by Aly Stiles
A hand touches mine, and I glance over to find Naomi standing shyly beside me. She looks up and smiles. “Look what Uncle J gave me,” she says, leaning forward. She lifts a locket around her neck. “He called it a ‘gotcha present’ even though technically that’s for adoption.” Her face glows as she pushes her nail into the locket to open it. “Look. It’s my mom.”
I swallow a lump in my throat as I nod and pull her in for a hug. “He’s a lucky guy to have you in his life,” I say.
Her arms tighten around me. “Same,” she says quietly.
I laugh through my tears and pull back when she does. Wiping my eyes, I look for the subject of our conversation. He’s been accosted by Viv, and I grin, suddenly giddy again.
“What is it?” Naomi asks.
I motion toward the bandmates huddled alone in the kitchen. “She’s telling him the news.”
“What news?”
“Turner Artist Management wants to officially represent Better Days.”
“What?!” Naomi cries. “That’s awesome!”
“I know. Hang on. Let’s go eavesdrop.”
Naomi and I sneak toward the kitchen and park near a table of drinks where we can hear them without raising suspicions.
“There’s more,” Viv says. “Apparently White Flame is interested in us as well.”
“Shit, really? Aren’t they your old label?” Julian asks in a surprised voice.
Viv grins and nods. “Yep. They loved the demo Sam sent them. They want to bring us in to talk and do a formal audition.”
Julian shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s amazing. I mean…” He stops, his hand rubbing over his chin as he thinks. “Is that what we want, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just… didn’t we all just get burned and crushed by the industry? Do we want a label running our lives and our music?”
Viv leans back, her face pensive as well. “That’s a good point.”
Julian shrugs. “Yeah.” After a pause, he straightens and looks her in the eye. “So maybe we don’t do it. Maybe we find our way on our own.”
Viv’s brows scrunch together as she considers his words. I know from years of working with her that the idea of forging a career without a label has to be as terrifying as it is freeing for her. “You think we can?” she asks, perking up.
“With Sam and Turner Artist Management behind us? Absolutely we can. Look what you did with one song on your own. Besides, if after a couple of years it’s not working out, we can try to get signed then.”
He sighs. “I guess… I’ve spent my entire career chasing someone else’s dream, following a path already laid out. I kind of want to carve my own destiny, you know? Haven’t you ever felt like the things designed to push you forward are actually holding you back?”
Gosh, he has no idea how similar his journey is to Viv’s in a weird way. I picture every hard-fought trial she overcame to get here, every setback he endured.
Her concern melts into a smile. “I actually know exactly what you’re saying, and I agree. Let’s do this on our own and see where it takes us.”
Julian looks triumphant as he slings his arm around her shoulders with a grin. “Exactly. The industry has no idea what’s about to hit them.”
“Yesssss!” Naomi cries, pumping her fist in the air. “Fuck the establishment!”
Julian snaps his gaze to us at her outburst, his eyes widening then narrowing. “Language,” he says, pointing at her.
She shrinks and lifts her hand. “Sorry. I meant, fudge the establishment.”
Julian gives her a wink, and she rushes over for a hug.
“So you get signed by one of the top management agencies in the country, then turn down an offer from one of the top labels?” I ask, glancing over at him as we drive to some unknown destination. Apparently, Julian had his own big surprise planned for today which I thwarted with my nefarious scheme. His words, not mine.
“Duh, because he’s not a sell-out, Aunt Hadley,” Naomi calls from the backseat.
Julian smirks and holds his fist above the center console. Naomi leans forward to tap it.
He nods toward the back. “What she said.”
I huff a breath and settle back in my seat. “Whatever. Where are we going anyway?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“You’ve said that.”
“Okay, so why are you making me say it again?” He cowers before I even make contact with his arm. At least he’s learning.
“I think I know,” Naomi says, her voice suddenly quiet and withdrawn. Julian pulls in a deep breath and flickers a glance in the rearview mirror.
“You trust me, Omi?” he asks. There’s a slight plea in his tone that tugs at me.
“Yeah, but...” She stops and sinks against the backseat.
“Naomi, I need you to trust me, okay?”
I have no idea what’s happening right now as they have a cryptic conversation without me. The rest of the short drive is sullen and quiet, very different from the playful banter of the first part. I’m even more confused when we pull into a mobile home community and circle through the small streets to park in front of what looks like a newly renovated doublewide.
Naomi leans forward for a better look, her brows scrunching together. “Wait. It looks different.”
Julian turns to her. “I told you to trust me. Come on.” He gets out of the car and opens Naomi’s door. She looks nervous, her eyes scanning the home with wary vigilance.
“He’s gone, Omi,” Julian says quietly, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. “He moved back to Pennsylvania a while ago. He signed over his rights, remember? He won’t be back.”
She bites her lip, her eyes lifting to his. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
He squeezes her shoulders, and she finally relaxes.
“Okay. So that means the house is empty now?” she asks, and my stomach drops as I clue in to what’s going on. This was Ashley and Naomi’s place, where Naomi lived before she came to Julian’s. With all the history in this lot, why would he bring us here?
“Kind of,” he says. “Let’s go.”
He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and leads us to the front entrance. A newly constructed deck juts out from the back. I can still smell the wood and fresh paint. We climb a set of stairs, and Julian unlocks the door and waves us inside. Naomi gasps when she turns on the lights, her eyes going round with shock.
“You fixed it,” she whispers, glancing up at Julian.
He beams back. “I didn’t just fix it. Look closely.”
She surveys the main living room, her hands coming to her mouth. “It’s all new!”
Julian nods. “I had the place completely redone and stocked with all new furniture and appliances. Check out the kitchen.”
Naomi rushes through the door on the right and squeals. “That’s the biggest fridge ever!” He laughs as we round the corner to join her. She bounces on her toes and spins from side to side. “It’s so pretty! Is that granite?”
Julian smiles with a mischievous look. “Yeah, but this isn’t the best part. Come on.” He leaves the kitchen and crosses through the living area again to one of the bedrooms. Pushing open the door, he steps back so Naomi can enter. She flips on the light and stumbles back a step. Her astonished gaze snaps to Julian, causing a giant grin to spread over his face.
“It’s a studio,” she whispers, turning back to the open doorway. She runs inside and inspects everything from the acoustic tiles on the walls to the large monitor and recording console on the desk. The room isn’t huge by any means, but it’s plenty big to comfortably house a functional home studio. For Naomi, it might as well be the White Flame headquarters.
“Who is all this for anyway?” she asks, still in awe. “I mean, who’d even want a studio in their trailer?”
“I’m hoping you.”
Naomi returns a dazed look, and Julian smiles. “What do you think? Would you be open to moving
back here? I know it’s got some bad memories for you, but it’s got a lot of good ones too. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we have a lifetime more of those.”
She blinks back tears as she stands in stunned silence, staring at her uncle. With a shriek, she rushes toward him and he jolts back to catch her.
“I love it,” she cries. “I love it so much.”
He wraps her in his arms and holds on for several seconds. It’s beautiful and touching—until she jerks back suddenly.
“Wait. If we’re living here... that means Hadley is too, right? When you asked me if it was okay if she lived with us, you meant here?”
I almost choke as Julian’s gaze shoots to me in alarm. “Oh. Um…”
“Julian…” I say sternly. “What’s she talking about?”
He opens his mouth to speak, his gaze crossing from Naomi to me.
“Yeah, so, about that.” He scratches the back of his neck and releases his niece to approach me. “I know this is a long shot, but Naomi and I were wondering… so here’s the thing…”
Naomi grunts. “Oh my gosh. He wants you to move in with us, Aunt Hadley. He’s been talking about it for two weeks now.”
He shoots her a glare, and she scrunches her face right back at him. With a sigh, he turns to me. “Fine. What she said.”
I squint at both of them and cross my arms. He looks miserable as he waits for my response. Maybe it makes me a terrible person, but I’m kind of enjoying torturing him.
I clear my throat. “I mean, my parents would love it,” I muse out loud. “Their daughter moving into a doublewide—”
I’m cut off by a kiss. Strong, talented hands shove into my hair and lock me against him. My own tighten behind his neck, and even the preteen puking sounds from across the room don’t deter us.
“Please?” he whispers, pulling back and searching my eyes.
I have to force away the smile creeping onto my face that will betray me, because as much as I’m enjoying making him suffer, I like his grins even more. I love making Julian Campbell happy. And angry. And excited. And hopeful. I just love Julian Campbell and the fact that he and his mess inexplicably love me.
We each had a long hard path to find our way, a journey that’s really only beginning. I’m finding mine in learning to accept myself as I am and that my choices are valid no matter what other people think. Julian is learning to find his purpose and happiness in caring for someone else. Naomi is finding her passion and identity as an important, cherished human being. Our journeys may be unique but they’re intertwined in a way that makes us all believe we’ll be able to find our way if we travel them together.
I’m about to kiss him again when we’re interrupted by a shriek.
“O.M.G. This is my room?” Naomi screams from the door next to the studio. “Pleeeeese tell me this is my room, Uncle J!”
Julian laughs and shoots his gaze in her direction. “Guess she likes it,” he says.
I kiss his cheek. “Sounds like it. After that reaction, I can’t wait to see ours.”
He spins back to me, eyes wide. “Wait… does that mean?”
“Yes,” I whisper, losing myself in expressive dark eyes that tell an incredible story.
His face floods with relief, and I pull him in for that missing kiss. This one feels different than the lust-filled desperation we’ve had in the past. This one feels safe. Eternal.
“Ew,” Naomi says, suddenly beside us. We pull apart, and Julian looks amused as she makes a face. “Anyway, you’ve got to see this, Aunt Hadley. I’ve got my own TV and a sitting area where I can play my guitar. Oh, and the bed!”
She grabs my hand, and I let her pull me away, but not before twisting back for another glance at Julian. He looks serene standing there, watching us with a content smile on his face. For a split second, I see something new in his eyes. A different kind of flame. This one burns with a soft glow, a lasting hope.
Like maybe, just maybe, we’ve finally found better days.
For updates, announcements, and original content subscribe to Aly’s newsletter.
Bloggers, sign up here if you'd like to be contacted about participating in future releases, ARC reviews, and cover reveals for Aly Stiles.
MORE FROM ALY
THE SAVE ME SERIES
Available on Kindle Unlimited
RISING WEST
FALLING NORTH
BREAKING SOUTH
CRASHING EAST
THE WRECK ME SERIES
Available on Kindle Unlimited
ASHTON MORGAN: Apartment 17B
THE HOLD ME SERIES BY ALYSON SANTOS
Available on Kindle Unlimited and audiobook.
NIGHT SHIFTS BLACK
TRACING HOLLAND
VIPER
LIMELIGHT
AN NSB WEDDING
STANDALONES
Available on Kindle Unlimited.
YOUNG LOVE
TRAITOR (TWISTED FATE #1)
HAUNTED MELODY
PARANORMAL BOOKS BY MOIRA HALE
Available on Kindle Unlimited
GIFTED (Gifted, Vol 1)
CURSED (Gifted, Vol 2)
Excerpt from ASHTON MORGAN: Apartment 17B
The Wreck Me Series
by Aly Stiles
Copyright © 2021 by Aly Stiles
All Rights Reserved
PROLOGUE
ASHTON
“Do you have to go back today?” Braydon scowls into his cereal bowl, swirling his spoon through sweet, color-speckled milk. He better drink that. It’s the best part.
“I know, little dude. It was fun being home this week, but yeah. I have an exam tomorrow. I’ll be back for a long break after the semester ends, though. I promise.”
My little brother perks up. “Really? How long?”
“Um… I think we get almost a month for winter break.”
“A whole month? And you’ll come home?”
I hate how his eyes widen like me coming home is a rare event. I’m here as often as I can be. Every summer. Every break. Even driving the eleven hours for the occasional weekend visit to check on things. While professors and career counselors begged me to get an internship and earn industry experience, I spent every summer of my college years working and helping with the bills. I’ll have to figure out the gaps in my resume after I graduate in May. Despite all of this, I still feel guilty when those big brown eyes blink up at me.
“You’re still here. Figured you’d be gone by now,” a voice interrupts.
Bray and I glance toward our mother when she enters the kitchen with a sour expression. Why was she out again last night? She knew I was leaving today and she’d have to resume the “parent role” with me gone.
I try to keep my resentment in check for Braydon’s sake—and the fact that I don’t feel like stewing over another fight with my mom during an eleven-hour drive.
“I’m heading out in a minute. Just having some breakfast with my little man first.” I reach over and ruffle his hair, smirking as he pulls back with the indignant grimace of a seven-year-old being treated like a six-year-old.
“You get your laundry from my room? I left your stuff in the basket.”
“Got it.” I push up from the table and grab my bowl to take it to the sink.
“Hey, Ash?”
I turn, surprised to find her a foot away.
She stares up at me with a hesitant look. Her lips press together as if blocking forbidden words. She couldn’t possibly want to say she loves me, right? A mother telling a son he’s important and valued? At least a thank you for turning down a dozen invitations for a lavish Thanksgiving feast to come home and eat boxed mac and cheese?
Her eyes flicker with suppressed emotion as she seems to wrestle away whatever traitorous thought almost gained the edge. Of course she won’t say it. Probably can’t after twenty-two years of being my mother.
She reaches up and gently grips my chin instead. “I like this by the way. Looks good on you.” She rubs he
r thumb over the scruff on my face.
I duck away and turn to the sink. “Thanks,” I mumble, grabbing the sponge.
“Ash…”
I dig in harder against invisible food debris I might have missed.
“It’s fine, Mom. I get it.”
She squeezes my arm. “You’re a good kid. I don’t tell you that enough.”
I release a heavy breath and rinse the bowl. Shoving it onto the drying rack, I wipe my hands on my jeans and turn to her.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks after finals.”
I peck her on the cheek and start toward Bray who’s jumped up from the table. He shoots his arms around my waist, his head barely reaching my stomach. When’s this kid gonna grow? His dad must have been way shorter than mine. My smile for him feels more authentic as I return the hug and plant a kiss on his head.
“See you soon, little dude. You keep an eye on Mom, okay?”
He looks up at me, and I flinch at his watery eyes. “I will,” he says in a shaky voice. “Bye, Ash. I’ll miss you.”
At least someone will.
I clench my jaw and force myself to let go. After another unwanted hair-tousle, I start toward the living room—until bright red letters stop me in my tracks.
Heart racing, I grab the pile of papers on the counter and yank the offending page from the stack.
Mom lurches forward to confiscate it. “Oh that’s—”
I twist away and hold it out of reach, my blood going cold. “What’s this?”
She crosses her arms, clearly trying a new strategy now that she knows lying won’t work.
“It’s nothing. I’m taking care of it.”
“You’re taking care of it?”
“Ashton, please it’s—”