by LJ Evans
One day, the girl found a boy. A pretty boy with a pretty smile who took the girl by the hand and made her feel like she was special. Like she mattered. The boy told the girl that he loved her, and she believed him. Because her whole life, people had only said those words when they meant them. No one had told her that people sometimes said those words as a cover to get something else. She was unprepared for that reality. So, she gave him all of her, including the piece you could only give once.
And when that boy broke up with her, and the one that followed was going to also, her already shattered heart was torn apart just a little more because now she understood that not only did homes not last but also that people used “I love you” as a lie. The only people who had used it for truth were gone, just like the home they had created for her.
The girl was lost in a well of grief. One that saw her using her body as a way to try to fill the holes that had been carved inside. And when she realized this, when it was painfully and embarrassingly pointed out to her, the girl was ashamed. She was lonelier than she’d ever been. And home felt farther away.
Then one day, after the girl had changed into a woman, and when she least expected it, a man entered her world. A man who was so raw and intense and honest that she found it hard to believe he could lie to her. Found it hard to walk away when his eyes beckoned to her.
And the woman fell. How could she not? To this man who had been carved into pieces many times himself and yet had found a way to put himself back together. How could she not love the man who thought of himself last? Who only wanted to make her feel loved and desired. Who wanted to build her a home.
But, instead of being happy with this kind and generous man, with the love that they shared, the woman felt scared. Because even though this man seemed honest. Even though this man was trying desperately to build them a world together, she was afraid that even if it wasn’t a lie, that it wouldn’t last. Like all the love and homes before hadn’t lasted.
And the woman knew if she lost the man, if she lost even the beginnings of this new home they were building, that she’d be broken into pieces that couldn’t ever be put back together. So even though he promised he wouldn’t leave her, even though he tried to defy fate to keep her safe, she left him first.
She thought she was protecting the pieces of herself that were left. She thought she could build her own home. But the truth is that a home cannot be just one person. Home is the people who love you, ugly broken pieces and all.
The woman gets it now.
And all she wants to do is to come home. To the man who loved her. Ugliness and all. To the man who thinks he’s ugly because he cannot see that the love that he wields makes him more beautiful than any of the pieces of art that fill his studio.
And the woman wonders now if she’ll be able to get them back. The man and the home. She wonders if she returns if they can weld the home she broke back together with love instead of gold.
Do you think they can?
I’m hoping with all my heart that you’ll say yes.
With all my love,
Your Bella
Tears hit the paper.
Seth can’t believe they are his. But they are. It’s the only part of him that is working.
His heart isn’t working. His lungs aren’t working. Like the first time he met her and thought she was Cam. Like it’s his turn to wait for someone to grant him the air to breathe.
Words leave him. Not because he’s concentrating on escaping his addiction, but because he doesn’t have them. He’s frozen, grabbing the letter as if it is the dearest thing in his life. As if it’s a rock tethering him until the air and the earth came back to him.
“Just so you know, the useless wannabe is really enthusiastic about your work,” a melodic voice says from behind him.
He slowly turns, leaning on Locke’s desk so that he doesn’t fall over, and gives her his stone face. A stone face with tears.
And she looks so damn good. Strong and fierce as always in a purple sundress that is nothing like the chiffon she wore when he first met her, and yet is the same because it’s purple and flirty and shows off her graceful, toned legs.
She’s still been working out, but less. It’s softened her in some ways that he wants immediately to explore with his hands on her body, silk against his callouses, tide against shore. Her hair is shorter, as if she’s become impatient with it, but he can tell he’ll still be able to tangle his fingers in the curls and use it to draw her face towards his.
Her eyes catch his, and he feels like he can’t breathe all over again. Those eyes with those lashes that make him think of black and white checkerboards and ceramic and old photographs. And inside them, there is a stormy sea of emotions. She has a little sweater on over the sundress, and she’s twisting the edges of it, showing that she’s nervous. And in that moment, he can breathe again. A slow, arduous breath that he’s sure both she and Locke can both hear.
And when she does, her lovely little lips curl up slightly at each end. “I heard you were an arrogant jerk, and that you were more likely to try to get my dress off than let me manage you, so maybe I’ll pass.”
The little bit of sass is there, and he can’t help the drawl that returns with her playfulness. “Well, shit, darlin’, I might as well go all in then.”
And in one swift movement, he has her in his arms and has settled his lips on hers where they’ve been aching to go for five long months. For five miserable months, and he’s kissing her and tasting her bubblegum goodness and absorbing her pixie dust into his soul like he’s never kissed her before.
And she’s responding, like she always responds to him. With fire and desire and a leg sneaking around the back of his calf as if she can draw him back into her piece by piece where he belongs.
Locke clears his throat behind them, and Seth moves his lips an inch away from hers and looks down into her face. She wipes at the tears that fell from his eyes. Like the goddamn wuss he is, and he grins again. A foreign grin, one he isn’t sure he’s ever had on his face. Maybe this is what a five-year-old is supposed to feel like on Christmas, but it’s not a feeling Seth has ever had before.
“You’re here,” he says quietly.
“I should never have left,” she replies.
And with those five little words, she welds up his soul just like she said in the letter. With love instead of gold. He can’t help it, he’s kissing her again, and she’s responding again with arms tight around him and that foot running along his calf as if she really wants to wrap her legs around his waist like she always has. He wants to carry her from the room to the seat of the Porsche and be done with the clothes and months that have kept them apart.
“I think I’ll let the two of you work out the details,” Locke chuckles and walks out, slamming the door purposefully behind him.
Seth pulls them both down into the office chair. She’s on his lap and they are once more a series of tangled tongues and tangled fingers and tangled legs.
He pulls his lips away so that he can see into her eyes again. He has a million questions, and yet really doesn’t care about any of the answers except the one that means she’s here.
“You’re here,” he says once more with that goofy smile that he knows she’ll tease him about later.
“I can finish my degree through Northeastern’s online program.”
“Thank God!”
“It’s funny. I went clear across the country to figure out what I was passionate about, but you were right. It was right here all along. You. You are what I’m passionate about.”
“Bella,” he says with emotion and kisses her, but she pulls her lips from his this time.
“Wait. I have to say something.”
“You said enough in the letter.”
“No. I thought about this on the plane after I’d written the letter. I want you to know there are three reasons why you should never let me go.”
His heart pounds. He’d given her three reasons why he was saying good
bye.
“One, you are passionate and full of raw emotions. But because of that you make me feel. You won’t allow me to go through life numb and I think I would if you didn’t pull at all the pieces of me and try to put them together.
Two, you aren’t your father. You aren’t even a piece of him. You are this bright shiny star that’s risen above where you came from. I love that you were able to do that when most people would just sink into the grime of that life and let it eat at them. Instead, you fought it because you are a fighter like me. We both are fighters.
Three, you’re right, you don’t deserve me, but I don’t deserve you either. Liv was right when she told me that you can’t deserve people. We aren’t trophies to win. But, I can love you and you can love me back. And I know that you will. Just like I know you will always protect me. You will never stand by and let anyone hurt me even if that someone is you. How could I not love that?
But there’s something you forgot when you were trying to say goodbye. You forgot that together we are something amazing and that apart we’re just shattered pieces.”
And the tears threaten to overcome him again, but he controls them better now that the shock is gone. Now that he’s holding her. She leans in and kisses him all over again, this time reaching under his t-shirt for his skin and his button.
“Let’s go home. We can tell Locke the details later,” she whispers.
And his heart does another crazy flip because she said home, and that clogs his throat with more unshed tears. “He doesn’t need all the details,” he says gruffly.
And she laughs that tinkling laugh that makes him want to capture her in art in twenty new ways. He picks her up, and carries her through the gallery with her legs wrapped around him.
“I can walk,” she says, but it isn’t with her angry independent tone, instead it’s with laughter.
And he knows she can. And there will be plenty of time for him to let her walk and run and float along next to him, but right now, he wants to feel her like he hasn’t in months.
“I don’t want you that far away from me right now,” he says, and he knows it might still sound like a demand, it might feel like he has to control her, but he hopes it doesn’t. But even if it does, she still knew that about him and came back.
He’s never had someone come back for him.
She kisses his neck before responding, “Never again.”
And his heart races once more, and he’s grinning because he knows that she finally sees it. She can see the brokenness for what it is now. She can see the art of them and the beauty they make together. She can see that their damage isn’t permanent that what they are tangled together makes them exquisite.
All it had taken was five months and a handful of love letters.
THE END
About the Book
Thank you for reading my book! As I said in my “Message From the Author”, I hope you enjoyed reading it and would consider writing a review. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing this extra step.
Regarding the topics in this book, I want to humbly apologize in advance because I didn’t study art in school, and can only relate what I’ve read through research. So I beg pardon if any of it wasn’t quite right, and ask you to understand that it was just for entertainment.
Additionally, I want to be clear that stalking is a very real thing that happens to thousands of people each year. If you are or have been stalked, you shouldn’t feel ashamed. It is not your fault. If you need help, please contact your local police. Tell your family. Make a safety plan.
There are amazing sites devoted to helping victims of stalking. One of them is http://victimsofcrime.org/our-programs/stalking-resource-center/help-for-victims
Please do not do nothing. Do something about it today!
Acknowledgements
I must start by thanking my lovely husband for not only understanding my need to write, but also for being my number one cheering section. Thank you for investing in this venture with me. Thank you to my daughter who has gone down her own creative path and yet always has time to help me with mine. Thank you to my big sister for reading Seth’s story a gazillion times as it alluded me for so long. Thank you to my parents who told me that creating a world that others could see was a gift. And mom, I hope you aren’t disappointed in bad boy Seth’s happily ever after.
Thank you to my alpha readers who made this story better when I knew it was missing something and especially the amazing Loud Library Lady, Kate Olson, who could articulate for me the missing piece. Thank you to my author friends who have helped me improve my writing and guided me through this crazy book world, especially Kelsey Kingsley, Katy Ames, Autumn Ruby, Lauren Helms, Sophia Peony, and all the ladies of Romancing the Manuscript!
Thank you to Megan at Designed with Grace for her beautiful redesign of all my book covers including this one, and also reading and supporting my stories. Thank you to Laura Moore for finding all those stupid grammatical mistakes I make even when they are repeated.
Thank you to the beautiful bloggers and reviewers like Michelle Fritz, Stephanie Boren, Stories&Coffee, PoptheButterfly, NovelMama and many others who’ve read and shared my books simply for your love of reading. You need your own thank you page. To all my readers, a HUGE THANK YOU for taking the time to read my books and then forcing your friends to do so also.
Finally, thank you to Bon Jovi for writing the beautiful words in the beautiful songs that inspired me.
About the Author
LJ Evans, lives in California’s Central Valley with her husband, daughter, and the three terrors called cats. She's been writing almost as a compulsion since she was a little girl, and these days will find herself pulling the car over to write a scene that a song on the radio has inspired. While she currently spends her days teaching 1st grade in a local public school, she spends her personal time reading, writing, and binge watching original shows like The Crown and Stranger Things. Her debut novel, MY LIFE AS A COUNTRY ALBUM, was the 2017 Young Adult Book of the Year in the Independent Author Network's Book Awards & was a finalist in the 2018 National Indie Excellence Awards. MY LIFE AS A POP ALBUM was nominated for the 7th Annual UTOPiAcon Awards Contemporary Book of the Year. MY LIFE AS A ROCK ALBUM is her third novel in the MY LIFE AS AN ALBUM series.
Connect with LJ Evans and learn more at:
www.ljevansbooks.com
facebook.com/ljevansbooks
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Books by LJ Evans
my life as a country album – April 2017
my life as a pop album – January 2018
my life as a rock album – June 2018
my life as a mixtape – coming soon
Continue reading for a preview of some of the other novels in the
my life as an album series
my life as a pop album
Hello
HELLO. I’M GOOD GIRL MIA. Mia Andrea Phillips. You probably don’t know me, but you might know my brother Jake. You might know Jake because, for a short while, he was plastered all over the sports channels and magazines as the future of the NFL. That was when he was the superstar quarterback for the University of Tennessee, and before his diabetes and his bad kidneys forced him to quit.
My brother Jake was the first one to call me Good Girl Mia. It was his way of teasing me about never getting in trouble. And it’s the truth. I am a good girl. There’s nothing I can do about it. I have always been the good girl. I’ve been the friend, the helper, the one you could count on. The one to drive you home if you drank too much. The one to stop you from making monumental mistakes. The one who never gave her parents any problems because her brother and his girlfriend gave them enough.
In fact, I’ve been so good at helping others that I actually gave Jake a kidney. Yep. An actual body part. Unfortunately, that didn’t end very well, so maybe I’m not as good at helping out as I’d like to be…
If you ar
e a Good Girl also, then you know how it goes. You know that Good Girls never break rules and that they never, ever run off with the bad boy.
Well then, how in holy potato peels did I end up here, with a sexy as all get out musician laying naked next to me? Well. That’s the real story, isn’t it?
I’M A MESS: The Meet
“I’m a mess right now, searching for sweet surrender.”
-Ed Sheeran
MY BEST FRIEND, NEIGHBOR, AND almost sister, Cam, once told me that her life could be played out in a series of Taylor Swift songs. And I understood what she meant because her life with Jake was like all the old Taylor songs. Angst and heartache and yearning.
After I had graduated from the University of Tennessee and moved back home to run the family business, my life became a series of Ed Sheeran songs. “I’m a Mess” seemed to resonate with me at first because I felt like I was just going through the motions while secretly looking for a sweet surrender. And I definitely couldn’t figure out how everything was all going to work out.
I guess that wasn’t completely true as I did have one thing going right for me and that was working at my daddy’s car dealership. The one he planned on handing over to me in the fall. Contrary to most people’s opinion of me, I liked running the dealership. And I loved the vague idea that we might be starting a tradition where someday I would pass the dealership on to my kids. Not that there was any chance in the near future of me having children.
Because, let’s face it, my personal life was the part of my life in all sorts of disarray. You’d never know that by looking at me. I prided myself on the fact that very few people knew about the emotional turmoil that rolled like waves through me on an almost daily basis. My mama once told me that if you went into someone’s house and the place was nice and tidy but the cupboards were a disaster, that it said something about them. And I knew exactly what she meant because that described me to a tee. Neat and tidy outside, chaos on the inside.