by S. L. Scott
**Advanced Reader’s Copy**
This advanced reader’s proof is the property of S.L. Scott. It is being distributed only for review by the recipient, and may not be used for any other purpose or transferred to any third party. S.L. Scott reserves the right to cancel this loan and recall possession of the copy. Any duplication, sale, or distribution to the public is a violation of the law.
From the Inside Out—Austin
First Edition
Copyright © S. L. Scott 2014
The right of S.L. Scott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-940071-21-3
Cover design: Melissa Ringuette
Cover image: Valua Vitaly Photographer
Interior Design: Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
ON A PERSONAL NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For the Bloggers. I’m so grateful for your dedication and support. Thank You.
THE UMBRELLA GOES flying as I shove Dylan away from Jules and grab her by the waist. I set her down behind me, hoping to protect her. “Henry, get her in the car!”
“Austin!” she screams as Henry tries to pull her to safety.
When I turn back, Dylan’s eyes are locked on her as he makes a move to get to her. I punch him, a surprise blow as he’s knocked sideways. Recovering, he turns to me, ready to fight. “Austin, I love her.”
“You barely know her!”
His hands fist at his sides and his breathing is harsh. “She loves me.”
“You’re deranged, Dylan!”
Jules’ cries are heard over the rain that drenches us. I turn to her as she says, “Pleas--”
A punch to the right side of my face sends me to my knees.
“Dylan! Noooo!” Jules screams.
“Get in the car, Jules.” Losing control of my better judgment, my retaliation is quick and I land a hit straight to his left cheek. He falls this time and I hit him again when he looks up. “Fight. Damn it!” Dylan lays on his back and I hit him one last time. When I back away, his face is bloodied, but his eyes are open staring into the cloudy sky above with his arms wide open--not fighting at all. “Get up,” I yell.
He looks at me. Despite the chaos of the scene, he says, “Finally, I got what I deserved.”
“What does that mean?”
“Treat her well.”
“What are you talking about?” When he doesn’t respond again, I say, “Fuck this!” Turning, I go to the car and slide inside. Henry takes off and I look down at my hands, bloodied and sore.
Reaching across the space that divides up, she touches my arm gently with her fingertips. “Austin.” Her voice calm, trying to soothe.
The air in the car is stifling. I look over at Jules, confused by what happened back there. We’re over, although the words haven’t been spoken by either of us… yet. I feel sick to my stomach, hating that I stooped to Dylan’s level. Why did he kiss her? He set me up. Made me do it. Motherfucker.
“Jules, we need to talk.” I despise the anger that coats the words, never thinking I’d taste such an emotion when it came to her.
“You hit him. You hurt him,” she says, finally looking in my direction. When her eyes meet mine, I see her pain and tears. “Austin, I don’t understand.”
“What I don’t understand is why you’re defending him?”
“I’m not.” She adjusts her body, angling her legs toward me. “I’ve just never seen you act like that—”
“Don’t turn this on me like I’m the bad guy. There’s obviously something going on between you two.”
“You’re right. I’ve lied… or not told you everything. What I have told you is I’m not whole, as a person.”
“I love you. I accepted it, you, your hesitation and caution. You’re different with me. I thought we had moved past all the other stuff.” I lean forward, dropping my head against the back of the front seat. “Do you love me?”
“I love you, Austin.”
It relieves me that she doesn’t hesitate this time when it matters, but the other hard questions haven’t been asked. With Henry in the front seat driving, I decide to finish this conversation when we’re alone at my place.
THE ELEVATOR RIDE is silent for thirty-seven floors. When the doors open, she walks into the apartment, but I can see by her body language that she’s not feeling at home. This is going a lot different than I thought it would, so I ask, “Are you staying?”
“Am I welcome?”
“Of course.”
She walks to the window and stares out, her eyes seeming to fixate on something in the distance. With her back to me, she says, “Dylan and I used to date.” My mouth drops open as she continues. “For years. We met in college and moved to New York together.”
“You’ve been in New York for more than six years, Jules.” A glutton for punishment, I ask, “What happened?” I sit down on the couch, the adrenaline from earlier draining from my muscles.
“He left me for another woman.”
“So he wants you back? That’s what this is all about. He wants you back after all these years, after he cheated on you?”
Turning around, she says, “Yes.”
My mind goes into overdrive realizing my relationship with Jules is not simple. It never has been, but it’s much more complicated than I thought. She’s changed since dating me, become more the girl I had a beer with in a pub that first time. That’s progress. But now… “Am I losing you?”
Sitting down next to me, she says, “I’m not to be won or lost, Austin. I have my own feelings and wants.”
“What do you want then?”
“I want you.”
A sense of calm settles my heart and I lay back. “I want you too.”
“It’s not that simple though.”
“No, you kissed him. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
Standing up, she looks conflicted. Her arms hang by her sides, but her body is angled toward the door. She wants to bolt, so I sit up, prepared to hold her, prepared to ask the difficult questions, but she says, “I meant, I want to be with you. I love you, but… I might still love him too.”
I drop my head down into my hands. There’s a pain that happens when people feel their insides fighting to get out, it’s a punch to the gut that sends you to the mat, hoping the hits stop coming. But while you’re writhing in the most excruciating pain imaginable, you somehow know that the pain is worth it—the fight that you were hyped up for before you entered the ring. Those highs are balanced with the lows.
I want to hate her, but I love her. I want to tell her to get the fuck out of my apartment, but also tie her to me and keep her here. I want to beg her to stay and pick me. But I won’t. I won’t because in the end, she’s become my insides and like that punch to the gut, the highs I’ve had with her were bound to find their corresponding lows.
When I look up, I ask, “You might, or you do?”
I’m answered with silence, her apologetic eyes meeting mine. I stand, ta
king my phone and retrieve a business card from my pocket. I dial the number and bring the phone to my ear. Walking to the window, I can’t see the street, but the rain has cleared and there’s this sunset that sends light peeking through the adjacent buildings. It’s beautiful, something bigger than us, and something bright in the middle of this depressing mess. The guy answers and I say, “This is Austin Barker. Please turn the truck around and return Ms. Weston’s belongings to her apartment. I’ll have my driver meet you there with the key and payment.” When I hang up, I look at Jules.
“Austin?”
“I love you, but I won’t be second best.”
“You’re not.” There’s a plea to her tone that matches her expression. She comes to me, her fingers fisting my shirt, holding me to her. Tears run down her cheeks. “I was honest with you because I love you.”
“You were honest with me now. Not these last six months. I think you should stay at your place. It’s best before this gets any messier.”
“Messier? My life is already a complete mess and you’re sending me packing without even talking about this. Austin, I don’t want to lose you.”
I cup her cheeks not for her, but because I’m selfish and want to touch her in case this is the last chance I get. Wiping her tears away, I lean in holding my cheek to hers, and whisper, “You can call me if you need me, but I can’t make any other promises to you.” I hear her breath catch. Her body shakes as her soft cries wrack her body, her arms tightening around my back. She knows this is what we need to do, what she needs to do. I don’t want to be her fallback. I want to be her everything. But I can’t be anything for her until she realizes that and wants to be everything for me as well.
“Henry will drive you home,” I say, releasing her.
Her eyes widen when I back away, crossing my arms over my chest to restrain myself from touching her again. Without warning she throws herself against me, hugging me, and whispering through her tears, “I love you. I love you so much, Austin. Please know. Please know I do.”
Dropping my arms to my sides, I nod, not returning the embrace. The rest of my pain tries to reveal itself, but it’s not good for me to give so much away. “I love you, Jules.” Her hands fall away and she walks to the elevator. We’ve got about thirty seconds left together before the elevator will be here, so I ask, “What happens after you have your heart broken?”
The doors open behind her and she steps inside. After pushing the button, she looks back at me with tears sliding down her cheeks, and says, “You go numb.”
The doors close and I’m left alone. A day that was the start of two lives becoming one is ending with both lives being broken.
THERE’S A WHOLE list of women I can call when I want easy, no-strings attached sex. Women who will come if I call. Jules was the only one who made me think twice, made me think about marriage and a family.
From my office, I watched the sunset hours ago. I’ve been staring at the Rusque ever since. I thought I’d have more time with her, more questions answered, and hoped to be numb by now. She seems to be an expert in damage control, but the loss of emotion seems to have evaded me. Now I’m pissed.
“Fuck!” I throw my glass of whiskey, mad it didn’t get me to the wasted state I wanted. I want to call her, to go after her, to know what the fuck she’s up to. Is she with Dylan? Are they back together?
I’m so fucking stupid—the birthday dinner when he sat across from my girlfriend chatting her up. That time he showed up at her apartment that time with some bullshit excuse that he was there to see me. We had drinks at the bar and he spoke in sports metaphors while listening to me talk about Jules. Is Brandon in on this too? Does he know about Dylan? He must. Fucker.
I’m the king of the fucking universe and I’m being trumped by the court jester. I go to the bar in the living room and pour myself another drink, wanting to dull my mind and pass out. I didn’t realize how much of an impact Jules had on my life until I walk to the window, standing there while my empire crashes down around me because of a woman.
I down my drink, aggravated. I won’t give her up. Not that easily. I’ll fight for her. I have to. Looking around my penthouse, for the first time since I bought this place four years ago, it feels lifeless.
MY PHONE RINGS as the airplane taxis in. Seeing her number on the screen surprises me for some reason. I answer after taking a deep breath. “Hello?”
Jules says, “Hi.”
I don’t say anything else, needing her to speak first. She finally says, “I’m so sorry.” Remaining quiet, I let her continue. “I’m sorry for hurting you and for lying to you about him. I’m sorry for letting things get as far as they did and for not loving you like you deserved.”
‘Not loving me.’ “Jule—”
“Please let me finish.” She says, “You’re amazing and I love you, so much. I love you in my heart and I miss you. But I’m messed up on the inside, Austin. He did this to me. He broke more than just my heart. I need help.”
“Are you seeing him?”
With a sigh, she says, “I haven’t since we left. I might need to though, to work through my issues. It’s not against you and I hope you don’t feel that, but I have questions for him. You don’t understand the damage he’s caused. I need answers for closure and answers to move on.”
“I’m not going to wait for you. When I said I’m here if you need me, I will be, but that doesn’t include sitting around hoping you love me one day.”
“You once told me you like the person I am when we’re together. I like that person too. I want to be that person all the time. I can’t do that living in this purgatory.”
The door opens and the staircase is pushed up to the side of the plane. The attendant says, “We’re all clear to deplane, Mr. Barker.”
“Thank you, Louisa.”
“Where are you,” Jules asks, her nerves showing through her shaky words.
“I just landed in the U.K.”
“You left?”
I pull my own punch. “No, Jules. You left.” The other end of the line is silent. “I need to go.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. I have nothing to come home to.”
She whispers, “I’m so sorry.”
“So am I. Goodbye.” I hang up, not wanting to hear her say the word to me, not ready for it. I gather my papers, then tuck the files and the photo of her back into my briefcase. Shutting it tight, I stand up and exit the plane.
I USED TO think the day Dylan left me was the worst day of my life.
I was naïve.
Yesterday was the worst day of my life. When I left Austin’s apartment, I couldn’t bear to go back to mine, so I walk into a hotel on Broadway and stayed the night. I didn’t eat and I didn’t sleep. Instead, I stared out the window at the bright lights and the crowded street below while listening to the occasional sirens.
This morning, standing outside my apartment door, I stare at the wood grain for a minute before I go in. I have no idea what’s going to be inside, wondering if my stuff has been returned just like I was. I can assume my belongings are here already. Austin isn’t like Dylan. He wouldn’t take my stuff to hurt me.
With a shaky hand, I insert the key and turn. Slowly, I open the door and see a moving truck’s worth of stuff sitting in the middle of my living room. My life has been whittled down to an apartment of boxes and furniture, most of which I don’t even care about. These things don’t mean a thing to me. The big furniture pieces are back in their rightful places and old, familiar feelings wash over me. Maybe this apartment is to blame for the long held emotions I’ve been saddled with for years.
My heart aches as I step closer to the pile of boxes stacked in the middle. The painting is still hanging on the wall, my suitcase and purse where I left them.
There’s a note on top of my purse. Bending down, I read it.
Jules,
I love you.
Austin
I drop to my knees, taking the blow of
the wood beneath them. Lowering myself into a ball on my side, tucked between the boxes and the suitcase, I cry with one hand gripping my stomach and the note in the other.
I’ve hurt Austin. He’s the man who would give me the world and I hurt him like Dylan hurt me. My stomach rolls, so I ball up tighter, smaller, holding my legs to my chest. I’m a horrible person.
I don’t hear the click of the door or his footsteps, but I hear Brandon. “Jules?” His voice is soft, whispering near my ear as his hand touches my cheek. Standing back up, he moves some boxes around, the cardboard scraping across the floor, then curls around the back of me. “It’ll be alright. I promise. It’ll be alright.”
“I hurt him, Brandon. He’ll never forgive me and I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
Brandon gives me and the path of destruction that is my life far too much credit. “That’s the first step. You’ve got something to work for now.”
“He left. He went to the U.K.”
“Maybe it was business.”
“Maybe. But what if it wasn’t?”
“You both need time. Take a few days to figure out what you really want. Don’t rush this. Rushing will only hurt people in the process.”
“I’m so tired. I just want to sleep and make this nightmare go away.”
“Sleep, Jules. For now.” He strokes my back as I roll over and snuggle into him, finding safety in my closest friend… My head hits the floor and I wake up an hour later, groggy and with a stiff neck. Lifting my burning eyes open, I see Brandon stretching beside me. “Sorry,” he says, “but this floor is hard and uncomfortable. I had to stretch. You should move to the couch or bed.”
I sit up, my body sore… all over and I know it’s not just from the floor, but the heartache as well.
Looking around, I sigh. The scene before me makes me even sadder.
He asks, “You okay?”