Beneath Your Beautiful

by Tamsyn Bester

  Beneath Your Beautiful

  Tamsyn Bester

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my Guardian Angel, Darryl Da Costa. I hope that as you are looking at me from your star in the sky, you are proud of the person I have become. I miss you.

  Love you always.

  Acknowledgements

  This has undoubtedly been the most amazing journey, and by far my greatest achievement. There are so many people who have been involved and who I would like to thank.

  Firstly, to my parents, and my family, thank you for your love and support. To my mom Nadine, who is my biggest fan, thank you for encouraging me to keep going when I’ve been ready to give up and for giving me the freedom to dream my own dreams! I LOVE YOU!

  To my twinnie Kelsey Bester, my best friends Gugu Selahle, Nicole Bietje and Erin Richards, and my friend Brooke Pelser – Your excitement and your support has meant so much to me and I love you all for it!

  To my Brat, Amanda Bennett (Who also Beta read for me) – thank you for being an amazing friend and mentor.Beautifully Broken was the first Indie book I ever read and I had no idea that it would lead me here, almost a year later!

  To the best Beta’s ever – Toski Reanne Covey, Carrie Richardson-Horton, Michelle Davis Grad, Jessica Carter, Jessica Bowman, Kendra Jefferson, Ashton Ghaemi (Falling In Fall Book Blog), Ena Burnette (Swoon Worthy Books), Lisa Sharley Serpa, Kendra Zumhingst, Ilsa Madden-Mills, Jeanette Ritter Mackanos, Cami Holt Krystyniak (Who also copy edited for me) and Brooke Pelser – THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the feedback and for telling me you love Grayson & Huntley’s story! Your words of encouragement kept me going & I am so grateful to have had such amazing group of women cheering me on!

  A VERY special thank you to Toski at Toski Covey Photography and Sommer Stein at Perfect Pear Creative, for giving my book the most beautiful cover – words are not enough to express my gratitude for all that you have done for me! And to my beautiful cover models, Lexie Lynn Cain and Carson Fields, thank for bring Huntley and Grayson to life!

  Lastly, I would like to take the time to thank every person who reads Beneath Your Beautiful – I know it’s not for everybody, and there will be readers who don’t like it, but THANK YOU for taking a chance on my book and for helping me achieve this!

  Prologue

  ~ Huntley ~

  I know first-hand how hard life can be. I don’t pretend that it’s all butterflies and roses. When I moved to Breckinridge, Alabama, it was so that I could start over and forget about my past, even just for a little while. I had it all figured out then. I would go to college, graduate and then start my career as a child psychologist. For the most part it was simple, fool proof. Until Grayson Carter walked into my life.

  He crashed into me at full speed and I found myself addicted to how he made me feel.

  They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes but as I succumb to the darkness and the pain, I get a glimpse of what could’ve been mine. I feel a little hand slip around mine and look down, only to be met with green eyes that match Graysons’. The brown-haired little boy looks up at me and smiles before running away laughing. I watch, mesmerized, as Grayson appears, running after the little boy.

  “No daddy,” the little boy squeals. He runs towards me and I open my arms for him to jump into. “Mommy!” he squeals again.

  I kiss his forehead. “Mommy’s here,” I coo.

  Grayson wraps his arms around us and I feel peace in this moment, unaware of what’s real and what’s not.

  All I know is that I’m happy, and safe, and home.

  Chapter 1

  ~ Huntley ~

  “Are you ready sweetheart?”

  I spin around at the sound of my aunts’ voice. She’s standing in the doorway to my old bedroom with a box tucked under her arm. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I reply

  I take one last opportunity to look around my childhood bedroom, remembering where everything once stood. It would be impossible to forget this place but I would never be able to recall the few good memories it held. Those were all tainted, the innocence ripped apart and thrown away.

  Thinking about my mother was difficult, especially when the house still smelled like her. It had been just over four months and her vanilla perfume still lingered everywhere, wrapping itself around me like a blanket. Every time I looked in the mirror, it was as if she was staring right back at me. I had her long blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, heart shaped face and button nose. That was where our resemblance ended. Where she was short and willowy, I had inherited my fathers’ taller and slightly muscular build. Thinking about my parents brought a wistful smile to my face, the melancholy of the moment palpable.

  I quickly wipe a tear that rolls down my cheek and pick up the rest of my meager possessions.

  This was it. I was about walk out on seventeen years of memories and never look back. Was I ready for this? I had no idea. All I know is that I need a new beginning, a chance to start over and try to move forward with the pieces of my life that were left over.

  As much as I want to forget the events that have lead me to this point, I wouldn’t be able to. They are of such a nature that remembering them would continue to keep me alive and safe. I need to remember how my mother died; it is a constant reminder of how close I came to making her mistakes. It has taken months to build the carefully constructed walls that now protected the pieces of my frail heart.

  Moving to Breckinridge, Alabama wouldn’t keep me safe, I knew that, but it was the closest thing to home I’ve ever really had. I spent countless summers there visiting my Uncle Alex and Aunt Emma and after everything around me fell apart, it seemed the most logical place to go to. I needed family and since I didn’t have parents, my uncle and aunt were the next best thing. Literally.

  “Ok, let’s get the show on the road”, my Uncle Alex yells from the front seat of his truck. My aunt meets me at the bottom of the stairs and pulls me into a one-armed hug before walking me to my Jeep.

  As we pull away from the curb I look back one last time, wishing that my parents were here with me. The familiar ache that had made itself at home in my chest not so long ago returned and as soon as the small two bedroom, dilapidated house disappears from my view I promise myself that no matter what, no one would ever get close enough to break me again.

  ** ** ** ** **

  It feels like days before we arrive in Breckinridge. It’s a quaint little town where everybody knows everybody and most people who were born here, died here.

  My exhaustion is diminished as soon as we park in front of the apartment building where I’ll be staying while I attend Whitley University. I’d argued with my uncle and aunt over getting my own place since they lived twenty minutes away from the main campus, but eventually got them to concede. I got them to understand that it was never about whether or not I was welcome to stay with them, I needed my own place and the chance to experience college the way I was supposed to. I needed some form of normality. Admittedly, that in itself wasn’t going to be easy.

  My apartment is on the fifth floor and the only two bedroom apartment left without a tenant. I was still deciding whether or not to get a roommate but figured I could use the extra room as a guest room in the meantime. The idea of having a complete stranger move in with me made me all sorts of uncomfortable, my imagination drifting to ending up with a potential serial killer or closet pervert for a roommate.

  When I open the door and walk in there is no chance of suppressing the thrill that comes with finally having a place I can call my own.

  The small foyer opens up to a spacious open plan living area, kitchen, balcony and another hallway to the left that leads to a master bedroom, guest bedroom and guest bathroom.
Hardwood floors stretch through every space and compliments the earth tones that spread across the walls. It immediately feels like home. My little home.

  To my surprise, it has already been furnished, with plush leather couches, a large brown shag carpet, and all the electronic equipment imaginable. Thinking how busy my aunt has been furnishing this place makes me laugh. She always goes above and beyond and I love her more for it.

  Walking into the master bedroom, my attention immediately falls on the king size bed in the middle of the room. The covers are all ivory in color, and soft, with huge matching pillows. I would have to thank my aunt for buying me all this. I know they can afford it but I hate the thought of them spending money on me. It’s definitely a step up from the single bed I grew up with. In fact, everything around me is luxury I’m not accustomed to.

  The feel of the plush white carpet under my toes is amazing, spreading across most of the hardwood floor. The walk-in closet, filled with new clothes, shoes and accessories catches my attention next

  Oh. My. Goddamn… this stuff must’ve cost a fortune…

  I let out a small gasp at the sight of the gorgeous clothes that I assume are now mine. The shoes are just as beautiful. I giggle when my eyes catch sight of not one but three, pairs of cowboy boots, all in different colors. It would be wrong not to have them, living in a place like this. This town was as Southern as they came.

  “Did I get your sizes right sweetheart?”

  I jump, startled at the sound of my Aunt Emma’s voice. “Aunt Em, this is too much! I can’t accept all this!” It really is too much.

  “Oh nonsense! I may have gone a little overboard but it is nothing less than you deserve. Your Uncle Alex and I want you to feel at home, because as of right now this is and always will be your home. Besides, I didn’t want you starting you first day of classes tomorrow stickin’ out like a Barbie doll at a Rodeo.” She smiles and opens her arms, a gesture I’ve become very familiar with when she wants to hug me.

  As she embraces me, a small tear slides down my cheek and I wipe it, but not before she sees me. I have so many emotions running through my mind, I have no idea whether to cry or jump up and down from excitement.

  “Hey now, we won’t be havin’ any more of that you hear?” she puts her hands on my shoulder, “I know the last few months have been hard for you baby girl but you have a family here that love you. I don’t want to be your mamma but I’m here for anything you need, and I know Uncle Alex feels the same way. And I also know the girls are super excited to have you here too! Hannah and Finley have been telling all their friends about their big cousin coming to stay here. We want you to be happy here, this is where you belong,” she states matter-of-factly.

  I smile at her Southern accent; it was such a warm, soothing sound to my ears.

  “I can’t thank you enough for what you and Uncle Alex have done for me. It is more than I could’ve dreamed of. I don’t know how I would ever be able to repay you” I choked out.

  Great, these stupid tears just love popping up uninvited…

  “Sweetheart, you are as much a daughter to me as my two brats are so of course I will give you as much as I can. But you can still repay us by joining us for Sunday lunch every other week and stopping by your Uncle’s office every now and then” she teases with a wink. Before I can respond she starts again.

  Good Lord, this woman could talk an ear off a horse if given half the chance…

  “Now,” her eyes grow serious, “You take a minute or two to get settled while I unpack some of your things. Once we’ve left you can have yourself a nice long bath! I hope you’ll like your well-stocked bathroom,” she snickers. With that she kisses me on the forehead and leaves.

  Standing alone in my big room I’m suddenly overwhelmed by how loved I feel. I was a little girl the last time I felt this way. Thoughts of my mother pop into my head again and I miss her then.

  Her funeral was held a month after her death. We decided to have her buried here in Breckinridge, next to my fathers’ grave. It was what she would’ve wanted, and it was only a few miles away so I could go visit her grave whenever I wanted to.

  My Uncle Alex and Aunt Emma were both very well-known here in Breckinridge. Uncle Alex was the coach of the Whitley University Football team, which gave him a kind of ‘celebrity’ status. Aunt Emma owns the biggest bakery in town and is also involved in every charity and fundraising event to take place throughout the year. But the job she loves the most is that of ‘momma’ to my two little cousins. Hannah is four years old and Finley is six. They are easily the cutest toddlers in town and it’s no secret that I adore them both.

  A knock at the door drags me from my reverie and I turn from my spot by the window. My Uncle Alex stands in my doorway and takes up most of the frame with his huge body. On the outside he looks mean and fierce, but on the inside he’s a giant teddy bear. I know that from experience but also from seeing how he cherishes his wife and two daughters. He told me shortly before I decided to move here that he felt the same way about me and that he was happy to have me as part of his little family. Of course I cried after that conversation.

  “Can I come in sweetheart?” he asks. I smile at the term him and my aunt have grown accustomed to calling me. My father was the only other person to refer to me as his ‘sweetheart’ and hearing it again makes the pieces of my heart fit together again.

  “Sure.” I walk over to the bed and sit down, noticing that he has a guitar case in his hand. I know how to play a guitar, thanks to a very adamant mother who sent me for lessons even when she could barely afford it. She said my father played and she wanted me to learn so I could still keep a part of him with me.

  “I hope you like your room. Your Aunt Em went a little crazy in here but she wanted to make sure you had everything you might need,” he says glancing around nervously.

  “I love it, thank you Uncle Alex.”

  He looks at me before speaking again, a sad expression settling itself on his handsome face. “Now this guitar belonged to your daddy. He gave it to me shortly before he died and asked me to hang on to it until I could get it to you. Somehow he knew he wasn’t gonna be around much longer.”

  I touch the black box lying on my bed with my fingers, stopping over my fathers’ initials. Just knowing it had belonged to him made him feel like less of a mystery.

  I stand on my tippy toes and kiss my uncle on the cheek. He blushes and pulls me into his side, kissing me on top of my head. Without another word he walks out and I’m left alone again, this time my fathers’ guitar is my only company. I’m itching to open it. It has been months since I last played. Music was how I expressed what I was feeling and I made a resolution to get back to it when the first chance came up.

  After finally settling in and getting my uncle and aunt to leave, I crawl into my big, poufy bed, my body sinking into the mattress and releasing all the tension from the past few hours.

  For the first time since my mother died, the nightmares stay away, and it’s as if nothing happened.

  If only that were true. I pray to God and whatever other higher power is out there looking after me, that my past won’t try to find me. Deep down, in the very core of my being, I know it will eventually come back, that he will come find me. I shove the dreaded thought back into the darkest corners of my mind. Tomorrow would be my new beginning and whether I was ready or not, it was here.

  The old Huntley Morgan is dead and gone…

  Chapter 2

  ~ Grayson ~

  I pull up outside the bakery on Main Street like I’ve done for the last few Saturdays since classes started. Somehow it’s become a routine, given that our football coach’s wife, or Mrs. Coach as I like to call her, owns it. We usually stop by for breakfast and then head out to Lake Dixon for the day, today being no exception. Despite my intense schedule, with it being my final year year, I’ve managed to keep my grades high, attend all my classes, make it to every practice and still find time to hang with friends.

&nbs
p; I cross the busy street, waving to familiar faces as they pass me by. It’s one of the drawbacks of living in such a small town – everybody knows your name and your business. When your fathers’ the only attorney in town and your mother chairs almost every charity organization in the state, it falls on you to continue the legacy. Not that I’m complaining. Life at twenty one is pretty damn sweet in my shoes. Or at least that’s what I want people to think.

  “Hey Gray, what’s up buddy!” I take a seat opposite my best friend Brody at our usual table and bump his fist. “Hey Bro.” Brody and I met in the second grade, when a fourth grader picked on my sister. Brody jumped on his back and just about pummeled him to death, despite the fact that he was twice Brody’s size. We’ve been best friends ever since. I think about my sister for a split second, dismissing the thought quicker than what it came. After two years it’s supposed to be easier but some days she’s all I think about.

  “So, how was your night last night?” he looks at me, one brow cocked up high into his messy blonde hair. I know what he’s really asking me but he’s too chickenshit to say it out loud. He’ll make me say it instead. Bastard.

  “It was good, but I wasn’t with Rebecca if that’s what you're asking.” I give him a warning look not to go there. It would just ruin my mood. “What? She didn’t attack you last night like she always does?” he retorts sarcastically. “That’s a shocker! I’m pretty sure that girl has your entire wedding planned already.” I roll my eyes, tired of this conversation already. He knows better than anyone that I don’t do love. Not anymore. When I had my heart stomped on, shredded and spat back out by the first girl I ever truly loved I decided to switch my heart off permanently. I would rather feel nothing than feel so hurt and broken up again. But Rebecca and I have an arrangement, one that does not include romantic feelings. At least not on my part. All it’s ever been is a few meaningless hook-ups. No feelings, no emotions. Just sex.

  But what if he’s right? What if she thinks this thing with us is more? Shit.