by Fiona Cole
Blame it on the Tequila
Blame it on the Alcohol Series
Fiona Cole
Copyright © 2021 by Fiona Cole
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber, Qamber Designs
Photographer: Regina Wamba
Cover Models: Jared Sternaman, Hannah Peltier
Interior Design: Indie Girl Promotions
Editing: Kelly Allenby, Readers Together
Proofreading: Janice Owen, JO’s Book Addiction Proofreading
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Playlist
Prologue
1. Nova
2. Nova
3. Parker
4. Nova
5. Nova
6. Parker
7. Nova
8. Nova
9. Parker
10. Nova
11. Parker
12. Nova
13. Parker
14. Nova
15. Parker
16. Parker
17. Nova
18. Nova
19. Nova
20. Parker
21. Parker
22. Nova
23. Parker
24. Parker
25. Nova
26. Nova
27. Parker
28. Nova
29. Nova
30. Nova
31. Parker
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About Fiona
Also by Fiona Cole
Playlist
There’s a lot
Open Hands - Ingrid Michaelson (feat. Trent Dabbs)
Is That Alright? - Lady Gaga
Grace - Rag’n’Bone Man
Your Name Hurts - Hailee Steinfeld
Glitter In the Air - P!nk
Right Now - One Direction
Take Me Home - Chord Overstreet
Hello - Adele
Falling like the Stars - James Arthur
Happy - Leona Lewis
Sorry - Mali-Koa
coney island - Taylor Swift (feat The National)
If Our Love is Wrong - Callum Scott
New Year’s Day - Taylor Swift
Take on the World - You Me At Six
Rise Up - Imagine Dragons
Love in the Dark - Adele
evermore - Taylor Swift (feat. Bon Iver)
Hurricane Drunk - Florence + the Machine
Won’t Let You Down - Callum Scott
Always Remember Us This Way - Lady Gaga
Looking Out - Brandi Carlile
Is There Somewhere - Halsey
Even If It Breaks Your Heart - Eli Young Band
Bill Murray - Matt Nathanson
Where’s My Love - SYML
Tempo - Lizzo (feat. Missy Elliot)
Cuz I Love You - Lizzo
Feel Something - Landon Austin
Always Be Loving You - My Brothers And I
Breakups - Seaforth
Shut Up and Dance - Walk the Moon
Leaving My Love Behind - Lewis Capaldi
Always - Isak Danielson
First In Line - Matthew Mayfield
when the party’s over - Billie Eilish
Take Me to Church - Hozier
Therefore I Am - Billie Eilish
Lo/Hi - The Black Keys
Jump Around - House of Pain
Wish That You Were Here - Florence + the Machine
Secret Love Song - Little Mix (feat. Jason Derulo)
You Are the Reason - Callum Scott
Say Something - A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera
Way Away - Yellowcard
I Forgive You - Kelly Clarkson
Heat Above - Greta Van Fleet
Pain - Nessa Barrett
Two of Us - Louis Tomlinson
Falling - Harry Styles
To Mama Lucia.
Prologue
Nova
PAST
“I’m so sorry, Nova.”
I watched Parker’s head drop to the white sheets of my hospital bed, his dirty-blond waves looking almost white in some spots from the harsh fluorescent lighting.
Lifting my hand slowly, I dragged my fingers through his hair, enjoying the thick texture, remembering just days ago that I thought I’d never feel it again.
“It’s okay.”
He shook his head hard and lifted upright, but not pulling away. As if struggling to do so, he hesitated before meeting my eyes. His usual ocean blue eyes dulled against the dark circles and bloodshot exhaustion, but they flared with his flexing jaw.
“It’s not okay. It’s not okay, Nova. Jesus. It’s—”
The deep lyrical voice I loved to listen to cracked, and he looked away, dropping his chin to his chest.
He was right. It wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. The part he played wasn’t okay.
But right then, I needed him by my side more than I needed to blame him for what happened.
So, I slid my hand up his forearm until I could link my fingers with his, careful to not bump the IV rehydrating my body.
He held on tight and kissed one knuckle at a time with reverence and so much more.
“Just talk to me,” I requested on an exhale. I’d barely woken up from my last nap, and already I could sleep again.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked.
I started to say anything when a floppy-haired blond popped his head around the corner, his goofy smile flashing behind a handful of wildflowers.
“Did you tell her?” Oren asked, maybe a little too excitedly for the situation.
I darted my eyes to Parker because I had no idea what the hell he needed to tell me and found him with a shut the fuck up look on his face.
I flashed back to Oren just in time to watch the smile drop. “Ohhhhh. Well, my bad.” He sat the daisies down on a chair next to him and started backing away with an awkward laugh, only to bump into the other two members of the band, Ash and Brogan.
“What the fuck, dude? We want to see her,” Ash grumbled.
“He hasn’t told her yet, and the look he gave said to get the fuck out,” Oren tried to whisper, but he sucked at it, so we all heard.
Parker groaned and dropped his head.
“We’ll be back,” Brogan called as Oren ushered them out.
As soon as they left, I focused on Parker, who chewed on his bottom lip and rubbed a hand over his face. Never a good sign for him to do both. One meant stress, and both meant I needed to brace myself. In the few years since Parker Callahan came crashing into my life, I’d only seen the combination a handful of times.
“Tell me what?” I asked. I was too tired to brace myself or dig it out of him.
“It’s nothing right now.”
Heaving a sigh, I dropped my head back on the pillow. “Distract me, Parker. Tell me.”
“Are you hurting?”
“No, I’m fine. I just want to not think about lying here right now. So, just tell me.”
One more hand swipe across his face, over his head, and around the back of his neck. “The music executive at the show offered us to go on tour with Rufio.”
“Holy shit, Parker.” My whole face broke into a grin, so exc
ited for him—for the band to get an amazing chance. This was what we’d all been working for, and it was happening. “Freaking Rufio. How insane is that?”
I barely had any energy left, but I used it all to feel joy for my best friend—my stepbrother who became so much more despite our best efforts. But as my energy faded, reality crept in. I took in his hesitant smile and realized I hadn’t heard the whole story.
“When do you leave? Where are you going?” I peppered him with questions, hoping to ask the right one—hoping it wasn’t the omen lingering in the background of the conversation.
“They start touring next week, and they want us there for all of it.”
“Oh, wow. That’s…a lot.”
“Yeah.” A lip bite was my only warning. “Do you think you’re up for it?”
“For what?” Surely, he couldn’t mean me going with them. The very idea of it had tension and fear crawling up my throat, but I swallowed it down, waiting for his answer.
“To tour. You’re part of the band.”
I was shaking my head before he even finished. “No. No, Parker.” The trembling started deep inside and vibrated through every inch of me, and yet, nothing actually shook. “I can’t.”
“If you’re not ready yet, I can ask if you can join us later?” he offered, trying to look hopeful, but I saw the truth lingering in his gaze. He knew.
“I won’t,” I clarified.
His shoulders dropped, and just before he looked away, I saw his lip get trapped under his teeth again.
The boy I loved sat before me, indecision and guilt weighing on him, holding him down in an awkward position that looked ill-fitting. The boy I loved, whose dream he worked so hard for, sat there unable to be happy, and I loved him enough to absolve him and push him to take that dream.
I squeezed his palm in mine as hard as I could. “Parker,” I said and waited for him to face me. “The band was never mine—it was never my dream. You just let me be a part of it. It was fun,” I managed to say despite my throat closing around the words. “But I can’t do this. I can’t ever imagine putting myself out there. I can’t—”
His face crumpled, and despite all I’d been through, I hated watching him hurt. He leaned forward and rested his forehead to mine, our breaths mixing in the space between. “I’m so sorry, Nova,” he said again.
“I know, and I’m telling you it’s okay.”
He dropped his head to my shoulder, and like so many nights before, he crawled into bed against my side. We laid there silently, my hand in his and the other brushing through his hair.
I was young, and my future loomed with so much uncertainty. I had no idea how I’d take the next step or where it would lead, but I did know one thing: I loved Parker Callahan, and no matter what he’d done, I couldn’t let him give up his dream for me.
“Go.”
He shifted to his elbow, looking down with his brow furrowed. “What?”
“Go on tour. Go get your dream. Prove to them that you can.”
He shook his head. “Nova, I—”
“You can. And you will.”
I scrounged up ferocity I was far from feeling and dared him to challenge me. He studied my face, looking for holes and lies in what I said. When he didn’t find any, his face softened, and he stroked his thumb along my cheek.
“Fucking, Supernova. Bright and powerful.”
I leaned into his touch and heaved a sigh of relief when he retook his spot against my side, and I could relax from holding strong when all I wanted to do was cry.
I needed him more than ever before. The future loomed a little darker, but I refused to let anything of mine hold him back. Imagining him gone next week had fire burning up my throat.
“You’ll call?” I asked.
“All the time. And I’ll come back for homecoming and the holidays. I can’t miss your senior homecoming.”
“Especially since you missed yours,” I joked, remembering the guys going to a concert instead of the dance last year.
“If I couldn’t have the date I wanted, then I didn’t want to go. But I have you now and I’ll be there.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” he said meeting my eyes with sincerity.
“Promise me on your vintage Fender,” I demanded. I needed him to know how serious I was and that Fender was his favorite.
He slipped his pinky through mine and squeezed tight, not looking away, “I swear on my Fender. I’ll call and I’ll be back for you.”
“You better,” I whispered.
“I promise.”
But all too soon, the calls tapered off or went missed and unreturned. Parker didn’t make it to homecoming. I’d sat at home, all done up in my blue dress because it was his favorite color, and never even got a phone call.
He didn’t make it to Thanksgiving either. While his world just started taking off, mine fell apart at the seams, and I was too weak to fix it alone.
With each broken promise, I frayed a little more, leaving gaps for the resentment and anger to slip in.
I couldn’t believe he went back on his word. I couldn’t believe he kept blowing me off. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t there. I couldn’t believe he left me alone.
So, the next time he called, I hit ignore.
When he said he’d be home for Christmas, my trust was already gone. This time, I didn’t wait around for him to let me down. I left before he could pull at my strings anymore.
I left with a promise of my own.
I would never let Parker Callahan put me second to his dreams again. No matter how much I loved him.
One
Nova
Five Years Later
“Yasss! Naughty Nova is here tonight!”
I shimmied toward Raelynn, my best friend and co-bridesmaid. The silky material of my bridesmaid dress barely moving.
“And a shimmy?” She bit her knuckle like she could barely hold back taking a bite out of me. “I think this calls for another round.”
“Hell yeah,” I cheered.
Austin, Rae’s best guy friend, groaned from where he leaned against the cloth-covered table.
“Don’t act like you’re not wanting another one, too,” Rae reprimanded him with narrowed eyes. “Come on, we have rooms here tonight, and if you’re lucky, I’ll let you take advantage of me later.”
“You mean keep your feet warm and watch Netflix?” he deadpanned.
“Don’t act like you didn’t love binge-watching Bridgerton with me.”
“Awe,” I cooed. “You guys are such a cute couple.”
Rae playfully rolled her eyes, somehow missing Austin avoiding the topic. Hell, I was four shots of tequila and three glasses of champagne in, and I saw it.
Not that I had time to dwell on it because Rae linked her arm with Austin’s and mine and dragged us to the open bar in the corner of the wedding reception room.
“Tres Patron, por favor.”
The bartender finished drying a glass before grabbing the squat bottle of clear liquid.
We gripped our glasses and limes, holding them up to tap them together.
“To Vera finally getting over her stubborn ass and hopefully riding Nico all night long.”
I snorted. Only Rae.
I nodded my agreement and licked the salt from the rim before tossing the shot back and sucking on the lime, wincing at the burn and tang.
We set our glasses down only to ask for another.
Just then, my phone lit up, and I pushed my glass toward Rae. The hangover that would hit me hard tomorrow was already knocking on my head. Pulling up the email, I squeezed my eyes open and shut, trying to focus on the blurry words.
Nova,
* * *
One of your paintings from your Instagram post last week sold. I’ll take care of shipping and payment this week.
* * *
Also, I’ve got another interested sponsor in your Instagram account, but they’re hesitant because of the lack of personal connection. I know
how we discussed your priority to keep your face out of the photos, but this is the fifth interested business this week that has expressed similar concerns. You hired me to help you manage your various business ventures. If you want to expand on the Instagram front, then I think you need to revisit your decision to continue not showing your face. I have ideas of ways to expand into new areas that match your other businesses. Think on it, and we can talk next week.
* * *
Aiken
“Ugh,” I groaned, dropping the offending device to the bar and pushing it away.
“Hey, now. We don’t make those sad noises when we look this pretty,” Rae scolded. “Tell Mama Rae what’s up.”
“It’s Aiken.”
“The advisor you hired to streamline your erratic and eclectic ventures into something resembling a business that can function on its own?”
“Yup. That guy. He’s back to pushing me to change my Instagram.”
If I was looking for sympathy, I sure as hell wouldn’t get it from Rae. “Listen, the fact that you’re even kind of able to make money from Instagram is blowing my mind. I’ve never seen anyone stumble upon becoming an influencer without trying.”
“I’m not an influencer.” I scrunched up my face at the word.
“Yes, you are,” she said without missing a beat. Before I could pick up the same argument we’d had since our junior year of college, that I wasn’t one of those girls who took perfect pictures and had obviously placed ad-like posts, she held up her hand. “Don’t start. Now, you hired Aiken for a reason. What’s that reason?” she asked like a mother asking a child to recall the rules.
