by Ella Fields
Copyright © 2019 by Ella Fields
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, resold or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations within a review.
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
EPIGRAPH
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
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
ALSO BY ELLA FIELDS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
For Taryn
Who knows my heart and seems to like it anyway
There’s no knife sharper than that of betrayal
Peggy
My tongue skated across my teeth for the millionth time since yesterday, feeling the smooth enamel, the freedom that had become my mouth.
“You keep staring at them, poking and prodding the way you’re doing, and soon enough, you’re not going to have any teeth left to lust over.”
My lips smacked closed, and I spun around, glaring at my mother. “Two years, Mom. Almost two whole freaking years of tasting metal. Let me lust a little.”
“Another day, then I want to see you doing something more productive with the last few weeks of summer break.” She adjusted her hold of the laundry basket on her hip, then scowled. “And watch your damn mouth.” I smirked as she walked away, then groaned when she called out, “Meet me in the car; our appointments are in fifteen minutes.”
“We’ve barely been home an hour. I haven’t even had time to check my updates yet.”
“Updates smupdates. Your hair needs a trim, and my grays are showing.”
She had about five gray hairs, but if Phil, Mom’s boyfriend, or I tried to remind her of that, she’d give us the hairiest eyeball known to mankind. The truth was, she enjoyed going to the salon every month. As much as our lives had changed over the past eight years, certain things from our previous life, like pampering oneself, never would.
My phone beeped for the second time as I was stuffing my feet back into my boots. I plucked it from my waistband, moving the layers of puffy material to reach it. Not very practical, but a lot of my skirts didn’t have pockets, and I wasn’t a big fan of purses.
I kept any change I had in my bra. While I unlocked my phone, I gave my chest a pat, checking I had a twenty in there.
Dash the Demon: What gives?
Dash the Demon: Freckles, this isn’t funny. You said twelve. It’s now one o’clock, in case you can’t tell the time.
Dash the Demon: … but you can. Which means you’re actually ignoring your pledge to the cause.
With a huff, I blew some curls from my face and responded.
Me: Going to salon. Need a trim, Jim.
Dash the Demon: Who the fuck is Jim?
Dash the Demon: Never mind. You’re the worst kind of person. I hope they cut off all your hair and leave you bald.
Laughing, I locked my phone and barreled down the hall as Mom’s car started up.
Checking the door was locked, I pulled it shut behind me, then jumped down the three steps off our porch, and bounded over to her Honda CRV.
My phone beeped again in my lap, but I ignored it.
“Dash isn’t happy?” Mom asked as she backed out onto the street.
I pulled down the visor, checking my teeth again. “When is Dash ever happy?”
She laughed as she straightened the wheel, tires crunching over the pebbles that’d escaped the newly lined driveway next door. “True.”
Dashiell Thane had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. He wouldn’t have been my first choice, but then again, since he learned how to talk and use his words and that scowl as a weapon, I never really had a choice.
One of the earliest memories I had of him was from preschool. He’d tipped ice-cold water from the water station over my head, then said I’d formally been initiated as his best friend. I hadn’t wanted to be his best friend, but whenever I’d screamed that at him over the following years, he’d give one of those infuriating smiles and simply say, “Like I care, Freckles.”
And that had been that.
I had no say, and if I was being honest, sometimes it still bothered me. But as the years swung on, I’d somehow grown to care about the asshole. He was the brother I never ever wanted.
“I’m dying to know if that boy has caused May to go gray yet,” Mom said with a dry lilt to her voice.
Once upon a time, our mothers, May and Peony, had been best friends. They’d met in college, and before they graduated, they’d made a pact. Marry rich and never settle for love. The crazy idea had worked, though my mother married a man almost twice her age, my dad, while May had scored a guy ten years her senior with the looks to go with it.
May didn’t care about her husband’s affairs with any woman wearing a skirt or blouse too tight at his company because she’d been smart and hadn’t fallen in love.
However, she was rather fond of their gardener, Emanuel, a man eight years her junior, though she’d never admit it or leave Mikael, her husband, for him. That would mean giving up everything she loved.
Money.
“Probably,” I said through a yawn, eyeing the small row of shops up ahead. “But it’s not like anyone will ever see it.”
Mom’s lips pursed and what sounded like a sigh slipped out as they parted.
Mom met her boyfriend, Phil, when I was ten. Phil taught English at the public high school, treated her like a queen, and drove a secondhand white truck with a dent in the bumper he still hadn’t fixed all these years later.
We’d moved out of my father’s mansion by the bay a month later, and even though she did seem to love Phil, we hadn’t moved in with him. He didn’t live with us either, though he was often at our place. Somewhere along the way, I guess my mother had grown tired of being a kept woman, and that was when the rift between her and May had formed.
She’d gotten a job.
Working at the local library four days a week didn’t pay much, but it was enough for her to be able to put aside a nest egg, thank my father for everything he’d done for her, then hightail it out of there as soon as the moving truck had arrived.
From mansions to three-bedroom cottages and ball gowns to Chucks and worn denim, when I was ten, my life changed overnight, and even though I’d been petrified, it didn’t take me long to realize we’d be just fine.
Dad had offered for me to stay with him, and although it would’ve been convenient to keep living close to Dash, who remained one of my few friends, I’d declined. If D
ashiell wanted to see me, he’d find a way.
And find a way he did. Though it took him longer than I’d have liked to quit griping about slumming it in the ‘burbs, and he still complained about the mildew scent that drifted off the creek and seeped into our windows.
I loved that creek. It ran right along the edge of our backyard, and while the amount of mosquito repellent I needed to wear out there left me smelling like a walking chemical, listening to the water gurgling downstream through my cracked open window was the best lullaby I’d ever been sung.
Hair Repair was a tiny salon smothered in purple. Purple chairs, purple sinks, purple countertop, purple dryers … and you get the point.
Suella smiled as I walked in, twisting a chair she’d just wiped down with a towel. I marched over and slumped into it, grinning into the mirror.
She gasped, slapping my shoulder and spinning me around to grab my chin. “It’s about time, girlfriend. Just in time for senior year.” She gasped again, her glittery acrylic nails digging into my skin as the overbearing scent of Chanel hit my sinuses. “Homecoming. Oh, tell me you’re already hunting for a dress.”
Pulling out my phone, I lost her harsh grip on my chin as I spun around and rearranged my skirt, getting comfortable. “I already know which dress I’m wearing.”
Mom groaned, taking a seat in a chair beside me as her hairdresser and close friend, Bev, finished up with a call at the front counter. “She found this god-awful thing in the thrift store a month ago. Her father said he’d buy her any dress she wanted, but no, of course she picks something that costs fifteen dollars and reeks of mothballs.”
I unlocked the screen of my phone.
Dash the Demon: Are you bald yet?
As Suella spritzed water over my hair, I tapped out a message while Mom described the bubblegum pink eighties gown and its layers upon layers of tulle and ruffles.
Me: Negative.
Dash the Demon: Hmm. One-word response. You’re mad?
Me: No.
I laughed as he no doubt overanalyzed every facet of my second one-word response. I’d cop an earful later, but I didn’t care.
“You can’t wear that dress,” Suella said, dragging a comb through my hair.
I tucked my phone in my lap, wincing as the comb snagged on a knot. “I can and I will.”
Mom sighed, opening a magazine.
Suella pinched her lips together as I met her stare in the mirror. “So what are we doing? Trim?”
About to nod, I studied the long curls that fell into a frizzy mess around my face and down my back. Hagrid hair had been how the fantastic people I’d attended school with described it.
Dash’s texts came to mind. I smiled, seeing the pearly, straight whites of my teeth, and exhilaration coursed through me.
“Let’s cut it all off.”
Mom sucked in a shocked breath, the magazine slipping and almost falling to the purple painted concrete floor.
Suella grinned, then immediately got to work.
As blonde curls tumbled, splashing onto the ground around Suella’s knee-high black boots, my slick hands slowly unclenched, relinquishing the grip on my phone.
While Mom was waiting for her color to be rinsed, I decided to head to the newsstand to find the latest issue of Scrapbook & Cards Today.
The breeze kissed my legs as I stepped outside, my new hair bouncing around my shoulders. Suella had dried the curls into soft waves, and the absence of the heaviness that typically fell over my back and shoulders had my lips curving.
Outside the poster smeared shop, I waited for two guys I recognized from school to pass, who barely paid me any notice, nothing unusual there, then quickly took a selfie.
Inside, the scent of magazines caused my chest to flutter, and I waved to Rich behind the counter before scurrying over to the craft section.
With a magazine in one hand and my phone in the other, I paused as soon as I heard the latter beep.
Willa: I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number.
Daphne: Right?! Talk about a lame case of who the hell are you and what have you done with my friend?
I texted back, trying to contain my smile as someone crept behind me in the otherwise empty aisle.
Me: CRAZY! I feel like a brand-new person.
“Hey. Peggy, right?” a deep voice asked.
I almost dropped my phone, pivoting slightly to discover a broad, hard chest. My eyes zoomed up, and the face of Byron Woods stared down at me.
“Uh, yeah.” I laughed the type of nervous laugh that made me want to smack myself. “That’s me.”
What did he want, and why was he smiling at me?
His bright whites held my attention. So much so, it took me too long to notice the smooth lips around them moving.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He chuckled. “I said, I just passed you outside, but you must not have seen me.”
“Oh, my bad.”
“I didn’t want to go all stalker on you, but …” He seemed to be flushing a little. “There’s a party this weekend at Wade’s house. Ah, so I just thought I’d see if you knew about it.”
I lowered my lashes, shifting. “I do now.”
“Right.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, huffing out a laugh. “I guess what I meant to say is, it’d be pretty cool if I saw you there.”
My stomach dipped, and my hand grew clammy around the glossy cover of the magazine. He was asking me out? Maybe? I didn’t know. All I knew was that Byron was cute in that boy-next-door kind of way. Okay, cute was probably an understatement. He was tall, muscular in all kinds of lovely places thanks to being on the lacrosse team, and had deep brown hair and biting green eyes.
And, as far as I knew when school had let out, not single.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I blurted, immediately cringing.
“Not anymore.” He eyed my phone, which was hanging precariously between my slippery fingers, as if he was contemplating asking for my number. “So I’ll see you Friday?”
All I could do was nod and watch him swagger outside to where his friend Danny was waiting.
Not anymore.
What did that even mean?
Panic mixed with excitement, and unable to pinpoint which one was winning, I fired off another text.
Me: Emergency meeting required. Meet me at my place tomorrow.
Peggy
“He and Kayla apparently broke up like two weeks ago after she was caught making out with some college guy at a party.” Willa took a sip of soda. “Pictures everywhere.” Setting her can down, she flipped some of her long, wavy brown hair over her shoulder and started fiddling with the box of lace.
Mom was at work, which was why I’d waited to hold this little gathering until today even though I’d been desperate.
It was hard enough to deal with Dash, who’d persistently said I was acting weird when I’d gotten home yesterday and logged on to play Blitz.
I’d brushed him off, but he wouldn’t be kept in the dark long.
The way he had to pry into every facet of my life infuriated me. Nothing was sacred. But when it came to him, he’d look at me like I was crazy if I ever dared to ask about what he was doing or who he’d slept with.
“That’s gotta suck.” I spun the glue gun around on the table, resting my chin on my fist.
Daphne was the only one of us actually scrapbooking. Today, she’d brought along some vintage stamps she’d purchased for a huge sum on eBay, and she was using them to make a border in the album she’d been working on.
Though she didn’t seem to care, Daphne was the most popular out of the three of us. Her green eyes glowed in a way that snatched anyone’s attention. Paired with her silky straight dark brown hair, she was damn near mesmerizing to look at. Her confidence was another striking quality. It was the ease in which she held herself and the way she didn’t care about anyone else’s opinions of her that drew me to her.
“I’m done with Kayla’s shit,” she said, a lon
g finger smoothing over her page. “She’s the worst kind of bitch.”
“Does that mean you’ll sit with us at school now?” Willa asked.
Daphne’s brows furrowed, and she sat back in the dining chair. “I do sit with you.” When we said nothing, she looked at me. “Pegs?”
“Well,” I hemmed. “I mean … sometimes?”
Her lips pursed as she sat with that a moment. “As I said, done. So sometimes will now be all the time.”
Willa and I remained quiet.
It wasn’t that Daphne was ashamed to hang out with us. We weren’t exactly losers. It was that she’d befriended us over our mutual love for crafting early last year in art class, but she’d been with the it crowd all through high school. Elementary too.
“Back to Byron.” I shifted a little. “Was he asking me out?”
“He was so asking you out,” Willa said.
Daphne raked her hands through her hair. “He didn’t ask you out. It’s not a date, but he does want to hang with you. That, my friend, was the least formal, official way of asking you to.”
Willa and I glanced at one another, then I nodded. “And I should?”
Daphne made a sound of frustration. “Do you need a slap to the face?”
“Uh …”
She continued, “You’re freaking gorgeous. He wants you, just as a lot of guys at school probably secretly do. So quit acting like you’re so shocked.”
My tongue dried thanks to my mouth hanging wide open. “But, um, I am shocked.”
Willa’s eyes ping-ponged between us with her soda can poised at her lips.
Daphne’s expression smoothed, and her voice gentled. “Look, guys have always noticed you. Dash just doesn’t let them notice too long.”
“Dash?”
Willa coughed.
“Yes, dummy. He’s stamping out fires before they even start.” She paused, green eyes narrowing on me. “You so already know that.”