A Mess of a Man Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Published By Wicked Truth Publishing, LLC

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  About the Authors

  Stalk Terri E. Laine

  Other Books by A.M. Hargrove:

  Stalk A.M. Hargrove

  Published By Wicked Truth Publishing, LLC

  Copyright © 2016 A.M. Hargrove and Terri E. Laine

  All rights reserved.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

  Cover by Sofie Hartley at Luminos Graphic House

  Cover Photo by Scott Hoover

  We’d like to send out a HUGE thank you to all our readers for taking a chance on us with Cruel and Beautiful. Never did we dream our novel would shoot to the top the way it did and it was only because of you, dear readers. When the requests for more books began pouring in we knew we had to tell Ben’s story. Although we didn’t go through the cases of tissues as we did in C&B—translate, we still cried—it wasn’t nearly as ugly. So again, we’d like to thank you and hope we continue to fill you with our heartwarming novels.

  There is a group of people who deserve our deep gratitude, namely our beta readers. Their patience with us during this project is deeply appreciated and without their input, this book would not be what it is. So here’s one big squishy-huggy thank you to the following people: Jill Patten, Andrea Stafford, Kristie Wittenberg, Kat Grimes, and Nina Grinstead. You ladies ROCK!

  We’re also blasting a hearty THANKS out in shouty caps to Nina Grinstead at Social Butterfly PR for pulling together an AHH-Mazing marketing plan that included lots of punch, bells, and whistles (and maybe some alcohol, too). She worked her ass off and did one bad ass job. Nina—you are the bomb! And thanks for putting up with me (Terri) and my many back and forth messages, lol <3 ~ Terri ;)

  We’d also like to thank to Rick, Julie, Mary Beth, Terrie, and Amy at Red Coat PR for all their behind the scenes action, too. GO RCPR!

  Finally, we want to thank Lisa Christman of Adept Edits. This lady was not only fun to work with but polished up our manuscript like gold. Thanks for the Sam-isms!

  This book is dedicated to all the readers of Cruel and Beautiful who asked for Ben’s story.

  There is finality to the sound of the door closing behind her. A sort of tormenting peace knowing the end has come. It’s not like I should have expected things to go on this way for long. How could they? The few people I let into my inner circle have dropped out of my life or let me down.

  One evil word has taken on the role of judge, jury, and executioner to those closest to me. Why should this be any different?

  My hand presses against my forehead to ease the crushing headache insisting on making its presence known. It’s only a matter of time before everything will splinter—like the exterior of my empty heart.

  I stare holes in the walls as if I can still see her, the one I let in. The sun rises and sets with her inner and outer beauty, blinding me with something I don’t dare name because it scares me in ways that bring me hope—hope I’ve never had before. Every time I’m with her, I know dawn will come. Now that she’s gone, darkness has blocked the sunlight seeking entrance through my window.

  Sweeter than peach cobbler, she hardly has a bad thing to say about anybody—until now. Her parting description of me, beginning with ass and ending with hole, reverberates through my hollow heart, as I stand here entrenched in my spot. I’m not even shocked, as this isn’t the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of that sentiment. I’m only surprised because I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so much as mutter a single curse word before. And the first time I do, it’s aimed squarely at me.

  My hands tighten around a tumbler filled with amber liquid before I toss back its contents hoping for oblivion or something close to it. This road is so familiar. Only this time is different. I never cared like I do now. She means more to me than a quick fuck. Hadn’t I been about to tell her just that? How could things have gone wrong so fast?

  Her parting condemnation of my character mocks me as it slashes across my chest drawing blood, as was its intent. My heartbeat slows and echoes from the other side of the chasm created between us when she unknowingly ripped my heart out of my chest and left with it.

  Yet the door between us continues to dare me to cross over its threshold and make things right. Something seemingly so simple, yet the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. As if that weren’t enough, my best friend disapprovingly glowers at me from beyond the grave making me miss his presence more than ever before. He’d been my compass, my right hand man, my voice of reason when it came to situations like this.

  Inexorably alone, I watch my life implode into a wasteland from my bad decisions. I can fix this. The letter he wrote in his final days itches to be in my hand. The worn lines of the paper I’ve unfolded and refolded so often are in a drawer next to my bed. But I’m not strong enough to go get it. It doesn’t matter. How many times have I read the damn thing? A hundred? A thousand? His poignant thoughts and advice are tattooed on my brain, as deeply as the image of his dying face as he took his last breath.

  When the fuck will I get that picture out of my head? And when will I stop needing him to talk me off the ledge, goddammit? How the hell am I supposed to fix this thing between her and me without him? “Why the fuck did you have to die? Friends aren’t supposed to die on each other. And you know I suck at this shit!”

  The words echo off the walls as I continue to grow roots into the floor like an unwanted weed.

  I can practically hear him shouting, “Get off your ass and stop her, you idiot!”

  But I can’t. I’ve died a million deaths since the day he left this earth.

  “If you were still here, I wouldn’t be in this shit storm,” I choke out as if his memory were tangible.

  What I wouldn’t give for him to be here now. Anything. Because if he were, I’d know anything is possible. Especially everything I want to have with her. His death is only a reminder that dreams don’t come true.

  Don’t be a dumbass. You can still
fix this.

  Although I cling to his memory like the air I need to breathe, I choose to ignore his unspoken advice. Instead, I stubbornly stay embedded to my spot because nothing can change the outcome. It’s a truth she and I know will haunt me until my last breath. And it’s created a wall between us I’m unable to climb … even if you gave me a damn ladder.

  I’ve never been much of a risk-taker when it comes to matters of the heart. I can fill a bank account to a number with many zeros behind it from my astute choices in the market. But I can’t be a man a woman stays with. Hadn’t I warned her about that too?

  Unable to see past my own shitty existence, I long for her to come back. I want to believe it’s all been some kind of mistake and I can forget what I know to be true. As the seconds continue to tick by, the inevitability that things are really over sinks in. My window of opportunity quickly closes as fast as her car door slams and the engine fires to life.

  She’s so close, yet miles away. The longer I let the minutes expand between us I know distance won’t make the heart grow fonder. But maybe it’s for the best. Love, or whatever masquerades as it, just isn’t enough for the dirty, fucked up truth. Right when things were better than I ever expected, facts messed it up.

  Groaning, I launch the crystal glass worth a small fortune at the door I can’t seem to force myself towards. A beautiful show of light plays off the shards as they cascade down in an explosion of fireworks. Visually, it’s what I feel inside as desolation constricts and then obliterates my chest because the best thing I ever had is gone … leaving me with only the certainty I’m meant to be with her.

  “I love you,” I whisper for the first time and in place of goodbye. I can only pray we both survive what’s to come.

  The muddled sky is a reflection of the state of my life as I watch my best friend’s casket being lowered into the ground, gone forever. Drew, at twenty-nine, has passed on. And it’s so unfucking fair. I stare, longing for a state of numbness, only to be denied. I feel far too much as the fist-sized organ in my chest continues to beat, ridiculing me that his doesn’t. It isn’t right and it’s killing me … slowly.

  The beautiful woman who clings to me as if I could anchor her doesn’t belong to me. Cate belongs to Drew in the way poets write in sonnets. They belong together, as immortalized in every chick flick ever made.

  For him, I do my damn best to hold his widow steady. Widow. Shit.

  She needs a rock, not the pussy who’s lost everything that matters outside of his family. So I mask the emptiness that covers me like a blanket with a pair of useless sunglasses. They hide my red-rimmed eyes as the memories of his last few good days spent hanging at his house burn the backs of my eyelids.

  Cate fairs little better as fat tears spill down her cheeks reminding me how life will never be the same. Who will put up with my shit or call me out on it when I need it?

  Moisture rolls down my face and I’m grateful for the rain that bursts from the clouds with perfect fucking timing. I open an umbrella and hold it over Cate and me. When the last words are spoken, we shuffle forward, like zombies, and drop freshly cut roses into the hole that’s the size of my messed up heart. I shouldn’t be so screwed up over losing him. It wasn’t like we were secret lovers or anything. But he was my other half in the way only a best friend could be. He had everything I didn’t. A good family, a career he enjoyed, and a woman he loved more than his last breath. So why did he have to be the one to die?

  I would have volunteered to take his place if given the chance. What did I have to leave behind? A career that I love to hate? A woman? The thoughts make me laugh. My career is currently in the hands of my father. And women have never meant anything more to me than a temporary place for me to bury myself balls deep.

  “Ben, I can’t.”

  Cate’s shaky words are an echo of my own. Life is far too short and so very unfair. My next words are hollow, but I force them from my throat anyway.

  “You can, for Drew.”

  My memory from that awful day fades as the ice knocks around in the glass that I swirl in my hand. They say it’s a woman that always messes with your head. That’s not always true. In my case, I’m still royally fucked up over watching Drew die from cancer—stolen from this world long before his time. And that’s all I seem to be able to focus on. Not the woman I just finished fucking minutes ago.

  She excitedly prances in front of me like she’s walking over hot coals, droning on, her voice like nails on a chalkboard as I tune her out. She’s striking in a way that any man can see. Yet any interest I ever had in her has long since fled. The fact I didn’t get off during our last round of sex is further proof it’s time for me to move on. My mistake is making sure she always gets hers, because she’s otherwise oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm. But I’m tired of going through the motions. It’s time for me to man up and figure out the best way to tell her to lose my number without it ending in her shouting curses at me. Not that I wouldn’t deserve it. I just don’t have the energy to endure it tonight.

  “Ben, did you hear me?” Karen asks.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat, dislodging the word from there.

  “Anyway, I thought if you could get the day off tomorrow, we could drive up to the hospital tonight.”

  I don’t have to ponder her question as I finally focus on her. She’s putting on the white lacey bra I’d taken off her an hour earlier. My eyes drop and I’ll admit she has a great ass. It’s even still a little red from my earlier taps. But nothing, there’s nothing there but pretty window dressing.

  When she glares at me, I finally answer her question with another question.

  “Why?”

  She stops and scowls at me. “Why what?”

  Here we go. Her voice has already started to rise.

  “Why would I take the day off? I barely know the woman.” The truth is, I hardly know Karen.

  “Why?” Her face turns an angry shade of pink. “I would think after all this time together you’d want to get to know my family.”

  I’m about to say the wrong thing, but I say it anyway. “Why’s that?”

  Her hands go to her waist and she leans towards me in that school teacher about to discipline a student kind of way. She wants a reaction and I can’t seem to wipe the bored look off my face. My hope is she gets my meaning without me spelling it out.

  “Why?” She stops and takes a deep breath as if that will calm her. But I know better. Three. Two. One. Bingo. I see the change when she finally gets it. Her face softens and her hand reaches out to stroke mine. If she’s trying to smooth out my annoyed expression, it’s too late.

  “The cancer thing freaks you out, I understand that. But it’s been …” she pulls back and taps her fingers against the side of her face, “what, over a year now? Granted, it’s sad your best friend died. In fact, it’s tragic. But life moves on, Ben.” Then as an afterthought she adds, “Sometimes I wonder if you two were more than just friends.”

  She had to go there, which only proves how little she knows me or wants to outside of the size of my bank account. I try to rein in my anger but fail as I slam my glass down on the side table causing her to jump and her face to pale.

  “He was like a brother to me. And he was twenty-nine years old for God’s sake. He should be working on having a kid with Cate, not six fucking feet under the ground.”

  She lifts a hand like she’s trying to calm a dragon and maybe I am one. “I’m just saying. We’ve been together for five months now.”

  I cut her off. “No, Karen, that’s where you’re wrong. We’ve been fucking for five months.”

  Her back straightens and her eyes narrow. She switches back to school teacher stance and her next words are slow and deliberate, like she’s teaching me a lesson or something.

  “You fucking asshole. You’re a great big jerk who’s going to die alone if you don’t get your head out of your ass.”

  Asshole and jerk are just a few of the names I’ve been called over the years
and it rolls off me like water. There are a number of things I could say in response, starting with how I just finished fucking her ass. However, I stay tight-lipped because it appears she’s going to leave. Score. She pulls up her skirt and yanks her shirt over her head so fast her hair is practically standing on end from static electricity. I smirk because it’s somewhat amusing.

  “Nothing’s funny. And don’t bother calling me when you realize what a mistake you’re making.”

  I shrug.

  She mutters several more curses as she exits my front door. The noise as it slams is just the punctuation I need to clarify that our relationship is at an end. I pick up the drink and take another deep swallow. Karen was a great piece of ass, but that was it. There had never been a moment when I wanted more.

  She’s right about one thing. Cancer scares me shitless. I can’t go through that ever again with anyone. I’m grateful my family doesn’t have a history of cancer because one crushing blow is enough. Drew’s death shredded me and I’m still trying to piece myself back together. And he’s been gone over a year.

  I pick up my phone and hit the number I want to dial.

  It rings once and my little sister and only sibling, Jenna, picks up. “What’s up Benny boy? I thought you would be driving to North Carolina by now.”

  Inwardly, I sigh because that’s where Karen is going alone.

  “What gave you that idea?” I ask nonchalantly.

  Karen is somewhat of a friend of hers. And I have to do damage control before Karen calls her.

  “My phone’s ringing. Hold on.”

  “Wait, Jenna, don’t answer. I need to talk to you first.”

  There is a pause and sharp as a tack, she’s putting it together.

  “What did you do?”

  I bite the bullet and spit it out, knowing she’s going to be pissed. “I can’t be with her.”

  Silence. I mark off the time in increments of five. By the time I’m up to fifteen, she finally speaks.

  “Why?”

  You’d think Jenna was older than me the way she says that word.