Tangled: Emerson Falls, Book 1 Read online

  I struggle to smile at my mom, her words offering me some solace during my breakdown. Sometimes a woman can only handle so much before she breaks, before all the thoughts of self-doubt she’s been tucking away are fighting to bubble up and over the threshold she keeps them buried under.

  Being a perfectionist to the core, in moments like this where I feel like I’m failing, the anxiety and fear tend to overtake my mind. My battered heart and soul tell me that I’m not meant to walk this life alone. But I also feel this pressure from society and from myself to find that person. I think that’s what kills me the most about leaving Trevor. It’s not that I lost him, it’s that I lost the time I invested in him. And I lost direction in my life.

  Trevor and I met through his family’s winery. I was there on a tour with a group of people from work. Teachers like to let loose on the weekends and have fun too, you know? We were buzzed and high on the smell of cedar and grapes when he walked into the tasting room and asked how our group was enjoying the wine. After small talk and a few more glasses, he offered me a private tour, showing me the behind-the-scenes look at the making of the deep red liquid. Being a wine connoisseur, I ate up the opportunity to absorb any information he shared, and then he asked me for my number before our group left.

  He was charming, good-looking in that boy-next-door kind of way with dark hair and green eyes. But his smile was devious, in a way that was so alluring, yet also screamed of mischief.

  I should have known he was capable of betrayal—of lying and cheating and wreaking havoc on my self-esteem.

  “Thanks, Mom. I know you’re right. I just really want to find me again. I feel like I’ve lost a piece of myself in the past few months, and I’m not sure how to rediscover it.”

  “You need to let loose, have some fun. Find joy in the little things again. Remember how much you loved to dance? Maybe find a class to take or… well, maybe just start by getting really drunk tonight and see how you feel in the morning.” She shrugs her shoulders suggestively, which makes me laugh.

  “Mom!”

  “What? You’re thirty-one, not fifty. And hell, even if you were fifty, I’d still say go for it. Get drunk. Flirt. Maybe have some hot revenge sex and take out your anger on another man’s dick?”

  My jaw drops to the floor. “Mother! When did you become so vulgar? I feel like I don’t even know the woman who’s standing in front of me right now!”

  My mother chuckles while stepping away from me and opening the box with my dishes thrown inside.

  “Your mom isn’t as innocent as you might think, Liv,” she teases while stacking plates in the cupboard.

  “Oh, my God. Please stop right there before you tell me anything I can’t unhear,” I shake my head, about to plug my ears.

  She comes back over to me and rests her hands on my shoulders.

  “Be the woman I raised you to be. It’s okay to cry, but don’t live there in that pain. And don’t punish yourself for not seeing who Trevor really was. You still need to trust your gut and keep an open mind. But right now, try to let the positive aspects of this shine through. You’re back home, you’re near your best friends and your family again, and you get to start a new job back where you went to school. You have so much to be proud of Liv. And don’t forget that the people who truly love you will always have your back.”

  She kisses my forehead and brings a genuine smile to my face for the first time in days.

  “I love you, Mom,” I whisper through tears of happiness and gratitude.

  “I love you too, Liv.”

  “And I plan on getting pretty drunk tonight and having fun as you said. I think I just really need to blow off some steam.”

  “I agree. Don’t think, just feel. But remember, hangovers are way worse after thirty,” she chuckles before resuming her task.

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

  Chapter 4

  Olivia

  “To having the gang all back together!”

  The four of us—my best friends since high school—clank our shot glasses together before slamming the tequila back with full force.

  “God, that crap is awful! How do you drink that?” Amy asks before gaging with her mouth closed, her fist closed over her lips.

  “No one said it has to taste good,” Clara replies. “It just needs to get the job done.”

  “That’s right! Tequila always gets the job done. I know I’ll definitely forget about that douchebag before the night is over,” I add before taking a sip of my beer. I know I shouldn’t mix beer and liquor, but tonight, I’m giving a big middle finger to all the rules.

  “I can’t believe you’re back home. This is just so crazy…” Perry shakes her head while sipping her white wine. Her white satin blouse clings to her curves as she sits on the stool next to me. Her blonde hair is sleekly pulled back in a low bun with not one hair out of place, and her blue eyes sparkle from the dim light hanging above us. For a mom of two, she carries herself with such poise and always looks so put together that I wonder if she secretly cries in the pantry while eating Reese’s peanut butter cups after her husband and kids have gone to bed.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t think it would happen either… yet, here I am!” I exclaim while throwing my hands up in the air.

  “Fuck him, Liv,” Clara chimes in again. “That guy was a douche if he didn’t know what he had and let you go.” The tequila is definitely hitting us all as the honesty in our words becomes far too real.

  “Correction. He didn’t let me go. I left,” I hiccup as I signal the bartender for another round of shots, twisting so quickly that my deep red hair almost smacks Perry in the face.

  “Yeah, because you walked in on him banging his secretary!” Clara shouts so loudly that the entire bar turns their heads in our direction.

  “Jesus, Clara! Shut the fuck up! I don’t need the entire town to know why I’m home, okay? It’s embarrassing enough that I couldn’t keep a man happy… I don’t need everyone else knowing that too.”

  I know the alcohol is hitting me hard when I start to drop F-bombs and feel the need to fight someone.

  “Don’t. Don’t play that game where you put all the blame on yourself, Olivia.” Perry cuts me off while pointing her finger in my face. The tequila is definitely hitting her too. “Trevor has control of where he puts his dick. And by him choosing to put it somewhere other than you, that’s on him. That is not your fault.”

  I feel the tears start to bubble up again but decide to drown them in more beer. I’ve cried enough over the last week, mostly on the long drive home from northern California back to Emerson Falls, and I got the worst of it out earlier with my mom. But tonight, I refuse to give Trevor any more of my tears.

  I stare across the bar, observing the surrounding crowd, wondering what demons everyone else in here is fighting tonight. Most people gravitate to alcohol for one of two reasons: to celebrate, or like in my case, to forget. I know I’ll be okay. I’ll land on my feet like I always do. But tomorrow I’ll pull myself together. Tonight, I’m giving myself permission to ditch some of the pressure I feel pushing down on my shoulders, the pressure that’s only there because of my own perfectionist tendencies and a ticking time clock.

  “Earth to Liv! Are you still there?” Amy waves her hand in front of my face, trying to gain my attention back. “She looks like my kids right now when they zone out watching Paw Patrol,” she turns and mumbles to Clara and Perry from the corner of her mouth, her light-brown shoulder-length hair swishing as she moves.

  “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?” I shake my head and turn back to face the three people who know me better than myself.

  Amy, Clara, Perry, and I met our freshman year in high school in our first-period Geography class. The four of us sat at the same table and instantly bonded. From that moment on, there was nothing that could have penetrated our friendship—not boys or money, or leaving to go to college.

  Clara and Perry both left Emerson Falls for school, like me, but Amy stayed behi
nd and married her high school sweetheart. She still went to college, but now she stays home and takes care of her three kids under the age of five. Her husband works in finance and can support the family on his income alone, but Amy rarely gets adult interaction. The fact that she came out tonight to support me is shocking in itself. Of course, the three of us won’t mention the giant stain on her mint green shirt or the fact that she’s wearing two different colored socks, because Amy can barely keep her head on straight these days. She needs tonight out as much as the rest of us.

  Clara is an advertising executive now who travels for work. She manages multiple accounts for her company and enjoys her never boring single life. She’s also the most outspoken of the four of us and will beat anyone to a pulp if our happiness is compromised. It’s a good thing Trevor is still back in California, or she’d be on his front doorstep waiting to punch him in the balls like that girl in the movie, What Happens in Vegas… you know the one who’s Cameron Diaz’s best friend that punches her ex in the nuts when he answers the door and she yells in his face, “You know why!”? Yeah, that’s Clara.

  Perry majored in business and married her college sweetheart before returning to Emerson Falls to start their family. She’s the typical type-A mom who always has her shit together and makes parenting and marriage look like a breeze. The woman could run the world from her phone, along with her parenting and lifestyle blog she runs from home. She’s always put together, never shows her stress, and the three of us genuinely think she’s a robot. But she’s our robot friend who can seriously schedule or plan anything with the press of a button. And we love her for it.

  “So what happens now, Olivia?” Amy continues, taking a sip of her strawberry daiquiri.

  One of the cocktail waitresses comes by with another tray full of tequila shots.

  “We drink… that’s what happens now.” I smile through clenched teeth, hoping the alcohol kicks in quickly to numb some of the pain. I certainly feel better after letting out my innermost thoughts with my mom, but a little alcohol will definitely speed along the process.

  I know that leaving was the right thing because I would never tolerate being cheated on and sticking around. But it doesn’t make the sting go away any faster. I’m a strong, confident woman who doesn’t need a man to be happy. And realistically, Trevor and I haven’t been happy for a few months now, mainly since we moved in together. It’s not like I was asking for a ring, but I felt like maybe the commitment was too much for him. Whatever. I don’t want a man who runs from commitment. In fact, I don’t want a man for anything other than what’s in his pants for a very long time. Maybe some time on my own, or some revenge sex, is exactly what the doctor ordered. My mother may be on to something.

  The four of us toss back two more shots before the night really starts to turn.

  “So you start at the high school on Monday then?” Clara slurs her words across the table at me.

  “Yup. Mr. Kirk won the lottery and just quit. The timing couldn’t have worked out better for me,” I chuckle as I start to sway to the music while seated on my bar stool.

  “No shit,” Clara agrees. “If I won the lottery, you bitches would never see me again, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, don’t act like you’d ditch us,” Perry chimes in, a tad more drunk than I’ve seen her in years. She’s mixing wine and tequila, so I can only imagine what she’s going to feel like in the morning. “You’d have to give us all some of your winnings so we could travel around the world with you. You’d end up too lonely otherwise. You know you can’t live without us,” she blows a kiss in Clara’s direction, as Clara reaches up to grab it and then smothers her mouth with her hand. The four of us burst out in laughter.

  “You’re right. I love you, bitches! In fact, I think I might miss you too much if I go to the bathroom by myself. Who’s coming with me?” She shouts as she stands and tries to gain her balance.

  Amy looks a shade of light green as she rises from her stool and grips the round table we’re sitting around. She’s only taken two shots, but I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen her drink.

  “Oh no, I know that look. That’s senior prom waiting to happen all over again. You guys better get her to the bathroom now,” I say while pointing my finger at her.

  “Shit. Come on, Amy. Let’s hurry,” Perry lures her away while Clara supports her on the other side by her arm.

  I watch my friends usher Amy down the hall before I turn my attention back to the T.V. above the bar as today’s headlines scroll across the screen from the local news.

  It feels surreal being back in Emerson Falls. Besides coming home for holidays and the occasional vacation, my visits have been scarce since I left for U.C. Davis and never looked back. A full academic scholarship took me almost six hours away from home, but I loved every minute. College was the challenge I craved in high school, where I could finally channel my inner math nerd and find people who shared my passion for education. Becoming a math teacher was always my aspiration, and when an intern position opened up near Davis right after I graduated, I took it at the ripe old age of twenty-two.

  I just never thought that fate would lead me back home to teach at my alma mater nine years later. But here I am, one weekend left between me and a new job, walking into a classroom full of kids more than a month into the school year. I certainly have my work cut out for me, even if this is my ninth year of teaching.

  Suddenly, Jon Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ blares overhead through the speakers, igniting a fire in my body as I bounce and sway to the music on my stool. Man, I love this song! And as I listen to the words, I can’t help but laugh and think of Trevor and his stupid ass and how he’s made me question falling in love again for a very long time.

  Instead, I shove him out of my brain and all of his missed calls and pathetic text messages he’s sent this week asking for me back, swearing that he’s sorry and that he can’t lose me. Too late for that buddy. I’m done. Fool me once, shame on you, and you’ll never get the chance to fool me again.

  I shove out the long to-do list lying on my kitchen counter in my new apartment, filled with boxes and suitcases thrown in every corner. I shove out the monumental task I have ahead of me on Monday of entering a new classroom with students I’ve never met and a month’s worth of curriculum to catch up on.

  Closing my eyes, I lose myself in the song, mouthing the words with a little too much animation, but whatever. I truly don’t care what people might think. I just want to get lost in the words, shut out the distractions, and finish the song with no interruptions. I need to let loose, have some fun, and feel human again.

  “You know people can see you, right?”

  The rasp of the voice behind me sparks instant fury in my veins as my eyes pop open and I prepare to give this person a piece of my mind. I become keenly aware that someone thought it was so important to judge me that they interrupted my performance and interrupted my jam—and now thanks to the third and fourth tequila shot, I’m more than irritated.

  “Listen buddy,” I start to turn and give this guy a few choice words not suitable around the young children I teach every day—but as his face comes into view, I forget the anger and irritation I just felt as it’s replaced with pure lust.

  A wave of heat spreads over my entire body from my chest, where my heart is beating as fast as an elephant stampede, down to the tips of my toes.

  Holy shit! Where have men like this been hiding?

  Apparently in Emerson Falls, Oregon.

  I swallow hard and then narrow my eyes back at him.

  Focus, Olivia. This guy just interrupted Bon Jovi. Let him have it!

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t care that people can see me. When Jon Bon Jovi sings, you dance, and you don’t interrupt. This song is a classic,” I lift my eyebrow at him in a challenge.

  The man who was so eager to care about what I look like now has no words. He just stands there and stares, his jet black hair s
tuck up in that messy yet perfectly styled way, and his matching short beard frames his long face and perfect lips. His narrow eyes size me up as I lock my gaze with him intently, not blinking so he knows I’m up for a dispute. His dark brown orbs with flecks of gold flicker back and forth between my hazel eyes as we study each other.

  I feel my heartbeat pick up rapidly again, hammering against my rib cage as I sit up taller to protect myself, hoping he can’t see the effect he’s having on me. My vagina clenches when his lips curl up on one side in a crooked grin, and that’s when I surrender to the fact that this man is hot.

  Not just nice to look at, but dangerous to your heart and mind kind of hot, full of the potential to shatter you into fragments of the person you were before him. Who knows what you’ll look like after.

  “You know, I’d have to agree with you,” he says surprisingly, making me sit back in shock and confusion, even though I fight hard to hide that from my face. I really thought this guy was about to fight me on this.

  “Glad we see eye-to-eye then,” I say smugly, turning back around to grab my drink before realizing my beer is empty.

  “Shit,” I mumble before sitting up taller to get the attention of the bartender.

  “Here. Let me buy you a drink so then you can tell me just how many other songs shouldn’t be interrupted,” he teases before lifting his hand in the air and signaling the older man behind the bar who I can only assume is the owner.

  “I can buy my own drink,” I argue as he takes a seat at one of the empty stools at our table. I glance around him quickly to check for my friends, wondering what’s taking so long in the bathroom. Amy must really be sick.

  “Expecting your friends back?” He asks, lifting his beer to his lips as I watch them curl around the rim of his glass.