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Melanie Stanford
Contents
Introduction
Also By Melanie Stanford
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
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Thank You For Reading!
Acknowledgments
Sneak Peek
Sway
About the Author
Introduction
When their worlds collide, neither will be left unscarred
Suffocated by her small-town life, Maggie Hale runs away to Las Vegas to pursue her dream as a contemporary dancer. But Vegas doesn’t turn out like she imagined. She doesn’t make it into Essence Dance Theater and the only job she can find is working in a greasy diner—again.
* * *
Jay Thornton wants to quit enforcing and own his own boxing gym one day. But his loan shark boss saved him from the streets as a kid and he owes the man everything. Cutting ties isn’t so simple.
* * *
When Maggie pledges to pay back a friend’s loan, she becomes Jay’s next mark. Sparks fly between them, but choosing each other could mean the end of both their dreams.
* * *
Inspired by Elizabeth Gaskell’s North & South
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2017 by Melanie Stanford
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at mmstanford@hotmail.com
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Cover by Gabrielle Prendergast
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9959153-5-0
Print ISBN: 978-0-9959153-4-3
Also By Melanie Stanford
Sway
* * *
Clash
* * *
Becoming Fanny
featured in Then Comes Winter
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The Beast of Pemberley
featured in The Darcy Monologues
To Jeff,
For being more understanding
than I deserve
Chapter 1
MAGGIE
The sky was a rich blue, the kind that belonged over a Van Gogh wheat field, not the lawn in front of Hank’s family ranch. The bright sun warmed the bare skin of my arms and legs while a breeze blew into my hair, twirling the ends like silk. But I couldn’t breathe.
All this cloying perfection suffocated me, right down to the plaid blanket I sat on, the wicker basket full of wine and roses, and Hank. Especially Hank, and the four words he had just spoken. Four little words that sucked the air right from my lungs.
It really was a sweet proposal, and I knew Hank thought he was going all out with the picnic and the perfect day, as if he had ordered it all especially. It would’ve been easy to say yes. In fact, I felt the word at my lips, so close, so ready to slip out, before I swallowed it back down.
Hank knelt across from me, the cowboy hat I used to think was so sexy perched against his knees. He’d ruffled his hair as soon as he took it off to avoid hat head, but all it did was give him a look of wispy childlike innocence. The kind of look that was hard to erase. And yet, all too easy.
“I can’t.”
His smile froze before it fell altogether. He leaned back on his heels. “What?”
“I’m really sorry,” I said, not taking my eyes from his, “but I can’t.”
“Maggie…” He reached for me, then dropped his hand. “Why?”
I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know. I’d loved Hank since I was a freshman in high school. Everything about him, from his worn jeans to the dirt under his fingernails and how he masked the smell of horses with Calvin Klein cologne. How he called all women “ma’am,” how he could tame the wildest horse and yet every touch on my skin was gentle.
I loved Hank. But I couldn’t say yes. It was the “yes” that made it so hard to breathe.
“I’m not ready.”
I should have seen this proposal coming. We’d talked about the future lots of times, of being together and living on Hank’s family ranch and having kids one day. But it seemed so far off. Unreal. We were only nineteen, after all. It was an adult’s life we talked of, and I didn’t feel like an adult.
“Then I’ll wait. We’ll wait.” Hank scooted closer, his knees pressed into my thighs. “You can finish community college, and by then Dad will let me run the ranch on my own and—”
“No.” I couldn’t let this go on. This was his dream. For a long time it had been my dream too, but I knew in that moment I’d only been borrowing it until I could find my own.
Hank gaped. Then, jamming his hat on his head, he stood and walked away, his shoulders hunched.
“Hank.” I followed. I couldn’t leave things like this. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
He whirled around, brushing my forehead with the brim of his hat. I was taller than Hank without it. The hat gave him height, which is why he wore it all the time, even in church. My dad thought it was sacrilegious, but he never made Hank stop.
“You’re sorry?” His sunburned face turned a deeper shade of red. “Maggie, we’ve been dating for four years.”
The pain he was trying so hard to hide brought tears to my eyes. “I know.”
“This is what comes next.” He tipped my chin up with his finger. Hank loved to touch m
y face, always marveling at my smooth, pale skin compared to his year-round sunburn. “I want it, your parents expect it—”
My eyes narrowed at that, and he quickly changed tack.
“I love you. Don’t you love me?”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t explain, couldn’t say I love you like I had so many times before. There was nothing I could do but escape.
Hank followed. He pleaded. He even cried. I cried. He didn’t touch me.
“Please don’t do this,” I said.
The swish of his footsteps behind me died out. He’d finally given up.
“Maggie!” he shouted. “At least let me give you a ride home!”
But I couldn’t do that either. I needed to get away from him. Away from myself.
Hank called out again but I ignored him. I didn’t stop until I reached the gravel road leading off Hank’s family property.
I half expected Hank’s pickup to come by, with him hanging out of the window telling me to get in. But he never showed and I was grateful. It was a long walk back into town, but it gave me time. Time to cry, to hate myself, and to think.
A year ago, I’d graduated high school with a mediocre GPA and a diner job I’d had since I was fourteen. My grades weren’t good enough for a top university, so I’d enrolled in the local community college, kept the job where everyone knew my name and gave me crappy tips, and stayed with Hank.
But the whole time I’d had this dream. An alternate life I imagined living when I went to bed at night, or while zoning out at the diner.
In this alternate life, I left Hank and Hillstone behind and moved far away—to Las Vegas. I had fabulous friends, a big studio apartment, a job at a trendy boutique, and best of all I danced with Essence Dance Theater, a renowned contemporary dance company I’d seen perform once.
Maybe this alternate life was straight out of a TV show, but I couldn’t help wanting something different from what I knew. It’s not that I didn’t have great friends, because I did. But Drina was at Brown, Stace and her boyfriend were backpacking in Europe, and Melissa had changed her name to Misty and moved to California to be closer to the Mother Ocean, as she called it.
Only I was left, and Hank. Me and Hank. Hank and I. And my parents. Me and Hank and my parents. And his parents and his horses. Me and Hank and my parents and his parents and his horses.
It wasn’t enough, yet it was all too much.
My pinkie toes began to sting, the beginnings of blisters. Hillstone was still a mile off. I passed the Williams farm and their pasture of Jersey cows. The same pasture where I’d watched Stace and Melissa/Misty get wasted at Fox Williams’ annual New Year’s party while I drank a hot chocolate, because my dad would have murdered me if I had one sip of alcohol. I trudged by the old, rotting barn that everyone said was haunted by headless chickens. I slipped off my sandals as I entered Hillstone, the gravel turning to chipped pavement, hot under my bare feet.
Hillstone was all I knew. It was familiar and safe. Like Hank. But if I couldn’t say yes to Hank, I couldn’t say yes to Hillstone either.
Maybe it was time to make my daydream a reality.
By the time I got home, the perfect sun was setting in perfect rays of pink and orange. It turned the white siding of my house into the color of Pepto Bismol. I sat on the porch, wrapping my skirt under my legs, unwilling to go inside.
“Maggie?” Mom’s voice called through the screen door. “How was your date?”
She knew about the proposal. I could hear it in her voice—the hope, the barely contained excitement.
“We broke up,” I said, quick and painless. Like how I’d refused Hank. Except that hadn’t been painless at all. And neither was this.
My mom was by my side in seconds—one of those superhero Mom tricks I figured I’d inherit one day if I ever had kids. I didn’t even hear the screen door slam like it always did.
“Honey, why?” Mom put her arm around my shoulders. “What happened?”
I couldn’t meet her eyes. “I said no.”
Her silence said everything.
I gave her the side eye. “You knew he was going to propose, didn’t you?”
“I might have known a thing or two.” She pulled my head against her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” I’d given up something. I’d given up a life, a future that was certain once, a future I’d set for myself whether I’d wanted it or not. I couldn’t keep living in Hillstone, going to community college, working at the same diner. I wanted to be a different Maggie Hale. I needed to be.
It was time for me to try.
Chapter 2
MAGGIE
To: Frasier Hale, frazedaze@mymail.com
* * *
From: Margaret Hale, maggie-hale@mymail.com
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How did you run away? Hank proposed and I said no and now I have to get out of here. I’m thinking of going to Vegas. And no, NOT to be a showgirl. I’ve always wanted to audition for the contemporary dance company there. I saw them perform a couple of years ago and it was magical. What do you think? Am I crazy? I’ve got a little saved. I figured I can take a bus, stay in a hotel until I can find an apartment and a job. You’ve been to Vegas, do you know a good neighborhood? Preferably cheap?
Anyway, how are you? Are you still in Vancouver? Or have you moved on again? What about that girl you were seeing, Kimmi, wasn’t it? You sounded pretty SERIOUS in your last email. Maybe you should bring her around. You know Mom and Dad would love to see you.
* * *
I hadn’t seen my brother Frasier since I was sixteen. He’d come home to visit after being away a couple of years, although I was pretty sure he was just there begging for money. He hadn’t been back since.
Frasier and my parents didn’t exactly get along. He’d always been a “reprobate,” as Dad liked to call him. Skipping school, hiding pot under his mattress, getting drunk at our church Nativity one year and “accidentally” letting the sheep loose through town. Where I was the dutiful preacher’s daughter, attending church and Bible study and staying away from the demon alcohol (and the other demons my father preached about—there were a lot of them), Frasier was the typical black sheep, and he embraced the role, right down to the tattoo of a flaming skull he got on his back when he turned sixteen.
But he loved me, always had. Frasier was the one person I knew would be fully in my corner on this. The one person who wouldn’t tell me how foolish I was to give up being the Maggie Hale that everyone knew.
* * *
To: Margaret Hale maggie-hale@mymail.com
* * *
From: Frasier Hale frazedaze@mymail.com
* * *
You said no to Hank?! Did he cry? Did he turn to his favorite stallion for comfort? I always thought that guy was a little too close to his horses, if you know what I mean.
So as soon as I got your email, I called my old friend Bronwyn. You remember her? The girl who looks like an Amazon goddess? (We may or may not have hooked up in a snowdrift at the annual Williams party when we were fourteen.) ANYWAY, she lives in Vegas now and after some begging and pleading (and coercing and blackmailing), I convinced her to take on a roommate. YOU, in case you were wondering. She said she’s barely at her apartment anyway, she spends a lot of time with her boyfriend, blah blah blah, but you can move in with her for decent rent. You’ll still have to get a job though and I can’t help you with the dance company. Good luck on your audition. Maybe if I come to Vegas I can seduce the owner or head dance lady or whoever and get you in.
Have fun running away. It’s about frickin’ time. And don’t sweat Mom and Dad. Mom will understand and Dad loves his gospel more than us anyway, so he’ll get over it. Just remember to bring earphones to the argument because it’ll be a doozy.
Maybe I’ll see you in Vegas soon. ;)
I was actually doing it. Leaving Hillstone. I’d booked a bus ticket, emailed Bronwyn about the details, and packed my stuff.
Next step: b
reak it to my parents.
Mom cooked shepherd’s pie for dinner, my favorite. It felt like a farewell meal. Beside my plate, cucumbers floated in vinegar and pepper, almost translucent from swimming there so long. I took a swig of milk to wet my throat, the words I’d practiced earlier jumbling in my head.
Dad looked at me. “Is everything okay, pumpkin?”
I choked on the milk. “Went down the wrong tube, is all.”
Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Are you sure? You seem a little anxious.”
“Honey,” Mom said to Dad.
“No, I’m fine. I—”
“I’m sorry about what you went through with Hank.” Dad reached his hand out to me. I took it, the coldness of his palm sharp against my sweaty one. “It must have been very hard for you both.”