apartment at all the boxes I had to unpack and thinking of the chores that
needed to be done to make this place comfortable—at least as comfortable as
possible given the constant ball of nerves I’d be while this whole mess played
out—I sighed. I’d managed to get
the bed made and a few of my clothes hung up in the closet after Cole
left. The rest could wait until
tomorrow; I needed a good night’s sleep and a clear head.
my bed and snuggled down in the sheets that still smelled like home. Like that undeniable, comforting,
wrap-you-in-a-hug smell of home and I loved it. Gave me a little relief to know that I still had at least a
little part of my life from before the Vince bombshell was dropped on me and
exploded my seemingly charmed life.
Sure Robert Vandaveer was a shitty dad, but at least I knew he was. I’d accepted his flaws. I hated them, but I accepted them.
Vince was a complete mystery. A
few photos and old stories my mom had told me weren’t enough to really know
him. His flaws may have been worse
off, dreams of small town peacefulness beckoning, a loud crash startled
me. Popping up like I’d just been
shot, I clasped my hands over my chest and felt my heart beating. I could hear it. Or at least I thought I could. It took me a few seconds to realize that
the chaotic thumping I thought was my heart was actually a drumbeat coming
through the brick wall that separated my apartment from Boone’s.
to a paranoid jerk, he was also apparently moonlighting as a drummer. A cheesy wedding band drummer at
that. Playing some easy listening,
soft rock bullshit that I’d only heard during a bad 80s movie montage.
my way over to beat down Boone’s door and give him a piece of my mind. Just as I was about to walk down the
stairs and do just that, I realized that with the way the music was blaring
there was no way he’d hear me knocking on the outside door. My eyes shot to the window and the fire
escape. I’d explored it a little
earlier when I was moving stuff in, but I hadn’t ventured out onto it yet. Looked sturdy enough. Didn’t fire escapes have to be safety
rated? I sure hoped so. All I knew for sure was that it
stretched across to Boone’s apartment windows.
felt the cool metal grates beneath my bare feet, I was fuming. I steadied my hands on the railing with
a firm grip and tugged to see if they were secure. A little loose, but it seemed strong enough—probably the
last person to die on a fire escape’s exact thoughts. Holding my breath, I continued across. The fact that he’d woken me up was one
thing, but for me to have to risk my life to yell at him about it… He’d
crossed the don’t-fuck-with-Mallory line.
Or was it the don’t-fuck-with-Molly line? Whatever it was, he’d crossed
the sounds of his drumming along to the music vibrating the panes of glass that
stood between us, I readied my fist to knock—no, to pound. Just as I was about to make contact, my
eyes registered how much he was zoned in and playing the rhythm of the next
song that began blaring through his speakers.
eyes. The controlled movement of
the muscles in his toned arms as he played. The sheen of sweat that slicked his shirtless body and made
the six-pack he’d been hiding practically glisten with an invitation to be
licked. I drew my bottom lip
between my teeth and stared.
dick? He seemed stressed out and
pissed off. I was pretty sure it
had to do with the mysterious death he’d spouted off about yesterday. I had no idea what he’d been through,
but I just didn’t see the point in being miserable all the time. Life was meant to be lived. To have fun. Maybe my sister was right about him needing someone like me
to put him in a good mood. I had
it on good authority that I was a pretty good roll in the hay. Maybe one wild night was just what he
He always knew he would never be more than nothing. No job, no money, no future. Cole Pritchett had accepted the fact that he would always be the screw up and he was okay with it. Until he met her.
Here’s the thing they quickly found out – sometimes we all need a little help escaping who we think we are.
Although this journey began years ago, it recently took on a whole new life. After years of devouring hundreds of Romance, YA and New Adult novels, I had an epiphany… I should write a book. And I did it!
If I’m not reading, writing, enjoying drinks with my amazing group of girlfriends or chasing around a sarcastically funny kid, I’m probably watching television shows that were created for teenagers, while my husband teases that I’m too old to watch them.