Giving her hand a squeeze, I say, “You couldn’t always count on me. You’ll be able to now, though. No more trying to protect you. Hell, little sister, I might be coming to you for help now. I have no idea how to do this relationship thing.”
Laney laughs. “You’ll be great. You love her. That’s what matters.”
“I do.” I pause for a minute before continuing. “How’s Adrian? I dropped a fucking bomb in his lap. He has every right to hate me.”
“But you know he doesn’t.”
Nope. Not him. He’s too good a guy for that. “I know. He’s dealing okay?”
She sighs. “It didn’t change anything, Maddy. There’s no way you could have known what would happen any more than Adrian could. And you couldn’t have stopped it either. He still misses Ash just like he always has but… he wants to move forward too. Like we said, we’ve all spent too much time living in the past.”
“Good.” I nod. “Bee too. She’s had a hard time. After we say good-bye to Mom, I’m going home with her. I don’t know how long it’ll take—”
“What about your job?”
“She’s more important. She needs to see her family, to talk about stuff she held in too long just like I did. As long as she wants me there, that’s where I’ll be.”
Laney gets this huge-ass smile on her face. “You will have no problems being a good boyfriend to her, Maddy.”
I roll my eyes even though I think it’s honorable the way she looks at the world. The way she’s positive and looks for the good. Everyone would be a lot better off if more of us were like my sister.
“It’s getting close. We should probably go.”
I stand and then she does the same thing. On reflex, I grab her and pull her into my arms—hugging her in a way I should have done a long time ago. “I love you, little sister.”
“I love you, too, Maddy.”
I take her hand and we go out to meet Bee and Adrian—go to say good-bye to our mom, with the two people we love by our sides.
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 and soon 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 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.
Please see the next page for a preview of Façade.
Chapter One ~Adrian~
I didn’t sleep for shit last night. Not that I ever really sleep that well, but last night was particularly bad. About 1:00 a.m., I was sick to death of all the drunk, high, loud-ass people in my house. Jesus, I wanted them gone. Wanted quiet, normal, but instead I’d smoked another bowl, lied, and said I was going to bed before locking myself in my room.
The party went on without me because that’s what people do. It’s not that they really need me to have fun. I just have the house, shitty as it is, and everyone thinks I’m always down to have a good time. Scratch that. I am always down to have a good time. One look at me shows I’m stoned half the time. Weed? It clouds out the past. Parties drown out the stuff in my head I don’t want to hear. But last night of all nights? I deserved to hear that shit, since I’m the one who caused it. So that’s what I did. All night. Got blazed out of my head but kept myself awake so I could think about today.
Around six this morning, I jumped in my car like I have every January 12 for the past four years and drove my ass here. Rockville, Virginia. Home sweet fucking home, except I hate this place with a burning passion. When you spend your childhood getting beat by your dad, all you want to do is escape where you came from. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t have to, but after everything, I figure it’s the least I can do.
Not that my sister, Angel, will ever know I came.
After all this time, I wonder if she’d want me here. If I were her, I wouldn’t.
Shaking my thermos, I realize I don’t have any more coffee. I toss it onto the passenger side floor and lean back in the seat. Four hours is a long-ass time to sit in my car, but I don’t want to risk getting out and her seeing me. Probably a good thing I ran out of coffee; otherwise I’d have to piss again.
Looking across the street, I see all the headstones. Most of them are laid flat, so I can’t see them from a distance, but I still know exactly which one belongs to Ashton. It’s under the big tree. He would have liked that. I bet he would have wanted me to lift him up and put him in that tree if he’d ever had the chance to see it. He thought it was cool to ride on my shoulders. I’d carry him all around the house and he’d laugh like it was fucking Disneyland or something.
Pain grabs hold of me, threatens to pull me under, and for the millionth time I wonder why I don’t let it. It would be so much easier than walking around in the masks I do now.
“Fuck.” I drop my head back. Run a hand through my dark hair. Feel my pocket for the pipe there and wish like hell I could light up. Seems kind of wrong to smoke weed at a cemetery, especially under the circumstances.
I hate the drugs anyway. You wouldn’t know it, though. No one does. Adrian’s always down to smoke. Adrian’s always good for it. That’s what everyone thinks, but really I just want to be swept away. To ride a tide or the wind or whatever the fuck will take me far from here. Weed is the only thing I can find. Sometimes it works; most of the time it doesn’t.
I’m itching to shove the key into the ignition, to push down on the gas pedal and get the hell out of here. Not that I ever went real far. I only live four hours away in Brenton because I couldn’t make myself leave the state. But I can’t live in Rockville anymore. I don’t want to see this. Don’t want to be here. I wish I could wake up and find out this has all been some fucked-up nightmare. Even if it meant going back in time before Ash and having to deal with shit from my parents.
Leaning forward, I push the useless thermos out of the way and reach for The Count of Monte Cristo, which is shoved under the seat. The cover’s all old and ripped. The spine’s cracked so much from how many times I’ve read it. It’ll probably fall apart any day now.
The thing is, I’ve always respected Edmond. He went through hell and back but fought despite it. He didn’t fold. He pushed through and worked his ass off to become so much more than he was. He was strong. Not me. I just can’t seem to make myself overcome the past.
There’s nothing to do but deal with it. And maybe lose myself behind a cloud of smoke or a girl.