No More Heartache: The MORE Duet

by Anders, Tarrah

  No More Heartache

  The MORE Duet

  Tarrah Anders

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 / 2019– TARRAH ANDERS

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  Tarrah Anders | Tarrah Anders, LLC Tarrah.anders@gmail.com |www.tarrahanders.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Formatting: Tarrah Anders, LLC

  Cover: The Sinful Cover Hoarder

  Ordering Information: No More Heartache

  ISBN: 9780463763247 | 9781671351653

  People deserve special chances.

  Don’t discount those who need help, they may have experienced something tragic.

  Be there for others.

  Contents

  DISCLAIMER

  House Rules

  Prologue

  1. Max

  2. Davis

  3. Max

  4. Davis

  5. Max

  6. Davis

  7. Max

  8. Davis

  9. Max

  10. Davis

  11. Max

  12. Davis

  13. Max

  14. Davis

  15. Tatum

  16. Max

  17. Tatum

  18. Max

  19. Tatum

  20. Max

  21. Tatum

  22. Max

  23. Tatum

  24. Max

  25. Tatum

  26. Max

  27. Tatum

  28. Max

  29. Tatum

  30. Max

  31. Tatum

  32. Max

  33. Tatum

  34. Max

  35. Tatum

  36. Max

  37. Tatum

  Epilogue

  Epilogue #2

  Dear Friends,

  Also by Tarrah Anders

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  DISCLAIMER

  This story is a standalone, but interconnected.

  MORE THAN FRIENDS includes some details about this book, that would make more sense, should you read that first.

  However, you can read the prologue as well and get a gist.

  With that being said, there are two parts to this book.

  Part one may piss people off, because some like to think that our heroes do not get down and busy with anyone except our heroine.

  However, our hero has to go through a lot of motions, in order to be the man that our heroine deserves.

  House Rules

  Always have an abundance of pineapples.

  No hammering until noon on the weekends.

  No see through tank tops

  Be honest with another.

  No dating other people

  No sex for 1 month.

  Make time for date nights.

  Prologue

  I slowly open my eyes, sounds are muffled, my whole body is screaming in pain and there are shards of glass everywhere. I try to turn my head to look at Betsy, but she’s not sitting in the driver’s seat anymore and there’s a large hole in the windshield. My body jerks as I pull against the seatbelt that I’m wearing, but it’s not releasing me.

  My hand goes to my pants pocket and finds my phone. I dial for Dane, my best friend. My vision is blurry, but as I squint my eyes I can barely make out a form several feet in front of the car. In the distance, I hear sirens as my hearing comes back to me.

  I need to get to her, she needs me!

  On the form in front of the car, I see a part of the blue dress that Betsy was wearing, and I fight the vomit wanting to come out. My vision suddenly is crowded by tears and a strange noise comes out of my throat.

  I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose as I suck in air.

  “Hey buddy, can you tell us where you are right now?” Dane asks me over the phone.

  Forgetting that I dialed him, my voice is gravelly as I speak. “On the side of the 15, the police and ambulance are on the way…” I try to move my leg but the excruciating pain that follows the movement makes me cry out in pain. “Crash… blood… glass…Bets!”

  “Max, I need you to stay on the phone with me buddy. Where is Betsy?” Dane asks.

  “I don’t… I don’t know….” The sirens are louder now and I hear the shuffling of feet coming closer, faint yelling from several people as the passenger door opens.

  “Sir, we’re going to need to get you out of there. Sir, can you understand me?” I’m looking at the paramedic, but I don’t see him – he’s a blob of a person. I can hear him, but I’m not able to speak to him. I’m feeling faint as I mumble Betsy’s name.

  “Sir, can you open your eyes for me?” A voice requests.

  The voice then says to someone else presumably next to him. “He’s on the phone.”

  Then closer to the phone and we assume to Max the voice asks; “Sir, may we see your telephone?”

  I hand over the phone without realizing it.

  “Hello, I’m Officer Daniels. Who am I speaking with?” The voice says into my phone, just beside me. “Sir, your friend has been in a collision with an 18-wheeler and another vehicle. It appears the driver was discharged from the vehicle during said collision. Your friend, Max appears to be fine, but we will be taking him and the driver via ambulance to Mercy.” Officer Daniels explains as he’s silent, listening to Dane speak on the other end. “I cannot confirm nor deny sir. We have someone attending to the individual right now.”

  I feel a bit of release as the seatbelt is cut and I’m freed from the confines. Then hands are grasping my arms and as they pull me out of the car, the world goes black.

  1

  Max

  Today marks the one-year anniversary of my girlfriend’s death; a year since my life flashed before my eyes and the woman that I loved so desperately died in a car accident that I ended up surviving. It should have been the other way around. My thoughts are conflicting, I should have died, we both should have died, either scenarios would be ten times better than living without her. I’m desperate for her touch, just one more touch from Betsy and for that split second, I would be so happy. All I need is a second chance. If only I was paying more attention to the road and our surroundings. Granted, as the passenger that shouldn’t be my focus, but still if that was what I was doing, rather than trying to distract Betsy, we would never have gotten in that accident.

  My girlfriend Betsy was driving, needless to say she flew out the windshield and I had a busted leg. I had to have a crazy surgery right away since some of my bone was coming out of my leg. I didn’t know Betsy had died until I woke up from surgery the next day. Life hasn’t been the same since. I went through so many emotions and eventually all my emotions ceased and I became who I am today.

  I fuck for fun, basically because I don’t want to feel anything since my girlfriend died and I don’t. Again, I should have been the one who died and not her.

  Instead, I'm sitting in a bar with my head down, and a semi-empty glass in my hand.

  Wait;
does that make her my ex-girlfriend? Does that essentially make me a widow? Can a man be a widow or is that strictly a word for women? Ugh, I need another drink.

  I snicker to myself and shake my head clear of such thoughts.

  The only reason I'm still alive today is because of my best friend's Dane, Sterling, and Lucas. Without their persistent meddling, I would have been dead in a ditch. I should be the one dead, not Betsy.

  I've fucked half of the chicks who’ve come across my path since, never asking for many personal details, giving them the 'bad boy' glimpse and thrill of a one night stand. Thankfully, most of them leave that same night without a word, which is every man’s dream when he has no desire to commit. I have one repeat however; a guaranteed lay and that chick knows the score. Boy, was that was a fun conversation to have. Sometimes I remember, sometimes I don’t. I don’t care either way, there’s just the thrill of getting my dick wet that’s captivating me, not the feelings that could get involved nowadays. I go out to the bar with the intent to get drunk and to fuck.

  I don’t have feelings anymore, at least I try my best not to as it doesn’t get me anywhere. I put on a semi-happy face for my friends and family, but as soon as I can take off my day mask, game on. I spend my free time at the bars and between the sheets. I frequent a rotation of 4 different bars in my neighborhood, just in case someone wants to try to have an intervention and bar-block me. After the accident, I stayed with Sterling and Dane and fucked like crazy on their couch, it apparently got so bad that they refused to sit on the couch, so I bought them a new one. Sterling, God bless her heart, pretended to be my girlfriend to a lot of nameless (and faceless, since I don’t remember most of them) blondes each time to run them out of the house before I even woke up. I chilled a bit on my hook ups and kept them in the spare bedroom which I was staying at. The majority of my hook ups took place at the chick’s house, so that way I could just leave. Doing all this with my leg in a cast proved to be challenging, but it made things interesting to say the least, it was always a conversation starter, hell sometimes the chick took pity on me.

  Today, I’m avoiding my friends and family to drown in my misery in peace. I know that today must suck for them too, but I just need to dwell alone. Hell, I might even go home alone tonight, most likely won't be able to get it up anyways.

  The brunette at the end of the bar keeps looking over at me and while on any normal night, I’d be up for adventure, I don’t return her flirty stare and continue staring straight ahead of me at the wall.

  The screen on my cell lights up for what seems like the thousandth time since sitting on this stool, I glance at the screen, just another person calling to check in on me and console me. I let the call go to voicemail since I’m sure that if I open my mouth to speak about the event that I would break down or be a complete dick. That’s not something I intend to do. That would be feeling, hence why I’m signaling the bartender for another drink. Let’s drown in my sorrows.

  The bar stool beside me scrapes as someone sits down on it, out of my peripheral vision I can see my little brother leaning both of his elbows on the bar top.

  “I’ve been to at least 5 different bars and I find you at the one within walking distance to the house.” He sighs.

  I smirk. I’m a smart drinker at least, no drinking and driving for me.

  After moving back into my house, my little brother, Davis came to live with me. He had just finished college and was in the middle of finding his dream job and avoid sleeping in his childhood bedroom at our parents. He was just as tall as I am, but much more muscular whereas I’m lean and toned. He’s clean shaven, whereas I have scruff and while I keep my brown hair short, he keeps his shaggy. You wouldn’t think that we were related now, but growing up we were very similar in looks even though we are 5 years apart.

  When the bartender brings me my scotch, Davis asks for a beer.

  “So how was your day?” Davis asks taking a sip of his beer after it was placed in front of him.

  I raise my eyebrow and cock my head. Really?

  “The strong silent type tonight, eh?” He eggs. “I get it, am I cramping your game tonight bro?”

  I shake my head and continue sipping on my drink.

  “Cool, we’ll just sit here for a bit then.” Davis says.

  “Today’s not really the night to fuck with me Dav.” I manage to speak in a raspy voice since I’ve hardly uttered a word in the past several hours.

  “Oh, I know exactly what today is, but I’m not letting you sit and think about today alone, even though you are ignoring everyone’s calls to you.”

  “I don’t need anyone’s pity.” I don’t know if he even heard me.

  “It’s not pity buddy, it’s friendship, it’s family, it’s love.” Davis tries to point out.

  “If you say so.”

  We sat there, with Davis rattling on about whatever jobs he’s been applying to. Even though he is an education major, I’ve offered to hire him at The Crawford Hunter and Harris Group, but he’s denied it for the time being, something about rather working in his field that he worked hard for. So, he submits resumes, goes on job interviews and hangs out at the gym. He has a girlfriend; she’s in her final year of college at State so she’s not around too much, but she’s very nice and uncomplicated which is ideal for my house right now.

  “Are you taking any tokens home tonight?” Davis asks looking around. He refers to my hook-ups as tokens. It doesn’t bother me that he knows of my dalliances but today it does.

  “Tonight, I plan to stumble home – hence why I chose this bar. Then face plant into my bed or the couch- whichever one I land in first and pass out. There will be no extracurricular activity happening in the nether regions of my body tonight. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He smiles.

  “No matter how much I generally enjoy your company little brother, I didn’t make this plan with you in mind. No offence.” I say looking at the line-up of the hard alcohol along the bar wall in front of me.

  “Oh, I know that. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving.” He signals for another beer, as if he’s staying for an extended period of time, I notice he still hasn’t drank half of his current beer. “I’ll get shitty with you.”

  I sigh and just let it be. There’s no reason to get angry at him, plus the intention is to not remember today even happened, tomorrow it will be as if he never joined me.

  * * *

  “15 bottles of beer on the wall….” I think that’s where I’m at in the song. My brother’s arm is pretty much holding me up and he’s laughing at me as he unlocks the front door.

  “I hope you can undress yourself, because I’m not doing it for you.” He states as we pour ourselves into the front room.

  “No need sir, I shall sleep in whatever I wear at this present time.” I mock with a horrible English accent.

  He rolls his eyes at me and turns on the kitchen light. A moment later he presses a glass of water in my hands and stares at me until I drink it.

  He’s just like our mother.

  “I really shoulda brought home that brunette from the bar. She looked nice.” I say.

  Thank goodness I’m a happy drunk right now. That too fluctuates, I’m sure if Davis never showed up, my mood would have been dark. But since he forced himself onto my party of one evening, I’m not the angry drunk I was planning to be tonight or most nights. And by most nights, I mean pretty much every night. I’m like a superhero in that sense as by day I am a professional bad ass engineer. Then by night, I turn into the wild and crazy raging but functional alcoholic and womanizer.

  Thankfully, with today being Saturday, I can sleep off a hangover in peace at home rather than work. I won’t feel guilty for biting off staffs heads for walking into my office, or I won’t have to face my best buddy Dane. Although, I’m sure either he or Sterling, his wife would be stopping by at some point tomorrow since I have ignored all their attempts to contact me today or yesterday since today is technicall
y tomorrow.

  I turn to walk into my bedroom and fall face first as I said I would.

  2

  Davis

  My brother is a “Grade A” dick. While I completely understand that he’s grieving the anniversary of a shitty day and would rather have sat in his own misery alone last night, he still made everyone of his friends worry about him. This of course made me worry, so I went on a witch hunt for him. I tied a good one on last night too, just to refrain from yanking him off his barstool and down the street to the house. Luckily, the mood he was in last night was a happier one than some nights that I’ve witnessed. He seemed like he wanted to punch me when I first sat down, but as the night went on, he became less hostile and more a happy drunk.

  My head is killing me as I pop some aspirin and chug a glass of water. I had plans to go for a run this morning, but now I just will settle to make some eggs and toast. My body is exhausted from the amount of alcohol I put in it last night, protein would be best.