her and I just…I don’t know. She just didn’t stop—it almost looked like she missed the pedal and accelerated instead.”
Mulling over her words, I drop my head back onto the headrest. Why wouldn’t she stop? I know she’s a bad driver, but damn.
Magnolia’s a mystery in every sense of the word. Even though we’ve hung out countless times in group settings, she’s always so quiet and guarded. Hell, the one occasion we spent time alone together was when Azalea and Seraphine talked her into going out to Big O’s, a local dive bar. Poor thing was completely overwhelmed by the crowd, and I kept her company at the bar while she quietly sipped her drink.
The first time I met her, I was on my way to meet our group for lunch. At the time, I didn’t realize she was a part of our crew.
At first, she was just a random, gorgeous woman. My vision was tinged by lust the minute my eyes landed on her, but that lust quickly morphed to anger when I noticed the douchenozzle yelling at her from the driver’s side window of the truck she was standing beside.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have a temper, but let me tell you something: a woman will never bear the brunt of it. My sack-of-shit, worthless dad may not have taught me much, but through watching him, I did learn what not to do.
I watched for a moment to see if the situation would resolve itself, but then that asshole just had to get out of his truck. He flung his door open and got all up in her face, and I. WAS. FUCKING. DONE.
Real talk, I don’t give a shit what she did or didn’t do. You don’t treat people like that, especially someone half your size. Without giving it another thought, I charged toward them, ready to put this dude in his place.
Once I was close enough to make out their words, I could also see the tears dripping down her cheeks and the way her entire body was shaking. This prick was preying on her fear.
I didn’t speak a single word to her as I placed myself between them, shielding her from his verbal assault. “There a problem?” I asked the guy with a bite in my tone.
“Yeah, there’s a damn problem—this dumb bitch backed into me. Now my bumper has scuffs and—”
“I’m sorry, come again?” I asked, cutting him off.
“I said—”
“I heard what you said, dipshit, but you obviously misspoke.” I angled my head around him and inspected his bumper. The scuffs he was moaning about? Yeah, it was about two inches total, certainly nothing worthy of the way he was treating the blonde stunner behind me. “You’re willing to make this woman cry over a scuffed bumper? It’s called insurance, asshole. Did she give you her info?”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing. File the claim. It’s that fucking simple. Now, be on your way,” I told him, my unspoken threat ringing through loud and clear. I watched him with hawk-like focus as he walked back to his truck, kept my eyes on him as he propped himself up against the passenger side fender and pulled out his phone, presumably to call his insurance company. Once I was certain he was no longer a threat, I turned to face the woman behind me.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” I asked, reaching toward her, but she recoiled at the motion.
“F-f-fine. Th-thank you,” she stuttered out, eyes never leaving her feet.
“Hey,” I murmured gently, causing her to look up at me. I was struck speechless by the depth of her eyes—bluer than the sky on a cloudless day—only now, they were clouded with wetness from her tears. “Ignore him. Men like him get off on belittling others. Small Dick syndrome, they call it.” That garnered me a small laugh, which encouraged me to keep talking to her. “You got a name, sweetheart?”
“Ma-Magnolia,” she whispered.
A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, I thought, but I kept it to myself. “Well, I’m Simon McAllister, and it’s nice to meet you. Are you heading out or…?”
“Oh! I’m here to m-meet some friends for lu-lunch.”
“You go on in then, and I’ll take a look at your car to make sure it’s okay,” I said, even though we both knew it was fine—well, as fine as a rusty, old, beat-up Honda can be. More than anything, I wanted to make sure that asshole knew what was what.
“Y-you don’t have to do that,” she told me.
“I want to. Now, go on. I’ll come find you inside and let you know.”
Magnolia gave me a curt nod before she turned and made her way into Dilly’s, the restaurant I also happened to have lunch plans at. I made my way over to her car and walked around it, inspecting it thoroughly for any possible damage, but as I suspected, it was nothing more than a bit of paint transfer.
Satisfied with my findings, I moved toward the entrance, ready to join my friends for some good food, and maybe a little excited to talk to Magnolia again, even if only for a second or two.
“Hey!” came the dickbag’s voice from behind me just before I pulled open the door. “You need to teach your bitch how to drive.”
My fists clenched at my sides, and my molars ground together. This motherfucker must have had a death wish. Pivoting around, I stalked toward him, steam all but blowing from my ears. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll get in your truck and drive away.”
“Drive away? No. That little bitch needs to cough up the money to fix my bumper.”
“Call her that one more time—I dare you,” I goaded him, lethal and low. When he didn’t respond, I laughed to myself. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I once again headed toward the restaurant, but then he spoke up again—obviously too chicken shit to say anything when I was looking.
“This is why my bitch stays her ass at home.”
I whipped around to face him, and he apparently managed to find some courage because he drew himself up to his full height—which still left him looking up to my six-two—and puffed out his chest like he was looking for a fight. That suited me just fine. “You need to learn a thing or two about respect—”
He caught me off guard when he pushed me away with his fingertips pressed to my shoulders. “And your bitch needs to learn to drive.”
I swear, this guy had a death wish, and…he touched me first—hello, provocation. Without a second thought, I swung out, clipping him in the jaw. He stumbled back from the
force of my blow.
“The fuck?” he roared, rubbing a hand over the reddened flesh of his jaw.
“I warned you,” I told him as I turned and finally walked away.
Pushing through the doors of the café, I scanned the space for Miss Magnolia, only to be shocked as shit to see her seated directly in between Myla Rose and Azalea.
Seraphine kills the engine, pulling me from my thoughts. We instantly exit the car and start toward the emergency room entrance. “She’s okay, right?” Seraphine asks me as the automatic doors slide open to let us pass.
“Sure of it,” I tell her, hoping like hell I’m right.
Together, we march over to the nurses/ station. “May I help y’all?”
“Yes. My cousin was just brought in by an ambulance.”
“Name, please?”
“Magnolia Ellington.” Seraphine fishes through Magnolia’s purse and pulls out her wallet. “I have her I.D. right here.”
“Insurance?” the nurse asks.
“Uh, let me look.” Seraphine flips open the wallet and slides Magnolia’s driver’s license from its slot. Sure enough, right behind it is her insurance card. Seraphine holds it up victoriously. “Yup. Right here.”
The nurse takes the cards from Seraphine and hands her a clipboard with a pen attached to it by a little chain. “Great. Fill these out to the best of your ability—her name and contact info, birthday, all that.”
We retreat to the waiting area, where Seraphine gets to work filling in the blanks on the forms while I settle in for a long wait.
Chapter Two
MAGNOLIA
Would anyone miss me if I were gone? Would anyone even notice, or care? If one day I were to cease to exist, would it even matter? Or would I just become another statistic—a cautionary tale? It’s hard to say, but it’s so tempting to find out.
The allure of being able to end it all is so strong that it pulls at me, nips at my skin, eats at my brain. It promises me silence and peace and safety from him. It promises me a way out.
And that’s what this is really about: escaping him and his madness, his anger and his wrath, his words and his hands. His tongue slices sharper than any razor, and his hands are merciless weapons. He breathes destruction, mayhem, and fury.
