“Fuck you. You’re not the boss of me.”
I was over it. All of the feelings of guilt for leaving her washed away as she looked at me with complete loathsome disgust. I looked around the tiny living room of our trailer, which was falling apart. The two buckets were nearly full of water from the roof leaks, the mildew was stinking up the place from carpet that had needed to be replaced years before, and the furniture was falling apart and mismatched, but none of that bothered me. The fact that the stove hadn’t worked right since I was fifteen was fine, and the way that the faucet in the bathroom made a glugging sound while it ran wasn’t the issue. The biggest problem in that whole dilapidated place was the woman who’d settled for that shithole so many years before. She was the problem with my life that I was running away from. She was the wretched quicksand that tried to suck my life away. My mother was a miserable excuse for a human being. I had known it for years, but I was finally letting myself be at peace with it.
I handed her the bag and started to dial the pizza place just up the road. “If you’re going to insist on abusing your medications, then at least eat something so you don’t destroy what little liver you have left.”
I barely got her to eat half a slice of pizza before she was popping two more pills into her mouth and falling asleep on the couch with a lit cigarette between her lips.
I pulled a blanket over her, put out the cigarette, and decided to call it a night. She had taken enough medication to keep her knocked out for the night and the walls were thin enough that if she needed me, I would be able to hear her.
The feeling of my old room, my old sheets and bed, my old everything was awful. I hated how stifling being back there was. My phone vibrated with another unread text from Abel. I powered it down; there was only so much drama I could handle for one day.
I knew that he was worried about me and that it was probably wrong to ignore him the way that I was, but the image of him killing a man in cold blood right in front of me was something that was not going to go away easily. I wasn’t completely naive; I knew that it was the nature of the beast. Abel was the freaking vice president of the motorcycle club for crying out loud. I had seen a few episodes of Sons of Anarchy, I knew there was probably blood on his hands, but knowing it was probable and knowing it was fact were two very different animals in my book. Ignorance really was bliss.
I woke up to a loud crash coming from the living room around five in the morning. I grabbed the robe that hung on the back of my door and raced to my mother’s side. She was laying on the couch, her eyes barely open, drool dripping from the left side of her mouth. She had knocked the side table over trying to shove up from the couch without her crutches.
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I asked, putting my arm under hers, ready to hoist her up. That’s when I saw the almost empty bottle of pills lying open on the floor next to my feet.
Horror rushed in. “Mom, oh my God! You didn’t.” She slurred a few words that I was unable to make out as I shook her. I looked down to her hand: she was gripping a syringe full of what I figured to be heroine.
“Mom what the fuck do you think you’re doing? This is not the answer.” I kept shaking her and she came to a little bit more.
“Please, Crit. I’m so tired.” Her head rolled onto my shoulder and I sat down next to her, silently panicking.
She groggily patted my thigh. “I don’t want to fight anymore.” Her words slurred together as her eyes struggled to stay open.
My voice cracked as I tried to figure out what to do. “Mom, you can turn this around. Let me help you get out of this hellhole.”
“Honey, it’s too late.” Her drool was dripping onto my arm as she started to position the needle to her vein. “There’s nothing in this world left for me. They’ve taken it all from me. I have nothing left.”
I was like a deer in headlights, just waiting in the middle of the road for the accident to happen through the tears welling in my eyes. Slowly she pushed the drugs into her bloodstream. I knew that she was done. I knew that I should have been calling the police, but I just sat there paralyzed while I watched my mother take her own shitty life. The worst part, the part that really scared me, was that I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t sad. I was just numb. Maybe deep down I knew that it was all for the best, and if that was what she really wanted then who was I to stand in her way?
I cradled her in my arms while she shook, tears rolling down her swollen, bruised face.
“I love you.” It was the first time in years that I had said those words to her.
“Love you too, Crickett.” Her eyes rolled back in her head as her slurred words faded. Her last breath was shallow, fleeting. I felt her leave, and I crumbled.
For what felt like hours, I held her in my arms and cried. Really it was only about twenty minutes before banging started on the front door as Abel’s and Rave’s yelling called to me.
I just sat there, scared to let them into the horrifying scene that I was entrenched in. Part of me didn’t want to open the door because once that happened, it all would be real. The whole nightmare of the past few days would all be too real for me to deal with.
It didn’t take long for Abel to kick in the front door. I was still a blubbering statue, clinging to my mother’s lifeless body as they busted into the trailer. The light flooded in from the open door, stinging my eyes as they rushed to my side.
Rave grabbed my mom and Abel scooped me into his arms. “Oh, fuck, babe what happened?” I fell apart in his arms. No words would form. It was all just too much.
Rave repositioned my mom onto the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck while he stared down at her. “I have to call the cops, Crickett. We have to get this taken care of.”
Abel whispered, “You didn’t…?”
I gasped and smacked his chest, pushing away from him with the little energy that I had left. “Who the fuck do you think I am? Do you really think I would kill my own mother?”
“Babe, don’t take it the wrong way. I had to ask. We don’t know what happened here.”
Rave put his hand on my shoulder. “I think we need to have a little chat, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you need to let us help you right now.”
I followed them into the kitchen, the three of us taking seats around the table. Through light sobbing I told them the whole roller coaster I had been on since I’d stormed out of the bar the day before.
“All right. Here’s what’s going to happen.” Rave started to pace around the kitchen. “I am going to call the cops and we’re going to tell them the truth, that Helen offed herself, that Crickett came to take care of her, and that we were just showing up to help out too. No lying, no crazy stories to keep straight. They might ask a lot of questions, but no one can get in trouble here, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Rave walked outside to make the call, leaving Abel and I awkwardly sitting in the kitchen staring blankly at the walls.
“I am so sorry about yesterday, babe.”
I grabbed his hand. “I know you’d never put me in danger, Abel, but the life you live is dangerous. And the fact that you killed that man, it just haunts me.”
He weaved his fingers with mine. “I will do anything to make it up to you.”
I took in a deep slow breath and crawled into his lap. “Just love me.”
I was too tired, too shook up, and too in love with him to fight or push him away any more. He had driven almost thirteen hours to fight for me. It was the first time I experienced what that truly felt like, someone loving me enough to stop at nothing to get me back.
He sighed into me, kissing the top of my head. “You’re mine. I’m never letting you go again.”
EpIlogue.
one year later
My body shook from pleasure as Abel’s thrusts sent my body into a hyper drive of euphoria. Our climaxes crashed around us and I fell onto the bed, a light layer of sweat coating my tired body.
Abel settled down behind me, slowly planting small ki
sses on my shoulder blade. “How was that, Mrs. Hellock?”
I rolled over in his arms¸ drowning in the ocean blue eyes of my new husband. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe when the shock of it wears off. So probably never.”
I laughed a little. “How about Rave’s or Raine’s shock when we tell them that our little trip to Florida was actually a shotgun trip to Vegas?”
Abel looked at me, blankly trying to piece together what I meant.
I kissed his cheek. “Why do you think I agreed to come here this weekend and cancel our plans in the Keys?”
“Are you serious?”
I planted a gentle kiss on his lips. “I found out a week ago. You really couldn’t figure it out?”
He shook his head. “I had no idea.”
“I’ve been sleepy and a little queasy in the mornings. I didn’t even touch the champagne that Elvis impersonator handed me last night.”
“Holy shit, we’re having a baby. We just got married and we’re having a fucking kid.” The smile that spread over his face was like a contagious wildfire of excitement. “Mrs. Hellock, I think you have just made me the fucking happiest man in the entire world. Hands down.”
I hugged him to me. “You’re okay with having another child?”
He looked deep into my eyes. “I cannot wait. I love you so much, babe.”
“I love you too, Abel. With my whole heart.”
We called for room service and looked out over the flashing bright lights of the Vegas Strip.
Abel grabbed my hand and pulled me into him while I stood by the window watching all the tourists rushing from the bars and casinos. It looked like a swarm of bees trying to find honey.
“Are you happy?” he whispered in my ear.
I pulled his arms tighter around my body. “I don’t think I could be any happier.”
I stared down at the rings resting on our fingers. It was all so overwhelming. Something that I’d sworn I would never do completely fulfilled me in that moment. I had never wanted anything more than to be his, only his, and with one hasty trip to Sin City we had made the ultimate commitment. It should have scared the shit out of me, but I had never been so calm and sure about anything in my entire life. Abel Hellock was meant to be mine and I was meant to be his.
He kissed my shoulder before asking, “What are you thinking about, babe?”
I laughed a little to myself. “Honestly, I was just thinking about that night you told me you’d be my Prince Charming if I needed one.”
He chuckled a little. “Yeah, I remember that.”
I sighed into him. “I didn’t realize it then, but I really did need one, and I am thankful it was you who saved me.”
“I think you’re the one that saved me, sugar.”
I turned to kiss his soft lips. “Forget the horse, my Prince Charming rides a motorcycle.”
the end.
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Other Books by
Kristen Hope Mazzola
Crashing Back Down (Crashing #1)
Falling Back Together (Crashing #2)
The Hysterics
Stupid Hearts
Sneak Peek
The Hysterics
PROLOGUE
FAÇADE
FALLON
I was Fallon Dunbar.
I was a drummer.
I was confident, strong, and driven.
I was a junkie.
I am dead.
The full boxes scattered around my small one room apartment made it feel more real. The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach made it feel so wrong. The new title and job made it feel surreal.
I am Fae Dunham.
I am the assistant editor of Raging Underground.
I am unsure, nervous, and scared shitless.
I am in recovery.
Staring into the full length mirror I had just hung up on the back of the door in my new room, I saw the shell of what I used to be, the life I could no longer have. The only traces left of my old life were the lip piercings I refused to take out. They were my favorites and they were staying. People like me don’t get second chances, but for some reason, I was standing knee-deep in one.
There’s no turning back now.
I will live again.
CHAPTER ONE
PRACTICE & mEMORIES
Dane
“Hey, man, you all right?” Colt was looking over at me from his seat on his amp.
I gripped the sticks a little tighter in my hands and shook myself from my zone-out. “Yeah. Sorry.” I still couldn’t get Fae off my damn mind.
Maverick tossed a bottle of water over my toms before swinging his bass guitar’s strap back over his shoulder. “Let’s take it from the top?”
My sticks clicked quickly, counting out the beat before sending Maverick and myself into a thumping bassline that shot goose bumps up my arms and legs. It felt like I was falling in love every time we started to play; it was that exciting.
Finally, the groove settled in nicely and we took off into our newest song, which I was sure would rock our show the next night. It took a while, but an hour and a gallon of sweat later, we were satisfied with how “The Lifespan of a Firefly” sounded.
“This is some great writing, Dane. Why haven’t you given us lyrics before?” Rodney holstered the mic and took a swig of his seventh beer while his words slurred a little.
Grabbing a brown bottle out of the fridge, I tried to figure out an answer to his question that didn’t make me sound like a complete pussy. “Never thought anything was good enough before, I guess.”
Epic fail – that dripped vag all over the place. Way to have a backbone.
“Well, from now on, grow a pair and dish out more of this shit. It’s gold. I think we should open with it tomorrow night for sure!”
Colt and Maverick both mumbled and nodded in agreement. My ego felt like it had grown ten times right there on the spot. Being the drummer, I never considered that writing lyrics was something I could be good at. Yeah, I was a journalist. Yeah, I had written angsty teenage poetry when I was younger. But I’d never considered myself an actual writer.
As I slouched onto the worn out couch in Colt’s basement, memories rushed over me like warm acid rain.
Beer and sweat were all I could smell as I wiped my dripping forehead with my shirt sleeve. The gentle hum of the Russells’ dryer slowly faded in, a little too soft after the booming of our last song left the air.
“Great session, guys.” Maverick’s weak smile faded as his words lingered in the space. We all knew and we all felt it, but we left it unsaid. There was too much, and no words could make it better; there was nowhere to begin. It was our first practice after the accident a few weeks before and the tension in the air was suffocating us all.
I nodded and choked out, “You guys think we’re ready?”
Rodney laughed from the couch, gripping the mic in his hand. “We better be. Like it or not, we’re opening tomorrow at Mountain Breath.” His faded Zeppelin shirt was starting to wear a hole next to hi
s collar and his lucky Chucks had mud caked on the sides.
“You gonna dress like a bum for it?” Colt joked, opening another beer we’d stolen from his old man’s stash. Mr. Russell knew we took them but was usually too loaded to care.
Rodney threw a sweat-soaked towel at Colt right as I stood to stretch out the kink that had been building up in my lower back while I’d sat behind my faded burgundy Ludwin set.
“I think it’s going to be sick,” I muttered, trying to be enthusiastic and failing miserably.
Maverick clapped me on my back before starting to put his bass in its case. “You ready?”
Digging my keys out of my pocket, I stared at my sticks where they rested in their bag attached to my floor tom. I stood up gradually from my stool, starting to make my way to the stairs. “Yeah. Let’s head home.”
“Get a good night’s sleep, gents! Tomorrow is going to be epic!” Rodney called up to us from the bottom of the stairs, a sly grin fixed firmly on his face. He had no fucking idea what he was asking of Mav and me, and it was better off that way.
The sound of a beer opening in my ear and the feel of cold suds spraying on my neck and cheek snapped me back to real time. Rodney erupted into a fit of laughter next to me.
“What the hell, man?” I thrashed, wiping my face off with the bottom of my shirt.
“Come on. I couldn’t resist. You were zoning out again.”
Colt sat in a metal folding chair across the faded lime green carpet, laying his guitar down next to him. “You all right, Dane? You’ve been spacey all night.”
“Yeah, man. I’m fine.”
I got up and started to make my way up the stairs to take a piss. Right as I opened the basement door, I heard Maverick say in a low voice, “Guys, it’s April thirteenth. You know how he gets around this time.”
My stomach sank. He was right. The twentieth was coming too fast for me to keep up with, and the memories and dreams were getting worse by the day.
Deep breaths.
Unacceptable Page 9