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

by Kat Singleton

  “Unfortunately, we really need to get back to it,” Aspen answers for us.

  I nod in unison, giving Ed and Helen an apologetic smile.

  After we get the table cleaned off, Aspen and I head upstairs to pack the small number of belongings we’d taken out last night. We both do a once-over of the room before we head back downstairs to say our goodbyes.

  “If you guys are ever in the area, feel free to stop by.” Ed smiles, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a big squeeze. When he’s close to my ear, he whispers, “Remember what we talked about last night. Fight for the ones you love. True bonds are special.” He lets me go, but not before giving me a kiss on the cheek, a firm look following after.

  I go over to Helen next, walking right into her embrace as she pulls me in for a big motherly hug. “It was a pleasure having you both. Our door is always open for you.”

  I squeeze her tightly and grasp her hand before I pull away. “We promise to give you a five-star rating,” I offer with a laugh. Even though we barely know these strangers, I’ll miss them.

  She bats at the air. “I couldn’t care less about that rating, sweetie, but thank you.”

  Aspen and Ed say their goodbyes next to us.

  I start to walk down the path, hitching my bag higher up on my shoulder, stopping when I realize Aspen isn’t following. When I turn, I hear Helen and Aspen exchanging words.

  They go in for a hug, and then she pulls away, cupping his face in her wrinkled hands. “Face those fears, sweet boy. You never know what could happen.”

  He gives her a nod and I turn back around, embarrassed. Whatever they were talking about seems to be private, and I don’t want to interrupt that. I have a gut feeling that Aspen wouldn’t want me knowing whatever was just said. But I’m incredibly nosy, and now I’m dying to know what she meant by that comment.

  Aspen catches up to me as I head in the direction of the car, and together, we walk.

  “I’ll miss them,” I tell him.

  “I will too,” Aspen responds sadly. “They’re really great people.”

  When we reach the truck, we toss our bags in the back. I let Aspen close it, in effort not to break that part of Gladys again.

  Once we’re both buckled in, I look over to Aspen. “Where to next?”

  “Is that excitement I hear in your voice?” He gives me a look of disbelief, placing his hand over his heart for theatrics.

  “It’s possible,” I say, flicking his hand that rests on his chest.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Aspen mutters, smiling wide.

  “I know, right?” I put my feet on his dashboard to get comfortable. “I’m actually not hating this trip with you.”

  “That’s Lily Morrison speak for: ‘I’m having a really good time, Aspen, but I don’t want to admit that to you because I’m a stubborn ass.’” He playfully says my words in a voice meant to mimic my own.

  I laugh, shaking my head at him. “You aren’t helping yourself here. Put Gladys in drive, and let’s go!”

  “Gear down, big shifter,” he replies, laughing and shifting into gear. Gladys begins to roll backward. “Ready for our next leg?” he asks as he pulls back onto the highway.

  I smile, looking out the window. “Yeah, I think I am.”

  Aspen’s hand comes to rest briefly on my bare leg, giving me his panty-dropping smile. “I am too, Lily Bear. I am too.”

  22

  Aspen

  Past - Age Twenty-Two

  Tristan, my teammate, waves a beer bottle two inches away from my face. “Drink up, man,” he says, clanking the bottle down on the table.

  I look away from the girl at the bar, focusing back on my friends. I snatch the beer bottle from his hands, lowering my eyebrows at him to let him know I’m not amused with his antics. All Tristan does is shrug and proceed to take a drink from his own beer.

  “I can’t believe we’re halfway through our senior year. We’re going to have to grow up soon. I ain’t fucking ready,” Leo whines from my left, sliding down in the booth and resting his head against the back.

  “You’re not growing up anytime soon,” I retort, laughing at the mental image of him even pretending to act like a grown ass adult.

  “Touché.” He lifts his bottle in my direction, saluting me with it before taking a sip.

  I pick up my own beer, letting the bitter taste wash down my throat.

  The crowd in Lenny’s bustles around me. A group of sorority girls wave a shot book for some girl’s twenty-first in the air as they screech, their voices reaching all the way across the bar to us. There’s also the familiar sound of pool sticks snapping against cue balls, amongst many conversations taking place. Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of Lenny, the owner of our favorite bar, handing out drinks.

  “It still hurts, bro,” Leo continues. “I wish I could be in college forever.”

  “I don’t think your liver could handle that,” I respond haphazardly, my gaze traveling back to the spitfire at the bar. I’m not sure Leo’s liver is functioning regardless anymore, judging by the way he ends up puking out his brains like a drunk teeny bopper each and every time he goes out.

  I wipe the image of the usual drunk Leo from my head, focusing on the body across the bar once again. Her dark hair spills down her back in straight shiny strands. She currently has her body halfway sprawled across the bar, clearly flirting with the bartender as her fingers trace around the rim of her cocktail. Her hips barely graze the bar top as she stands on the tips of her toes to get closer to the asshole on the other side of the bar. I can’t take my eyes off her, even as she aims her perfect smile at the guy across the bar. He says something to make her laugh and she throws her head back, her sleek hair spilling all the way down to her ass.

  “Are you just going to stare at her all night?” my friend Anthony asks from across the booth.

  I throw him a scowl, not wanting to hear more of his bullshit. My lips wrap around the beer bottle angrily.

  I haven’t been staring. I’ve just been casually observing.

  “No clue what you’re talking about.” I try my damnedest not to look in her direction when I swear I hear her familiar laugh. This bar is absolutely packed, but I could pick out her laugh in the midst of a crowded anything. It haunts me, causing my dick to stir in my pants while sending unease through my stomach at the same time.

  I definitely fucking do not like hearing her laugh aimed at any dickwad other than myself.

  “Bro,” Anthony begins as if he’s a fucking surfer and not from Kansas, “I’m talking about the fact that you haven’t been able to look away from Maverick’s sister for the two hours we’ve been at Lenny’s.”

  My shoulders rise defensively as I pin him with my stare. “Bullshit.”

  The whole table laughs, causing me to slump down the booth in frustration.

  “Maverick wouldn’t like you looking at his sister like that,” Anthony offers, staring right at me with a cocky grin on his face. The look on his face makes me want to punch it right off. Not too hard, just enough to get rid of his shit-eating grin.

  “Oh, piss off,” I say, finishing off the rest of my beer and slamming it down on the table. I’m only two beers deep, but I wish I’d had more to help ease my pissed off mood. I have a desire right now to be Leo-passed-out-in-the-middle-of-a-parking-lot drunk. Anything would be better than sitting here basically sober, getting drilled by my friends about watching my best friend’s little sister—as said little sister (who hates my guts) presses her boobs so far into the bartender’s face, his nose is bound to get buried.

  “Pretty sure Maverick is too deep in his own shit to care about his sister right now,” Tristan mumbles.

  My eyes flick to his curiously. I didn’t think anyone else had noticed the shitstorm Maverick has created for himself. I love my best friend. He’s been my dude since the day we moved in together, but he’s also got himself in a bit of a mess at the moment. I’d love to blame the blonde-haired bombshell who steamrolled
her way into all our lives, but it isn’t even her fault.

  It’s Maverick’s fault. And Selma’s.

  The two of them have been too comfortable in their relationship for years to stop to realize they’re basically best friends who are telling everyone else they’re dating. He’s her safe place, and she’s something he can protect. It seems like the perfect relationship—but it isn’t. I’ve broached the subject with Maverick before, but he wouldn’t even humor me with the conversation.

  Selma, on the other hand, is appearing to become more aware.

  And now that we’ve thrown Veronica into the mix, there’s a ticking time bomb about to explode. Veronica is every bit opposite than Selma. She’s jaded, sarcastic, closed off, but there’s a certain chemistry between Maverick and Veronica none of us can ignore.

  I’m nervous for what might to happen to my friend group.

  Tristan’s right. Maverick does have a lot to deal with right now. Which is why I’m trying my damnedest to ignore Lily’s presence at Lenny’s tonight. But a guy can only have so much restraint. And mine is wearing very thin right about now.

  After Lily and I hooked up over the summer, she kept good on her promise. The girl fucking hates me. Or is damn good at pretending she does. She’ll never miss an opportunity to lay into me about something—my major, the girls I bring home, the way I exist. If I’m breathing, you can bet it’s irritating her.

  All of it pisses her off and she’s not afraid to let the world know it.

  Sometimes I wonder if she’s exhausted by the theatrics of it all. I love to spar with her every now and then, loving the way I can rile her up so easily, but sometimes I want to drop it all and have a meaningful conversation again. To have her look at me the way she looked at me on that dock—before it all went to shit.

  She’s pissed off at me for doing the right thing.

  My eyes lazily drag to her spot at the bar. And I can’t lie and say I’m not bothered by the way she’s giving the bartender bedroom eyes.

  I’m two seconds away from leaving the booth and handling it when an ice-cold hand tightens on my bicep.

  “Hi, darling,” Cassidy flirts, running her long nail up the skin of my arm.

  Fucking fantastic. What else can go wrong tonight?

  I try to scoot deeper into the corner booth. Unfortunately for me, I’m stuck at the end of a booth full of assholes who actually work out and take up too much damn space. There’s not a whole lot of room for me to go anywhere.

  “Not in the mood, Cass.” I don’t even bother to look at her. She’s one of the many women I’ve hooked up with, and I know by her tone that she wants a repeat. But I can’t give her that. The more I try to erase Lily from my mind by getting lost in another woman, the more it fails.

  I’m stuck in a standstill where I don’t want anybody else, but I can’t have her. A fucking dilemma. My poor dick is not happy with my heart.

  “C’mon, Aspen. We have fun together.” Those sharp nails dig into my chin as she grabs it, forcing my head to look at her.

  I take in her face that has entirely too much makeup caked onto it. She’s beautiful without it, but it isn’t my job to tell her that. A month ago, I would’ve been ecstatic to tumble in the sheets with her again. She’s fun, but recently, I haven’t been in the mood for random women at night.

  I look her in the eye and say, “I’m good.”

  She squeezes tighter, bringing her face close to mine. So close that, to prying eyes, it would appear we might kiss. I lift my chin quick enough that it falls from her grasp.

  “Hands fucking off, Cassidy,” I grumble, leaning as far away from her as possible.

  The woman actually fucking pouts, sticking her bottom lip out in an attempt to be cute.

  It isn’t fucking cute.

  “Don’t play hard to get,” she says loud enough for the rest of the table to hear. Her gaze rakes over my friends in an attempt to regain the composure I took from her when I told her no meant no. “You know we have fun together.”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. She can’t take the hint. I slide my hands down the front of my pants before I kindly tell her to fuck off. Finally, my eyes find hers once again. She’s got a lipstick ring on her chin from where she stuck her lip out too far.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, but not fucking interested.” I enunciate the last three words slowly so her brain can really catch onto the hint that it isn’t happening tonight.

  She lets out a whine, hanging her head in embarrassment as she travels back to her friends, wherever the hell they are. She’ll be setting her sights on some other asshole in this bar in less than five minutes; I don’t feel bad at all for letting her down.

  I’m in a fucking mood because of a certain woman teetering at the bar like she’s had a few too many. If it were any other girl I’d been interested in, I’d be across the bar so fast, throwing her over my shoulder to take her home safely and tuck her into bed. But fate is fucking me up the ass because this girl I can’t erase from my mind is the one of the only women in this world I can’t really touch.

  Maverick’s sister.

  Lily has me so fucked up I can’t even properly finish with other women. Including Cassidy. The truth of the matter is, I couldn’t fucking finish with Cassidy because she made way too many noises that didn’t allow me to picture Lily in my head. So, I jerked off afterward to the memory of Lily’s legs wrapped around me. To the soft sounds she made. To the way she almost fell apart in my hands.

  I’m all sorts of fucked up at the moment.

  And it’s all because of Lily pain-in-my-ass Morrison.

  The same girl who just handed her keys over to the bartender. I can’t look away as he pockets the keys, giving her a sly smile. He walks over to the only other bartender besides Lenny, mouthing something that looks a lot like, “I’m heading out.”

  He and the guy exchange conspiratorial looks with one another.

  I’m out of the booth so fucking fast. “Oh, hell no.”

  My feet take me across the old floor of Lenny’s quickly. I’m shouldering through the mass of sorority girls when I make eye contact with Lenny. The look on his face lets me know he’s onto what I’m about to do. He narrows his bushy eyebrows at me, warning me not to make a scene.

  I lift my shoulder in a half-assed shrug as I finally break through the abundance of perfume and blondes. I’m not trying to make a scene here, but there’s absolutely no fucking way on this planet that Lily is going home with the wannabe-hipster bartender tonight. She’s been swaying at the bar for an hour now, making it very clear she isn’t in the right state of mind.

  Lily must feel the connection between the two of us as well, because her head snaps up from talking to the bartender, her eyes connecting with mine instantly.

  She takes one look at me, straightens her spine to gear up for a fight with me, and opens that heart-shaped mouth to speak. “Well, shit on a stick.”

  23

  Aspen

  Past - Age Twenty-Two

  “Hand over the keys,” I demand, my open palm extended toward the hipster bartender, my fingers wiggling to speed him up.

  The guy stares at me, looking like a damn deer in headlights, not moving a muscle.

  Lily’s tiny hand smacks mine. “Go away!” She apologetically looks at the bartender, then wraps her arm in his. “Don’t pay attention to him. His brain is obviously not working properly.” She tries to step closer to him, tripping over nothing and stumbling forward a bit.

  I reach out to steady her, but Lily pulls her elbow from my grip as soon as she regains her footing. It irritates me that the scowl on her face is adorable, with her nose scrunched and eyebrows drawn together—though the look is doing nothing to deter from my mission at hand.

  Once again, I hold my hand out. “Keys,” I repeat, staring down the dude who, on closer inspection, has a tattoo of a marijuana leaf peeking out from his neck collar.

  What a fucking keeper, Lily.

  The guy still doesn’t bud
ge.

  Dude, is he broken?

  I shake my head, growing more impatient by the second. It doesn’t help that Lily is barely stable enough on her feet to be standing here for a prolonged period of time. My gaze travels over the bodysuit she has on, the one I watched her steal from Veronica’s closet earlier. The thing has so many ties and see-through parts to it, I’m afraid with one wrong shift of her body she’ll be giving all of Lenny’s a show. Not fucking happening on my watch.

  I count to three in my head, in effort to cling to the last of my thinning patience. Then I clap my hands together, causing the two of them to jump. “Okay, I need her car keys—right now. It’s not a question.” I step closer to the guy, my height a few inches taller than his.

  Finally, the guy grows a freaking brain and pulls her keys from his pocket. I snatch them from his grip with such speed, Lily doesn’t even have time to argue.

  “Say your goodbyes,” I tell her, no longer concerned with the clueless guy she was actually considering going home with.

  Her heart-shaped mouth opens and closes like a fish as she tries to think of an argument. It turns out a few too many shots can diminish Lily’s sassy personality to a certain degree.

  I think I’d rather her witty comebacks—more like insults when aimed at me—than this version of her. But attitude or not, there’s no way on god’s green earth I’m letting her go home with a guy who has a pot leaf tattooed on his damn neck.

  She finally catches up with the conversation, her arm resting on a popped hip. “I’m not saying goodbye! Come on—” she pauses, cautiously looking at the guy, “I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

  I let out a frustrated growl, my fingers wrapping tighter around her keys. Something on her keychain digs into my palm, but I barely notice it over my annoyance.

  “The name’s Chaz.” And I shit you not, he nods his head like his name is impressive.