Rodney turned to the guys, and they all agreed on a song, one that had made Mags and me fall in love with their music all those years ago.
Mags shrieked as they started playing “Jarred Away”.
Fluttering in a jar
Magical, colorful, radiant
Orbs zigging and zagging
Offering up their light
But not enough for insight
Sealed tightly
Just out of reach
Right where the imagined keep
Hoping for release
An inspired escape
Diving into minds of riddles
Prose begging to fly onto pages
Just fluttering, trapped
Barely beneath the surface
Where figments sleep
We cheered and clapped as the song came to a close and Mags screamed, “One more!”
Maverick yelled to his band, “How about ‘New Life Path’?”
They all agreed and dove right in.
Looking back, there were more factors to weigh
From time to time this is the way life seems
Easy for the dedications to begin
Hard to follow through
Back and forth
My life keeps swinging
Now finally seeing a future
Defining a path
Now scared to keep walking
The dusk will turn to night
But be careful to remember
There will always be a new, beautiful dawn
I loved those lyrics, and they were oddly fitting. As I sang along, I turned to see Mitch right next to me.
He leaned down to whisper, “Are you happy?”
I nodded. “I am.”
“That’s all I could ever ask for.” Wrapping me in a hug, Mitch let out a deep sigh. “I am happy for you. Here.”
He pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking it from him.
“I sold the house. We were in it equally. That’s your half.”
I blinked at him. “You don’t have to,” I muttered, trying to shove the envelope back into his hands.
“Just take it, Cali. It’s my way of saying I am going to move on, too. I don’t know how yet, but I am slowly finding my way.”
The closure I gained in that moment was more than I could have ever expected. Maverick hopped off the stage, and Mitch turned to him.
“Take care of her. She’s a special one.” Mitch shook Maverick’s hand and my jaw went slack.
“I couldn’t agree with you more. Thank you.” Maverick smiled over at me as Mags hooked her arm around my neck.
“I told you he just needed some time.” Mags was always right. “Now let’s dance.”
We spent the rest of the night partying like no other, laughing, hugging, jumping, cheering. The entire group meshed together until all hours of the night.
Maverick grabbed me in the middle of the dance floor. “Are you happy?”
I beamed up at him. “I don’t think I could be happier.”
“You’re radiant, Cali. I love you.” His words rushed into me. We had known it but hadn’t said it to each other yet. I hadn’t wanted to push him, and I was glad I hadn’t. I had silently yearned for him to say it over and over again but knew it was something he was going to have to admit first.
“I love you, too,” I declared before crushing my lips to his.
Epilogue
Vegas for the Win
A few weeks later
Cali
“I didn’t think that was going to happen when we booked a show in Vegas.” Maverick tucked me into his side, thumbing the white gold band that had been placed on my left ring finger only hours before.
“When you know, why wait?” I asked before kissing my husband as I lay in his arms in the honeymoon suit.
“Should we tell anyone?” he asked with a chuckle.
“That can wait until morning.” I hopped out of bed. “I have a surprise for you.”
I had saved the lingerie set I’d bought on our first shopping trip together all those months ago. I just hadn’t found the right moment, but now it had arrived. Slipping into the bathroom, I put the set on, stockings, heels, and all.
Slowly, I opened the door.
“Holy fuck.” Mav’s eyes got wide.
“Like it?” I asked as I swayed into the large room.
“Come over here, Mrs. Steele. Let me show you just how fucking much I actually love it.” He jumped to his feet, running his hands over my hips. “You’re stunning,” he said breathlessly before kissing me.
“Do you believe in happily-ever-afters now?” I teased, looking into his lust-filled eyes.
“I told you that day I could be wrong, and I am so glad I was.”
“I love you, Maverick Steele.”
“And I love you with all of my heart, Cali.”
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About the Author
Bestselling author, Kristen Hope Mazzola, is a Florida native that has found herself loving a North Carolina life. She writes contemporary romance ranging from steamy romantic comedy, sexy erotica, angsty new adult, all the way to sports romance – with dirty bikers, hot military men, and swoon-worthy rockstars in between. A portion of her royalties is donated to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation.
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www.KristenHopeMazzola.com
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All books by Kristen Hope Mazzola
The Crashing Series:
Crashing: The Wedding
Crashing Back Down
Falling Back Together
Crash & Burn
The Unacceptables MC Standalone Series:
Unacceptable
Unspeakable
Unbreakable
Untouchable
Unbearable
Undeniable
Uncut
Unscarred
The Hysterics Standalone Series:
The Hysterics
Colt & Serena
Becoming Hysteric
Steele
Shots On Goal Standalone Series:
Hat Trick
Cross Checked
Cherry Picked
Low Blow
Playoff Beard
Off Duty
Standalones:
Stupid Hearts
Rough & Tumble
Donut Be Easy
Boxsets:
The Crashing Series
Lust & Love
The Shots on Goal Series Box Set
The Unacceptables Series Box Set
The Huntress Series (co-written with Dawn Robertson):
The Huntress (Book 1)
The Hopeless (Book 2)
The Nameless (Book 3)
Charity Compilations:
30 Dirty Martinis
Word Search For Warriors: Authors For A Cause (Volume 1)
The 69 Series:
(multi-author collaborations for charity)
Hook & Ladder 69
Bleed Blue 69
Acknowledgments
Lauren, thank you for being more than just my best friend, you’re my sister.
Christina, thank you for being the inspiration for Cali. She’s one of my favorite charact
ers! Love you, twin.
Aaron, thank you for talking me out of killing Marty. You saved that crotchety old barkeep and it shaped this story into what it is and I couldn’t be more grateful.
Tesera, thank you for introducing me to Aaron. Also, for all of your incredible support and amazing friendship!
Kelly, thank you for cheering me on while I was scrambling to write this freaking book and helping me not give up.
Caitlin, you are a rock star editor and are such a please to work with. I truly don’t know what I would do without you.
The Hysterics
A Sneak Peek
A Standalone Rock Star Romance
By Kristen Hope Mazzola
Praise for The Hysterics
“I absolutely adored the intriguing twist that Kristen Hope Mazzola put on the rocker love story.”
- B from Prisoners of Print Book Blog
“What a beautiful story of second chances, second chance at life, and a second chance at love.”
- Kendra, Amazon Reviewer
“I wanted to keep reading and reading about Fallon and Dane forever!”
- LizaJane Chronicles
“Kristen Hope Mazzola does a fantastic job in bringing this story together, with characters you will both love and hate. The emotions are written very well so that you can feel what the characters feel. Job well done!
- Michelle from Indies Steal Our Heart
“Kristen gives us a romance that is dynamic and passionate both for their craft and each other. Making this a book that you will want to read over and over again.”
- The Book Fairy Reviews
Dedication
To every Fae out there:
Don’t ignore your inner Fallon.
Prologue
FAÇADE
FALLON
I was Fallon Dunbar.
I was a drummer.
I was confident, strong, and driven.
I was a junkie.
I am dead.
The full boxes scattered around my small one room apartment made it feel more real. The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach made it feel so wrong. The new title and job made it feel surreal.
I am Fae Dunham.
I am the assistant editor of Raging Underground.
I am unsure, nervous, and scared shitless.
I am in recovery.
Staring into the full length mirror I had just hung up on the back of the door in my new room, I saw the shell of what I used to be, the life I could no longer have. The only traces left of my old life were the lip piercings I refused to take out. They were my favorites and they were staying. People like me don’t get second chances, but for some reason, I was standing knee-deep in one.
There’s no turning back now.
I will live again.
Chapter 1
PRACTICE & MEMORIES
DANE
“Hey, man, you all right?” Colt was looking over at me from his seat on his amp.
I gripped the sticks a little tighter in my hands and shook myself from my zone-out. “Yeah. Sorry.” I still couldn’t get Fae off my damn mind.
Maverick tossed a bottle of water over my toms before swinging his bass guitar’s strap back over his shoulder. “Let’s take it from the top?”
My sticks clicked quickly, counting out the beat before sending Maverick and myself into a thumping bassline that shot goose bumps up my arms and legs. It felt like I was falling in love every time we started to play; it was that exciting.
Finally, the groove settled in nicely and we took off into our newest song, which I was sure would rock our show the next night. It took a while, but an hour and a gallon of sweat later, we were satisfied with how “The Lifespan of a Firefly” sounded.
“This is some great writing, Dane. Why haven’t you given us lyrics before?” Rodney holstered the mic and took a swig of his seventh beer while his words slurred a little.
Grabbing a brown bottle out of the fridge, I tried to figure out an answer to his question that didn’t make me sound like a complete pussy. “Never thought anything was good enough before, I guess.”
Epic fail – that dripped vag all over the place. Way to have a backbone.
“Well, from now on, grow a pair and dish out more of this shit. It’s gold. I think we should open with it tomorrow night for sure!”
Colt and Maverick both mumbled and nodded in agreement. My ego felt like it had grown ten times right there on the spot. Being the drummer, I never considered that writing lyrics was something I could be good at. Yeah, I was a journalist. Yeah, I had written angsty teenage poetry when I was younger. But I’d never considered myself an actual writer.
As I slouched onto the worn out couch in Colt’s basement, memories rushed over me like warm acid rain.
Beer and sweat were all I could smell as I wiped my dripping forehead with my shirt sleeve. The gentle hum of the Russells’ dryer slowly faded in, a little too soft after the booming of our last song left the air.
“Great session, guys.” Maverick’s weak smile faded as his words lingered in the space. We all knew and we all felt it, but we left it unsaid. There was too much, and no words could make it better; there was nowhere to begin. It was our first practice after the accident a few weeks before and the tension in the air was suffocating us all.
I nodded and choked out, “You guys think we’re ready?”
Rodney laughed from the couch, gripping the mic in his hand. “We better be. Like it or not, we’re opening tomorrow at Mountain Breath.” His faded Zeppelin shirt was starting to wear a hole next to his collar and his lucky Chucks had mud caked on the sides.
“You gonna dress like a bum for it?” Colt joked, opening another beer we’d stolen from his old man’s stash. Mr. Russell knew we took them but was usually too loaded to care.
Rodney threw a sweat-soaked towel at Colt right as I stood to stretch out the kink that had been building up in my lower back while I’d sat behind my faded burgundy Ludwin set.
“I think it’s going to be sick,” I muttered, trying to be enthusiastic and failing miserably.
Maverick clapped me on my back before starting to put his bass in its case. “You ready?”
Digging my keys out of my pocket, I stared at my sticks where they rested in their bag attached to my floor tom. I stood up gradually from my stool, starting to make my way to the stairs. “Yeah. Let’s head home.”
“Get a good night’s sleep, gents! Tomorrow is going to be epic!” Rodney called up to us from the bottom of the stairs, a sly grin fixed firmly on his face. He had no fucking idea what he was asking of Mav and me, and it was better off that way.
The sound of a beer opening in my ear and the feeling of cold suds spraying on my neck and cheek snapped me back to real time. Rodney erupted into a fit of laughter next to me.
“What the hell, man?” I thrashed, wiping my face off with the bottom of my shirt.
“Come on. I couldn’t resist. You were zoning out again.”
Colt sat in a metal folding chair across the faded lime green carpet, laying his guitar down next to him. “You all right, Dane? You’ve been spacey all night.”
“Yeah, man. I’m fine.”
I got up and started to make my way up the stairs to take a piss. Right as I opened the basement door, I heard Maverick say in a low voice, “Guys, it’s April thirteenth. You know how he gets around this time.”
My stomach sank. He was right. The twentieth was coming too fast for me to keep up with, and the memories and dreams were getting worse by the day.
Deep breaths.
Easier said than done.
Time would pass and it would still be hard, but I was still breathing.
Fuck it.
As I walked into the living room, trying to make it into the back hallway undetected by Colt’s parents, I heard crying coming from the couch.
Turning on my heels, I found Sheila Russell sobbing into a pillow. When I cleared my throat, she popped her head up, startled by my prese
nce.
“Sheils? You all right?” I looked down at Colt’s kid sister, who was definitely not a kid anymore.
Before, she’d been pimply-faced, chunky, and awkward. Now, her face had cleared, she’d hired a personal trainer, and her degree in Mass Communications was helping her break out of her shell, to say the least. She was stunning in her own way. Not my type, but still pretty.
“Yeah.” She sniffed. “I just got turned down for an awesome summer internship. It’s the only one I applied for and that’s biting me in the butt now.” She tried to laugh it off, but her eyes stayed sad.
“You know the saying, Sheils.”
She rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
I laughed, nodded, and gave her a tight squeeze as I continued on before my bladder busted. While I was trotting over to the half bath down the hall, Sheila called to me, “Thanks, Dane.”
“Don’t mention it! Call Julie. Schedule a mani-pedi date like the old days and you’ll be good as new!” I yelled back before slamming the door shut behind me, barely able to get my zipper down before I pissed myself.
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