The Sound of Your Heart (College Bound Book 3)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  The Sound of Your Heart

  Dedication

  TWO YEARS AGO

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  THREE YEARS LATER

  Author Links

  Dear Reader,

  Acknowledgements

  About the Authors

  THE SOUND OF YOUR HEART

  College Bound Series #3

  by

  Laura Ward & Christine Manzari

  The Sound of Your Heart

  Copyright © 2018 by Laura Ward and Christine Manzari

  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 publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. The authors acknowledge the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, 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 these authors.

  Dedication

  To everyone fighting to see light through the darkness. Whether your darkness is depression, loss, emotional or physical abuse, blindness, or just plain heartache—keep up the fight. We believe in you and we believe that even in the darkest of times, the light of love and hope will prevail.

  TWO YEARS AGO

  Julie

  Sticky. Everything was sticky. The bar top, my lip gloss, even the backs of my thighs cemented to the barstool like it was coated in tar. Maybe if Mom hadn’t insisted on the tiny skirt that barely covered my ass, and it wasn’t hotter than Hades in here, I could—

  “Stop fidgeting, Julie,” Mom hissed. “Lift your chest and show off the goods. Suck in your stomach rolls. No carbs for you this week.” She pointed at my belly where a small layer of skin fell over the top of my tight skirt. “And for God’s sake, smile. We want to seduce men, not scare them off.” She cast an irritated look my way before lifting her chin and giving off her best I’m available vibe. To be honest, that was the only expression she had unless she was looking my way. The irritated looks were always reserved for me. “Your beauty is currency. Don’t waste it,” she added under her breath.

  Mom hid her annoyance with me, much like she hid her aging—behind a saccharine smile and a set of false eyelashes. Turning forty this year bothered her, but she looked ten years younger than her actual age. Some of it was dressing in the latest fads, like the strapless romper and wedge heels she was wearing tonight. But her face was youthful—wrinkle free, heavily made up, and bronzed from tanner. Her perfectly colored auburn hair paired with her toned arms and legs made her undeniably attractive.

  On the outside.

  I reached for the drink in front of me and spun it on the worn wood, watching as the orange liquor danced around in the glass. The cherries bobbed on the surface, and the ice clinked with the motion. Amaretto Sour. Most kids got Shirley Temples, but my mom made sure I got the real stuff.

  Yay me.

  I was only eighteen, but Riff Raff was a small bar in a nowhere town of Southern Maryland and as long as you were able to see over the counter, Chuck, the owner, didn’t care if your ID was legit. Mom had been bringing me here since I was sixteen, and Chuck had been serving me alcohol for almost as long. With the way he sometimes looked at me, I wondered if he expected something in return for that kindness. I’d seen Mom head into the back room with him enough times after her bar tab was delivered to know that he accepted more than just cash and credit cards. Although why she bothered, I wasn’t sure.

  She still got her monthly alimony checks and those paid our bills and then some. Her job at the salon provided her with plenty of mad money for shopping sprees and nights out on the town. She didn’t need to go into that back room to pay the tab, but I noticed it happened on those sad lonely nights after she’d been dumped by some loser. Maybe she needed to feel desirable. Or maybe she just needed her lady parts serviced. I never asked.

  I fought the shiver that ran down my spine caused by the thought of my mother getting serviced by Chuck and lifted the glass to my lips. The drink was cold, sour, and sweet, like liquid candy. Once I set the glass back on the bar top, I ran my finger along the rim to wipe away my lipstick mark.

  “How much longer are we staying?” I didn’t look up to see Mom’s expression. If I had to guess, she was rolling her eyes.

  “We’re celebrating your graduation, baby,” Mom cooed, placing her hand on my arm. I noticed she squeezed a little so that her perfectly manicured fingernails dug in just enough to sting. “You’re supposed to be having fun.”

  I raised my eyebrow and looked up from my drink to meet her eyes. This night was not about celebrating me or my graduation, it was about the dating game—the spectacle of being seen. Nikki Prescott might have trouble showing up to work on time or dating the same man for longer than two weeks, but she was an expert at being noticed by men. I’d never seen her look anything but picture-perfect when she was on the prowl. That’s what we were in the middle of right now—a manhunt.

  And I was her wing woman or something like that.

  The way guys leered at me when they came over to talk to my mom, I felt more like bait. As if they thought I might be bonus material after the main attraction was over.

  My stomach roiled at the thought. Ew. Gross. Never. I wasn’t a prude. My promised land had been conquered before, but never by one of my mother’s cast-offs.

  “My graduation party?” I asked, the words sharp and biting. “Is that what this is? Funny, it feels like a regular Friday night to me.”

  Mom turned on her stool to face me, but her attention was still focused on surveying the room beyond, always on the lookout for a warm body to fill her bed and give her hope for finding the one and a better future. “I’d think you’d be a little more grateful for the life skills I’m teaching you.” Her red nails tapped the top of the bar, the
only sign that she was agitated with me.

  “Oh yes,” I continued, “this is exactly the kind of place to learn life lessons.” In response to my usually harsh response, she bit her lip but didn’t say anything. Most times, I was willing to go along with her—to be seen and wanted—but not tonight.

  Tonight, should have been all about me and celebrating my accomplishment. Graduating and getting accepted to the University of Maryland was no small feat. And yet, here we were. Same place, same game. All I wanted was to break through her glossy exterior and get a reaction from her, to know she saw me as more than just another accessory to make her look good. Sometimes I felt like a living, breathing expensive handbag.

  Don’t get me wrong, Mom didn’t need me to win the game she played with men. But in her opinion, two was always better than one. Although I might not have her DNA or any of her effortless confidence, there was no doubt that together we were a force to be reckoned with at Riff Raff. We turned heads. We were an uncomplicated, tempting option most men couldn’t resist at least approaching. She quickly learned that when she brought along her pretty daughter, eligible men would swarm like flies around a carcass.

  Mom sighed, set her drink down on the bar, and finally looked at me. “Lesson number one... you have to take advantage of your assets in life.” She scanned my bar getup and blinked before returning her eyes to mine. “You’re a beautiful girl, Julie. If you want the best things in life, you have to use that to your advantage.”

  I laughed, weakly. “I got accepted at College Park, Mom. I don’t have to slum in bars, hocking my tits and ass for my future.”

  She took in a deep breath and huffed loudly through her nose as her mouth pressed into a line. Finally, she said, “I hope you’re not depending on a degree to get you what you want, baby. What’s your major again?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and managed to say, “Undeclared.”

  She gave me an indulgent smile. She’d summarized every one of my measly eighteen years only to show me that my future fell short of her expectations. “See? You can’t depend on your smarts, baby. We both know that’s not your strength.”

  Christ. Were mothers even allowed to say shit like that out loud? “I don’t think—”

  “If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up with a worthless degree, a shitload of school debt, and you will have wasted the best years of your youth and beauty getting something that would be worth twice as much if you were a man with the same thing. You’ll work hard, and it will be wasted. Your power lies in this,” she said, gesturing to my made-up face and scantily-dressed body. “Trust me. My advice is to find the perfect man while you’re at your best.” She picked up her drink, touched it to her lips, and spun around in her seat to look away.

  I got the message loud and clear. Our conversation was over.

  What was worse, I understood her true meaning. Mom had wasted her best years struggling as a single mother. I supposed I owed her for that at least. Even if I didn’t want to hear her advice, she’d always been there for me. She and her ex-husband had adopted me, but after he went to LA to pursue his music career, she was left to raise me by herself. He moved on and got remarried and it was me and Nikki ever since. She’d given me what my biological parents hadn’t wanted to. She’d given me a chance and a home. A broken home, but a home all the same.

  The least I could do was make her happy. I could sit next to her and look pretty for one night. I was good at that.

  My hand shook as I lifted the glass and took a sip of my drink. My skin warmed and when I raised my eyes to scan the room, I found that my cleavage had become the sole focus of an overweight, bald dude at the next table who was old enough to be my grandfather. When he noticed that he’d been caught staring, a slow, slimy smile spread across his stubbled face and he raised his drink in acknowledgment.

  My eyes darted away, hating that everything my mom had said was true; that looking pretty was the only thing I was truly good at. That realization was like a steel pad rubbing against my heart, leaving behind the pain of my inadequacy.

  When I didn’t return the silent greeting, the leering old guy eventually left, and I hoped it was to find a woman closer to his age.

  The thought crossed my mind that I should get up and leave too. Maybe find a graduation party to crash. Taking a deep breath, I ditched that idea. Thanks to my mom, my reputation with my classmates wasn’t any better than hers was around town. At least if I stayed at the bar, I knew the rules of the game. I’d had plenty of time to master Nikki’s world and I could pretty much guess how the night would go.

  I scanned the perimeter of the room, looking at the players for the evening, and began hedging bets with myself over who would be first in line to chat up Nikki. Predicting Nikki’s flirt fest was a guilty pleasure that had become way too easy to excel at.

  I had my money on the middle-aged guy in the corner, the one with the slicked back hair who was wearing designer threads and had perfected the sleazy eye fuck. I knew that by the way he covertly ogled my mom, without looking like he was trying to stare, that he would be quick to exit his seat and make his way over to her.

  I’d figured out the pattern. One over-confident guy would ‘test the waters’ first. He’d check out our story. Ask what a beautiful pair of ladies was doing in a place like this. Mom would tell him we were sisters and as she dragged her finger along the edge of her cleavage and let that little tantalizing lie take root in his mind, she’d start digging for her own information. She’d flirt and act coy, ask him all about his job to see if he made good money. He’d buy her a drink and make a joke about threesomes and sisters that Nikki would laugh about, but never outright deny. Eventually, he’d leave with promises to come back soon and Nikki would promise to dance with him later, but really, they were both waiting to see if a better offer came along.

  After that, it would be the car salesman who would talk about getting her into a new car, but in reality, he wanted to get into her panties. Throw in a biker dude and a guy with a gym membership and we’d round out her potential fuck-fest for the night quite nicely.

  My fingers curled around my glass and I peered through the hazy, low light of the bar. Come on, Sleazy Eye Fuck, make your move. I don’t have all night.

  Just when I thought Sleazy was about to make his move, I noticed some new blood approaching. Two good-looking guys in their late twenties sauntered up wearing eager expressions that said they were ready to take a dip into the Nikki Prescott sex pool.

  Looked like Sleazy wasn’t fast enough tonight. It also looked like I was going to have to do more than sit on my stool looking pretty.

  The new guys bought us each another round, even though we hadn’t finished our first drink. Mom didn’t seem to mind, and the guys settled in with ease as if they’d already decided who they’d set their sights on. The one talking to me smelled like syrup—Aunt Jemima if I wasn’t mistaken. But the one chatting up my mom had Nickelback lyrics tattooed on his forearm (yeah, he’d already rolled up his sleeve to show her) and I figured for that reason alone, I got the better end of the deal. I liked waffles. At least I liked waffles enough to suck it up for my mom’s sake.

  I took another look at Aunt Jemima—I mean James. Dark brown hair, nice strong jaw, lean frame. Totally my type.

  Eh. Maybe sucking it up wouldn’t be such a bad thing this time...

  I glanced at his friend as I took a sip of my fresh drink. Dark hair styled into perfection, expensive suit, and tie, mid-twenties. Totally my mom’s type.

  “Are you related?” Nickelback’s eyes darted between my mom and me as if unsure how to figure us out. We weren’t giggly or touchy-feely like typical girlfriends, but it was clear we’d come together.

  “Sisters.” Mom’s lie slid off her tongue so smoothly I almost believed it myself.

  “You always party together?”

  “Something like that.” Mom matched his sexy smirk with one of her own.

  Nickelback was way too happy with t
hat answer for my comfort.

  The next hour passed by in a blur of bad jokes, sexual innuendos, and heated looks. I was still nursing my second drink even though James had bought me a third. He’d scooted closer so we could hear each other when we talked over the loud music. He told me he was from Sacramento but was in town for the weekend for his cousin’s graduation. I wondered if his cousin was one of my classmates.

  “I’m not staying with my cousin though,” he said, putting his hand on my knee. “I’ve got a room at the Comfort Inn.”

  I sucked on my teeth to prevent myself from blurting that I wasn’t a prostitute.

  Hearing what James had said, Nickelback turned to my mom. “The hotel isn’t far. Want to get out of here?” He ran his finger along my mom’s collarbone, and I looked away, but not before I saw the smile she flashed him, the one she reserved for the lucky ones.

  “Sure, sugar. Your friend coming too?” she asked, nodding over at James.

  James raised his eyebrows at me in question, and I took a deep breath before answering. I was fairly certain he hadn’t even asked my name yet.

  Besides, who was I kidding? My mom’s future might be in that hotel room, but mine was not.

  “Maybe another time. I’m exhausted. Heading home.” I stood, gathering my purse and car keys.

  My eyes met Mom’s, and her glare was lethal.

  “Are you coming with me?” I already knew the answer.

  She snorted, rolling her eyes as she linked arms with Nickelback. “Don’t wait up, party pooper.” Her eyes drifted down my body. “And remember. No carbs until you lose a few.” They left without a glance back.

  My face fell at her parting words, but as soon as the coast was clear, I made my way to my mom’s over-the-top red convertible.

  Tonight ended pretty much as expected. Mom got her hookup, and I got the house to myself.

  Happy graduation to me.

  Chapter One

  Julie

  “His name was Corey. That’s a point against him right there. Unisex names make me itchy. He also had tiny arms.” I stood up, holding my arms to my chest and wiggling my hands out in front of me. “He looked like a T. Rex. I’m not kidding. You can’t make this stuff up.” I sat down again and took a long sip of diet soda through my straw. I chose not to tell Darren that it wasn’t Corey’s arms, but the fact that he already had a girlfriend, that was the deciding factor to dump him. If I told him the truth, Darren would give me the pity face, and pity made me as itchy as unisex names.