She latches her hand with mine and we walk to the car. We drive the few hours back home, to the apartment she used to share with her brother that I now share with her.
Colt’s outside, messing with Chey’s car when we get there.
“Fucking piece of shit,” he says.
I laugh as I walk over to him. “Don’t blame the car because you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Then shut up and help me.” He tosses me a wrench, which I catch.
“I’m going to go upstairs. I’ll see you later,” Delaney says. She leans forward to my ear and whispers, “You did great today. Don’t forget you have to go see Lettie in a couple hours.” She doesn’t pay me for helping her anymore and she still gives me shit the whole time I’m there, but she also cried when I came back. We’ve talked about Ash and I found out she lost a daughter.
I nod and kiss my girl before she goes upstairs and then I lean over to look at the engine.
“You went to see Ash?” Colt asks.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
We’re quiet for a minute, screwing around under the hood of Cheyenne’s car and then he says, “It gets easier. Going, I mean. It fucking killed me the first time I saw Mom.”
“Yeah?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he replies again.
We keep working on the car. He talks about his mom and I talk about Ash. I think about Delaney upstairs. The woman I fucking love so much it’s crazy. How she’s probably sitting there talking to Colt’s girl, whose like a sister to me. And my best friend standing next to me. My sister back home who I talk to every day.
I realize I’m lucky. There’s an ache inside me that will never go away. I’ll always keep his shirt and always write for him. He’ll always be in my heart and in my head, but I also know I’ll be just fine, with these people in my life, and for him, I’ll be okay.
THE END
Acknowledgments
I have so many people to thank for this that I’m not sure where to begin. First, to my husband. Your support is invaluable. I couldn’t do this without your love, faith, and sacrifices. To my two beautiful little girls for asking about my writing and showing me how proud you are of me. I wish I had been as cool as you are at your age! My mom because you’ve always had faith in me. Thanks for giving me wings and teaching me not to be afraid to fly. Wendy Higgins, I couldn’t do what I do without you. You’re my confidant, my best friend, and the most wonderful critique partner a girl could have. To my other beta readers, Jolene Perry for all your help and Morgan Shamy for brainstorming with me. Big thanks to Allie Brennan for dealing with my obsessiveness over covers. HUGE thanks to the readers of Charade, who were so supportive and wonderful. Jane Dystel and all the folks at Dystel and Goderich, I am honored to have you in my corner. You are the definition of hard work and dedication. And to my editor, Latoya Smith. There are not enough words to thank you. Thanks for seeing something in my work, for believing in my writing, and for helping make my dreams come true. Last but not least, to everyone at Grand Central Publishing. I still can’t believe I am able to say I write for Grand Central. Thank you for taking a chance on me. I hope to do you proud. There are so many other people who made this possible. Know that I didn’t forget you. I thank you all.
About the Author
From a very young age, Nyrae Dawn dreamed of growing up and writing stories. It always felt as if publication were out of her grasp—one of those things that could never happen, so she put her dream on hold.
Nyrae worked in a hospital emergency room, fell in love, and married one of her best friends from high school. In 2004 Nyrae, her husband, and their new baby girl made a move from Oregon to Southern California and that’s when everything changed. As a stay-at-home mom for the first time, her passion for writing flared to life again.
She hasn’t stopped writing ever since.
Nyrae has a love of character-driven stories and emotional journeys. She feels honored to be able to explore those things on a daily basis and get to call it work.
With two incredible daughters, an awesome husband, and her days spent writing what she loves, Nyrae considers herself the luckiest girl in the world. She still resides in sunny Southern California, where she loves spending time with her family and sneaking away to the bookstore with her laptop.
Nyrae Dawn’s powerful series continues…
See the next page for a preview of
Masquerade.
Masquerade
CHAPTER ONE
~Bee~
It’s almost perfect. The only thing missing as I stand in the middle of Masquerade is the constant buzz of a tattoo gun. After the past few years, it’s my form of comfort. Like a lullaby that sings me to sleep, massaging the tension out of my muscles. But at the same time, it shoots adrenaline into my veins, bringing me happiness—something that’s mine and will always belong to me.
Yes, I need to hurry up and open the doors to my tattoo parlor before I go crazy for that lullaby.
I play the words again in my head: my tattoo parlor. They’re scary as hell and exhilarating at the same time. I’m not sure many twenty-one-year-olds can say they’ve already worked in five shops, but none of those places belonged to me. This one will stick. I’ll stick. I have to, for a lot of reasons. One of them being that despite the fact that it’s my name on all the paperwork for Masquerade, my parents footed the bill.
It doesn’t matter that I’m paying them back, only that they did it. After everything I’ve put them through—after the way that I struggle so much to love them the way they do me—they did it.
Walking over, I straighten one of the frames filled with tattoos I’ve done. To the right of it is the one and only workstation here. It’s exactly what I need, small without too many places to make a mess. Growing up, my parents—shit… I shake my head, Melody and Rex—had both been artists. They would get lost in their zone and the house would be a mess with supplies, but it didn’t matter because they were happy.
Then I went back home and everything was different. They were happy just like Melody and Rex, but not in the same way. They didn’t get so deep in their art that they’d forget dinner and then order a pizza, which we would all laugh over later.
No, my real parents were perfect. Are perfect, and even after eight years, it’s still hard for me to be the person they need me to be instead of the one I was.
But I try. For them, I try.
“Christ,” I mumble, not sure why I’m feeling so introspective today. I’m a single girl in a new town. What I need to do it get out and have some fun.
After locking up Masquerade, I climb into my Honda Insight and drive to my apartment. It doesn’t take me much time to get ready. I keep my blond hair down. It’s long, hanging past the middle of my back. I put on a black spaghetti-strap tank top with silver studs on it. It shows the couple tattoos I have, the two on each of my shoulders and the other above my breast. Slipping on a pair of black heels, I walk to the bathroom and change out the small diamond stud in my nose and then I’m out the door.
It’s not like Brenton is very big, so it doesn’t take me much time to find a bar that looks like it could be a good time. It’s about 10:00 p.m., so a little early, but all I want to do is have a drink and relax anyway. More than that and I’d have to take a cab.