False Start Read online

  FALSE START

  Copyright © 2018 Rebel Farris

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Mad Lane Books

  Austin, Texas, USA

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

  Cover Illustration by Javier Chavarria of MaeIDesign.com

  Cover Design by Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com

  Interior Graphics from Depositphoto.com

  Edited by Traci Finlay

  Proofread by Sandra Depukat of OneLoveEditing.com

  Formatted by Erik Gevers

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Back of Book Shit

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Rebel

  Social Media

  Playlist

  Pivot Line Preview

  Pivot Line Chapter One

  Pivot Line Chapter Two

  Pivot Line Chapter Three

  Pivot Line Chapter Four

  For my Seoul Sisters.

  Without your love, support, and boundless inspiration—I never would have been able to imagine such strong, unique characters from such varied backgrounds capable of absolute love and steadfast loyalty.

  I’m a living, breathing contradiction. It has taken years of soul-searching and even some therapy to come to terms with that. I’m okay with it. Yet, I’m not exactly at peace. Baby steps. One foot in front of the other and I’ll find my happy place, right?

  “Can’t believe you’re finally doin’ this, Mads,” Holly says from the passenger seat of my car. She radiates excitement as her head snaps in my direction. Her glossy strawberry-blonde ponytail swings with the movement, catching the fading sunlight.

  I turn in to the parking lot of the strip mall, pulling my car into the nearest empty space. I cut the engine and let out a long breath. “Sure am.” I give a reassuring smile because my voice came out hoarser than I expected.

  I clear my throat and try to gather my courage, leaning back against the headrest. I turn to Holly. Her pale blue eyes are filled with questions.

  “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not backing out.”

  “You don’t have to do this today…”

  I don’t know what I’m thinking. They say you shouldn’t make life-altering changes under duress. It’s been four years, and honestly, I should be well enough away from “duress.” If I’m fully into the acceptance stage of grief, then this is indeed a rational decision.

  “Nope. I’m doing this. Positive thoughts are the only shit allowed near me today.”

  Holly breaks into a huge grin. “I’m so fuckin’ excited! You’re gonna love it.” She clasps my cheeks in her hands. “Your ideas are awesome. You’re awesome.” She plants a kiss on my forehead, then releases me. “I don’t even think I was this excited my first time.”

  “Probably because you were nervous. No, wait—that would be the reaction of a sane person.” I bark out a laugh. “What did Matt say this guy’s name was again?”

  She pauses and purses her lips. “Dexter McClellan.” She narrows her eyes, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “You’re stallin’, bitch. Get outta the damn car, and get your ass in there.”

  “Let’s do this,” I say and fling the car door open, hopping out of the seat.

  Glancing around the parking lot, I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Stop being paranoid, Maddie. It’s just nerves. I shake off the nagging inner voice and face the darkly tinted glass storefront. Inhale, summoning strength and courage to move forward. Exhale, releasing my fears and reservations.

  The little five-storefront strip mall has that cute vintage vibe that looks like it was built in the fifties. It fits in with the trendy SoCo neighborhood of South Austin, Texas. It’s just past sunset, but the sky is still light, making it impossible to see anything aside from my reflection in the windows.

  “Come on,” Holly grumbles. She stands at the front of my car with her hands on her slim hips. Her head’s cocked to the side, lips pressed together fighting a grin, toe tapping her exaggerated impatience.

  I step forward hesitantly, shaking my head at her and biting my lower lip to hide a grin of my own. We reach the door, and a wave of cool air greets us as an electronic chime announces our presence over the hum of tattoo guns and background music.

  I halt in the doorway. Directly behind the counter is a man. A black tattoo trails down the right side of his neck. It disappears under a black V-neck that stretches over broad shoulders and defined arms, one of which is covered in a half-sleeve collection of smaller black and gray tattoos. The chime causes him to look up, and I lock gazes with the most unique shade of aqua-colored eyes.

  I’m quickly snapped out of this trance as the door smacks into my butt, causing me to stumble forward. My flushed cheeks burn as I drop my eyes to the floor to avoid confirmation that anyone noticed. It’s already embarrassing enough without proof that there were witnesses.

  “What’s up?” he asks, his deep voice causing me to glance up.

  My teeth clamp down on my lower lip to keep from gaping. My hand goes to the rubber band I keep around my left wrist. I pull it and let it snap against my skin.

  My mind goes blank, and I frantically try to remember why in hell I’m standing in front of this man. The longer I stand here, the more horrible this situation feels and the harder it becomes to think.

  His full lips tip up in a knowing smile, revealing two perfect, adorable dimples.

  Oh, fuck me. My cheeks heat up—again. What is wrong with me? I haven’t blushed since… well, I can’t remember ever blushing. I never thought people actually had bouts of chronic blushing. Not to mention that I don’t get flustered over men. I’m almost twenty-seven years old, not a fucking starry-eyed teenager.

  “She’s here for an appointment with Dexter McClellan. Is he here?” Holly interjects. My eyes shift to her, and she’s smirking at me. She’s going to give me so much shit for this.

  Please ground, swallow me up, now.

  “You can call me Dex. You must be… Maddie?”

  I look back to find him staring at me with his hand exte
nded. I nod my confirmation.

  I need to get my shit together. Shit. Think. I can’t understand what it is about this guy that’s setting my anxiety off. I haven’t been like this in over a year. I look down to his hand and will mine to move forward to connect with his. I don’t want to be rude.

  His grip is firm. Not quite what I was expecting. It’s more professional, and I relax a tiny bit.

  “What can I do for you today?” he asks, looking at me. His eyes are intense, penetrating, but have a world-wary look I recognize all too well.

  I close my eyes briefly and pull my hand away, shifting my weight to the other foot as I silently curse myself for wearing my ratty Led Zeppelin tee and overlarge sweatpants that have to be cinched up at the waist to keep from falling. This shirt has more holes than a cheese grater. When they told me to wear shitty clothes that I wouldn’t care if I got ink on them, I may have gone too far. I tug down the end of it to cover the exposed flesh of my stomach. I’m not going to survive this, but I can’t leave now without looking like a fool.

  “Actually—” My voice breaks on the word, and I swallow hard and try again. “Actually, I want to get two pieces done. One right here, on my wrist. It’s pretty simple. I drew it myself.” I pull my drawing from my purse and hand it to him. “Also, I wanted to see if you could sketch another larger piece for me to come back later to get.”

  He breaks into a full-blown smile. Those fucking dimples. It’s mesmerizing. I have to look away.

  “Right. I think I can help with this. Come back to my station.”

  He towers over me as he places his hand on my lower back and leads me into the shop. My shirt has ridden up again back there, so when his warm hand meets my bare skin, I nearly jump from the shock.

  Baby steps, Maddie. You’ll be alone for the rest of your life if you freak out every time a man touches you. That’s me, though, the walking contradiction. If I could get my body and my brain to actually agree on something, I probably wouldn’t be single.

  Twelve Years Ago

  “Maddie, can you hurry up? Brad’s gonna be here any second,” my best friend Lisa Lombardi urged.

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at my reflection, tugging at the bottom of the summer dress. It was shorter than I felt comfortable wearing, but we didn’t have the money to replace clothes often enough to keep up with my growth rate. We weren’t rich by any definition of the word. My mom was just a clerk at the local library. So, I didn’t have a lot of clothing options for the first party of my senior year since the week before I was approved to graduate early.

  “You look fine,” Lisa said, barely looking up, more interested in the Teen magazine she was flipping through than our conversation. “You’ve been with Brad for almost two years now and never put out. I think that means he’s into you. You have no one to impress. Stop stressin’.”

  “I wish I could wear your clothes. You’ve got a way better selection than me.”

  “No, you don’t,” she said in a snarky tone.

  Lisa was over six feet tall, but she was slender and lithe. She was just a tad tetchy about her height since she towered over most boys at our school. I wasn’t a munchkin at five feet eight inches, but I couldn’t wear her clothes.

  I sighed, not knowing what to say. I could’ve told Lisa how I thought she was beautiful and that she had a model’s body, but it’s not like I hadn’t done it a million times before.

  “Maddie, Brad’s here,” my mom called. A few seconds later, the door to my room popped open and my mom’s head appeared. “You should get going.”

  “I’m ready,” I said, tugging my dark auburn hair into a messy bun. I kissed her cheek, then grabbed my purse, checking to ensure my phone and keys were in it. “Love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too. Be safe.” She pulled me into a warm hug, and the familiar scents of vanilla and lavender enveloped me.

  “Have I told you that you’re the best mom ever?”

  “Yeah, you’re pretty awesome, Miss Cat,” Lisa added.

  “I don’t know what you two are up to, but I already said you could go to the party. Now get,” my mom said with a chuckle, waving us out with a shooing motion.

  Lisa and I linked arms as we dashed out the door and down the rickety wooden steps of my trailer to the road where Brad waited by his convertible, smoking a cigarette. He started after he quit the tennis team at the end of last season. I rolled my eyes at him, opened the door to the car, and got in. I wasn’t thrilled with his new habit.

  Lisa jumped into the back seat. Brad got in the car and leaned over to kiss me, but I was repelled by the ashtray scent of his breath and turned away from him. He made a frustrated sound and mumbled, “Whatever,” as he started the car and pulled away.

  The ride to the party was quick. No one talked due to the noise of the wind rushing through the convertible and the blaring country music on Brad’s radio. When we pulled up to the party at Nic Gallo's house, Brad killed the engine. I could hear the loud music thumping from somewhere inside.

  Nic Gallo was one of my best friends. He had lived in the same trailer park as Evan—my other bestie—and me, while his parents saved money to build this dream house—a beautiful Southern farmhouse off the lake with a full wrap-around porch.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious. My mother and I lived in a mobile home out of necessity. Nic was just a tourist that got to escape.

  Brad and Lisa went off in opposite directions as soon as we passed the front door, but that was standard operating procedure for us. We’d meet back up later. I went off in search of Evan and Nic. It took a while to make my way through the house since it seemed like everyone at the party wanted to talk to me about something. Most of it questions about my summer, or stories about theirs. I had no idea why people felt the need to share what happened in their lives. Maybe it was just because I listened to them? My mom had raised me to be a good listener.

  I located Evan in the kitchen, talking to the new kid. Once he looked up and made eye contact with me, I launched myself into his arms. He spun me around once and set me down next to him, kissing my cheek.

  Evan had been in my life since the day I was born. Our fathers had been friends since grade school. Our friendship cemented in third grade—his fifth grade year—when I bloodied his nose for making fun of a girl with glasses. Evan was a good-looking guy, with his unique hazel eyes, but there was just something about knowing what a person looked like with a saggy diaper that killed any chance of sexual attraction.

  “Where’ve you been?” I asked, still clinging to his shoulders to find my balance. “I’ve missed you.”

  “We started football practice this week. You know that,” Evan said with a smirk.

  “Yeah, well, still missed you.”

  “Happy Birthday,” he said, his features softening.

  “Thanks. You know it was yesterday, right?” I asked, scrunching up my face.

  “I did,” he nodded and tilted his head toward the refrigerator. “Nic and I got you a cake. It’s in the fridge.”

  “You guys didn’t have to do that.” I hated when people made a fuss over me. I didn’t have a lot of birthday parties growing up. We never had the money, and if I were honest, I knew a lot of people, but only three people truly knew me.

  “The hell we didn’t,” he said with a huge shit-eating grin. “We want cake.”

  I shook my head at him. “We should work on the Charger this weekend for a little quality time. You think Gary would be down for that?”

  “Of course he would. When I left, Dad was grumbling about why his favorite girl hadn’t been by all week.” He tucked me into his side and turned his attention back to the new kid, who was so quiet I had forgotten he was standing there. “Jared, you haven’t met my little sister yet, have you?”

  I lightly punched Evan in the stomach.

  “This’s Maddie. Maddie, say hello to Jared Wilson.”

  I looked up int
o icy-blue eyes. My breath caught. The new kid was tall with a lean, muscular frame, and built in all the right places. Golden tanned skin, a mess of black, wavy hair, and those eyes. I realized then that I was just staring at him.

  “Nice to meet you, Gerald.”

  Evan doubled over with laughter, and the new kid's eyes widened before he smiled.

  “It’s Jared,” he corrected.

  “That’s awesome, Mads,” Evan said, still laughing. “Way to make the new starting quarterback feel welcome.”

  “I think I need a drink,” I mumbled, trying to look anywhere but at Jared.

  “Allow me,” Jared said as he guided me toward the keg in the backyard with a gentle hand between my shoulders.

  As we moved through the house to the back door, his hand fell away. “I hope this isn’t too forward. I’m pretty used to being the new kid. I tend to push boundaries often.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, looking to him, my brows furrowed.

  His cheeks were slightly pink; I wondered if that was the remnants of blushing. The thought made me smile.

  “Military brat.” He shrugged. “My dad just retired, moved us out here.”

  “Really? What did he do?”

  “He was a three-star general, high-level stuff. I don’t know much about it other than the formalities.”

  “Sounds cool. I bet you’ve been all over.”

  He nodded. We got to the keg, and he handed me his cup. He pulled a new one from the package on the ground and filled it up.

  “Yeah, I haven’t lived in the States very long. He was mostly assigned to command overseas posts.”

  When he was done pouring my beer, he traded me for his cup.

  “Want to go sit over there?” he asked, pointing to two Adirondack chairs away from the house, near the edge of the lake.

  “I interrupted your conversation with Evan. Weren’t you two talkin’?”

  “Nothing important, just football stuff. Looking to mix it up. I’m hoping you’re not a rabid football fan.”

  “Hardly,” I said, scrunching my face up. “I don’t mind watching Evan and Nic play, but it’s not life consuming for me the way some people are about it around here.”