Happily Ever After: A Romance Collection

by Amelia Wilde

  I bartered for her life, and then I killed them all. Each and every one. I set their deaths in motion. I paid off a thug with a pack of heroin to take care of Amber. Tamra was a bullet in her head. I can still hear the ringing in my ears. I’m a murderer.

  But I did it to spare Chlo. I had to do it. I’d do it again if kept her safe. I don’t care what kind of man that makes me, so long as she’s still breathing.

  Tomorrow is day twenty, leaving a single day to spare of his morbid deadline.

  “Andrea picks up her package tomorrow. Can you just make sure she gets it?” I ask Carter. Andrea gets an eightball of coke on the regular. I knew that’s how she needed to go when she came to the shop two weeks ago, but Marcus wanted them done in order. So, she had to wait until tomorrow.

  Now I wonder if he requested that on purpose. If somehow, he knew it’d freak Chlo out and that’s why he texted her the way he did.

  He’s a sick fuck, but I lived up to my end of the bargain.

  “She’s done, and it’s done,” I tell him. It’s laced with so much shit, it’ll be quick and easy. Marcus won’t come looking for us. It’ll all be over with.

  We’ll run away, and this nightmare will be over.

  Dave was an accident, Carter’s accident. He didn’t know he was on the list, but Dave had it coming to him regardless, for what he did to Carter and his family. I could never blame Carter for what he did. It’s his story to tell, even if it did fuck him up more than it should have. The fucker was going to die anyway. I told him that.

  Carter’s not a killer; he’s not meant for this life.

  “The money’s yours. I can at least give you that,” I tell him, knowing that money won’t go far with the debt they have. But it’s better than nothing.

  “Take it back,” Carter tells me angrily. “I don’t want it.”

  “Maybe not, but you need it,” I tell him, putting my hands up to refuse the money and then looking back to make sure Chloe can’t see.

  She can never know.

  “I know you’re leaving.” Carter’s voice breaks. I don’t know how he knew. Word spreads fast, but if that’s going around, Romano is going to hear it before long and that means I need to get the fuck out of here as fast as I can. I don’t need him looking for me, or worse, finding the body I left in his shop before the weekly deliveries on Monday.

  “Who told you?” I ask him, my pulse beating harder in my temples. My jaw stiffens with the fear of a fight coming.

  “No one,” he answers, “but I know when goodbyes are coming.”

  Time passes slowly, and I feel myself breaking down. My first reaction is to go to Chloe Rose. I forget it all with her. I forget who I am and all the pain that comes with it. With her, I’m not alone.

  “You need it. You can’t run far without cash.” He gives me a look of complete sincerity as he pushes it back into my hand. “It’s not for me, and I don’t want it.” His voice is clear like he knew I’d give it to him.

  “I have enough cash,” I tell him. “Take it for your brothers then.” My heart squeezes harder in my chest knowing how fucked they all are. It’s two grand, and two grand more than he’ll get selling dope on the street corner like he thinks he can do. I worked for Romano, but Carter doesn’t. And it’s not safe.

  Carter gives me a weak smile and shakes his head. “We’ll be all right. I’m heading up to the north side. I’ll take care of us.” I know that means he’s dealing something. Although what and for who, I don’t know.

  His eyes are so serious. He seems so much older to me now.

  “You can come with me,” I tell him. “I don’t want to leave you here. Come with us.”

  The weak smile is pulled into a smirk, one cloaked with sadness. Goodbyes are never easy, but they shouldn’t hurt this much. “Don’t stay here,” I beg him. “I want more for you than this.”

  “I can’t leave my brothers,” he tells me and then licks his lips before handing the money back to me. “Take it.” The bills brush against my knuckles and I’m reluctant to take it, but I do. “Find a better place than here.” The money weighs heavy in my hand as he pulls his away. I won’t take it. If anything, I’ll leave it in the mailbox and pray one of them finds it.

  “It’s good you’re skipping out,” Carter tells me in a tone that lets me know something’s up.

  “What’s going on?” I ask him, feeling my nerves ramp up.

  “I heard Eddie say Romano wants to talk to you on Monday. I think they know you’re involved and they’re pissed they didn’t know.”

  “Good thing I won’t be around Monday.” I start thinking about all the possible outcomes of that meeting and I don’t like a single one of them. I could never rat Marcus out, he’d kill me. And even if I did, Romano would kill me for following someone else’s orders. I have protection from no one and enemies everywhere.

  “Did you tell her?” Carter changes the subject abruptly. “Does she know you killed them?”

  I shake my head, wishing all of this was a nightmare I could wake from. All of it but Chloe. “I had to lie to her, but it’s never felt like that,” I tell him, confiding in my best friend one last time.

  “Felt like what?” he asks me.

  “Felt like I was hurting her by lying to her. I’ve never wanted so much from someone and to give her so much in return.”

  He smiles a genuine but sad smile that reaches his dark eyes. “I knew you loved her,” he says lightheartedly. Brushing his thumb against his nose, he peeks behind him. It’s darker now than it was before, not a single star in the sky to cast light down on us.

  “I think it is love,” I tell him and kick the rubble on the broken concrete.

  “It’s all right to say it,” he jokes, “I won’t make fun of you.”

  “I only just got her. I can’t lose her, Carter,” I confess to him. If it wasn’t for her need to run away from here, I’d stay for him.

  “Go ahead, I’ll be all right,” he tells me, and I want to believe him. “Hey, do you have that stuff though? Before you go?”

  It takes me a minute to realize he’s talking about the sweets. I have the last vial in my pocket and I know Chlo is never going to want to take it again, so I hand it over to him.

  He’s quick to slip the vial into his pocket. “Thanks, man. It’s been rough sleeping.”

  Giving him a nod of understanding, I wonder if I should tell him that Chlo thinks some of her paranoia is from the drug, but I think she’s wrong. She was right the entire time. Call it fear and intuition maybe.

  “I hope it helps you sleep,” I tell him and then glance back at the car.

  “Get out of here, man. Get out while you still can,” Carter tells me and it fucking hurts that I’m leaving him, but I have to. I have to get the hell out of here and take Chloe far away.

  I have to reach out and hug him, pulling him hard into my chest. And he’s quick to give me a hard pat on the back, followed by a grip I’ll never forget.

  There’s no way I’d have made it out alive without him. I know that much.

  Before the tears can show, I pull away from him, the only family I’ve ever had. “She can’t stay here,” I tell him as if I’m begging him to understand, but he already knows.

  She’s never belonged here.

  “Come with us,” I plead with him one last time even though I already know his answer.

  “I have to stay.” His voice is calm this time like he’s resigned to his fate.

  Epilogue

  Chloe

  Two weeks later

  The cool wind flows through my fingers as I rest my hand against the window. We’ve been off the highway for a little while now, still venturing into the unknown.

  It’s odd how the unfamiliar can offer so much comfort. How easy it is to leave everything behind and start a new life.

  Countless times I’ve felt the fear of what could be waiting for us if we ever went back. And almost as if Bastian can read my mind, he asks me every time we stop somewhere new, “How
about this place?”

  “I can be a butcher anywhere. Or anything. We can be anything,” he keeps telling me. “Just don't leave me.” He says that a lot. As if I’d ever want to. One day, I think he’ll know in every way that I’ll never do that.

  In every beat of my heart, I know I was supposed to run away with him. And he was supposed to run away with me.

  We should have left when we were only children. We shouldn’t have stayed in that place as long as we did. When the lights around you flicker and dim, it’s a sign to run. To run far away and toward light and hope. It’s an innate feeling I knew deep in my gut, but I swallowed it down and nearly let the darkness choke out what little life I had left in me.

  It’s only taken days of being away with Bastian at my side, holding my hand as we drive farther and farther away to know that’s true.

  I can smell the salty ocean air as the sun kisses my skin through the window. We’re close to the ocean.

  A line springs to mind and I jot it down in my notebook. It’s half-full already, with ideas for a book so close to what I’ve been through. Some changes here and there because it’s hard to write about the truth. It’s hard to imagine what people would think of me if I told them my story. It’s even harder for me to write it all down and to be okay with everything that happened. Because of what happened in my life, the things that were done to me and the things I did… well, it will never be okay, but maybe it would make a memorable tale.

  “Do you want to stop here?” Bastian asks, pointing to the left at a sign for a burger place.

  My shoulders lift easily in a contented shrug. With my cheek resting against the headrest, I ask him for the tenth time since we left, “Where do you think we’re going?” I need answers to what we’ll become. I know I love him and I only want to be with him, but the stirring in my stomach that this is too good to be true hasn’t let up.

  Bastian’s large hand wraps around mine as he pulls my knuckles to his lips to kiss them one by one. The car idles at the stop sign and he looks me deep in my eyes.

  “We’re going where we’re supposed to go. Together.” His words are a balm to my broken soul. It’s the only word that matters. It’s the only word that’s ever mattered. Together.

  With tears pricking my eyes, the tears I wish would go away, even if they are from a happiness I never thought I’d feel, I whisper, “I love you.”

  He braces his hands on either side of my head, stealing a ravenous kiss from me, taking my pain away like he did so many years ago. But the pain now is minuscule and it’s because of him. He’s taken it all away. And I’ll spend my life making sure I do the same for him.

  With a bruising kiss, I can hardly breathe until he pulls away from me, letting the tip of his nose brush against mine. His eyes are still closed, his hands still tangled in my hair as he tells me, “I’ve always loved you. And I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll always choose you.”

  Sebastian

  Years later

  About two weeks after we got in the car and sped away as fast as we could, I got a call from Carter’s brother, Daniel. I didn’t let her see as I broke down against the bathroom door of the motel we’d stayed in for the night. We’d move from one place to the next, constantly on the go until we found a spot on the West Coast, far away from Crescent Hills. A local bed and breakfast was looking to hire a butcher for their farm and also in need of a bookkeeper for the inn. Fate gave us our opportunity to stay, to find a new home, and we did. We grabbed it with both hands and didn’t let go.

  That night in the motel though, it almost didn’t happen. The first few days we were on the road, everything changed with a single phone call. I almost got into the car and drove back to that hellhole when Daniel told me what happened. I would never have brought Chloe, but she wouldn’t have let me leave her behind either.

  The Talvery crew almost beat him to death the night we left. Carter nearly died for selling on the wrong turf. Daniel told me not to come back, that my name had been marked now, and I knew what that meant. If I went back, I was dead.

  When I talked to Carter, I knew I’d made a mistake letting him stay. He had no one anymore, and everyone to provide for.

  If I could go back, I would.

  I’d never leave him behind.

  It took over a decade before I dared show my face in that city again. Years of the phone calls coming less and less often. Years of building a life with the girl I always loved, while the memories of my past faded to bad dreams.

  Life is a compromise. I left behind a friend, destined to stay, and be held captive to a city that had no mercy.

  It would force him to become a brutal man I didn’t recognize.

  The Carter I abandoned in Crescent Hills, died that night I ran, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.

  “Raw. Captivating. Breathtaking. This is W. Winters at her absolute best. Carter is the most AMAZING anti-hero.” -Sophie, Bookalicious Babes Blog

  One-click MERCILESS now! >

  COLD BREW

  Amelia Wilde

  Cold Brew

  Amelia Wilde

  My enemy likes his coffee hot?

  Too bad. I’m an ice cold brew.

  Dash Huxley doesn’t have a chance of making his new café successful in Lakewood, and he sure as hell doesn’t have a chance with me.

  For one thing, Lakewood already has a coffee shop. Mine. And I'm not giving up a single customer to him.

  I don’t care how sexy he is. I don’t care how good he smells. And I definitely don’t care that his voice makes me weak in the knees and hot in the kettle.

  What I do care about is that he caught me twerking in the coffee shop I’m trying to save. Yes, the same coffee shop he’s trying to destroy with his shiny new joint across the street.

  Well, he can try all he wants. The people of Lakewood are loyal to my shop. He can tempt them with his cocky smile, but he'll never win them over. Not if I have anything to say about it.

  I’m not going down without a fight.

  Even if I really, really want to.

  1

  Ellery

  Listen, this isn’t going to be a popular statement.

  Let’s get it out in the open.

  I hate coffee.

  After a day in the shop, I can get used to the smell. But the taste? I’ve tried a hundred different roasts, it’s all bad.

  I’m also not a morning person, which probably won’t be as controversial. I loathe the predawn hours. Nobody should ever be awake for them unless they’ve stayed up all night at a great party. I did not stay out all night for a great party. I went to bed early because I had to be up early. Them’s the breaks when you work at the only coffee shop in town.

  You think my life doesn’t make sense? You don’t make sense. Also, you’re right.

  The damp summer air settles over my shoulders like the hands of a customer who wants to ask me on a date but shouldn’t. I shrug down into my hoodie once more. It’s soft and comfortable, like a bed. I would give anything to crawl back into bed. But the shop opens in half an hour, and I’m the only one to run it, so all naps are postponed until further notice.

  I take a final cleansing breath of the lightly scented air in my car. It’s creepy out there, and dark, so I remind myself again how much I love and adore my aunt and uncle, Lakewood’s beloved Lisa and Fred.

  One, two, three. I grab the handle and jump out like I’d jump into the lake if I was the kind of carefree person who’d leap in like that.

  They’ve been waiting for me, the regulars. Their early morning lives are so devoid of other rituals that all they can do is get into their cars and cruise down the silent streets of Lakewood toward the shop. Sharks. Sharks in the night who’ve scented blood. Coffee blood.

  Maybe not sharks. I’m still half-dreaming.

  In my wildest dreams, Medium Roast is a well-maintained paradise. By paradise, I mean that it’s stocked with all the things you need to run a coffee shop. Top of the list? Coffee. If you give a bar
ista coffee, she’ll ask you for some decent to-go cups in different sizes. If you give her those to-go cups, she’ll ask you for lids to match the cups. Then you can laugh in her face, because what kind of coffee shop has all those items at the same time?

  Not Medium Roast.

  I know what you’re thinking. How could a coffee shop run out of coffee?

  It’s not a riddle, but I still don’t know the answer. It’s probably filed away with the answer to how could I end up running a coffee shop in Lakewood instead of doing literally anything else with my life?

  I love Medium Roast. I love it almost as much as I love my aunt and uncle. I’d do anything for them, which is the truth behind the question. I run this shop because I owe them one. I owe them several. What’s six months of putting off my illustrious career as a photojournalist to keep this store above water for my favorite relatives? Nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

  Not like I can pursue that career. Not after what happened. Not now, at least.

  Across Main Street a car’s headlights flick on, illuminating the empty spots in front of him. Lou Brewer is parked in front of the storefront that’s been under construction at least six times since I was in school. A fresh round began a few months ago. He’s not here to rubberneck at the new drywall.

  “Yeah, I see you,” I grumble under my breath, and reach into my purse for the keys to the shop.

  The morning standoff begins.

  The regulars, out there in their cars, stalking the perimeter, want me to open the shop early.

  I want to open the shop at six-thirty. That’s what the sign on the door says.

  They never want to respect the sign. That’s what coffee does to you. Eventually, you need it so much that you’re willing to park in front of a shop and watch a woman inside try to brew coffee in the dark. Turn the lights on early? Oh, no. That’ll have them over here even faster.