Standstill

by Nicole Dykes

  Standstill

  nicole dykes

  Copyright © 2019 by nicole dykes

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Standstill

  Prologue

  1. Ashlyn

  2. Garrett

  3. Ashlyn

  4. Garrett

  5. Ashlyn

  6. Ashlyn

  7. Garrett

  8. Ashlyn

  9. Ashlyn

  10. Ashlyn

  11. Garrett

  12. Ashlyn

  13. Ashlyn

  14. Garrett

  15. Ashlyn

  16. Ashlyn

  17. Garrett

  18. Ashlyn

  19. Garrett

  20. Ashlyn

  21. Garrett

  22. Garrett

  23. Garrett

  24. Ashlyn

  25. Garrett

  26. Ashlyn

  27. Garrett

  28. Ashlyn

  29. Garrett

  30. Garrett

  31. Ashlyn

  32. Ashlyn

  33. Ashlyn

  34. Garrett

  35. Ashlyn

  36. Ashlyn

  37. Garrett

  38. Ashlyn

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Monroe Family Series

  Adamson Family Series

  The Road Back Home Series

  The Hearts of Hollis Series (Co-written with J.L. Leslie)

  A Special Thanks

  Prologue of UNSOCIAL

  Prologue of MISBEHAVED

  This book is dedicated to anyone who feels stuck, who isn’t sure when or if their dreams will come true, or who feels lost and alone. Hang in there. Life is never truly standing still, and things will work out the exact way they were meant to all along.

  “Garrett!” I screech as I jump from one of the chairs placed haphazardly around the bonfire out in the middle of nowhere Kansas. I shake out my red, high school tank top frantically as the ice he just dropped, totally on purpose, slides slowly down my shirt and along the skin of my back, warmed by the hot summer night. “Asshole,” I hiss as the ice finally escapes my tank top and falls to the earth below.

  Garrett laughs, mischief swimming in his golden eyes as he takes the seat next to me, ignoring my death glare and laughing with our friend Reed. His girlfriend, Erin, sits on his lap, shaking her head in disapproval, but I see the laughter in her eyes dying to escape.

  Traitors.

  Thank God for Paige, my best friend and forever the peacekeeper in our little group. She, no doubt, saw the whole thing from where she was standing, talking to a girl in the grade below us. Paige grabs a couple of drinks and darts to where we claimed our designated spot around the fire and hands me a red, plastic cup full of my favorite drink at these parties, a mix of vodka and Kool-Aid.

  She knows I’m seconds from killing her boyfriend, and her small hands grasp my cheeks, a smile playing on her almost disturbingly perfect, angelic face. Seriously? How the hell did she end up dating Garrett Burke?

  I smile to myself. Answering my own question. Small town. And the old rule . . . opposites attract.

  Not that Garrett and I hate each other. We're actually fairly close and have been for a long time, although we butt heads frequently and he loves to fuck with me. We’ve all known each other for what seems like a lifetime.

  “Graduation night.” Paige’s sweet voice appeals to my nostalgic side. “You can’t kill him. We're making memories.”

  I huff, and her smile grows bigger, her infectious laugh pouring out as she puckers her lips, making a kissing noise. She releases me, moving to sit on Garrett’s lap.

  Whether they’re complete opposites or not, they’re the picture-perfect couple. He adores my best friend, something we’ll always have in common. We both love her more than ourselves. His right arm wraps around her waist as he kisses her temple and takes a drink from his own red cup.

  I take a seat and drink from my second cup of the night, taking Paige’s advice and instead of fighting with Garrett, I soak it all up. Because she’s right, today we graduated from high school, and nothing will ever be the same.

  I watch Reed and Erin whisper to each other and laugh, utter joy on their faces as one of our classmates turns up the music in his truck loud enough for us all to hear it. People start to dance, celebrating our last night as carefree high school students.

  I see Paige leaning to whisper something in Garrett’s ear, causing a smirk to form on his full lips as he laughs, and she nudges her elbow playfully into his stomach, prodding him.

  He sighs as he looks down at her with nothing but love. “Okay. Okay.” He then huffs exaggeratedly, looking at me like I’m a pain in his ass, his head cocked to the side. “Oh, come on, Ash. That was pretty fucking funny. I didn’t know your voice could reach that pitch.” Garrett laughs, taking another sip as Paige smacks his chest with the back of her hand.

  “Not exactly an apology,” she says, but still not shaking that goofy grin from her beautiful face. That’s the thing about Garrett. Paige was always super serious, organized, no bullshit, and to a point she still is, but he can get her to loosen up like no one else ever could.

  With him, she is slightly more relaxed and calm.

  I raise my middle finger as I take another drink. I wasn’t planning on getting shitfaced, but what the hell. We're allowed to celebrate. “So fucking glad not to have to put up with your antics anymore, shithead,” I playfully pout, focusing on Paige. “But I still think you should ditch this loser and come to California with me.”

  She laughs at that, taking a drink of sparkling water, because Paige doesn’t drink alcohol but never judges us. “Yeah, right. I still don’t know how you’re doing that, Ashlyn. Aren’t you scared?”

  “She’s a badass. She'll be fine.” Erin assures Paige, pulling her black curly hair up into a thick ponytail and taking a drink with a happy smile on her face.

  Garrett smirks, and I’m sure what he’s about to say will be offensive. “It’s not that far away. She’ll be back to bug us before we know it.”

  Well, it could have been far worse. He knows when I go to film school in California and they go to our state college, it’s going to tear Paige and I up. We’ve been best friends since preschool and have always lived within walking distance of each other.

  But I couldn’t give up my dream, and when I got a scholarship at California Institute of the Arts after submitting my own short, and poorly shot film, I accepted right away. Somehow, they saw something unique in my submission and accepted me. All I’ve ever wanted to do was make movies for a living.

  Not giant blockbuster hits necessarily, but films that make your pulse race and your mind analyze each moment.

  And as much as it pains me to know it, Paige is in good hands. They even have an off-campus apartment together, which is slightly bonkers to me, considering they haven’t even slept together yet. I mean, I know that’s not all living together is about. But damn, I have to give Garrett credit, he’s loyal and, according to her, never pressures her.

  I study him as he clings to her. Guaranteed his patience will wear thin eventually, especially living in such a tight space.

  I’m pretty sure that situation is going to make him lose his mind and turn his balls bluer than the ocean. I giggle into my drink and try to shake that image out of my brain. I almost wish I was staying to watch that, but I have no doubt they’ll be just fine. Garrett and Paige are as solid as they c
ome, never wavering and a steady constant for almost four years now.

  Garrett lifts his chin, gesturing behind me, concern on his face. “Aren’t you and that fucker dating, Ash?”

  I barely turn, assuming he’s talking about Justin. And no, we definitely aren’t. “Nah.” I go back to my drink as Justin gropes a cheerleader against the side of a Chevy truck. “That was nothing.”

  Garrett looks almost pissed as his jaw ticks, and Paige is visibly upset. “Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice is low, but not quite a whisper. I fight another giggle bubbling up in my throat as I shake my head and place my hand on hers. The alcohol is clearly setting in, and she is so damn cute.

  “Paige, we went out on a few dates. It was literally nothing.” A couple of make-out sessions in his truck that mostly consisted of him pawing at my chest. I smile, the laughter sitting in my throat at her serious expression. “You have to stop looking at me with so much pity.”

  “It’s disrespectful."

  Garrett grunts in agreement with Paige, and I can’t believe he even cares. He gave me so much shit for going out with the dumbass jock in the first place, asking me if his IQ had even made it to the double digits and whether he sang our school’s fight song to get in the mood. You know, adorable shit like that.

  I roll my eyes. “Look, Justin and I were never a Paige and Garrett.” I turn toward my other friends. “Or an Erin and Reed. Just because you all hit the jackpot on the first spin doesn’t mean everyone else is that damn lucky.”

  Garrett’s eyes meet mine briefly, his throat bobbing with something that sends a spark of curiosity through me until he clears his throat and then open his damn mouth. “Got it. So, you used him like a piece of meat. Or you used his meat until you couldn’t take the disappointment anymore.”

  The sarcasm is dripping from his words while that same mischievous grin sits on his ridiculously handsome face, and Paige’s nose scrunches. “God no, Ashlyn would never sleep with him.” Her eyes meet mine with wide curiosity. “Right?”

  Reed and Erin are cracking up, always encouraging Garrett and usually Reed is right there with him, but he’s fairly wrapped up in his girl right now. Thank God.

  I focus on Paige, and then I laugh, like full-on laugh now. I can’t help it. Her horrified expression is too much. “Do you really think I would have slept with him and not told you?”

  I literally tell her everything.

  Garrett hugs her closer and whispers something in her ear which makes her smile and shrug. “He’s still a jerk. Making out with some girl right by you.”

  I love her so damn much, and I’m going to miss the hell out of her. But the truth is I couldn’t care less about Justin, or really any other guy I’ve dated.

  I’m happy for my friends. But still, watching both of the happy couples, I can’t help but feel like the broken fifth wheel.

  Hours later, we’re all due home by curfew, and it’s Paige’s duty to drive us as the awesome, designated, highly–disciplined, and responsible driver because she’s the only sober one.

  Garrett, Erin, Reed, and I are way too far gone. Laughter erupts from us all as we climb into Garrett’s beautifully restored, 1960’s Mustang, squeezing in as Paige orders us to buckle up as she climbs behind the wheel.

  Garrett never lets anyone drive his car, and I’m fairly certain he never intended to get this inebriated. But shit happens, and if there’s anyone he trusts, it’s her.

  We turn the music up, and our laughter intensifies as we talk about the years to come, our ten-year reunion and where everyone will be then.

  Talk of who will be in prison and who will be married ensues as heavy rain starts seemingly out of nowhere. Paige flicks on the windshield wipers while Reed suggests some will be divorced by then.

  Garrett also makes a joke about Reed’s hairline starting to recede in ten years, which is not at all funny to Reed, who loves his hair way too much.

  Garrett’s laughter is stuck in my memory, light and free, giving his friend shit and enjoying life.

  But it’s followed by, and now forever linked with, the next sound: a shrill, high–pitched, guttural scream I’ve never heard before, coming from my best friend’s mouth.

  Fear.

  Pure, uninhibited fear coming from her lungs.

  Then bright headlights. A loud blaring horn. Squealing tires. Crashing. Metal against metal. Glass breaking.

  And then . . . nothingness.

  I stare at the pink scar on my left side in the mirror. The skin has healed significantly since that night eight years ago. The scar has started to fade away, but I’ll always be haunted by that night. By that life. Seven sutures stitched my flesh back together after broken glass sliced it open.

  I close my eyes and try my damnedest to block out the screams . . . the panic . . . the fear . . . as my finger slides along the smooth, marred flesh.

  I sigh and open my eyes. I pull on my light pink, cropped tank with the words “Let it Be” in bold, black letters on the front.

  I pull my long, dark hair up into a loose pony and walk out of my bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room of our house, located on the Kansas side of Kansas City.

  I sigh again as I bend down and pick up two beer bottles from the ground before I reach Garrett, who is lying on the gray sofa, full beer in hand, watching baseball on TV. He doesn’t even like baseball.

  He barely acknowledges me, and I swallow the sick feeling.

  Eight years.

  I wouldn’t say Garrett is an alcoholic, but alcohol has become a crutch on truly bad days. And this is a one of those days.

  Eight years ago today, we lost her.

  And ourselves completely.

  Paige’s screams haunt my dreams as I relive her trying to swerve out of the way of the out of control semi-truck veering directly into our lane that rainy night, hitting Garrett’s muscle car head-on.

  Paige died instantly. She never even had a fighting chance. Garrett had a few broken bones and a nasty gash on his right arm. Erin, thankfully, only had a few bumps and bruises, and Reed broke his ankle and had a severe concussion. But somehow, we all made it through, except Paige.

  She was the innocent one. She never drank, never experimented with drugs, never had sex. Never even skipped a day of school. The list of excellence goes on and on. And she fucking died. It’s unfathomable.

  After the wreck, nothing made sense. And suddenly my dreams didn’t seem important anymore. Nothing did. I faded into a blackness I’m not sure I ever came out of. I declined my scholarship, and Garrett and I both ended up going to the local community college before transferring to our state school.

  We moved in together our freshman year of college out of convenience and indifference, and somehow, our living situation became permanent after graduation. We both work mind-numbingly boring office jobs—me in customer service and he is an art director for a digital agency, making decisions and running a budgeting team. His heart isn’t in it, but the money is good.

  A far cry from illustrating cartoons like he dreamed of when we were kids, but he’s a hell of a lot closer to his dream than I am to mine.

  I literally listen to people bitch about their products not working all day and give refunds.

  Woo. Hoo.

  I place the empty beer bottles on the coffee table and nudge his feet off the couch so I can sit down. He groans and sits up irritably. “No. Please, Ash. I insist. Sit down.”

  I roll my eyes as I fold my arms over my chest. He’s an ass, but he’s the best friend I have. And I’m grateful I have him because there’s no way I’d have gotten over the loss of Paige otherwise.

  Okay. So, I haven’t fully gotten over it, but I function for the most part.

  “This place is a mess.”

  His shoulders lift in indifference. “It’s the weekend.”

  I nod, my jaw stiff, my back straight. My whole body is on high alert today, hyper-aware of this anniversary like every year on May nineteenth. “Erin and Reed are comi
ng over. Maybe we should clean up a little.”

  He groans again and then huffs and stands. “Yeah, maybe.”

  He goes into the kitchen, grabs a trashcan and walks back into the living room, gathering trash without another word.

  I watch, knowing he’s in pain. Knowing there’s nothing I can do for him. I silently start to straighten up the house with him.

  I don’t push Garrett to talk about his feelings. I don’t tell him to clean up or that he’s drinking too much. It’s not how we work.

  Paige would definitely know how to handle this, but she was so good at everything.

  My heart pangs with guilt and sorrow. She should be here. She should be nagging Garrett in her perfect Paige way that seemed encouraging.

  His fingers slide through his sandy, brown locks, and he stops for a moment as if his thoughts match mine. I watch his chest fill with air. Then he lets out an exasperated huff and walks the trashcan back to our spacious kitchen before plopping back down on the couch. “Please tell me Erin's cooking.”

  I straighten a couple magazines on the coffee table and then sit next to him. “I’m sure as hell not.”

  I get a slight grin from that, but it’s nowhere near as bright as it once was. My chest tightens, thinking about Garrett’s laugh in high school and that playful, yet pestering, smile.

  It’s not all melancholy and doom here, don’t get me wrong. But from tragedy comes a certain dimness.