Until Now (Not Yet #2) Read online

  Until Now

  a novel by

  Laura Ward

  * * * *

  Until Now

  Copyright © 2016 by Laura Ward

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to those who have lost a loved one to suicide.

  Siblings, friends, parents, and children… your pain is never-ending.

  But you move forward, live your life, and keep them with you always.

  Bravery can come in the smallest of steps.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  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

  Epilogue – Dean

  Epilogue – Grace

  Dear Reader

  Preview of Someday Soon

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Dean

  “SON, I GOT a call about an hour ago. A couple of NFL scouts are coming to the game this Saturday. The guy I talked to said you’re looking like a first- or second-round draft pick.” Coach K sat back in his chair with his thick, burly arms crossed over his chest. “If you keep up your current numbers.”

  Coach K had been the head coach of Indiana University’s football team for the past fifteen years. The man was a legend. Back in the day he was a star player for his college team and then went right into coaching, helping to bring several teams to the national championships. He was also the scariest motherfucker I knew. He allowed no bullshit from his players and doled out punishment workouts like a dentist gave out toothbrushes. Oh, and the man never smiled. Ever.

  The corners of my lips turned up, but I kept my expression serious. “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

  Coach squinted at me and then took off his baseball cap, dragging his fingers through his bushy white hair. “Do you know what this means, Dean?”

  I cleared my throat. “Team’s having a great year, and I’ve got a shot at the pros.” It was October, and the fate of the college football season was pretty much decided. Indiana University was known for its Big Ten basketball team, but football was holding its own this year.

  Coach nodded. “You do. A serious shot.” He leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands on his desk. “Don’t fuck up, Goldsmith. You have three months to stay aggressive. Stay focused. This team is your family. That’s all you need. Football comes first—before the parties, the girls, the booze. This is your one chance. Give it all ya got.”

  My hands started to shake, and I balled them into fists at my side. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  Coach waved me out of his office with a grunt. If that’s how the man acted when he had good news for me, I couldn’t imagine how he would act with bad news. I never expected emotion from Coach K, but a part of me hoped I had made the crotchety old dude proud. He believed in me enough to make me his starting quarterback for the past two years, and that spoke volumes.

  I walked out the door of IU’s athletic complex and pulled out my phone to shoot my teammate Jon a text.

  Me: On my way

  My phone buzzed.

  Jon: New place today. Maria’s Diner on Third. Heard food’s ridiculous.

  My phone buzzed again, and I grinned when I saw the caller’s name. Landon Washington.

  “What’s up, dickweed?” Landon and I had been friends for my entire life. Our humor, however, had never matured past the fifth grade.

  Landon laughed at my greeting. “Not much, a-hole. I wanted to check in. Great game on Saturday. You’re looking real solid.”

  I grunted in response. Coach K and I had discussed the possibility that I could go pro since scouts started showing up at my games last year. Still, saying it out loud felt like I could jinx it. Landon knew better than most people that I’d wanted to be a professional football player since my dad first put a ball in my hands. He also knew I’d stop at nothing to make it happen.

  My best friend attended the University of Southern California. He was a second-string running back for the team, a huge feat for a walk-on player at a school like USC. But Landon was not headed for the pros. He had different goals for his future, and he played for the love of the game alone. Of course, if he’d attended IU with me, his story might have been different. We could have played like we had on our state-championship high school team with me as the quarterback and him as my best running back. But Landon made—in my humble opinion—the biggest mistake known to man.

  He fell in love.

  With a girl.

  When he was eighteen.

  “Sorry about your loss. That was a tough game.” Landon’s season was not going anywhere near as well as mine. He groaned, making a sound that I took as disgust, so I moved the hell on to his favorite topic. “How’s Emma? You still pussy whipped?”

  Landon snorted. “Shut the fuck up. I’m just smart enough to know that Emma’s the whole damn package.”

  I crossed Tenth Street and waved to a group of sorority chicks as they headed back onto campus. “As long as she’s taking care of your whole package, dude.” Landon cussed into the phone, and I laughed. He was such a softie when it came to that chick. Hell, he’d followed her across the country.

  “How about you? Met anyone yet? Some sweet, slightly disturbed chick brave enough to try and tie the infamous Dean Goldsmith down.” I pulled the phone away from my ear at the sound of his guffaws.

  “You crazy, Landon?” I said as I put the phone back to my ear, lifting my chin in greeting to two freshmen football players as they passed by. “You might be dumb enough to get shackled to one woman, but I’m smarter than that. Plenty of girls keep me warm at night, but they know better than to expect anything more.” A wide grin spread across my face as I remembered Tuesday with Marissa, Thursday night with Leslie, and last night with Tracy…

  Life was fucking good.

  “Just wait,
Dean. One of these days you’re gonna change your tune. And when that day comes, I’m gonna sit back, crack a cold one, and enjoy the show.” Landon’s voice muffled as he spoke to someone else. “Gotta go, man. Emma’s home.”

  Pussy. Whipped.

  When that boy fell, he fell hard and fast. And for good.

  Sucker.

  Tied down to one girl? That would never be me. Tied up to the bedposts by a girl? Good possibility. I shook my head to erase that enticing thought. Right now I needed grub and some time with my boy, Jon. I opened the door to Maria’s Diner and approached my teammate. Jon and I had also grown up together, playing ball in high school along with Landon. “What’s up?” I smacked Jon on the shoulder as I slid into the booth. “You order yet?”

  “Hey, man.” Jon raised his chin and put his phone down. “A few things to start. I’m fucking starving.”

  “Coach K’s practices are killer, but this is it. Senior year and I’m going all in.” If it was going to happen, it had to be this year. This season. This was my time.

  “Hell yes, thank you.” Jon moved his phone out of the way, and a basket of cheese fries, mozzarella sticks, wings, and a large pepperoni pizza were placed on the table along with a pitcher of soda.

  My stomach grumbled loudly. “This is starters? You’re a pig, man.”

  Jon grinned as he shoved a handful of fries into his mouth and chewed.

  “Thank you,” I said as I looked up at the waitress.

  Holy shit.

  Dark green eyes narrowed at me, and I swallowed hard. I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers. She cleared her throat, and I snapped out of it. I turned my head and was caught off guard by her hair. A thick braid hung down the front of her shoulder in the deepest shade of red I had ever seen.

  “Can I get you anything else?” Her voice was clipped, and I immediately searched through the catalog of women I’d had sex with in my brain. Had we hooked up? Made out? Had I propositioned her? Bought her a drink?

  My gaze traveled down her body. Creamy white skin covered in tiny brown freckles. She was thin but had tits. Killer legs and a great ass too from what I could see. No fucking way. I would absolutely remember bagging her. I’d remember that skin, those eyes, and that hot-as-hell hair. No way would I forget her. Time to make my move.

  “Sorry, baby.” I looked back into her eyes and smirked. “I got sidetracked for a minute. I almost lost my appetite for food… unless you’re on the menu. I’d definitely like to taste you.” Leaning back against the booth, I rested my arm along the top and tapped my fingertips on the red vinyl.

  “Excuse me?” She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Jon barked out a laugh, and I gave him the finger. She sounded pissed. Giddy-up. I loved when they played hard to get.

  “What’s your name, sweet girl?” My previous douche bag come-on line was meant to make her laugh. Probably not my smartest idea being that I didn’t know anything about this chick and she sure as shit didn’t know me. If she did, she’d most likely be sitting in my lap by now. I poured some soda into the empty cup in front of me and took a long drink. When she still hadn’t spoken, I glanced back up. She was gone.

  “Losing your touch, bro.” Jon wiped his fingers on a napkin and grabbed a wing. “Eat up, or it’ll be gone.”

  Grabbing a slice of pizza, I folded it in half, took a large bite, and grumbled, “What the fuck? Uptight princess.”

  “Maybe she’s not into you. Ever think of that?” Jon grabbed another wing and smirked. “Have you ever been turned down?”

  My eyebrows furrowed, and I knocked my fist against the table. “Nope.”

  “So glad I was here to witness it then. Indiana’s star quarterback can’t even get the first name of his waitress. Love this shit. I gotta text Landon.” The douche picked up his phone and typed, his big, sloppy fingers moving across the screen.

  I drummed my fingers on the table, letting him have his fun. I had no insecurity when it came to my ability to get girls. If this chick wasn’t interested, there was something wrong with her, not me.

  Nevertheless I looked up, searching for her. She stood behind the bar, pouring a cup of coffee. Her face was pinched, and her shoulders slumped. I rubbed the back of my neck. Was she a college student at IU? She approached a nearby table and delivered the cup of coffee. The white-haired man sat alone but smiled at the sight of her. Her face relaxed as she bent down and spoke with the gentleman. I wondered if he was a regular. He reached out and patted her arm, and she nodded. Her smile dimmed as she stood up and looked around the crowded restaurant. One of my younger sisters, Dianna, was a waitress at a restaurant in the town where she was attending college. She had told me the work could be brutal, and this chick looked bone-tired.

  I turned my attention back to our table, but not before she caught me staring at her. Be cool, asswipe. Jesus, was I in elementary school? I grabbed the last slice of pizza and watched Jon inhale the rest of the food on the table.

  Jon wiped his face and pushed his empty plates to the side. “How’s Daisy?”

  Immediate pressure filled my head, and I cracked my neck to release it. “Why the fuck are you asking me about my sister?”

  Jon glared at me. “Get a grip. She’s a seventeen-year-old kid. I’m not hitting on her.” He leaned back in the booth. “Last time we were home she told me about some girls giving her a hard time in school.”

  “What? Why did she tell you this?” I tightened my jaw. My sisters and brothers—all five of the fuckers—meant the world to me. I didn’t say stupid shit like that to them, but they knew it. We had each other’s back.

  Jon held up his hands, palms facing me. “Settle. She tried to. You were sucking face with some chick. I handled it—”

  “Hey there, hottie,” a voice from beside us interrupted Jon.

  I smiled before I even turned my head. “Hey yourself, Tues—Marissa.” Christ that was close. When I had a semiregular rotation of girls that I saw, I referred to them by the day of the week we hooked up. Classy? Not a bit. Practical? As fuck.

  My Tuesday-night hookup leaned over the table, her low-cut top showing off a shit-ton of cleavage.

  “Wanna stop by my place tonight?” She spoke loudly, not trying to hide her words. I liked Marissa—she asked for exactly what she wanted.

  “Maybe, darlin’. I haven’t decided on my plans just yet.” I reached up and tugged on a strand of her hair, and she laughed, giving me her best come-hither look.

  “Excuse me.”

  I looked over Marissa’s shoulder at our waitress. She placed our check on the table, and Jon held up one finger.

  “Hold on one second. I’ll give you my card.” Jon reached back, digging in his jeans for his wallet.

  Marissa stood up. Standing next to our waitress, she didn’t look quite as cute as I remembered. Her boobs fuckin’ rock, but other than that…

  “Hey, I know you.” Marissa chomped on her gum. “We have a psychology class together. You’re always sitting in the front, taking notes.” Marissa twirled the strand of hair I had tugged around her finger.

  Our waitress stared at her for a second more than was comfortable. This chick did not care if she was rude. It was kind of refreshing.

  “Right. Isn’t that the point of class? To take notes?” the waitress asked Marissa.

  Marissa wrinkled her nose. “Why? Can’t you just listen?”

  The waitress shrugged. “I don’t have hyperthymesia. I guess you do.”

  Marissa’s entire face scrunched up. No. She was definitely no longer cute. “Hyper what?”

  The waitress widened her big green eyes. “I’m shocked. Hyperthymesia is the ability to remember every detail of your life. Professor White discussed it on Friday in class. You’re welcome to borrow my notes if you’d like.”

  Marissa snorted and rolled her eyes at the waitress. “See you soon, Dean.” She forced a smile in my direction before she stomped out the door.

  Jon chuckled and handed our wa
itress his credit card. “You handled her. I’ve never seen Marissa back down to any girl before.”

  “I’m not any girl who cares about stuff like that I guess,” she said and then looked down at the card. “I’ll run this for you right now.”

  I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if I tried. The uptight princess was smart. And funny in a nerdy way. Marissa was one of IU’s most popular cheerleaders. Like Jon said, I’d never met a girl who wasn’t intimidated by her.

  When she came back with the receipt, I placed my hand on her elbow. “I’m gonna need your name and number, darlin’.”

  I watched her hand Jon the receipt, wait for him to sign it, and purposefully ignore me. She took the signed receipt back from him, and I grinned up at her. “Well? You want to text it to me?” I asked, holding up my phone.

  She tapped her finger on her chin. “Why don’t I stick with my note-taking and table clearing, and you stick with football and… Marissa. That makes a lot more sense, don’t you think?” She winked and walked off, her hips swaying in an infuriatingly sexy way.

  Well, damn. There’s a first time for everything, and I think I just got schooled.

  Learning the name of an uptight, snarky waitress just became my favorite game to play.

  Other than football, of course.

  Chapter Two

  Grace

  WHAT THE HELL? Dean Goldsmith was flirting with me—totally checking me out. How had I even gotten his attention? Sure, I had guys ask me out all the time. Some were persistent, but a cool brush-off and my stiff posture usually made them give up rather fast.

  At no time had anyone like Dean hit on me. The guy was a man-whore. Gorgeous, but a player to the core. Stories about Dean’s sexual prowess were legendary on campus. Tall, blond, and blue-eyed, you couldn’t just ignore him and pretend he wasn’t in the room. He commanded attention wherever he went by both his size and his laid-back attitude. He was flirtatious, a party animal, and from what I could tell easygoing. Ha! He and I weren’t even living in the same universe.