Lonesome Beds and Bumpy Roads (Beds #3) Read online

  Lonesome Beds and Bumpy Roads

  Book 3

  By Becca Ann and Tessa Marie

  COPYRIGHT

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  Published by

  Becca Ann

  Tessa Marie

  Copyright April 2015

  Cover Photo by mast3r courtesy of Shutterstock

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author(s).

  Becca Ann’s Dedication

  To my Bestie, Theresa.

  Thank you for going on this journey with me.

  Also…

  Fart.

  Tessa Marie’s Dedication

  To Cassie.

  Thank you for believing in me.

  Also…

  Pennsylvania.

  Chapter 1

  Lexie

  I hold my water glass up, my Life Gave Me Lemons nail polish front and center. “Here’s to another three months,” I say, toasting Mom for taking control of her life and getting sober. It was the roughest period of our lives but we squashed life’s lemons and made some awesome lemonade.

  Mom smiles, holding up her own glass. “And another three after that.”

  Roger—Mom’s sober coach, lifesaver, new boyfriend, rescuer extraordinaire—wraps Mom in a hug. She leans into his embrace, a glow radiating from her so bright I bet if you turned off the lights she’d glow in the dark. “And another three after that,” he says, tucking her blonde bob back behind her ear and kissing her cheek.

  There was a time when I never thought I would see her like this. Sober. In love. Happy. Now I can’t ever imagine going back to the way things were.

  “Alexis, eat your vegetables,” Mom says, and I roll my eyes. Still I’ll take overly-concerned Mom over passed-out-drunk Mom any day.

  “Who cares about vegetables when we have cake?” Roger says, holding his hands up and presenting the waiter behind us.

  A candle flickers in the large piece of chocolate cake, surrounded by globs of whip cream and a scoop of chocolate ice cream. A PMSing girl’s dream come true.

  “What is this?” Mom asks.

  The waiter places it down in front of her.

  “What is a celebration without cake?”

  Mom leans over and kisses Roger when another plate of chocolate goodness with a flickering candle is placed in front of me. There must be a mistake; my birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks. But hey, I’ll put on a hat and let them serenade me with that repetitive song as long as I get to keep the cake!

  Oh, but what if this is some poor child’s birthday cake? My conscious kicks in. “Excuse me,” I say to the waiter. “I don’t think this is mine.”

  Roger pulls his attention away from Mom and smiles at me. “We’re celebrating you too.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “You were accepted to college. And not just one. But three. That deserves cake.”

  “I’m not arguing,” I say, and pick up the fork and shove a mouthful past my lips.

  Mom and Roger stare while I push the wad of chocolate heaven to the side. “What?” I ask, crumbs falling from my mouth.

  Mom laughs. “Why don’t you try blowing out the candle first?”

  “Whoops.” I gulp down the food in my mouth and take Mom’s hand. “I say we blow them out together.”

  Mom squeezes my fingers and nods. “Let’s do this.”

  “Don’t forget to make a wish,” Roger says.

  “Does that work if it’s not your birthday?” I ask.

  Roger throws his pudgy hands up in the air. “Of course it does.”

  “Okay then.” I take a deep breath and think of all the things I could wish for. Three months ago I would have wished to get out of this town. But now, I can’t imagine living anywhere else. A year ago, I would have wished for Sean Dixon to notice me. I can’t count how many wishes I wasted on him. Though, they finally worked, making me realize he was not the guy for me. I don’t need to wish for Mr. Perfect either because I’ve already found him.

  My lips tug at the thought of my boyfriend and best friend, Ryan. As long as he’s in my life, I couldn’t ask for anything more.

  Okay, maybe that’s not totally true. I can always ask for more chocolate.

  I close my eyes and Roger starts the count. I say my wish in my head and when Roger hits three I let out my breath and open my eyes. Mom claps, and now that the candle is extinguished, I pick up the fork and shove more chocolate in my face. Wish come true.

  My phone buzzes in my bag and reluctantly I put the fork down and grab it. My heart flutters at Ryan’s name on the screen.

  Ryan: I miss you.

  I snap a picture of my cake and send it to him.

  Lexie: I have cake.

  Ryan: I see how it is.

  Lexie: Don’t be jealous.

  Ryan: Of cake? Never. I can give you something that cake can’t.

  Lexie: I wouldn’t be so sure about that ;)

  Ryan: Is that a challenge?

  A smile spreads across my face and my cheeks warm at the thought.

  “Alexis, I’m talking to you,” Mom says.

  Lexie: Gotta go.

  I drop my phone back into my bag. “Sorry. What was that?”

  “I asked if you made a decision yet.”

  “A decision on what?”

  Mom rolls her eyes and dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “What school you’re going to.”

  “Oh. Not yet. Ryan and I have talked about it a little bit, but haven’t made any definite plans.”

  Mom lets out a loud sigh, and she has that look on her face. The one that tells me she has a million things she wants to say, but won’t say anything unless I insist she talk.

  “Just spit it out already.”

  Roger rests his hand on top of Mom’s, and it’s as if he gave her a shot of rocket fuel.

  “I think you two are too serious,” she says. “And you shouldn’t be making plans based on Ryan.”

  Now I roll my eyes. This isn’t the first time she’s brought it up and I’m sure it’s not going to be the last. “I’m not making plans based on Ryan. But I am going to take him into consideration.”

  She huffs. “You can’t rely on…”

  “Rely on what? Him?”

  She gives me a curt nod.

  Anger surges through my veins, and I tighten my grip on my cup. She has such a major chip on her shoulder when it comes to Ryan. During her drunken years, he picked her up off the ground almost as many times as I did. He’s never done anything to make her not like him. I want to scream at her that he’s not like my father. He won’t abandon me. But I bite my tongue. It’s not about any of that tonight.

  “Do you really want to get into this right now? We’re celebrating. Let’s just drop it. Okay?” Because I know if we don’t, I’ll say things that will hurt her, and right now that’s the last thing I want.

  Roger squeezes Mom’s hand, and she looks to him and he silently agrees with me.

  “Are you two going to share? Or do I not get any cake?” Roger says, the tension that started to spread across the table dissipates, and Mom spoons him a piece of cake.

  An hour later we pull up to the house. “Thanks for dinner, Roger.�
�

  “My pleasure as always,” he says.

  “I’ll leave you two to it.” I get out of the car and walk across the lawn to our basement apartment.

  Before I go in, I check my texts. I laugh when a picture of Ryan pouting his lip out pops onto my screen. I keep it up for a minute, smiling like a fool before I click out and to the next text.

  Ryan: Have fun with your Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow. Night.

  I tuck it into my back pocket and head inside. It’s nice walking in and knowing exactly what to expect, unlike months ago when I didn’t know what condition Mom would be in. I drop my bag and go for my nail polish collection. Tonight calls for manicures and chick flicks.

  Mom walks in with a beautiful glow on her face.

  “You look happy,” I say.

  She smiles and flops onto the couch. “I am.”

  And I’m happy for her. I just wish she could be happy for me too. But I get it. She’s scared. She put her entire life into one man’s hands and he walked out. It’s been ten years, and only recently was she finally able to let it go. To stop drowning her feelings in alcohol and accept that he’s never coming back. And to stop blaming me and everyone else.

  “What’s this?” Mom asks, eyeing my layout of nail polishes.

  “We’re still celebrating. I’ll get the DVDs and you get the snacks.”

  “You got it.” Mom stands, kisses the top of my head, and then disappears into the kitchen.

  I scour our extensive DVD collection and search for our favorites. I grab four and go to drop them on the coffee table when there’s a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe Ryan decided to stop by. Or Kaylee, my “bestie”, who loves to randomly drop in.

  I go to the door and pull it open. A man with combed back dark hair and hazel eyes stands with his hands in his pockets. He smiles nervously. There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t quite pinpoint it.

  “Who’s at the door?” Mom says, walking into the living room and stopping me from asking the man any questions.

  I look to her and shrug. She glances up, her entire body freezing in place. Her eyes widen and the bowl of chips she is holding falls to the ground. “Kevin?” she says and my heart stops.

  I turn back to the man and stare into his eyes. My heart races, thrashing against my chest, making it impossible to breathe. It can’t be. No.

  “Dad?” I say and back away.

  “Hey munchkin,” he says and when I hear his voice there’s no denying it. It’s the voice that has haunted my dreams for years.

  Every single nightmare that had me tossing and turning in my sleep, crying out for him not to leave me, floods my mind.

  “I can’t do this,” I say and run into my room slamming my door and locking it.

  Chapter 2

  Ryan

  I wipe my sweaty brow with the back of my hand, smirking at my brother’s ass crack as he bends over the hood. I grab a Sharpie and drop it down his pants.

  “Bulls eye!” I shout as Brett jolts and bangs the top of his head. He throws me a dirty look, grease spattered across his jaw.

  “Cut that shit out.” He yanks up his jeans. “Trying to concentrate.”

  I lean against the tool bench in the just-cleaned-out garage. “Twenty bucks on you killing her.”

  “I’m not gonna kill her,” Brett says, tugging on the distributor wires on the Honda we were supposed to have fixed two and half weeks ago. We got it running for about a minute before it conked out again. “Will you just hand me that spanner wrench?”

  I roll my eyes and slap it in his palm. He’s wasting his time. There’s something up with the fuel intake and I told him we shouldn’t mess with it till Pop-pop gets home. He can let us know what exactly to mess with. But Brett was all, “I’ll figure it out.” I may as well make some money off of it.

  My phone buzzes for the tenth or so time in the last thirty minutes. My hands are caked in grease and dirt so I’ve left it alone, but the look Brett gives me says I better answer it before he starts using it to bang on the crapped out engine.

  “If you kill her, you owe me twenty bucks,” I say, pushing myself off the bench and heading to the garage sink.

  “I’m not going to kill her!”

  “I’ll accept that as verbal confirmation that the bet stands.” I dry off, knowing my hands are about as clean as they’re gonna get even though they’re still pretty black. My smartass smirk fades when I see thirteen missed calls and a string of texts from my girlfriend.

  Lex: I need you.

  Lex: Can you call me?

  Lex: You mind if I come over?

  Lex: Okay, I’m coming over anyway.

  Lex: Answer your phone!

  Lex: Marco…

  Lex: Seriously, I’m worried.

  Lex: At the risk of sounding like Grams… why have a phone when you don’t use it???

  Lex: I’m naked. If you want to see boobs you have to text me back.

  Lex: RYAN!!!!

  I snort and start walking into the house, shrugging out of my dirty shoes.

  Me: I need you too ;)

  Me: My hands were greasy.

  Me: Yes, come over.

  Me: Good.

  Me: Answering now. Oh, you already hung up. Damn. ;)

  Me: Polo.

  Me: Don’t worry. Like I said, greasy hands.

  Me: I’m going to sound like Grams too. Hold your horses.

  Me: Where are my boobs?

  Me: LEXIE!!!!

  Someone pounds on the front door, and I tuck my phone into my back pocket and slide on my socks across the hardwood in the hallway. I end up knocking off one of the pictures of the inspirational quotes Grams has been collecting. It says, “Slow down and enjoy life.” But sliding down the hall in socks is enjoying life.

  I hang the picture back on the wall and then hurry to answer the now door-shaking knocks.

  “Did you need something?” I tease as I let Lex inside. She walks straight past me and I shut the door behind her.

  “Yes. I told you already. I need you.” Her dark brown eyes flick up to mine, and teasing is shot to hell when I see the turned down lines of her mouth.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, reaching out to her, but not drawing her too close. She’s in her favorite hoodie (which is actually mine, but she can have it for as long as she wants) and I’m still donning grease-monkey attire.

  Her eyes fall closed, and she slowly shakes her head. Damn it, I hate that I’m not in clean clothes because it kills me not to take her in my arms and hug out whatever is wrong.

  “Is it your mom?” I ask. She shakes her head again. “Is it school? Money? Kaylee? Nate?” I rattle off, and she continues to shake her head. I let out a small breath and quirk one half of my mouth up. “It’s not me is it? Am I in trouble? Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

  She lets out a tiny laugh and softly punches my arm. Her hand lingers there, and I have to stop the blood rushing through my body because any contact with her gets me going.

  “Are you alone?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Brett’s in the garage.”

  “And Pop-pop and Grams… they aren’t here?”

  “No. But I can call them if you need to talk to—”

  She tucks her fingers in the bottom of the hoodie and pulls it over her head. And the rest of my sentence is obliterated because she’s not wearing a damn thing underneath.

  “I. Need. You,” she says one more time. Well, I think that’s what she says. My hearing is fuzzy and my eyes aren’t looking at her mouth.

  Something drapes over my head, and I pull the hoodie off and chase her down the hall to my room. There’s a giant smile on her lips, and since the lower brain is the one doing all the thinking, I do everything that he says even though the upper brain is pretty sure something is wrong.

  ***

  Pop-pop and Grams have this new rule—okay, so it’s not new. But it’s new to me because Lex and I are actually sleeping together. My grandparents do bed checks
every night. Lex is still welcome to spend the night when home life is shitty, but if my ass is anywhere near hers, Grams goes crazy and chases me with a spatula until I’m either on the couch or on the floor in my grandparents’ room (because I obviously can’t be trusted.)

  And it’s a major buzz kill to be worried about my grandma bursting in with a kitchen utensil while I’m getting my groove on, so usually I’m checking over my shoulder when Lex and I are into it.

  But this time… I can’t and won’t take my eyes off Lex’s face.

  When we’re finished, I blink up at the ceiling, head spinning, and vision slowly turning back to normal. Lexie breathes heavy next to me, slightly moaning and whispering “damn” under her breath. Hell yeah. I owned that shit.

  “I think that’s… a new record,” she says, flopping into my side. “But don’t let that get to your head.”

  Too late. I’m already grinning like a buffoon and I pump my fist into the air Breakfast Club style.

  “I was worried I wasn’t gonna make it through that leg cramp.”

  “You pulled through.”

  Lexie’s yellow nails start stroking my ribs, pulling me into the deep sleep that usually happens right after this. I take in a deep breath and try to tell my body to sit up, stay awake, because as much as I’d like to think what just happened was all about me, I know it wasn’t. Upper brain is taking over.

  “Not that I mind, but… I feel a bit used,” I tease, tickling just above her elbow. She smacks my chest and I roll on top of her, pinning her arms down. I should cover her boobs because they are two giant distractions, as proven earlier.

  “Sorry,” she breathes, then rolls up on my chest.

  “Don’t be sorry. I told you I don’t mind.” I pull out her messy ponytail. “But now you have to spill it.” After so many secrets—all right, most of those were my fault—we’ve promised each other to say what’s on our mind. Lex hasn’t seen my face go purple in weeks, since that’s usually what happens when I hide shit.

  “How coherent are you?” she asks, and I sit my ass up a little farther so she knows she has my full attention. Then she blows out a breath, waving those brown strands from her sweaty face. “I saw my dad today.”