The Road to Finding Us: A Standalone Second Chance Romance (Aftershock Series Book 2)

by Kat Singleton

  The Road to Finding Us

  Aftershock Series: Vol. 2

  Kat Singleton

  Contents

  1. Lily

  2. Lily

  3. Aspen

  4. Lily

  5. Lily

  6. Aspen

  7. Lily

  8. Aspen

  9. Lily

  10. Lily

  11. Lily

  12. Aspen

  13. Lily

  14. Lily

  15. Lily

  16. Aspen

  17. Lily

  18. Aspen

  19. Lily

  20. Lily

  21. Lily

  22. Aspen

  23. Aspen

  24. Lily

  25. Lily

  26. Aspen

  27. Aspen

  28. Lily

  29. Aspen

  30. Lily

  31. Lily

  32. Aspen

  33. Lily

  34. Aspen

  35. Lily

  36. Lily

  37. Aspen

  38. Lily

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  PINTEREST BOARD AND SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

  About the Author

  CONTACT

  Also By Kat Singleton

  If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  The Road to Finding Us

  Aftershock Series: Vol. 2

  Copyright © 2020 by Kat Singleton

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  ISBN: 9798657713282

  Cover Design by Pink Ink Designs

  Edited by Christina Hart of Savage Hart Book Services

  Proofread by Amanda Cuff of Savage Hart Book Services

  Formatted by J.R. Rogue of Savage Hart Book Services

  To my husband.

  The road to finding us wasn’t always easy, but it was worth it.

  Thank you for supporting me always.

  I love you.

  Lily

  Present

  “I want a divorce.” The words fly out of my mouth as I come to a stop in the middle of the busy downtown Dallas sidewalk. An old lady walking her two-pound dog says some words I didn’t think precious old ladies would still use when she dodges me.

  “You can’t divorce me, Lily,” Veronica says from the other end of the phone call. “We aren’t even married.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ll probably end up marrying my brother which means you’ll also be marrying me. Except I’m divorcing you before this marriage because, Veronica Cunningham, you’ve betrayed me.”

  Veronica—my ex-best friend—laughs from the other line and I want to punch her right in her perfectly perky boob…hard.

  “There are some last-minute things I have to do for the grand opening, Lil. I have to stay here in Beaufort to make sure everything goes according to plan. I’m sure you understand.” She says the last sentence in a tone I think is supposed to make me feel guilty, except she’s as blunt as a dull kitchen knife. Sneaky guilt tripping is not something she’s good at.

  “I understand we’re no longer friends.” I pull my keys out of my clutch and hold the fob in the air, repeatedly pressing the lock button as I try to find my car on the busy street. My twin brother, Maverick, is always telling me I should be more aware of my surroundings, but I live in Texas. Nothing bad happens here. Well, you think nothing bad happens if you ignore the nightly news.

  “Being a bit dramatic today, aren’t we?” Veronica says in her typical snarky voice.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love the girl. When she first moved into my brother’s apartment when he was dating my other best friend—Selma—I had my doubts about her. She tried very hard to come off as a bitch. Lucky for her, nothing deters me. Even if it comes in a bitchy package. But sometimes I feel like she’s still trying to show the world she isn’t deserving of good things, even though she deserves anything she could possibly want.

  “Okay, for starters, you are probably the most dramatic person ever,” I tell her, and finally, I hear the beeping of my car. I start to walk toward it while I continue to have a meltdown over my current situation. “And second, we were supposed to road trip together. Super fun bonding experience. Best friends. Remember?” The tone of my voice gets pitchier and pitchier as I talk because I’m internally panicking at the fact that she’s ditching me.

  “I know, and I feel so bad about it. I didn’t expect for our caterer to pull out last minute.”

  Letting out a long sigh, I step into my car. I know how much this grand opening means to her, and I want it to be perfect. When Veronica and Maverick moved to South Carolina to work for the same nonprofit, I was so proud of them.

  Connor’s Ocean, the nonprofit, was started by Veronica’s late boyfriend’s family after he passed away. He and Veronica were both still in high school at the time.

  Maverick joined the team to run the legal side of things, and Veronica handles the marketing. They’ve been wanting to open an office for a year. Now, they’re getting ready to open a physical headquarters for the charity. It’s amazing, and I’m so proud of both of them.

  But it doesn’t mean I’m not hurt that she isn’t making the road trip to South Carolina with me like we’d planned.

  When she called me four months ago, saying it was finally happening, we’d already had this whole road trip planned out. But it looks like I’ll just be stuck alone in my tiny car for days. Ugh.

  I roughly push the button to turn on my car. “We planned this months ago. You were supposed to come spend a couple of days with me in Dallas and then we’d have this amazing bonding experience of a fun girls’ trip to South Carolina. I even went and got an oil change for it!” My Corolla makes a loud beeping noise when a man steps behind it just as I’m backing out of my parking spot. “Shit!”

  Andddd I almost committed vehicular manslaughter.

  There’s a rustling sound as she says, “I’m aware of that, but I don’t know what else to do, Lil. Maverick and I can book a flight for you right now if you’d rather that.”

  Merging onto the highway, I gasp. She knows how I feel about airplanes. “You know I am not stepping foot on an airplane.” I can hear Maverick laugh in the background. That bitch has me on speaker phone!

  The two of them share a few words before she responds to me. “You know Snakes on a Plane is a fictional movie. Fiction as in fake—not real. No snakes involved.”

  My body shutters at the mental picture I have from the movie. Samuel L. Jackson was so convincing I made a pact with myself that I would never get on an airplane, ever again.

  Even the thought of being stuck thirty thousand feet in the air with a buttload of snakes…no can do. “I’m not risking it. You can use your frequent-flyer miles for something else. I’ll drive all by my lonesome. Might get stolen by a trucker on the way, but I guess that’s the risk you two are making me take.”

  Just as I finish talking, a huge red truck cuts me off. I honk my horn as the wannabe cowboy purposely slows down in front of me. All these Dallas men pretend they’re cowboys when in reality, they live in a city loft. But god
forbid they ditch the trucks that make it appear as if they’re actually doing work on a ranch.

  “You know,” Maverick starts, pausing for a moment.

  I imagine him looking at Veronica for confirmation on what he’s about to say. The two of them are inseparable. So in love and borderline disgusting with the way they communicate.

  “Aspen is in Dallas for the summer. You could always see if he’s driving down. You could catch a ride together,” he offers, dragging the last part out, as if it’s something I might actually consider.

  My foot slams on the brakes. Aspen’s stupidly-chiseled face pops into my mind. “Hell to the no, brother!” I shout toward the speaker above my head, which allows me to talk hands-free. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest that.”

  “You two used to get along okay. What happened?” Maverick questions, like he didn’t have a front-row seat to the rollercoaster ride of our relationship—or lack thereof—when we were all in college.

  “He disgusts me! Like, so much it makes all of my parts want to shrivel up and die. Sorry, Mav, my lady parts can’t risk it.” I don’t mention to Maverick that Aspen quite literally humped me and dumped me. There are things I don’t feel like telling my twin brother—who also happens to be Aspen’s best friend.

  Maverick audibly gags on the other line of the phone. “Lil, you did not just mention your lady bits to me. I’m your brother, talk about that shit with Veronica or Selma.”

  I make a mental note to call Selm later today. She’s still in Kansas, but maybe she could road trip with me.

  Because I’m sure as hell not riding with He Who Shall Not Be Named.

  My shoulders shrug even though I know Maverick can’t see me. “You’re the one who’s eavesdropping on our conversation. I called Veronica, not you.”

  “Anyway,” Veronica says, probably giving Maverick one of her classic death stares, “we can’t wait to see you soon!”

  I grumble in response as I pull up to my studio apartment building. After putting the car in park, I decide to sit in my nice air-conditioned car for a moment longer. It’s hotter than hell in Texas right now. I know I’m about to break a sweat during the short trek from my car to my second-story apartment.

  “I can’t wait to see you either. Traitor.” I smile, picking at the lime green nail polish on my thumb and making a mental note to get my nails done before traveling.

  “Oh, I know you’ll forgive me. I’ll make sure to text Aspen and tell him you need a ride! Bye, Lil.” Veronica hangs up the phone before I get the chance to respond.

  “Boo, you whore,” I mumble at my open iPhone home screen. Then, I go to text Veronica immediately.

  Lily: If you tell Aspen that, I will punch you in the boob until it falls off.

  Veronica: Oops. Too late!

  Lily: You have been warned. Wear an extra padded bra next time I see you. I’m coming for those tatas.

  I throw my phone onto the passenger seat, ignoring the vibrations alerting me to missed messages.

  Aspen, Aspen, Aspen. I lean back in my seat, thinking about the long and complicated history between the two of us. The first memories I have of him flood my mind.

  Lily

  Past - Age Eighteen

  “Pivot! Pivot!” I shout, grunting underneath the heavy object I’m carrying.

  My brother looks over his shoulder as he climbs our dorm stairs, and the same blue eyes as mine roll dramatically. “We’re each carrying our own boxes. I don’t think that reference works very well right now,” Maverick says, his voice echoing through the stairwell.

  We’d waited in line to use the elevators for about one minute before I got too impatient and decided we should take the stairs instead.

  It turns out eighteen-year-olds and their families are pretty lazy when it comes to freshman move-in day. Lucky for us, we have the stairwell to ourselves.

  Well, almost. A girl peeks her head out from the very top, giving me an odd look. I stick my tongue out at her. Anyone who doesn’t understand my reference can go pivot right on out of my life.

  “Stop being a fun sucker, Mav,” I tell my brother.

  He groans when I start to sing the song I’ve been chanting in his ear for nearly all our lives.

  “If you are a fun sucker like Maverick, like Maverick,” I sing-song, my sweaty palms slipping on the cardboard box. I’m still belting out the words when Maverick pushes the stairwell door open, not holding it open for his very own sister.

  “Jerk,” I mumble, propping the old door open with my foot.

  “I’m the one helping you and Selma move into your dorm instead of moving into mine. Stop calling me names!” he says.

  I scurry behind him as he reads all the numbers on the doors until he abruptly stops. So abruptly, I run right into him. “Oof.” I balance the box so it rests against my hip, peering around it to see why he stopped.

  “This is it,” he says, already balancing his own boxes so he can reach for the handle.

  Good thing he remembered the number, because I sure as hell didn’t.

  “Mav!” I hear from inside the room.

  My roommate and best friend, Selma, darts across the empty common area at the same time Maverick drops my boxes.

  A little hard there, brother. I crouch down to inspect the box, making sure he didn’t break anything inside it, while the two of them embrace.

  Selma and Maverick have been dating for years now. While they aren’t as passionate as I envision my first love to be, they love each other nonetheless. A sickeningly amount, if you ask me. I walk around the two of them, my box still in tow, to find our bedroom.

  We’ll be sharing a suite with two other girls, ones I’ve never met and hope aren’t totally creepy, but luckily, our bedroom will be just us. There are two twin-size beds pushed up against the wall, and two dressers on the opposite wall. I throw my box down on one of the beds, claiming it as mine.

  When I walk back out to the common area, I find Selma and Maverick still in a hushed conversation. I roll my eyes at the two of them. They always seem to be having these very intense conversations that no one else is supposed to hear. Closing the distance to the other side of the living area, I peek into the other room. I’m shocked to find the other two girls haven’t moved in yet.

  “Hey, yoohoo, lovebirds,” I say, snapping to get their attention. “Let’s get to work! We’ve got boxes to move, people to see, college boys to meet.”

  Selma and Maverick share a look, but they stop their conversation and get moving.

  We spend the rest of the morning getting all our things moved into the dorm. After we had lunch delivered, Maverick bailed on us to go move into his own dorm.

  It’s now almost five in the evening, and Selma interrupts me from shoving my clothes into dresser drawers.

  “Maverick wants to know if we want to go see his dorm and then go check out the dining hall with him and his roommate? He wants to beat the dinner crowd.”

  Typical Maverick. Always thinking things through. Being responsible and all. Pish posh. I use my hip to throw my body weight against the drawer to get it closed.

  Selma just laughs, shaking her head at me. She likes to call me messy; I say I’m free-spirited. I don’t remind her of how unorganized she can be, trying to be nice and all.

  Our two roommates had showed up right when we got back from lunch. They’re also a pair of friends—Daisy and Mallory. They seem cool enough, a bit quiet if you ask me, but I’ll do my best to break them out of their shells.

  “Yeah, sure,” I answer once I finally get the drawer closed. I’m not sure what my plan of action will be when I actually need something from that drawer, but for now, my side of the room looks decently clean.

  I walk to our dorm bathroom, taking in my appearance. I’ve definitely looked better in my life, but not too shabby for moving all day. My long dark hair is pulled into a ponytail that sits high on my head. A few of my flyaways have broken free, hanging loosely around my face. The mascara I rushed to put on
in the car this morning has smeared underneath my eyes a bit, but I don’t have time to try to fix it. All I can do is swipe there, trying to get rid of the black stains. I rifle around in my cosmetic bag and throw on some lip balm before meeting Selma back in the living area.

  I had every intention of getting all dressed up the first time I went to the other side of our residence hall—the boys’ side—but I don’t have the luxury of time. Maverick is probably roommates with some dork like him anyway, so it likely won’t even matter.

  Selma and I both yell a goodbye at our suitemates before heading to the lobby.

  The boys’ and girls’ sides of the residence hall are in two separate parts of the building. You can’t access them by the same elevators or stairs, so first you have to go to the lobby to get to the other side.

  The lobby is packed with eighteen-year-olds, excitement written all over their faces as they continue to move into their new freedom. We wait with a pack of cute boys for the elevator on their turf. One of them winks at me, causing my cheeks to flush.

  Holy cannoli on a stick. He’s cute.

  He and I continue to exchange flirty looks before he steps off with his friends on a floor that is not my brother’s. My lip turns down in a pout. Bummer. I was having fun with him.