All We Were
Elisabeth Grace
Michelle Lynn
Copyright © 2019 by Elisabeth Grace and Michelle Lynn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography
Cover Designer: Hang Le
Line Editor: Joy Editing
Proofreader: Behind the Writer
About All We Were
Will I ever stop hurting the one person who’s never hurt me?
I’ve done things I can never undo.
No matter how much I wish I could, sometimes the wounds I inflict are too deep, too catastrophic, too septic to heal.
As I look into the eyes of the only man I’ve ever loved I know I’ve gone too far. I’ve finally crossed the line.
Even if he knew my reason for doing this, he’d never forgive me.
He always puts my needs before his own.
Now it’s my turn to protect him.
None of that matters though because the betrayal and disgust in his eyes comes from deep within his soul. There’s no coming back from this.
He will forever be tormented by what he’s seen, and he will never forgive me.
The last fragment of my heart to hold out hope that we’d share a future, withers and dies.
Contents
Free Downloads
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
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Free Downloads
Acknowledgments
About Elisabeth and Michelle
Also by Elisabeth and Michelle
Free Downloads
CLICK HERE to join our newsletter and get a free book by both of us!
Dedication
For everyone one of us who’s made mistakes along the way. Live, learn, do better.
“Another day won is better than another day one.”
Chapter One
Jimmy
Newspapers slam down in front of me, one after the other, sending loud thumping sounds throughout the silent conference room.
My elbows rest on the boardroom table, fingers threaded through my dark hair, eyes squeezed shut so I don’t have to read what’s printed. A quick internet search of my name this morning told me all I need to know.
“HOLLYWOOD’S GOLDEN BOY IN BAR BRAWL!”
“THE REGULATOR DOES BAD!”
“THIS IS OUR NEXT SUPERHERO BOX OFFICE STAR?”
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Bernie glares at me from the end of the long mahogany table, leaving the papers in front of me like a grenade with the pin pulled.
I blow out a sigh and glance at him. His white polo shirt stretches over his protruding belly and his slacks are creased at his groin. It’s obvious my actor-behaving-badly stunt pulled him away from his early morning tee time.
He’s the head of the movie studio. People probably call him for permission to take a shit. So when one of his up-and-coming stars has a run-in that makes the press, he’s the first to get the call.
His beet-red face and the slightly crazy, enraged look in his eye makes me wonder if I’ll recover from this fuck-up. Maybe the grenade with the pin out is my career, not the papers.
“The other guy swung first. What the hell was I supposed to do?” I argue.
My agent, Keane, clears his throat next to me. It’s a warning not to poke the bear, but it’s too late for that.
They couldn’t squeeze any more bodies in this room if they tried. My agent, my publicist, the studio’s PR reps, the director of my next film, and Bernie. The only one missing is my manager, and that’s only because she’s fixing someone else’s screw-up. Time is crucial. We have to figure out our plan of attack about the mess I created.
“What’s the media’s take on what happened?” Bernie directs his question to his PR goons.
The middle-aged woman with a few streaks of grey in her hair speaks first. “Most aren’t sure what to think. A couple of the blogs have picked up on the fact that Lilah Robbie was there and are speculating that the fight probably had something to do with her.”
Everyone in the room looks at me for confirmation. I sit silently, not wanting the reaction that’ll come if I agree with the woman across from me.
“Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened, and we can figure out a way to spin it in your favor?” Kyra says in a reassuring tone. At least my own PR rep is on my side.
“It’s pretty simple. A group of us went out last night and some guy was bothering Lilah.”
Groans and sighs commence around the table, but I continue anyway.
“He didn’t much care for when I asked him to leave her alone and threw a punch at me.” I lean back in my seat with my arms folded over my chest.
Everyone waits for Bernie’s response. Of course they do. His word is like a messiah’s in Tinsel Town.
“Let me guess,” he says, leaning in, palms flat on the table and spearing me with his gaze. “What you mean is that Lilah was high as a kite or shit-faced drunk, shaking that tight ass of hers on the dance floor, and some guy came on to her. You decided to act like her daddy and intervene.”
God, I hate this guy. He’s such a dick. But he’s a dick who holds the power to end my career with one phone call.
“Should I have just watched while some douchebag took advantage of her?” I ask, trying unsuccessfully to keep the bite from my tone.
“What you should do is stay the fuck away from her! She’s going to drag you down with her.” Bernie loses the last of his composure, and all eyes fall to the table.
I chew the inside of my cheek and fist my hands to control my temper. I can’t help my impulse to protect Lilah. It’s an automatic response whenever someone tries to take advantage of her. The need is practically ingrained in my DNA.
“Look, I’ll issue an apology, and by tomorrow, the press will be on to someone else’s mistake,” I say.
“I have a better idea,” the other PR person for the studio says. We’ve met before. I think his name is Jake or something. “Why don’t we issue a statement saying that James saw someone taking advantage of a drunk patron in the bar and intervened on her behalf? That way we’re painting him as the hero rather than an instigator.”
There’re a few rumblings around the tabl
e while they confer.
“What if the press asks if the patron in question was Lilah?” Keane asks.
“We redirect. Say we want to maintain the individual’s privacy, that it doesn’t matter what the woman’s name was because she represents all the women in this country who have to put up with unwanted attention from the other sex.” Jake’s an intelligent guy. Why does he work for Bernie?
“That might work,” the female PR rep for the studio says.
We all turn our heads in Bernie’s direction. His chest is heaving, and he looks as if he’s trying to rein in his temper.
“Fine,” he says. “Let James’s PR people release the statement.”
I hate when they talk about me as though I’m not in the room, but I realized a long time ago that all I am to them is a fucking means to an end, the end being profit in their pockets.
“Any more shit like this and I don’t care whether you’ve known her since you were sucking on your mom’s tit. You’re gonna cut all ties if you want to stay on this movie.” Bernie points at me as if I’m a child.
Staying silent goes against everything in me, because I will never cut her out, but I have no choice, so I nod. Lilah will always be in my life. She’s my best friend and I love her, but it’s more than that. We’re… well, we’re complicated.
“I’m serious, James,” Bernie drones on. “This reboot is a big deal. I can’t have The Regulator in the headlines for being on the wrong side of the law.”
I push back from the table and stand. “It won’t happen again.”
Without another word, I leave the room. I’m pissed off and I don’t even know at whom. Myself for getting in the fight in the first place? Lilah for once again putting herself into a situation I needed to get her out of? Bernie for trying to dictate how I live my life? Who knows. But right now, I’m pissed off at the world and need to get the hell out of here before I say something and spur one of Bernie’s legendary tantrums.
I exit the building and the Los Angeles sunshine beats down on my head. I squint until my eyes adjust.
As soon as I’m in my car, I dial Lilah’s number. She doesn’t pick up, so I dial it again then fire off a text, asking where she’s at. When I don’t get an answer, I toss my phone on the leather passenger seat, trying my best to ignore the steady and constant worry that pricks at the back of my neck like a tattoo needle.
The responsible thing to do would be to go home and sleep. I was up late last night, and tomorrow is my first costume fitting for the movie that starts shooting next month. I shouldn’t chance the paps clicking a photo with Lilah and me.
Leaving the parking lot, instead of turning left to head to my place, I turn right.
Screw Bernie. Screw his reps. Screw my people.
Lilah comes first.
Chapter Two
LIilah
“C’mere, girl!”
Daddy’s voice boomed throughout the decrepit shack we called home. I slid under my bed until my back pressed against the makeshift wall.
When I didn’t answer, his footsteps echoed through the living room, my heart thumping in my throat the nearer he drew. He stopped and I held my breath, hoping he’d change his mind and not come looking for me. Maybe he’d think I was still out playing with Jimmy.
But a minute later, he stomped closer to my room and stepped inside. It didn’t take long before the scent of whiskey was all I smelled. Today must have been sampling day.
He and Jimmy’s dad made moonshine in the deep woods and sold it secretly to people. Every time they went to check on their stills, they came home drunk. I tried to stay away from home those nights, knowing what they meant for me, but Jimmy had to help his aunt, who lives farther up the mountain, with some new pigs. So tonight, I was alone.
“I dun know where you are, girl, but I’m not goan be happy when I find yah.”
Daddy was slurring, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Eight is old enough to know that being unable to see his muddy boots on the floor didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to see me if he bent over and looked under the bed.
This felt like the worst part. The anticipation of what was coming. You’d think the during would be worse, but to me, it was always the before.
He walked slowly to stand in front of the bed. He knew I was there. We had so few things in our place that there really weren’t many places to hide. My only hope had been that he was drunk enough that he’d forget about me and pass out.
No such luck tonight…
“Now I got’cha.”
When I opened my eyes, I saw that he’d lowered himself to his knees, his scruffy beard and glossy eyes set on me.
“When I call you, girl, you answer.” He gripped my wrist, yanking me out from under the bed.
I fly up into a seated position on the couch, covered in sweat, my strained breaths heaving in my chest. The sick panic that always encompasses me after one of those dreams seeps into my stomach and turns it over, bile rising into my throat.
I bend over, throwing up all over the floor, and resist the urge to scratch at myself, the fear of being trapped in my own skin more than I can bear.
Wrapping my arms around my knees, I rock back and forth.
It was just a dream. Just a dream. You’re not back there. Never again.
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
I look around to figure out where I am. My heart calms when I recognize Derek’s apartment.
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
I know better than to answer Derek’s door—there’s no telling who’s behind it. I might be self-destructive, but I don’t have a death wish. Not today anyway.
Derek emerges from his bedroom, wearing only his boxers, his plethora of tattoos on full display over his thin frame. “What the fuck, man?” Running his hand through his dark hair, he peeks through the peephole and scowls back at me. “It’s your goddamn boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumble.
It’s true. Although there isn’t a definite answer to what Jimmy and I are to each other. We exist on an ever-changing cycle of break up and make up, yet somehow that doesn’t define our relationship. What we are to each other is far more complex and far more than one descriptor could ever encompass.
I stand from the couch and walk toward the door, fighting to stay upright. Shit, Jimmy’s going to be pissed I’m still drunk. Derek swings open the door and turns to head back to his room.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jimmy stomps across the room, reaching me before I topple over.
The sound of his shoes on the hard floor reminds me of my dream. I flinch.
Hurt flashes in his beautiful, soft brown eyes. “Why do you insist on hanging out with this douchebag?”
“Don’t start with me,” I say instead of the truth. He always has what I need.
He grips my elbow. “C’mon. We’re getting out of here.”
I don’t argue. There’s no point. Jimmy won’t leave until he knows I’m okay and we both know if he leaves me here, I won’t be okay.
He leads me out the door and down the hallway that reeks of a mixture of food odors and cooked meth. We head down the graffiti-spray-painted stairs and out the door.
“I’m taking you back to my place.” Jimmy flings open his door and deposits me into his fancy Audi.
“I’m so—”
He raises his hand to stop my apology. I’m not even sure what exactly I’m apologizing for, but the words come naturally when he finds me at Derek’s. Rounding the front of his car, he clenches and unclenches his fists. He’s really angry this time. I can usually scale Jimmy’s anger toward me, and this one is above a ten.
Jimmy slides into the driver’s seat, turns the key over, and drives away from this shitty neighborhood in one fluid motion. I curl up in the passenger seat, the tinted windows blocking the blinding California sun high in the sky. My head dips, and I fight to keep my eyes open. As in many areas of my life, I lose the battle.
Chapter Three
&nbs
p; Lilah
A stream of light falls over my eyes, stirring me awake. The smell of Jimmy and the softness of his sheets says I’m snuggled underneath his covers. A familiar feeling—half hungover, half edgy from the drugs wearing off—accosts me. His curtains are closed, but it must be late evening from the intensity of the orange sun that gleams through the crack of his drapes.
I lie there for a moment, unable to garner the energy to move, trying to recall how I got here. I was out with Jimmy and some of his friends. We were at the club, partying together. Then everything’s foggy. The rest of the night is black, but he did drag me out of Derek’s this morning.
Something must’ve gone down last night if I made my way to Derek’s after the club.
I climb out of the bed at the pace of a ninety-seven-year-old great-grandmother instead of a twenty-seven-year-old model. In the en suite, I start the shower. While the water turns as hot I can stand it, I head to the sink and brush my teeth with the toothbrush Jimmy lovingly left out for me.
The only thing certain is I need to get my shit together before I see Jimmy and find out what I did. I push the shame and guilt to the back of my mind and zone out while the spray hits the back of my skull. At first it feels like a thousand tiny jackhammers peppering my brain, but after a few minutes, the heat seeps into my neck and my shoulders relax. I enjoy the feel of hot water running over my skin, rinsing me of whatever I did.
All We Were Page 1
