by Kyra Lennon
Unintended
Kyra Lennon
Contents
Foreword
Acknowledgements
1. Evie
2. Ash
3. Evie
4. Ash
5. Evie
6. Ash
7. Evie
8. Ash
9. Evie
10. Ash
11. Evie
12. Ash
13. Evie
14. Evie
15. Ash
16. Evie
17. Evie
18. Ash
19. Evie
20. Ash
21. Evie
22. Ash
23. Evie
24. Evie
25. Ash
26. Evie
27. Ash
28. Evie
29. Ash
30. Evie
31. Evie
32. Ash
33. Evie
34. Ash
35. Evie
36. Ash
37. Evie
38. Ash
39. Evie
40. Evie
Epilogue
Helpful Resources
Reviews
Other books by Kyra Lennon
About the Author
Copyright 2019 © Kyra Lennon
All rights reserved in all media. This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.
All characters and events featured in this book are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any person, organisation, place or thing is purely coincidental and completely unintentional.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
Unintended covers some heart-breaking topics, so if you are sensitive to emotional triggers, this might not be for you. Please proceed with caution. These characters are flawed, and make decisions based on their emotions, so I ask you to keep an open mind.
I have added helplines at the end of the book for anyone who might need help in dealing with any of the topics covered inside the book.
As always, it’s really hard to know where to begin with acknowledgements as there are always so many people to thank, and by the time I finish writing a book, my brain is usually frazzled!
Firstly, thank you to Sarah Ferguson for naming Ash. I had the hardest time finding the right name for him, but you nailed it!
Kelly McMullen Lowe and Toya Richardson – You two are my constant support system in all things writing. I am so happy to know you. I love you both enormously!
Kirsty-Anne Still – You get me. No matter what I want in a cover, even when I don’t always know exactly what that is, you get it right every time. Unintended is beautiful because of you!
Angelina Smith – You are the genius of all beta readers. This book would have gone out riddled with wrong dates if it weren’t for your sharp eye. Your input has been invaluable and I cannot thank you enough!
Clare Dugmore – As always, you have been fantastic throughout this journey, with your super fast beta reading and helpful comments. I don’t know what I would do without you!
Give Me Books Promotions – You guys have been fab throughout the process of publishing Unintended. I appreciate you so much!
The members of Lennon’s Lovelies – You more than anyone know the struggles I’ve had with this book, and you have been so awesome with your support, always making me laugh and helping to share my books with others. Best reader group ever!
And finally, the last acknowledgement is to the one person who has had to put up with my epic stress levels, especially over the last few weeks of writing. Richard – you have been patient in the extreme, and I can’t even explain how much it means to have you on my side, picking me up on the bad days (and there have been a lot of those!). I love you so much. Thank you for everything. <3
I lowered my head, trying to avoid getting my feet stomped on by the masses of rock fans jumping up and down to the pounding beats of the band playing inside the club. The bass vibrated through me to the point where I could feel it rattling my insides. My heart felt like it might explode from my chest at any second, and the intensity of the strobe lights added to my need to get outside. My palms were sweating.
I was too hot.
I couldn’t catch my breath.
Why the hell was the exit so far away?
I glanced up and a beam of strobe lighting hit me right in the eyes. I stumbled, blinking rapidly to try and clear my vision, but I still knocked into a couple of people. They didn’t notice because everyone was knocking into each other in time to the music. I was getting covered in other people’s perspiration, flinching with every drop that hit me, and I straightened up as best as I could and continued to fight my way to the door. With every step closer, my heart thudded harder with the anticipation, and as I finally crashed through the door, I gulped in air, spluttering as my lungs tried to keep up with my irregular breaths. I stumbled a few more steps forward, the cold air and the light rain on my skin a relief after the heat of the club. When I’d got my breathing settled, the rain started to fall harder, and I fumbled through my bag and pulled out my umbrella, popping it up and holding it over me to keep me dry. I slowly made my way towards the bridge across the River Exe on the Quay in Exeter. My entire body was still shaking as I took tentative steps, repeating over and over to myself, ‘It’s okay. You’re okay.’
Even in my anxious state, I could appreciate the beauty of where I stood. In the dark, all of the bars and clubs were illuminated with bright lights, the colours shimmering on the water that rippled with the increasing raindrops. I kept my focus on those ripples as I drew in long breaths, letting them out slowly until my body began to settle and the winter air bit at my bare arms.
“Are you okay?”
I jumped, turning around to see a guy sitting on the bridge’s railing, facing me. In my rush to get my anxiety under control, I hadn’t seen him. There probably could have been a knife-wielding maniac standing there and I still wouldn’t have spotted him. That’s anxiety for you. In one way, it made me hyper aware of every potential danger, but at its height, I struggled to see or notice anything around me until I felt safe again.
Wondering why he hadn’t run for cover from the downpour—he was getting soaked—I said, “Yeah. I’m okay. Thanks.”
He jerked his head towards the club. “Did you just come from in there?”
“Yeah. That’ll teach me to try something new.”
The guy jumped down from the railing and straightened up. There was concern in his blue eyes but he still looked slightly wary. Not surprising, really. I’d shot out of a rock club and shattered his peace. “Something new?”
Shaking my head, I said, “It doesn’t matter.”
That wasn’t true. Not at all. It did matter. It mattered because of the promises I’d made to myself. My first real challenge and I’d already let myself down.
Christ, it really was cold and the rain was hammering now. November winds were unforgiving. I wrapped my free arm around myself, rubbing my hand up and down. I should have brought a jacket.
You should have stayed at home, Evie, you idiot.
The guy lowered his head, and I stepped closer to him, raising my umbrella and moving it over him to give him some cover. I figured I’d probably taken up enough of his time already, the least I could do was stop him catching a cold.
I must have looked ridiculous to him. I was a grown woman having a panic attack, and he was… I had no idea what he’d been doing out there. He must have been freezing too. He wore blue jeans and a black
t-shirt with Youth Authority’s logo on the front, his clothes starting to cling to him from the rain. His accent was slightly northern. Manchester, maybe?
My eyes narrowed with curiosity. “You were in there too?”
He nodded but didn’t offer any further explanation. I was torn between asking questions and leaving him alone, but he looked a little lost. There was something in his eyes that I recognised.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Again, he nodded. A man of few words. After a few more beats of silence, I figured he just didn’t want to talk to a stranger, so I sighed and readjusted my handbag strap on my shoulder. As I turned to walk away, he said, “The support act was shit.”
I halted my steps. “I thought so too. But I also thought I could handle this kind of gig, so I don’t trust my own judgement anymore.” I heard him chuckle and I turned to face him again, once again raising my umbrella for him. “What? Do I not look like I belong in there?” I glanced down at my outfit and snorted out a laugh. I’d worn black jeans and a black t-shirt with a purple gothic angel on the front. Not my usual attire, but what the hell did I know about places like that? I may have been wearing the right clothing—kind of—but I was sure everything about me screamed that I wasn’t supposed to be there.
“No, of course not,” the guy said quickly. “You look fine.”
Even in the dark, I could see his cheeks flush and I bit my lip to stop myself laughing. The blush didn’t entirely match his look; dark hair, beard, tall and broad-shouldered. He didn’t look like a man who blushed. He wasn’t setting off my weirdo radar though, so I said, “Why are you out here? Surely the support act wasn’t so bad that you had to miss the main event too?”
“I meant to go back in. But…” He shrugged.
“Aren’t you cold?” I eyed his exposed arms and he shivered.
“Yeah.”
I was usually pretty good at reading people, but I couldn’t decide if he wanted to keep talking to me or not. I felt as though I’d interrupted him in a moment of deep thought, which, of course, I hadn’t meant to do. Now we were just two strangers standing on a bridge.
“Are you going back in?” he asked.
I glanced over at the club, the music perfectly audible from where we stood. In fact, it sounded better. I could hear the lyrics properly now, while inside it just sounded like noise.
“I don’t think so. This was a mistake.”
A massive, somewhat costly mistake. Because what had I even achieved? I’d basically driven down south to watch a band that hadn’t released any tour dates closer to home, spent an insanely long time trying to build my confidence enough to spend two nights alone in a hotel, and still not managed to see the damn band I’d paid to see because I’d freaked out. During the totally crap support act, I’d found a seat as far back as the club allowed, and it meant a large part of the noise and vibrations was cancelled out. I’d thought I was okay enough to get closer to the stage when the main act began, but I had totally underestimated how crazy rock fans are, especially when they’ve been drinking.
“I’m not going back in either,” the guy said. “I’m not really feeling it anymore.”
“Okay.”
Well, this is awkward…
I needed to get back to my hotel. All I wanted was a hot cup of tea and to climb into the king-sized bed to warm up. But it also felt oddly wrong to leave this guy behind. I couldn’t explain it, but something told me he was lonely, and that was the worst feeling in the world. When he didn’t speak for another few moments, I decided perhaps being alone was what he wanted and I said, “I think I’m going to go. It was nice meeting you.”
He gave me a small smile. “You too.”
With a roll of my eyes, I read the text message on my phone screen. Evie, please. I need to see you x
I threw my phone back in my bag and sank down onto the bed in my hotel room.
What a total freaking disappointment the evening had been.
It was supposed to be the start of something for me. The start of learning to live again, but, as it turned out, I still wasn’t ready. I sat on the bed in my hotel room and threw my head back in defeat.
This was it. This was going to be my life. Sure, occasionally my still-married friends would go out for dinner with me, or to the local pub, but if I wanted to do something that was supposed to be a blowing off steam, slightly wild night out, I was on my own. And since it was clear I couldn’t even do that right, I was destined for evenings in front of the TV, watching soaps and slowly losing my mind until I reached old age and vanished from the world with nobody to notice I was gone.
Get. A. Grip.
This was a totally normal thought process for me, though, and had been since my divorce two years ago. It wasn’t even an awful divorce, really. It didn’t have any of the animosity other couples had to deal with, and yet it had still left me feeling worthless. Soulless. That was why I’d ignored the text from him. My ex, Jay. This wasn’t the time.
I’d hoped I’d return from my night out with a satisfied smile that I’d achieved something new.
It might have been crappy, but I had done it.
Then why didn’t I feel even the slightest sense of achievement?
Because you didn’t enjoy it. Because you felt out of place.
My anxiety had well and truly kicked my ass. Again.
Even though I was tired from my earlier panic attack, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep yet.
“Screw it.”
I spoke the words into the empty room. I took off my t-shirt and grabbed my favourite oversized grey woolly jumper from my bag. I loved the fact that it was so big, and the sleeves were too long. It was totally unflattering, but what did I care? I pulled my rain-damp dark brown hair over my shoulder and secured it with a hairband, picked up my phone, purse, and key card, and headed downstairs to the bar.
It was a Saturday night, and the bar was still busy at ten-thirty. I assumed for some of the dressed up people, their evening hadn’t even started yet. For others, the bar was a place to chat with friends or colleagues, and while I felt self-conscious about drinking alone in public, I figured none of these people would ever see me again, so what did it matter?
I ordered a white wine spritzer then settled down in a large, squishy chair at a table in the back corner of the room. Although the hotel wasn’t especially expensive, the inside was immaculate and the bar area classy. I felt comfortable for the first time in several hours, and I relaxed back into my seat, pulling out my phone to read a book via my trusty Kindle app. I also owned a real Kindle and an iPad, but I hadn’t brought either of those things with me. The app was perfect, and with my drink in my free hand, I felt the last of my tension drifting away as I got swept away within the pages.
“Erm… hi.”
I wasn’t sure the words were directed at me until I became aware of a slight shadow at my side. I lifted my head, only to see Bridge Guy standing awkwardly beside me.
“Oh. Hi.”
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said quickly. “I saw you as I came in.” I noticed he’d changed his clothes since he was now in a dry pair of jeans and a different t-shirt. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
“You’re staying here too?” I asked.
Duh. Why the hell else would he be in here, you dope.
He nodded. “Yeah. I travelled down from Manchester and it’s a bit cold for camping.”
I laughed lightly. “I thought I recognised the accent. I live in Stockport. What are the chances?”
“I’d say pretty high when Youth Authority doesn’t play any gigs nearby. You must be a big fan to come all the way down here though.”
Shrugging, I said, “It was something I had on my to-do list.” I said the words casually, as if trying to achieve things on my own wasn’t the big deal it truly was. “I guess I can cross it off, even though I didn’t survive the show.”
“You tried. That counts.”
Bridge Guy still looked a little ill at e
ase, so I gestured to the chair opposite mine. He glanced from me to the seat then sat down, perching on the edge as if unsure. “You sure you don’t mind?” he asked. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
I shook my head. “I was reading, but the book isn’t going anywhere.” I placed my phone down on the table and he slowly sat back. “Do you have a name?” I asked, with a small smile. Maybe it would feel less weird if I stopped calling him Bridge Guy in my head.
“Ashley,” he said. “But most people call me Ash.”
“I’m Evangeline. Evie.”
“Evangeline. That’s unusual.”
“My parents are unusual,” I joked.
Ash smiled. “In a good way?”
“I was kidding. I can’t say I know all that much about my dad, but my mum… well, she has her moments.”
Mostly these days, those moments are all about her asking me when I’m going to find someone new. Yawn.
“I don’t know much about my dad either,” Ash said, sitting back.
“So we already have two things in common.”
I startled myself, both with the tiny hint of sarcasm in my tone, and the fact that it sounded like I was trying to find some common ground with him. I didn’t want him to think I was hitting on him. He looked… well, younger than me.
“You mean neither of us wanted to stay until the end of the gig?” he asked.