“Get a room!” Nick hollers, and I reluctantly drag my lips away.
“Welcome home, baby,” I whisper, holding her in a tight hug.
She beams up at me, before shucking out of my embrace and moving over to hug Mom and Nick.
I help the driver unload her cases and then take her hand, leading her through the house.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve done already.” Her face glows with happiness and pride. “I hope you left something for me to do.”
“I was just following your plans, baby,” I wrap my arms around her from behind as we step into the large kitchen, nuzzling my nose in her neck. “And I only did the main living spaces because I knew everyone was coming today. The rest of the house is a blank canvas for you to do whatever you want with.”
The decision to sell my Hollywood Hills home and move closer to Mom was the best idea I’d had in ages, but I wouldn’t have made the move if Dakota hadn’t been in agreement. We house hunted together and we both fell in love with this beachside two-story seven-bedroom property on three acres of land. It’s in a private secluded part of Malibu, and only a few miles from Mom’s house. I moved in ten days ago and I’ve been crazy busy putting the finishing touches to my new album and furnishing the house before this weekend. But my special project was my main focus, and I can’t wait a minute longer to show her.
“Mom, I’m gonna show Dakota her surprise now. Can you hold dinner for ten minutes?”
Mom grins before giving me a thumbs-up.
Dakota twists around in my arms, looking up at me. “What are you up to, Lev—Shawn.”
I laugh. She still forgets sometimes and calls me Levi. Not that I mind in the slightest. Once she’s a permanent fixture at my side she can call me whatever the hell she wants. “Come with me and I’ll show you.” Lacing my fingers in hers, I pull her to the far side of the house. We have a gym, home theater and games room over this side of the house, along with the room I’ve just renovated especially for her. I stop in front of the closed door, pulling her into my arms. “I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t sleep last night I was so excited.”
She laughs. “You’re like a giddy ten-year-old right now, and I couldn’t love you more.” She smiles adoringly at me, and my heart trips over itself. “This feels like a new start, and I am so happy to be doing this here with you.”
I place a searing hot kiss on her lips, and I’m instantly hard. I rock against her, and she moans. Running her hand down between our bodies, she gently palms my hard-on. “I can’t wait to have sex on tap,” she murmurs, rubbing her hand up and down my now straining length. “And I can’t wait to fuck you in every room of our new house.”
“Stop being so damn perfect,” I tease, nipping at her lower lip. “Or at least hold that thought for later when we’re alone.”
“Deal.” She steps away, grinning. “Now show me my surprise.”
I open the door to her new dance studio and watch every emotion imaginable flit across her face as she slowly steps into the room, twirling around and taking it all in. Then she flings herself at me, jumping into my arms and I have to react fast to avoid losing my balance. “Oh my God! You are unbelievably amazing, and I love you so Goddamned much.”
She’s kissing me all over and her enthusiasm is infectious. “You can thank me properly later.”
“Oh, I plan to thank you, and love you, for a long, long time.” Her adoring smile does funny things to my insides.
I kiss the end of her nose. “I love the sound of that.”
And as I take her hand and lead her back to my family, I intend to make sure that’s our new reality.
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Gritty, Angsty, Standalone New Adult Contemporary Romance
A childhood promise. An unbreakable bond. One tragic event that shatters everything.
It all started with the boys next door…
Devin and Ayden were my best friends. We were practically joined at the hip since age two. When we were kids, we thought we were invincible, inseparable, that nothing or no one could come between us.
But we were wrong.
Everything turned to crap our senior year of high school.
Devin was turning into a clone of his deadbeat lowlife father—fighting, getting wasted, and screwing his way through every girl in town. I’d been hiding a secret crush on him for years. Afraid to tell him how I felt in case I ruined everything. So, I kept quiet and slowly watched him self-destruct with a constant ache in my heart.
Where Devin was all brooding darkness, Ayden was the shining light. Our star quarterback with the bright future whom everyone loved. But something wasn’t right. He was so guarded, and he wouldn’t let me in.
When Devin publicly shamed me, Ayden took my side, and our awesome-threesome bond was severed. The split was devastating. The heartbreak inevitable.
Ayden and I moved on with our lives, but the pain never lessened, and Devin was never far from our thoughts.
Until it all came to a head in college, and one eventful night changed everything.
Now, I’ve lost the two people who matter more to me than life itself. Nothing will ever be the same again.
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INSEPARABLE – SAMPLE
Prologue
Present Day – Angelina
Life is just a flow of interconnecting moments in time. A combination of well-thought-out actions and spontaneous reactions. A sequence of events and people moving in and out of your personal stratosphere.
At least, that’s how I’ve always viewed it.
Like a squiggly line veering up and down with no apparent pattern. Plotting the highs; pinpointing the lows. Showcasing the happy times. Highlighting the mistakes and the resulting consequences. Calling into focus all the myriad of things I should’ve done differently if I had known.
When I was a kid, I was obsessed with the notion of time—making a beeline for the fortune teller every year when the carnival descended on the wide, open grassy field just outside town. I saved my pocket money all year round so I could have my fortune told. The idea that you could see into the future, to know what was around the corner, held an enormous fascination for me.
I wanted to make something of my life.
To dedicate myself to a profession that helped others.
To know happiness awaited me.
To receive confirmation that the two most important people in my life would always be in it. Because even the thought I could lose Ayden or Devin always sent horrific tremors of fear rushing through me.
For as long as I can remember, it had always been the three of us. Best friends to the end. The awesome-threesome. Forever infinity. It was a friendship more akin to family. A meeting of minds and hearts and promises. A connection so deep that we swore nothing or no one would ever come between us. We committed ourselves in a secret bond when we were twelve, and the commitment was imprinted on my heart in the same way it was inked on my skin.
I could never have predicted what was to come.
That I’d be the one to destroy everything.
No fortune teller ever told me that.
For years, I’ve thought of nothing but the what-ifs and obsessed over so many questions.
What if a fortune teller had told me what would come to pass?
Would things have been different?
What would I change?
Would I have h
ad the strength to stay away from my two best friends? To forge a completely different path in life? To deny something that was intrinsically a part of myself? Could I slice my heart apart knowing it was the right thing to do?
For years these questions have plagued me.
But I’m too afraid to confront the truth, even though it’s front and center. Even though I carry it with me like a thundercloud, hovering and threatening but never opening up, never letting the storm loose.
Some truths are far too painful to acknowledge out loud.
As if to speak the words would confirm what I already know about myself.
That I’m weak, selfish, and not at all the person I thought I was.
Perhaps that’s why we don’t have that cognitive ability—to see the future, to know what lies ahead. I’ve thought of it often. If it’s evolution. If at some time in the future humans will be able to sense the path of their destiny. To alter their fate. To assume full control over every aspect of their life with conscious decision.
For now, all I’ve got is that squiggly line and a huge helping of regret.
What good comes from continually looking back? From locking myself in the haunted mansion of my past? Meandering with the ghosts of guilt and shame? For a girl who spent her happy youth so focused on the future, it’s a very sorry state of affairs. But I’m stuck in this washing machine that is my so-called life. The faster it churns, the more I lose myself. So, I try to stop time. To stand still. To numb myself to my reality. To blank out feeling and emotion. To close myself off. To never allow another human to imprint on my heart or to see into the black, murky depths of my soul.
The honest truth is, if I’d had a crystal ball—if I’d known what was going to happen—I still wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Because I would’ve missed those high points. Those happy memories that are the only thing keeping me alive right now.
If that’s what you can call my current existence.
And that makes me the most selfish, conceited liar on the planet.
PART I
Senior Year
of High School
CHAPTER ONE
Angelina
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I emit a high-pitched shriek, almost jumping out of my skin. Blood rushes to my head as I spin around in my bedroom. Devin has his face pressed into the glass of the French doors, peering in. His nose is all smushed up, and he’s wearing his trademark shit-eating grin. Dropping my book bag on the floor beside my bed, I walk over, flinging the doors open with gusto. “Dev, what the hell? Are you trying to give me a coronary?”
He saunters into my room, flopping down on the bed like he owns it, his customary grin still planted firmly on his lips. “Hey, baby doll. Come sit.” He pats the bed, stretching out his long, sculptured torso before propping up on his side.
I perch on the edge of the mattress, slapping his leg. “Don’t call me that. I’m not one of your conquests.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a faithful pet.” He smirks, attempting to smother his laughter as he watches the scowl appear on my face.
“Don’t push your luck, asshole.”
“Ange.” He pats the bed alongside him again. “Come here.” He looks at me through hooded lashes, and his green eyes smolder in that intense way of his. Strands of his black hair fall over his forehead as his gaze bores a hole deep inside me.
Devin defines drop-dead gorgeous. With his sinful good looks, ripped body, and dark brooding intensity, it’s no wonder every girl in town hangs off his every word.
Lost under the magnetism of his penetrating focus, I forget how to breathe. “Come. Here,” he mouths this time, failing to hide his knowing smirk.
Yeah. Dev’s well aware of the effect he has on the female population, myself included.
I sigh but give up fighting the inevitable. Toeing off my shoes, I crawl up the bed, dropping down beside him. He reaches out, twirling strands of my long, dark hair around his finger. His eyes hold mine as his fingers weave in and out of my hair, and I zone out, like I’ve been drugged. Clamping my lips shut, I stifle the blissful moan building at the back of my throat. His hands feel so good in my hair. My blood pressure soars, butterflies go crazy in the pit of my stomach, and a familiar ache throbs between my legs.
I shouldn’t have these feelings for Devin, but I’ve been harboring them for years, and I’m sure I’m going to spontaneously combust one of these days. Pent-up frustration and potent longing are my constant companions. An incessant reminder of all that is denied to me.
He’s oblivious, of course.
I’m in an exclusive ten percent club—that minuscule pool of girls in senior class who have yet to sample the Devin experience.
Although I know all about it.
The girls at school can’t keep their legs or their mouths shut.
I’ve heard all the stories these last couple of years, and I wish I could wash my ears out and scrub my brain free of the heartbreaking knowledge. Devin is gaining quite the rep around town. And not just for his man-whore ways.
“What are you doing home on a Saturday night anyway?” I ask, while he continues threading his fingers through my hair. I’m pleased that I manage to sound semi-coherent, and it’s good to know he hasn’t nuked all my brain cells.
Devin is hardly ever at home anymore. Especially not on a weekend night. There are copious parties to attend and numerous willing girls to fuck. Getting laid and drunk appears to take precedence over our friendship these days, and I’ve had to sit back and watch it happen with a heavy heart. Most times, I only see him at school, and then it’s sporadic and fleeting. Occasionally, he’ll drop into the diner where I work, but those visits are becoming few and far between. It’s the been the same these past few months, ever since we started our final year, and it hurts. Way more than I’ve let on to anyone.
I miss my best friend, and I hate that a rift has formed in our seemingly unbreakable bond. Worse is I don’t understand how this has happened or why.
My other best friend and neighbor, Ayden, has been more vocal and less concerned about rocking the boat. His impatience with Devin is growing by the day, and the cracks are splintering in our friendship. I never thought I’d see the day when we were anything but joined at the hip.
Things are changing, and I don’t like it.
“I wanted to see you more than I wanted to go out,” he admits, startling me with his honesty.
The romantic, nostalgic, girly-girl part of my brain is ready to throw a party, but the more logical, guarded side of my brain kicks in, cautioning me to chill the fuck out. I narrow my eyes as I scrutinize his face. “Are you high or drunk right now?”
He frowns, and his hand stalls in my hair. “Of course not.”
I snort. “You say that like it’s outside the realm of possibility you’d be either of those things.”
He removes his hand from my hair, and I feel bereft. “We both know who I am, Ange, but I’m surprised you think I’d turn up here like that. Not with you. Never with you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel special?” I blurt.
“You are special, and you know it.” He leans in, kissing the top of my head, and his chest brushes against mine, sending a flurry of fiery tingles whipping through me. Heat from his body washes over me, and I close my eyes, praying for self-control. The urge to touch him is almost overpowering. It’s one of the reasons why I haven’t pushed him as much as Ayden. If we were to start spending more time together, I don’t know that I could contain my feelings. As it is, I don’t know how much longer I can continue to hide them.
I’ve spent years crushing on Devin, and I’m close to my breaking point.
A sharp, stabbing pain pierces me straight through the heart.
I shouldn’t feel this way about one of my best friends, but I can’t help it. I’ve been in love with hi
m for so long, even if he doesn’t have a clue.
He doesn’t look at me like that.
Neither of my besties do, and that’s the way it should be.
I’m the one stuck with faulty internal wiring. We have grown up as close as three kids can be. He should be like a brother to me. In a lot of ways, he is.
But, God, he’s so much more.
“How’d you get on my balcony anyway?” I ask, the thought suddenly occurring to me.
He drops his head onto my pillow, chuckling. “How do you think?”
My mouth falls open, and I slap him across the chest. “Devin Robert Morgan, you did not climb the tree?!” He sends me a devilish wink, and I slap his chest again. “You idiot! You’re not a kid anymore, and you’re lucky you made it in one piece.” Devin is well over six-foot tall and while he doesn’t have Ayden’s football player’s body, he has a toned, muscular physique that has all the girls drooling.
Yours truly included.
“Chill. Old Man Willow can handle my awesomeness.”
My bedroom is at the back of our house, and I have my own private balcony. An old oak tree holds court directly outside my room, its spindly branches like giant fingers stretching toward our house. When we were younger, the boys used to climb the tree in the dead of night and jump over onto my balcony. Mom never knew, and thus began a weekly tradition that spanned years.
Every Friday night, Devin and Ayden climbed that tree to my room. And every Friday night, we sat up until the early hours, whispering, laughing, and watching the stars. We went through a Lord of the Rings phase one year, and Devin likened the tree in my yard to the willow tree in Tolkien’s legendary tale, and, henceforth it became known by the same name.
Our Friday night tradition ceased when the boys stretched up and out and became too big to climb it. It also coincided with the time of Devin’s transformation—when he morphed into one of the town’s most notorious bad boys.
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