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Back Where There's A Will Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. Interlude
  37. Acknowledgements
  38. Content Warning
  39. About the Author

I pause at the red beaded curtain, blocking off the stairwell to the upstairs apartment. “You coming, Ivy?” I don’t look back, but I feel more than one set of eyes on me.

A beat passes. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. Just gotta clean up.”

I take a step forward, grip the beads tightly in my hand, and pause.

Giving myself a little shake, I chance a look over my shoulder.

Mason’s unfocused gaze is leveled at some unseen spot on the ground. His fingers tap anxiously against his thigh, and I know it’s a song only he can hear. One that calls to that bottomless beast inside him, begging for everything to just stop. Please, just one more, one more hit to make it all go away—

Shit.

I realize we’re all looking at him now with varying levels of concern.

It’s official. If I wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole before, I am now.

I swallow roughly. “Mase?”

He blinks a couple times. Finally, he looks up.

I give him a shaky, pained smile. “I trust you. Okay?” My voice cracks.

He starts to frown.

I point a finger. “It’s him I don’t.”

And with that, I kindly see my way out.

3

3

Will Foster

I watch as Waylon disappears upstairs.

A second later, a door slams, and I try not to flinch.

The opening chords to Staind’s “Outside” start slipping quietly, almost hauntingly, from the speakers, filling the room and doing little to rid us of the tension blanketing the bar.

The beads hanging over the doorway finally settle. As if they were never disturbed. As if I didn’t just watch the boy who once meant everything to me—the boy I never actually let myself believe I’d see again—storm off with hardly a second glance.

A boy who is now all grown up, with toned muscles and tattoos and a sexy fucking nipple piercing that just begs for my teeth.

Fuck me, I was not prepared for that.

Hell, I was not prepared for any of this. Not by a damn long shot.

I thought I’d at least have a couple hours or even a couple drinks in me before I risked running into Waylon—and that was if I even decided to stick around that long. Mason seemed certain no one would be here.

So much for that cold beer, I think dryly, needing one now more than ever. Exhibit fucking A why I don’t make a habit of getting my hopes up. Period.

“I’m sorry about that,” Mason says wearily after another moment passes. “He’s normally not so...” He waves a hand around, brow knitting as he tries to find the right word.

“Brutally honest?”

He winces.