by Ava Stone
Ava Stone’s DESOLATE SUN series
Week At the Beach ~ Short Story
Catch Me Now ~ Novella
Live Like You Mean It
A Desolate Sun Novel
Copyright © 2015 by Ava Stone
Cover Design by Lily Smith
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Kate ~ Thank you for encouraging me to step outside my comfort zone and for all the great ideas, anecdotes, suggestions and support! You’re the best!
~ Ava
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Sneak Peek ~ Catch Me Now
Also Available
About Ava Stone
Fucking frat parties. I hate them, but they pay better than most gigs, which is why we play them. Still, they’re a pain in the ass. Dickhead undergrads with more money than sense. And shit-faced sorority girls who wear next to nothing. That last part isn’t so bad, the wearing next to nothing part. The shit-faced part I can do without. It took me a good month to get the smell of puke out of my jeep interior after the last Greek gig we’d played. No more drunk sorority girls. Especially not the blonde in the see-through shirt who kept licking her lips whenever I looked in her direction. She was trouble, I could sense it. And when you’ve played enough of these parties, you can sense a lot.
Daniel, Cade and I harmonized backup as Jason leaned into the mic. Just like clockwork, the jackass hit the wrong chord on his guitar. It was all I could do not crash my bass into the back of his head. If he could be bothered to show up for practice more than once a week, he might hit the right fucking chords every once in a while.
Daniel rolled his eyes, clearly just as annoyed as I was. But as usual, Jason didn’t give a shit. He shrugged off my glare, then moved even closer to the mic and hit the high note he might as well have trademarked. This earned him a cheer from a group of frat boys in the far corner as they whistled and lifted their plastic beer cups in a mock toast.
Prick. If someone else could hit that note, Jason and his shitty attitude would be long gone. As luck would have it, however, he had an amazing fucking voice. Better than any other lead we’d ever had. So like it or not, we were stuck with him. At least for now.
Cade launched into his solo, pounding out against his toms and snare like there was no tomorrow. Eyes closed, he seemed like he was an extension of his drums, that the rhythm and beat were part of his soul.
From behind the keyboard, a look of worry flashed in Daniel’s eyes. What the hell was wrong now? But before I could really finish that thought, I saw her step into the crowd.
Fuck.
What was she doing here?
Cade was just starting to get over the crazy redhead, just starting to get his head back in the game and now…
Cade hit the cymbal at the end of his solo. His eyes opened and sure enough he spotted Kelsey a half-second later, just like she wanted him to. His mouth fell slightly open and he missed the next beat.
Come on, Cade! I pleaded with my eyes. Get it together. Don’t let her fuck with you. We’re in the middle of a set. Just ignore her. Please, just ignore her.
But, of course, he couldn’t. She’d gotten beneath his skin. Fucked with his mind. Broke his heart. Left him for dead, at least emotionally.
The beat was off. Even Jason seemed annoyed as he glanced over his shoulder at Cade. As though Jason had a right to be annoyed with anyone.
Some beefy Pi Kapp slid up behind Kelsey and nuzzled her neck. Cade’s face turned purple. He missed the next beat and the one after that. We were crashing and burning, and there was a house full of drunk Wheston students watching it happen live.
Jason turned all the way around to glare the drummer. “What the fuck?” he hissed.
But Cade didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t seem to notice anything as he stared like a beaten puppy into the crowd.
Fucking Kelsey. She was always a bitch, but now… What was the fucking point? It wasn’t like she wanted Cade back. She just wanted to torture him some more. But with an audience.
The Pi Kapp went up under her shirt, and Cade pushed out of his stool, knocking his hi hat and snare onto the ground in the process. The dull thud echoed across the room and the rest of us gave up the pretense of playing.
“She’s not worth it,” Daniel muttered, starting from behind his Korg.
But it was too late to do anything other than watch mild-mannered Cade Bishop launch himself off the riser into the crowd and crash his fist into the Pi Kapp’s jaw.
And the rest of the night was blur. Frat boys piling on Cade. Daniel and me trying to breakup the brawl. Fists and beer cups flying in all directions. Sorority girls screaming, laughing and a few capturing the entire event on video with their iPhones. And… Kelsey looking quite satisfied with herself a few feet away. Sadistic bitch.
It didn’t take the cops long to show up. Citations for underage drinking and public drunkenness were just the beginning. They hauled Cade down to the station for assault. And Daniel and I just stood there, shell-shocked. How had such a normal night turned into this?
“Oh!” The blonde in the see-through shirt appeared suddenly at my side. ”Your hand!” She laid her hand on my chest and stared into my eyes. “Are you all right?”
My hand? I lifted my hand up to inspect it, and damn if it wasn’t pouring blood through a gash across my knuckles. I didn’t even know I’d been hurt. But I knew it now. My hand started to pulse with pain and I shook the blonde off. “Yeah, not all right,” I grumbled.
“God,” Daniel said looking at my fucked-up hand. “How did that happen?”
“No idea,” I muttered.
“Man, you gotta go to the ER and have someone look at that.” He frowned.
Like there was time for that. I gestured toward instruments and equipment. “We gotta get all this packed up first.”
“Fuck that. Jason and I can do it.” He shook his head. “Go to the hospital, Brody.”
“Leah,” Abby, the night ER shift manager began as she stopped at the reception desk. “Beth called in sick again. I need you to stay until Toni gets here.”
No surprise there as I’d been working an hour past my shift already and Beth hadn’t shown up. Again. “I have a test tomorrow.” And I hadn’t been able to even crack the book since I got to work; it had been so insanely busy.
Unmoved by that, Abby shrugged. “And I’m short-staffed. These people can’t check themselves in.”
No, but Beth seemed to always be sick at the most inconvenient times.
My cell dinged, and Abby glared at me as though I’d just broken every last commandment in the Bible. “Sorry,” I muttered, scrounging in my purse, trying to retrieve my phone. My mom. Again.
I rejected the call and smiled up at Abby, hoping she’d take pity on me. After all, I hadn’t called in sick and I’d already worked an hour longer than I was supposed to.
“I don’t care who your father used to be. The only phone that should ring up here is that one,” she reminded me, gesturing to the large receptionist phone on my desk with a flick of her hands.
Sure, it was all right to call in sick twice a week, but not all right to have your cell phone at the reception desk. Abby’s priorities were screwed up if you asked me. “Yeah, I know. Sorry,” I said again.
She heaved an irritated sigh and shook her head. “Toni is on her way in. So just stay until she gets here, ok?”
I nodded in agreement since I didn’t really have a choice anyway. I did need the job and on less busy nights I could actually study at work.
As soon as Abby disappeared through the staff only door behind me, I retrieved my phone and hit the missed call button to dial my mother back.
“Oh, Leah, good!” Mom said as soon as she picked up. “Are you on your way home?”
No, but I should have been. “Mom,” I started, not that it did any good. She talked over me like she usually did. Something about needing more eggs and organic milk on my way home. “Mom, I can’t talk. I’m still at work. Just text me whatever you need, and I’ll pick it up on my way.”
“Ok, sweetie. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
I dropped my phone on top of my biology book. It was going to be another all-nighter for me. It was going to take several hours to get ready for that test and I was out of time. If only I could have gotten something done tonight.
But the waiting room had been jam-packed ever since I got there. The full moon really does bring out the crazies. Anyone who says otherwise has never worked in an ER. So far, I’d checked in a guy who’d Super-glued his nose closed; not one but, two self-inflicted stabbings; one guy with his dick stuck in a bottle; and a university freshman with a cucumber stuck inside her. If those two had hung out before tonight, they both could have avoided a trip to Wheston University Medical Center.
My cell phone chirped with a text and my display screen lit up with my mom’s grocery list - eggs, organic milk, and pork rinds.
Who in the world asked for organic milk and pork rinds? You can take the girl out of Louisiana but you can’t take Louisiana out of the girl, my dad had always said. And while you might think my mom was a traditional southern belle upon meeting her, she did have more than one redneck on her side of the family.
A shadow fell over me at the desk. One more full moon crazy, I was sure.
I looked up and my mouth dropped open.
Wow.
He looked like Liam Hemsworth in a tight t-shirt, but with shaggier hair and bluer eyes. And… and a hand that looked like it’d had some sort of run in with a glass door or something.
“Uh,” he began, not sounding at all like Liam Hemsworth but more like a guy born and bred in the south with just the slightest drawl. “Is this where I check in?”
Check in? This was where he could do anything he wanted.
But I mentally shook that thought away as soon as it popped into my mind. I was being an idiot. Again. And I didn’t have the luxury of being one any longer.
So I nodded quickly and reached for the clipboard with the hospital intake forms. “Fill this out and bring it back,” I said, hoping I sounded more together than I felt with his blue eyes focused so intently on me.
“Umm.” He lifted his hand up for inspection and then smiled like a toothpaste model. “I’m right handed.”
“Oh!” I scrambled to my feet, and in the process, I knocked my biology book and cell phone to the floor.
Idiot, idiot, idiot. Just because the guy was hot didn’t mean I had to be a clumsy idiot all of a sudden. You’d think I’d never seen a hot guy before. I had. Several of them. Even if it had been a while since one looked at me like this guy did.
Amusement flashed in his eyes. Probably girls made idiots out of themselves in front of him all the time, not that that made me feel any better. I bent over and quickly retrieved my textbook and phone and then came back to my feet to face the guy.
He gestured to my biology book and said, “I’m hoping those doctors back there have this stuff down already.”
“You never know.” I grinned back. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
When he laughed, I bit back a smile. It was late. I had a test to study for and pork rinds to pick up on the way home. The last thing I ought to do is flirt with some hot guy in the ER waiting room. But he was a hot guy and he was smiling at me. And that hadn’t happened in a very long time. “If you need help,” I began, “I could help you fill out the form.” Even though I wasn’t supposed to. But Abby would be busy in the back exam rooms with the full moon crazies. She wouldn’t come up front again for a while. At least I didn’t think she would.
“Thanks,” he replied and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket before hitching his hip against the corner of my desk.
I dropped back down to my seat and turned the clipboard around so I could fill it out for him. I scribbled in the date and said, “You have your insurance card?”
“Yeah.” He thumbed through his wallet as I returned my attention to the form.
“Name?”
“Brody Campbell,” he replied.
Brody Campbell. Brody Campbell. Why did that name sound familiar? I’d heard it somewhere. At least I thought I had. “Married? Single?”
When he didn’t say anything, I looked up from the form to find him smiling down at me again. “Single. You?”
My belly flipped and my face heated up. I had to be the color of fire truck. I tapped the clipboard in front of me. “It’s, uh, on the form.”
He grinned like a guy who had more than his share of secrets. “I figured it was.” Then he handed me his insurance card and driver’s license from his wallet. “Anything else?”
“Social security number.”
He rambled off the numbers and I scribbled them onto the form. I took my sweet time looking over his driver’s license. Brody William Campbell of 2385 Maple Hill, Apartment 108, Wheston, Virginia. He was an organ donor. He was 25 and even had a decent driver’s license photo. Thank God he wasn’t looking at mine.
I filled in his address, date of birth and then came to the reason for your visit line. “What happened to your hand?” I asked.
“No clue.” He shrugged.
No clue? There was no way he’d slashed his hand to shreds and didn’t know how he’d done it. He must not have wanted to tell me, which only made me really want to know what had happened even more, even if it wasn’t any of my business. “I’ll just write injured hand, then.” I turned the clipboard back around and pointed at the bottom line. “You have to sign it yourself, though, Mr. Campbell.”
Mr. Campbell? Damn, did I look as old as all that? I took the pen from the pretty brunette - and she was pretty in an innocent sort of way, different from those sorority girls earlier in the night. And she had great tits that her blue lace cami kept drawing my eyes to. Hell, I’d been looking at them ever since I arrived. That and her perfectly rounded ass when she’d bent over to pick up her book and phone from the floor. It had been all I could do not to grunt in appreciation. Work of art. She was a fucking work of art.
But she was looking at me all doe-eyed and innocent, waiti
ng for me to do something. The form. Right. I looked down at the form she’d filled out for me and I scrawled out my signature on the bottom line.
Fuck. My hand really did hurt like hell.
I dropped the pen back on the desk and tried to push the pain from my thoughts. Flirting with the brunette was helping on that front though. So I flashed her my best smile and said in my most seductive voice. “Come here often?”
A burst of laughter escaped her and she shook her head. “Yeah. Five nights a week. They even pay me to show up.”
Pretty and nice. What were the odds of that? “So you have two nights off a week, then?”
She blushed and I couldn’t help but smile. When was the last time I talked to girl who was prone to blushing? She wasn’t even a redhead. “I sorta have a standing date those other two nights,” she said and began shuffling some of the papers on her desk to avoid looking at me.
Well, that sucked. Not that I should have been surprised by that. Of course she had a standing date on her nights off. She was pretty, nice, and those tits. She didn’t look like the kind of girl who’d have to sit at home all alone and certainly not in Wheston with horny college guys in every corner of town.
“Well, you should come hear my band sometime. You know, on one of those two nights off you get. You can even bring your boyfriend if you want.” If she saw me perform, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d outshine whatever undergrad currently had her attention. At least, that had never failed me to this point. Something about seeing the band on stage was better than any aphrodisiac in existence.
“Your band?” she echoed, giving me her full attention. That was the reaction I usually got, and she hadn’t disappointed me. I almost felt sorry for her boyfriend. He was one live performance away from being an ex-boyfriend.
So I reached back into my wallet and pulled out the last Desolate Sun business card I had on me. “The QR code takes you to our website,” I said and was glad Daniel had insisted on the cards a few months back. We hadn’t snared any music producers with the things, but girls always seemed to like them, like we were a big deal or something.