Stupid Hearts (8 page)

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 his 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.

Easier said than done.

Time would pass and it would still be hard, but I was still breathing.

Fuck it.

As I walked into the living room, trying to make it into the back hallway undetected by Colt’s parents, I heard crying coming from the couch.

Turning on my heels, I found Sheila Russell sobbing into a pillow. When I cleared my throat, she popped her head up, startled by my presence.

“Sheils? You all right?” I looked down at Colt’s kid sister, who was definitely not a kid anymore.

Before, she’d been pimply-faced, chunky, and awkward. Now, her face had cleared, she’d hired a personal trainer, and her degree in Mass Communications was helping her break out of her shell, to say the least. She was stunning in her own way. Not my type, but still pretty.

“Yeah.” She sniffed. “I just got turned down for an awesome summer internship. It’s the only one I applied for and that’s biting me in the butt now.” She tried to laugh it off, but her eyes stayed sad.

“You know the saying, Sheils.”

She rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

I laughed, nodded, and gave her a tight squeeze as I continued on before my bladder busted. While I was trotting over to the half bath down the hall, Sheila called to me, “Thanks, Dane.”

“Don’t mention it! Call Julie. Schedule a mani-pedi date like the old days and you’ll be good as new!” I yelled back before slamming the door shut behind me, barely able to get my zipper down before I pissed myself.

Grab your copy now:

The Hysterics

Sneak Peek

Crashing Back Down

Prologue

E
xcitement started to form butterflies in my stomach while Cali and I giggled in her bathroom, getting our makeup just right for our first adventure into the new world of college Greek life. We had met only a few weeks back during sorority rush, and we’d become instant friends. We could not have asked for more, being pledges for the same sorority and starting to dive right into a ‘real’ college experience. It was the first night of fraternity rush, and some of our older sisters had invited us to join in the festivities at one of the fraternity houses on campus. It was a really big deal, and we were bubbling over with giddiness.

When we were finally walking up the dampened front lawn of the frat house, I grabbed Cali’s arm, completely in awe of the sea of ravishing men we were wading through. She pointed out an especially good-looking guy wearing his letters across his noticeably chiseled chest. He was tan and tall, and he had tattoos poking out from under his sleeves. I bit my bottom lip and salivated with Cali as we followed the hottie into the foyer.

There were tons of guys and girls, all grouped off, trying to convince potential new members that being Greek was amazing and that this was the fraternity for them. It did not take too long for a handsome brother to stride up to us, and to our surprise, the guy I had been mentally undressing before stood next to him. I found out that the hottie’s name was Walker, but my attention was quickly diverted to his friend, Randy. There was just something about him that stunned me.

We chatted and flirted with them throughout the night while meeting other potentials who were not so favorable. Apparently, during fraternity rush, they had a few guys doing "trash duty,” meaning any guy who over stayed his welcome was kindly escorted out by the trash handlers. It was a pretty fun role that Randy and Walker let us participate in. We drank, chuckled, and toyed. Cali and I played with our hair, laughed at every joke, and batted our eyelashes perfectly.

A pimply-faced freshman puffed on his inhaler while talking to Randy, and Cali grabbed my arm. “Come with me to the bathroom.” I nodded and asked Walker where it was.

His lips curled seductively as he put his hand on the small of my back, pointing in the direction of the girls' room. “Don’t worry, we cleaned it this morning.” His Southern drawl curled around the words, making him that much more attractive as he winked and gave another sexy smile. We both fawned over his seductive tone as we weaved through the crowd to the bathroom.

Luckily, the oversized bathroom that smelled like piss and Lemon Pledge was empty. Cali undid her shorts and plopped on the toilet while I checked my mascara in the mirror.

“Those two are freaking hot as hell, Mags!” Cali’s voice was full of excitement mixed with lust.

I touched up my makeup, trying to talk without messing up the liquid eyeliner. “The girls were right. There are men for the picking.” I finished and turned to Cali, who was zipping up her tight black shorts. “Which one do you want?”

Her eyes went wide at my words. “Randy is all over you. Obviously he’s yours! Besides, Walker has a bad boy Southern edge I’d love to jump on!”

I nodded, feeling my cheeks blush with anticipation and lust as I grabbed Cali’s hand again to lead her back to find our evening’s prospects.

I was thankful that the pimply-faced guy had already been booted by the time we returned.

Randy’s eyes lit up a little when he noticed us walking toward him. He slid his arm around my waist and hugged me close to him as he handed me a fresh beer. “Having fun?” His silky, deep voice tingled in my ear while he whispered, sending goose bumps down my neck and arms.

Trying to be as sexy as I could, not really being the best flirt and so nervous to come off as an awkward freshman, I licked the top of the bottle a little before taking a long swig and then nodded. “Yeah, tonight’s been great!”

Randy hugged me close again, a smile dangling on the corners of his mouth. Faintly a hint of red dusted over the back of his neck.  Seeing the slight red creep over Randy’s skin made longing surge through my body. Right then I knew I was in deep water already.

Toward the end of the night, another one of the brothers came over to introduce a brand-new pledge to Walker, claiming that he was his perfect match for a little brother. The five of us all got along like we had known each other for years. The conversation flowed easily between all of us, and we stayed together, laughing and joking for the rest of the evening. Mitch Katz was a freshman, just like Cali and me, and pretty outgoing. When he went to shake Randy’s hand, I noticed a sleeve inked onto Mitch’s arm.
Could these guys get any hotter?

Starting to slur his words, making his Southern accent that much thicker, Walker leaned over to put his arm around Randy’s shoulder. “What do you say we all get the heck outta here?” He had a devilish grin on his face as he winked at Cali, making both of us blush.

The rest of us agreed and made our way to the parking lot. Randy grabbed my hand once we made it out the door, leading me to his truck. “Race ya home, Walker!”

One

             
M
y college years were a blur of studying and partying. The only thing I could say held any significance was meeting Randy, the fraternity guy with the great smile. Meeting him had lifted me off the ground in an instant. And just as quickly, I’d crashed back down to earth the day I found out he hadn't held up his end of the bargain. I’d never realized “until death” would come before kids and old age for us.

              I had always known that his choice to join the military would be difficult for me. When his unit was called, Randall McManus had been whisked away from me only two short months after our vows had been said. He’s taken so much pride in his status as a paratrooper that I’d known he was meant for greatness. He’d held his head a little higher after he’d enlisted two days after he had graduated from college.

              For what felt like forever after Randy died, I was not awake. I’d simply gone through the bare, basic motions of life. Friends and family would stop by to make sure I’d been taking care of myself from time to time. My mom did most of my grocery shopping, and she even got so fed up with my lack of cleanliness that she broke down and hired a maid. Work continued to be the only venture into normalcy I’d been able stomach. Most people stopped calling, texting, or stopping by. It’s sad to say, but I was happier being left alone. I couldn’t handle being bothered, constantly reminded of my ‘sad situation’ and being a continuing source of pity.

Walker was my most frequent visitor, pretty much like clockwork. Every Sunday at noon, I expected to see his bright green eyes light up when I opened my door. He was going through his own process of grief and loss. I think he needed the company as much as I did.

Walker Eastman had been Randy's right-hand man ever since they’d pledged their fraternity. He had even been overseas with Randy when the military-deemed accident happened.  There had been some faulty cables that had snapped when the parachute tried to open. Needless to say, there’d been no condolence letter good enough from the military to cool my anger and sorrow. All of us had come hurtling down to earth that day. Walker was the only one who never said the wrong thing or pressured me into talking. I welcomed his company warmly, to my surprise. Mostly we just sat, drank coffee, and watched TV—simple yet perfect.

When I finally coaxed my eyes to open, I read eleven thirty on my alarm clock and sighed, looking at all of the pamphlets from all of the different organizations supposed to help me with my grief.  I rolled my eyes and shoved them out of my mind, allowing myself to ignore them for a little bit longer. Knowing that Walker would be showing up sooner than I wanted, I fought through my down comforter to find my phone.
Maybe he won't mind missing one visit.
I really was not in the mood for cheering up that morning.

Once my phone was finally in my hand, I fumbled through my contacts, clicking on his name. Before I could even rethink the call, Walker was on the other end, declining my suggestion for a rain check. Right as I started to protest, I heard my front door slam shut. He hung up as he entered my room, his brawny arms carrying a box of donuts and coffee. I couldn't help but smile, a little relieved that Walker was just as stubborn as I was.

I felt like it was the first time I’d truly opened my eyes in weeks, and to my horror, I realized how disheveled I looked and how messy my room was. My baby blue carpet was almost entirely hidden under dirty clothes. My makeup lined up on top of the dresser was a huge mess, and I hadn’t even made it out of my bed yet. I was wrapped up in the covers with all the pillows thrown on the floor. Randy had always made fun of me for being a ‘pillow tosser’ in my sleep. I wasn’t even allowed to have beverages on my nightstand for fear of knocking them off in the middle of the night.

I cringed with shame from the mess and my wretched appearance. "Walker, I'm not even dressed. I'm sure I look like hell!” I shrieked, diving back under my blanket. I was in one of Randy’s old Army shirts and basketball shorts, makeup still on from the night before and smudged all over my eyes. My dark brown hair must have looked like a lion’s mane, a tangled mess. I felt it half matted to the side of my face.

I could hear Walker’s deep Southern drawl through the comforter. "Come on, Mags, I've seen you at your worst. Trust me, you look like an angel compared to a few months ago."

The time Walker referred to was our darkest hours that we’d just started to break away from. The few months prior had been riddled with sleepless nights and bedridden days; we were both walking dead. During that terrible stint, we’d spent a lot of time holding on to each other for dear life, like it was the only thing keeping our world from shattering around us.

He climbed onto the foot of my king-sized bed, handed me my black coffee, and set out the food carefully. "How about breakfast in bed and a movie?" He pulled
Almost Famous
out of his jacket pocket and tossed me a smirk. The smell of the bitter coffee made my mood lift a little, and I peeked out from under my blankets.

There is no way I can turn down that smile, my favorite movie, and breakfast bribery.

"How could I say no to an offer like that?" I jumped out of my bed, tousled my hair a little, attempting to tame it slightly, and put all of the pillows back onto the bed while Walker started the movie and threw his black leather jacket onto the floor.

We climbed under the covers, cuddling down to have an awesome breakfast with good company. Walker’s shoulder cradled my head as I slurped coffee from the plastic lid and let my eyes wander over his muscular, tattooed arms. I had been with him and Randy for almost every one of their ink sessions. I could imagine the swallows on Walker’s chiseled chest that he gotten about a month after we met. He was handsome and tall, and he had an erotic stare that could make any girl wet within seconds. I never knew why he just jumped around from girl to girl, not even able to define monogamy. Randy had always said that being promiscuous was just in Walker’s nature, and I never questioned it further.

It was comforting to have someone fill the other side of the bed. We watched the movie, reciting every line, and munched away on the glazed treats. When the credits started to roll, Walker pulled me to him tighter; he could always tell when the tears were about to start. I breathed in his mix of salty tears and men's cologne, a smell that had become a little too comforting to me recently. We lay silently while the credits played out, the movie soundtrack hushed in the background of our embrace.

When the room went silent, I buried my face into Walker’s chest a little harder. "You'll never know how much it means to me that you come here every week," I choked out, unable to contain my emotions any longer. His thumb battled the tears cascading down my exposed cheek.

Walker’s big green eyes were soft, a look rarely seen from the hard-ass country boy. Knowing that made his kind face and words mean so much more to me. "I'll never miss our Sunday tradition. It's the best part of my week. You still don't know how much it helps me too."

The sincerity of his words spread over Walker’s face, and again, he stunned me. His chiseled jaw line, jet-black hair, and olive skin made his light eyes stand out, and when he was vulnerable to emotion, it made everything that much more handsome.

I knew our time was going to get cut short because of my father-in-law Jim’s birthday party that evening.  Walker had promised Liz, my mother-in-law, that he would help her with the planning and getting everything prepared, but I was not ready for Walker to pull away as quickly as he did.

Breaking our lingering stare, Walker looked over to my clock on my nightstand. "Mags, I got to head out. Liz needs me to pick the cake up for Jim's party tonight…”

As he trailed off, I watched his eyes scan over the pamphlets scattered next to my clock.  Picking a few up, he turned to me with concern and frustration spreading like wildfire across his face, his green eyes darkening and his jaw flexing, burning away the loving glare I was enjoying so much. “Mags.” He sighed and shook his head for a moment. “You promised.”

I gaped at him, taking the pamphlets out of his hand.  I looked down at a few terrible titles like, ‘How to Cope with the Loss of a Spouse’ and ‘It’s Okay to Grieve,’ suddenly feeling like I was going to lose my breakfast. I took the lot of them and shoved them away in the drawer of my nightstand.

“Yeah, I know…but I just want to do this on my own. Don’t worry, I set up an appointment with someone.” I faked a smile, and it seemed like enough of an answer for Walker.

He stood up and stretched. “All right. As long as you’re taking care of yourself, I’m happy. See you tonight?”

Trying to push away my frustration, I let my mind wander back to our relaxing morning. "Tell Liz I'll be there at eight unless she needs help with anything."

"Okay, I'll let her know." And with a quick kiss to my forehead, he was out the door. I hated watching anyone walk away from me. Being alive was hard enough, but alone, it was almost unbearable. As Walker shut my front door, I curled up in a ball on my bed and let hot tears pour again from my aching eyes.

The thought of having to spend time with a large group of people that night was almost too overwhelming. I longed to run away and hide from life for the rest of the day. It was a terrible coping mechanism I had developed, but it was effective. I cried harder when I figured there was no escape from our plans and buried my face deep into my pillow.

Randy had grown up down the street from where we’d ended up purchasing our home. He had always said that family needed to be close for when our kids were growing up. Now, silently I thanked him for forcing me into this house five minutes from the in-laws, because I needed them as a different type of support system than expected. Orlando had really turned into home for me. My heart had died there, and I was determined to revive it there eventually. It was what Randy would have wanted. He would have been so happy to know that my mom moved had here to help take care of me and that Walker had stayed, too.

"A support system is important, Mags. It doesn’t always have to be you against the world, ya know."

              My phone buzzed in my hand, bringing me back from my pity party and daydreams of my husband. I looked down to find a message from my mother-in-law, Liz:

Don't worry. Walker and I are taking care of everything. See you at eight.

              I sighed, rubbed my eyes, and dragged myself out of bed. The clock said six, and even though I could walk to their house, I figured I needed the extra time to start putting effort into my appearance since it had been so long since I’d cared what I looked like. I made my way into the bathroom and let the water get boiling hot while I sat on the toilet, waiting.

My mind tripped back to my amazing in-laws and how important they had become to me, especially with the terrible situation we found ourselves in. Liz and Jim McManus had been more than just in-laws to me ever since Randy and I had first started dating, and I owed it to them to put on a brave face. Even though they’d lost their son, they had been so instrumental in bringing me through my grief that I worried they hadn’t had the chance they deserved to grieve themselves. The shame made it difficult to even look into their eyes most of the time. It was unbearable to walk around with all the different forms of guilt inside me. I knew I had to get better for everyone’s sake.

Today can be the beginning of a brand new start.

As I got into the shower, I could hear Randy's voice. "I married one hell of a woman, you know that, baby?" I smirked as I massaged shampoo into my scalp. Those are the memories I never got used to being reminded of. All of the little things he would to do to make sure I knew he loved me, that he belonged to me. I wished I had told him more how much they’d meant, how much he’d meant to me.

I miss you so much it hurts
.

The hot water rushed over my pink skin while steam floated out over the curtain. I stood, holding myself, letting the water run over my body for a few moments before mustering up the courage to step onto the cold tile floor.

Without even drying myself, I tossed my hair up in one towel and then wrapped another around my dripping body. Looking in the mirror over my sink, I was disgusted at the black, puffy circles around my eyes and how hollow my cheekbones were.

Skulking back into my room, shuffling my feet along my fluffy carpet, I grabbed my makeup and turned on my flat iron. I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the closet door mirror and began to apply eyeliner.

This had become a habit from the first time I’d slept over at Randy's room in the fraternity house. I would always take my shower first, and while I got ready, Randy would wash up. The only place for me to be able to do my primping had been on his floor, sitting Indian-style in front of a full-length mirror propped up against the wall. Randy had bought for me after I’d complained about not being able to do makeup in a fogged-up mirror.

Once my eyes were just the perfect blend of smoky gray and black, my natural curls burned into submission, I took one last look at myself in the mirror, again disgusted with my appearance. I still felt like an empty shell. It was terrible to see on my face. The lack of sleep, improper nutrition, and guilt had started to take a noticeable toll. I grabbed my blush and bronzer, blending my cheeks more to hide my uncharacteristically pale skin. One last look in the mirror, I closed my makeup kit.
This is going to have to do.
Makeup can only hide so much
.