HARDPRESSED (Ocean Falls Trilogy Book 1)

by Peyton Storm

  HARDPRESSED

  Peyton Storm

  Copyright © Peyton Storm

  First edition published October 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor Charlie Knight

  Cover design by Destiny Hawkins at Vibrant Designs

  Book design by Eliott Griffen

  HARDPRESSED

  After the passing of his mother, then sixteen year old Greyson Ty Thomas, aka Tack, was forced to live with his uncle in Ocean Falls, a sleepy, coastal Texas town. While Uncle Jake worked long hours at the local chemical plant, Greyson spent his time training, with dreams of leaving it all behind once he was drafted into the National Football League. Until he met her.

  Presley Rae Manning, the apple of her father’s eye, grew up without her mother. She’d walked out when Pres was a small child and never looked back. Eventually, the small home she shared with her father was filled with music, as she discovered her love of dance. The small town sweetheart was destined to shine. Until she met him.

  Hardpressed is a scorching, fast paced, second chance romance that pushes the envelope, heightens the senses and redefines the meaning of family.

  To Becca and Miranda, who threatened to show up at my front door if I didn’t finish this story.

  *

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  “I need to take a dip.”

  I hopped down from the hood of his jeep and followed him into the waves. He disappeared for a brief moment, but once he resurfaced, I took pause. Once the warm months returned, the Texas sun lightened the ends of his hair, a brilliant platinum, and left bronze kisses along his skin.

  The ocean trickled down the center of his back as he continued to ignore my call. I didn’t have all the answers or the words he wanted to hear. That night and everything that followed was a blur, hard to decipher. With feelings both old and new, there would be no quick fix. But we loved each other, and somehow, we’d make it through to the other side.

  When my arms wrapped around his waist, he placed his hands over mine. I’d just rested my cheek on his back when he turned to me, grumbled, and lifted me to wrap my legs around him. He made out like it was because while the water was waist-deep for him, not so much for me. I told myself that despite the current state of our relationship, still, he wanted me close.

  He turned us so that the waves would break against my back. It was just one of the many things I loved about our beach and the time we spent there. Only this time was darker than all the rest. My eyes were rimmed with tears while he stood stone-faced, careful not to break.

  “Greyson,” I breathed.

  And while he pressed his lips to mine, he stopped just short of surrendering completely.

  “Say it. Please,” he mumbled against my lips.

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t say the words. Not because they weren’t true, but because there was still so much yet to be figured out.

  “I should take you home.”

  His voice had grown cold, void of any and all emotion. With a simple nod, the wind left my hair a tangled mess that wrapped around my face and carried my tears out to sea.

  There was always tomorrow, I thought. Only there wasn’t.

  Chapter 1

  Six years later...

  Greyson

  Fucking Dax. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the man. He’d been my agent since before the ink on my high school diploma was even dry. I owed him more than I’d ever be able to repay even if my NFL career were a mere fraction of what he predicted it would be. Times like this, though…

  “Damn it, Tack! I know you’re in there! Open the door before I kick this fucker in!”

  And he would. Dax had his own stint in college ball, but a torn ACL ended his career before it really got started. His passion for the game never left him, though. The burly bastard was an agent, trainer, and Mother Hen all wrapped in two hundred plus pounds of pissed.

  Peeling my eyes open took a lot more effort than it should have, an instant mistake. Why did it feel like there was sand in my sockets? What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  Even Dax steadily pounding on the door couldn’t drown out the garish snore thundering from my right. Fuck. Bottle Job Blondie was still gripping her bottle of Jack. The damn thing was wedged between her tits, also store-bought. Thank Christ my jeans were still on. How much did I have to drink last night anyway? I don’t even like blondes, store-bought or otherwise, and those inflated plastic tits of hers could have stood on their fucking own.

  “Get out.”

  Shit. Apparently the sand had made its way down my throat as well. I had better get this over with. I couldn’t say that I minded the convenient ‘out’ Dax provided. I needed that chick out of there, like yesterday. Thank fuck she wasn’t the talkative type. Dax, however…

  “Bout fucking time! Look at you! I want that broad outta here right fucking now and your sorry ass in the shower. And where is your fucking bag?”

  “Hello to you too, D.” I was at least beginning to recognize my own voice again.

  He ushered the girl out as quickly as possible, with cab fare to boot.

  “Don’t start, kid. Did I not tell you to move your ass? We have a plane to catch!”

  I didn’t need to meet his gaze to know he was nearing his limit. Even though I gave Dax shit at every turn, I did consider him a friend, albeit one that didn’t know when to back the fuck off.

  Half the time, I pushed his patience because I was a dick, but right then...shit, if he only knew. I couldn’t go back there. I couldn’t risk seeing her, I wouldn’t.

  “Look, I know it isn’t a red carpet or Nike knocking down your door, but you need this!”

  “The hell I do. I don’t need some hick Texas town in order to snag the first round!”

  Now nose to nose, Dax felt otherwise. “That hick town paved your way, you ungrateful prick! That hick town put your sorry ass on the map. It’s a simple dedication ceremony. We’ll be in and out. And while you may be a defensive line coach’s wet dream, at the end of the day, you’re a risk. The tabloids…shit, the mug shots! They ain’t doin’ you no
favors. Go to Texas, shake some hands, hold a baby, and for fuck’s sake smile for once!”

  He was right. I’d fucked my image three ways to Sunday, and now my career was at risk. I’d already lost her; my career was all I had. Without it, I have nothing. I am nothing.

  “Greyson, you promised you would make it on time. You weren’t even late, you just didn’t show at all!” She knows those big brown eyes get to me, but why can’t she see?!

  “We’re talking STATE here, babe! I gotta practice. Besides…” I try smoothing things over, pulling her up against me. “I’ve seen you dance, you’re great. Now, I won’t say no to a private showing if that’s what you had in mind.”

  If. Looks. Could. Kill.

  Okay…so she isn’t in a playful mood.

  “Pres, come on. I’m sorry, okay?”

  Her eyes well up even more.

  “Kay,” she whispers before turning to walk away.

  “Pres…” Great. She won’t even look at me. “Pres, wait. Pres!”

  “Calm down, Tack! The press is a given, but I got you covered.”

  So I’d been talking in my sleep. Great.

  Dax.

  Plane.

  No Pres in sight.

  “Right. Thanks.”

  Dax thought of everything. I should’ve been reassured, but looking at the cap, Ray Bans, and little bottle of eye drops he handed me only reaffirmed that I was a fuck up, and he made his living cleaning up my messes.

  With a groan of dread, I made use of the drops and pulled my cap down low. I may have been an asshole, but even I drew the line at wearing shades indoors.

  I was grateful for the less than chaotic scene as we made our way through the airport to the car waiting for us after the flight from Philly. At the same time, with the draft just a few months away, one would think there would be a bigger media presence for the projected first-round pick going home.

  No, not home, just the place where my career had taken root. There was nothing left for me in Ocean Falls.

  Dax was in full agent mode. Flying, no matter the length of the flight, never phased him one bit. I, on the other hand, had one hand shoved in my duffle bag in search of gum to ease the popping in my ears. The throbbing in my head made its way down the back of my neck. My other hand, furiously adjusted knobs, vents, and buttons. Christ! I had forgotten how miserable the humidity in Texas could be.

  I conveniently ignored the neon blue 68 degrees staring at me. It must have been broken. No way was it less than 90. There was no other reason for my head to be throbbing, for me to have sweated through my fucking shirt, or to feel as though my mouth had been stuffed with cotton balls. Nope…no reason at all.

  Presley

  “I won! I won! I won!” Even in full earbud mode, that gleeful squeal bounced off the walls. The pitter-patter of small feet grew nearer, and before I could spin my desk chair around, a little blur of curls came barreling towards me and launched into my lap.

  I was exhausted, as I was most days, but it was these moments that made it all worth it. Paisley’s obvious elation was contagious, and even though I couldn’t get one word in edgewise, my smile grew as she told her tale. Until I looked up, that is, to find Belle shifting from one foot to the other in the doorway. Hmm, not good.

  I’d met Belle at a local resale shop almost four years prior. We faced off over a retro tee shirt bearing a giant bowl of breakfast cereal on the front. To this day, I haven’t a clue as to why I needed it so badly. Needless to say, I won, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

  “How about a snack, Little Bit?” she offered, and suddenly, we were alone. “Don’t kill me, okay?”

  Belle wasn’t exactly a pro at softening the blow. When she totaled my car last Spring, she led with, “So, you know how you wish you had gone with the black one instead?”

  She didn’t seem to be in too much of a panic, but little did I know—or did she, for that matter—that the words that followed would shake me to my core.

  “So, okay, I know you didn’t want me going overboard with her preschool fundraiser but well…okay. Travis stopped by and well…”

  Travis. Travis was Belle’s on again, off again. Their ‘I love you, I love you not’s’ was enough to drive a person to drinking or, in Belle’s case, eating. She went on to explain that she had bought over three hundred dollars in cookie dough, chocolate covered almonds, and the like. In doing so, she made our Paisley the top seller in her class, and she had won an amazing prize.

  The prize was something I knew Paisley would always remember. For many, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She was going to meet her idol, the player she dressed up as on Halloween—with a touch of sparkle and a pink feather boa, the biggest thing to come out of the small town we called home. My daughter had developed a love for football before she could walk. Much like her mama, she loved everything about the game, from kick-off till the clock wound down to zero. While I myself had pulled away from the sport, she’d made many memories with both my dad and her own on many Sundays.

  She was going to meet Greyson “Tack” Thomas, defensive tackle phenom, the boy who had promised me tomorrow but stole away my yesterdays.

  “Earth to Presley. Look, I’ll take her, okay? I know you have classes on Saturdays. No worries, I got it.” Belle meant well, she always did. I didn’t want to discuss it any further, though. I would need more time to wrap my mind around the whole thing.

  “Pizza,” I replied, and just like Paisley, Belle was easily redirected.

  The remainder of the week went by in a blur. I couldn’t complain much, though. As a single mom, things could have been worse, much worse. Who would have guessed that my would-be ‘failure’ years ago would be a blessing later on?

  You see, before I even entered high school, my future had been laid out for me. No, I wasn’t some silver spoon-fed trust fund baby. Instead, Daddy had dumped all of his pension, his savings, what little there had been to start with, into lessons and training for me. He was broken after Mama left us. I was too young to remember, but according to Daddy, my light went out and didn’t return until a PTO mom who pitied me invited me to dance class along with her own daughter. I found something in dance that touched my soul, and so it went.

  Until him, that is.

  Even back then, I could see it. The train wreck I was bound to become. No...not me. Us. We were young and stupid. I needed that boy, that broken boy who ultimately broke me.

  No matter, that was the past, and despite my slips and falls, I was making a nice life for myself and Paisley. I set my own hours, and between group classes and private lessons, I was doing pretty good for myself.

  With Ocean Falls being such a small town, I was the ‘star that wasn’t.’ Oddly enough, folks around town were willing to pay a pretty penny to have their little ones take dance classes under my instruction. Back in high school, I’d been well on my way to putting Ocean Falls on the map. Not only had I qualified for but also won competitions on a national level. I was counting down the days before I would be old enough to audition for even bigger, televised competitions that were sure to launch my career. The calls had started before I was even old enough to get my driver’s license.

  Alas, I wasn’t the star that made it. No, that was Tack, and he had come home.

  Chapter 2

  Greyson

  “Fuck.”

  My stomach churned, and my eyes stung. Breakfast, what little I had eaten, had been flushed hours earlier. And for the first time in as long as I could remember, it wasn’t due to drinking half my body weight the night before. No, it was because of her. It was because of him...them. It was because of the whole fucking town!

  Dax would be banging on the door at any second, but for the life of me, I couldn’t get it together. D was right; I did need a positive highlight for once. Besides, what was I really worried about anyway? She wouldn’t
step anywhere near the event. Hell, I didn’t even know if she still lived there or not.

  I liked to play the cold prick who didn’t give a shit, but the truth was, I just couldn’t bring myself to look her up. I guess I feared what I would likely find. For all I knew, she was off in Paris or Milan or some shit. On Broadway, maybe? Her options had been endless. Once I left, she was free to seek out her true destiny.

  I wanted to hate her. I truly did. Hatred sure as shit would have been a lot easier. Instead, she haunted me. I replayed that night in my head constantly. It played on loop just to torture me, to keep me up at night. Even all these years later, I couldn’t speak her name. Not out loud, never out loud.

  Dax would be knocking on my hotel room door exactly four minutes early. For as long as I had known him, every meeting, every appointment, he would arrive four minutes early. I had called him on it once. He told me to ‘watch my shit,’ and so I left it at that. D had his own personal shit, and I, of all people, could respect that. Even if I did give him hell from time to time. And just like clockwork, he came barreling through the door, coffee in hand.

  “Giddy up, Son! Tick tock!” he urged.

  I searched for an excuse to stall further but came up empty.

  “Tell me you’re driving instead of having a driver waiting for us downstairs,” I begged. “I’m not douche baggin’ it to the field.”

  His shit-eating grin gave me pause, but I grabbed my wallet, gave the hotel room a quick once over, and followed him into the lobby. Even if it was against my better judgment, I was finally ready to get it over with. Until we stepped outside and my feet stopped working.

  “Jesus, Dax, really?!” I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

  His shit-eating grin had returned, though there was a real possibility it had never left.

  “When in Rome, kid. Meet Weezy.” He beamed, and all I could do was shake my head. I never would have pegged Dax as the pickup driving type, and for a split second, I thought that maybe he had just done it to fuck with me. At the same time, I could totally see him buying his own F-150, which he, of course, would affectionately refer to as ‘Weezy.’