Pieces of Paisley

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  Pieces of Paisley

  By

  Leigh Ann Lunsford

  Copyright © 2014 by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Edited by Chelsea Kuhel (www.madisonseidler.com)

  Cover Design by Kristen Karwan (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kristen-Karwan-Graphics/218090248223049)

  Image: Shutterstock and Mandy Hollis of MHPhotography

  ISBN 13:978-1502573094

  ISBN 10:1502573091

  Table of Contents

  ProloguePaisley

  Chapter 1Paisley

  Chapter 2Jake

  Chapter 3Paisley

  Chapter 4Jake

  Chapter 5Paisley

  Chapter 6Jake

  Chapter 7Paisley

  Chapter 8Jake

  Chapter 9Paisley

  Chapter 10Jake

  Chapter 11Paisley

  Chapter 12Jake

  Chapter 13Paisley

  Chapter 14Jake

  Chapter 15Paisley

  Chapter 16Jake

  Chapter 17Paisley

  Chapter 18Jake

  Chapter 19Paisley

  Chapter 20Jake

  Chapter 21Paisley

  Part II

  Chapter 22Paisley (Sean)

  Chapter 23Paisley (Kevin)

  Chapter 24Paisley

  Chapter 25Paisley (Ellis)

  Chapter 26Paisley

  Chapter 27Jake

  Chapter 28Paisley (Noah)

  Chapter 29Paisley

  Chapter 30Paisley

  Chapter 31Jake

  Chapter 32Paisley (Wayne)

  Chapter 33Paisley

  Chapter 34Paisley

  Part III

  Chapter 35Jake

  Chapter 36Paisley

  Chapter 37Jake

  Chapter 38Paisley

  Chapter 39Jake

  Chapter 40Paisley

  Chapter 41Jake

  Chapter 42Paisley

  Chapter 43Jake

  Chapter 44Paisley

  Chapter 45Jake

  Chapter 46Paisley

  Chapter 47Jake

  Chapter 48Paisley

  Chapter 49Jake

  Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek of Metamorphosis by Stephie Walls

  Prologue

  Paisley

  It has been said that time heals all wounds. The truth is that time does not heal anything. It merely passes. It is what we do during the passing of time that helps or hinders the healing process.

  Jay Marshall

  Standing in the bathroom of the church holding a pregnancy test that has a positive sign, contemplating not walking down the aisle, is a sure fire way for me not to end up in heaven. Hell . . . that will most likely be my residence in the afterlife.

  My life was all wrapped up in a neat little bow before he came in and set it spinning, both times. White satin swirls around my legs, I have no shoes, a damn tiara on my head (thanks Mom), a church full of guests, and a positive pregnancy test.

  This is the first time in nine years I have ever been close to walking down the aisle. Who am I kidding, this is the first time I ever survived an engagement, and there have been several of those.

  Some would say this is an unfortunate circumstance, but I would have to laugh at them and tell them my entire adult existence has been an unfortunate circumstance.

  What do I do? I know the right thing would be to tell him the truth before I walk down the aisle, ruining his life and his trust, but when was I ever known to do the right thing?

  As I hear the beginning of ‘Amazed’ by Lonestar, my heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. Do I run towards him or run from him? The pounding of my heart is getting louder, and then I realize it is someone banging on the door. I know if I open it he will be on the other side, and I honestly don’t know if I can face him, to see the disappointment in yet another jilted groom’s face. I glance towards the tiny window and make my choice.

  Fate has other plans. As soon as I get that tiny window to budge, the door comes crashing open into the tiny bathroom, and when our eyes meet, the breath leaves my lungs, and I see the sorrow in his eyes, as tears leak slowly down his face.

  Chapter 1

  Paisley

  9 years ago

  June

  Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.

  James A. Baldwin

  Walking into that beach house with my best friend Krista was nothing like I expected. She told me we were hanging out with these guys she had met at the beach a few weeks ago, and they were all in the military. She has been hooking up with one of them, Chad, I think his name was. Her hook-ups and mine aren’t the same thing. I have never “hooked up.” I am sixteen and I have never had a real boyfriend. I had a mad crush on one boy my whole sophomore year, that carried over through the beginning of my junior year, even though he had graduated and clearly moved on. We had a “summer fling,” and when his girlfriend returned from out of town, he decided he wanted her back. I guess I am not approachable, and I have been told I seem closed off or aloof, but I am just naturally shy and insecure.

  I changed high schools for my junior year, needing a change, needing to spread my wings. Being the youngest in a family of six, you tend to not have your own identity. You are Donna’s younger sister, or Aaron’s little sister and off-limits. Not my idea of good times and enjoying my youth. My mom had a shit fit, and I have to admit that was half the appeal. When you have dealt with five other teenagers, by the time you get to the sixth, nothing shocks you anymore, and so I do my part in keeping her on her toes. Now, here it is the summer before my senior year, the first week of summer break, and I am in a house full of men. I may hyperventilate from the hotness that surrounds me. I see several guys in the kitchen doing shots, a girl sitting on the counter in between one guy’s legs and practically having sex in front of everyone. I want to tell her to have some pride and at least take it into the bedroom.

  Krista must spot her man of the month as she gravitates to one of the guys in the living room. In between tongue fucking, she manages to introduce me, and I was right, his name is Chad. He is really cute and seems nice, too bad he will be history in a few weeks at the most. She is a lot more free spirited than I am. I have no issues with that, though, and I am slightly envious I can’t be more carefree. I look up and see the girl that was most recently dry humping on the counter glaring at me. One thing I am not is weak or intimidated by other girls. I throw a look right back at her and see the surprise register in her face. Most people don’t expect me to stick up for myself, but being raised with heathens for brothers and sisters, I have learned to stand my ground. I may be small at barely five feet, but most times I think I am ten feet tall and bullet-proof, especially after some liquid courage, or a couple hits off of a joint. What? I said I was shy and insecure . . . not a saint. I see Skank whisper to the guy she was molesting, and he looks back at us and just shakes his
head. Whatever.

  Chad tells Krista he is going to jump in the shower and will be back in a few minutes. She finally glances back at me, and her smile drops from her face. She knows this is overwhelming for me. I am not a recluse, but I don’t do parties that well; small gatherings of my own age group I am fine, but this is not my comfort zone. When she suggests we walk down to the beach for a little while I agree, but not before making my way into the kitchen to grab a few shots of tequila. I did it mainly because I love tequila but also so I could wipe that smirk off coochie counters face. Luckily, Krista followed me in there and introduces us.

  “Kara, this is my best friend, Paisley.” Oh, said whore has a name . . . Kara. I wait to see what she will do before I respond.

  “Hey,” she barely acknowledges that I am right in front of her. I don’t know what I have done to piss her off in the whole fifteen minutes I have been here.

  “Hey,” I retort back, in the same monotone voice she used. I can see the smile pulling at her lips, but she won’t let it spread across her face. Stubborn bitch, she is.

  “We are going to walk down to the beach and watch the volleyball game going on, do y’all want to come with us?” Damn it all to hell, Krista. I would swear she was stoned if I hadn’t been with her all day. I know she is not that oblivious to the tension between Kara and me.

  Surprisingly, Kara jumps off the counter and gives her pussy pole a quick kiss and follows us out of the kitchen. I take in my surroundings on the way out and surprisingly her man is the only non-attractive male around. Just something about him seems off. But, hell, she isn’t at the top of my list as stellar either. I wonder if it is wrong to want to push your best friend down a flight of stairs for her obvious lack of brain function.

  Once my feet hit the sand all my edginess floats away. I don’t know what it is about the salt water and sand, but my mind always seems to shut off and a peacefulness falls over me. I close my eyes and inhale a deep calming breath. I decide to let the standoff of who can be the bitchiest between Kara and myself fade away. Nothing will invade my tranquil mind. I look over at Krista who is just smiling at me, she knows how I feel about the sand between my toes and the wind blowing my hair across my face.

  “So, are you both cheerleaders?” Kara asks us.

  We both shake our heads no. “Krista was until her car accident, and I was until I switched schools last year, but not at the moment, and no plans in the future.” I study her face and actually see her shoulders ease. What is up with that?

  “Are you?” I ask her.

  “Nope. You just come off as stuck up, and I figured you were.”

  “So all cheerleaders are stuck up? How very judgmental of you. That is like saying all blondes are whores.” I glare at her. Yes, she has blonde hair, and I am trying to make my point that she is being a stereotypical bitch.

  “Touché” she laughs back. I think we just came to a meeting of the minds. She turns to Krista, “So you and Chad?” I try not to laugh. Pairing Krista off with anyone is the fastest way to make her end things. She hasn’t been interested in relationships since her boyfriend of four years fucked her over and slept with half of her friends. Me? Not included in that fuck fest.

  “For now,” Krista answers her back. She doesn’t lie or sugar coat things and is always so damn happy-go-lucky. I swear she is half hippie and definitely doesn’t fit in with her family. They are pretentious assholes, well not her dad and step-mom, but they have a brand new baby and can’t fight her mom and her family.

  “So you and Rick?” she asks Kara.

  “Yep. Getting married in a few months.” Whoa! Marriage?

  “How old are you?” I can’t keep the confusion out of my voice.

  “Seventeen.”

  I drop it for now, I don’t know her well enough, and we have just approached a volleyball game in full swing with lots of man-candy. I need to focus on not drooling.

  Everyone greets the girls and most of the guys just stare at me with open appreciation. I hate that. I am not a piece of meat. Krista eats that shit up, but she is beautiful. Auburn hair, stick straight and shiny, with these beautiful caramel colored eyes. She is what I refer to as a classic beauty. Natural, no make-up, no fuss, and gorgeous. She stands about 5’8” and is all legs and very elegant in the way she carries herself. We are polar opposites. I am short, and I hate it. Being vertically challenged is not fun, especially when your family puts all the good food on the top shelf of the pantry. Assholes.

  I look more like my father’s side of the family with my russet brown hair with lighter highlights (not natural) and hazel eyes. I don’t really know my father’s side of the family, but I have seen pictures. I have been raised by my mom and step-dad, but my mom is fair and blonde. Luckily, I tan very easily and am golden almost all year round. Being short and very tiny in frame, most guys look at me as easy to manipulate. Then I open my mouth and that thought goes out of their minds. Maybe that is the real reason I haven’t had a boyfriend . . .

  Holy shit, who is that walking towards us? I kick Krista to convey my message and before she can answer me I hear Kara snicker. I don’t have time to worry about her. Mr. Hottie is in front of me. He smiles down at me, and I think I may stop breathing. His hair is dark brown and has a slight wave to it, he isn’t short, but not overly tall but his chest, which is on full display is a sight. “I’m Toby,” he tells me.

  “Paisley,” I respond back and am thankful I got that out, seeing as how all the saliva in my mouth has dried up.

  “Who are you here with?” Toby asks me.

  I point to Krista, and he smiles. He grabs her in a big hug and asks her where Chad is.

  “He is taking a shower and Paisley here was in need of some fresh air away from the overload of the house.” Krista explains to him.

  “Overwhelmed up there?” he sincerely asks me.

  “Yes.” I tell him. I am acting timid, and I don’t know this side of myself.

  “Krista, if Chad is up for it why don’t we get out of the house tonight. We could go to the movies or whatever.” He is speaking to her but looking at me. Is he suggesting the four of us go . . . like a double date? Before I can react, some girl has pushed her way into the circle and stands right next to him.

  “Who are you?” she spits at me. Oh God, what is with the girls around here?

  “Um, I’m Paisley. And you are?” I know I have just rolled my head and given off major attitude.

  “My name is Shayna; I am Toby’s girlfriend?” The way she posed that as a question, seemingly very unsure about her relationship status, makes it hard for me not to laugh. First, at her staking her claim to someone who was just hitting on me, and two, when I see the absolute shock on his face at her announcement.

  “That relationship may need some clarification to your boyfriend,” I tell her calmly. When she throws her arms down to her side and steps forward I know this isn’t going to end well.

  “Bitch, I just got out of juvie. I am not afraid to go back,” she tells me. Who the hell admits that?

  “First, my name is Paisley, not bitch. Second, is that supposed to impress me that you were only able to call your parents collect?” I say as I step towards her.

  Before it can escalate, Kara, of all people, steps between us and tells Shayna to chill and take her shit up with Toby. She herds Krista and me up the beach and towards the door. Before going in she smiles at me, “I think I just met my new best friend, and make sure you remember the name Jake.” Cryptic much? Before I can respond, her fiancé comes barreling towards the door, grabs her arm and tells her to drive him to the store because he is too trashed. He seriously oozes douche-canoe.

  Krista spots Chad in the kitchen at the make shift bar, and he motions us over there. I immediately reach for another shot and Krista hands me some concoction of sugary sweet liquor. Krista relays the story of the beach to Chad, and he just laughs. The volleyball game must have ended because the hoard of males make their way into the kitchen, with sweat and sand st
icking to them, and I find it getting warmer in here. It could be the tequila, but I am doubtful.

  Shayna makes her way over to me, and I immediately put down my drink. She shakes her head at me, telling me I didn’t need to do that.

  “Listen, I was out of line. Sorry for being a bitch. Toby and I have issues, and I don’t react well to his extra-curricular activities.”

  I get it. Pseudo-boyfriend, albeit hot as hell, is also a bastard. I meet his eyes over her head and flip him off. When he lets out a chuckle and heads over towards us, whatever he was going to say is cut off when everyone starts yelling and cheering as the door is thrown open with “I’m free,” being screamed over the noise. Everyone rushes out of the kitchen, and I hear a lot of “welcome back” and “did you break out” and lots of “how is your jaw?” Those are all accompanied with man hugs, back patting, fist bumping, and loud-ass cheers. I am too short to get a look at the prodigal friend who has obviously been “locked up” . . . or whatever. I may cut my best friend for bringing me to this fucking halfway house.

  Every nasty thought about how I am going to carve Krista up flies out of my mind, and all I see is cupid with his droopy diaper and bow and arrow as my eyes meet the most beautiful specimen ever created. I stare into his beautiful mocha colored eyes and remind myself to breathe. His sandy brown hair is cut in a typical surfer boy cut, a little longer in the front . . . and good Lord his body. It is covered up, but I can just tell he is built. Tall, over six feet and just oozing confidence. He has some damn blue coverall things on, and as unsexy as they would be on anybody else, he makes them look hot.

  Chad slips out of Krista’s arms and meets him halfway. They exchange a man-hug and you can see the genuine affection between them. The bromance seems to have been cemented. Krista leans over and whispers, “That is Chad’s best friend here. He has been in the brig for fighting, and Chad has been like a lost puppy.” What the hell is the brig and how does Krista know this terminology. Before I can ask her she is swept up in Chad’s arms being carried through the house.