Mending the Blur (a Forever & Always novel) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  In the beginning...

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Present Day...

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Acknowledgements

  Mending the Blur

  a Forever & Always Novel

  by Alyvia Paige

  Copyright © 2016 ALYVIA PAIGE

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  MENDING THE BLUR

  Copyright © 2016 ALYVIA PAIGE

  Cover: Jill Sava – Love Affair With Fiction

  Formatting: Jill Sava – Love Affair With Fiction

  Editing: Silla Webb – Masque of the Red Pen Editing

  Proofing: Judy Zweifel – Judy’s Proofreading

  Loverface, no matter what happens in life… know you are loved, cherished, and respected! This story – Braydon, Adalyn, the HEA – it’s for you. Always remember that YOU deserve your Happily Ever After. I love you moster than mostest, to infinity and beyond, all the stars in the sky and the moon shining bright!

  Adalyn

  SHIT. I KNOW I set my alarm. Right, oh hell, like it matters now. I should have just stayed awake; the measly two hours of sleep now seems pointless. Common sense would have had me packing after I dropped off my final assignment, but I was too excited to get on the road. Grabbing my binder, I pull an extra-large hoodie over my sports bra, slip on my flip-flops, and rush to class. As I’m rushing across campus, I notice the double takes from my fellow peers. Hmm yeah, my shorts must not be visible, but what I know is visible are my toned, tanned legs. What? I have priorities, like turning in this binder so I can get to the airport. I have an economy seat out of Birmingham via Southbound Airlines screaming my name with a non-stop flight to Las Vegas.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I come to a halt before tackling the giant standing in the doorway to my professor’s office. Drinking in his solid frame and height of nearly seven feet, I clear my throat, looking up impatiently. Quickly he turns, and I grunt in frustration. I knew it was him before he even turned around. I’ve stared at that body more times than I can count, and a few times he was naked.

  “Braxton, move. I need to submit my assignment. I have a plane to catch.” Batting my lashes, I squeeze past him, handing Professor Parsons my binder. “Excuse me, sorry, I know I have all day to drop this off, but I have, as I’m sure you heard, a plane to catch. Thanks for the awesome semester!” I flash a smile, pulling my hair into a mess of a bun at the top of my head.

  “Ms. Miller, enjoy your summer. I’ll see you next term,” she declares.

  “Yep, sounds good!” Smiling brightly, I turn and attempt to squeeze past Braxton again, but he’s closed the gap. Imagine that.

  “Adalyn,” his voice deep and quiet, “I’ll see you Saturday? Before the races?”

  “If you’re lucky, which ya should be. I heard y’alls stage-five clinger isn’t able to make it,” I retort with a cheeky grin; my hands on my hips, waiting to pass by.

  I still don’t understand the animosity she wields toward me. I get that I am always around, but I’m wanted there, at the house— Braxton, Braydon, and Brenton’s place, right off campus. They invite me to functions that most girls wouldn’t go to or actually enjoy, like sporting events. I watch them. I don’t need to be entertained. Perhaps it’s because when the guys want to just hang, it’s known as a no girl environment, which just doesn’t apply to me. Maybe that’s it. Petty jealousy. Well, that insecure, clingy twat, Keelie Timmons needs to deal. Her crazy brings too much damn drama where drama shouldn’t exist.

  All she does is prove my theory— women are catty, crazy bitches always competing even when there is no need. Well I don’t compete. Take it or leave it. Sorry, I can hang with the boys without the need to flaunt my tits for attention. What a tragedy that I can flirt, banter, and chill without the need to fuck them. Life is rough. I’ve been friends with Braxton since junior high school, and Braydon and Brenton since freshman year. Their bungalow is the one place you are guaranteed to find all of us more often than not.

  “Thank God for that. I purchased the tickets, hotel, and flights early and accidently forgot she was supposed to come.” Braxton winks before letting me pass. “Send me your hotel info, and I’ll stop by.”

  “You wish, Brax,” I say laughing as I move past him and rush down the stairs. Stopping by my campus apartment, I run in to shower and take care of all the girly requirements before driving down Interstate 20 to Birmingham. After this semester, I am in need of this mini vacation. 21, the Supercross Championship, and Vegas… What could go wrong?

  IT’S NASTIER THAN A sweaty ball sack out here. Vegas – 88 degrees of dry heat – so much worse than Tuscaloosa. Shouldering my carry-on and tote bag, I make my way to Sunset Station Hotel and Casino – my home away from home for the next three and a half days. Once aboard the hotel shuttle, I power on my cell phone and take in the scenery as soft music plays through the speakers. Multiple chimes and vibrations from my iPhone bring my attention back to my initial task – text a parental so it’s clear I’m alive. Even though I’m sure that a 747 going down should alert my parents of my unlikely survival. I mean, seriously. Ignoring the other messages until I can get checked into my room, I toss the phone into my bag and make my way through the lobby.

  “Adalyn Miller, checking in.” I smile and hand over my license and credit card to the concierge behind the counter. Smiling back, Nancy – according to her nametag – takes my plastic before pecking at the keyboard in front of her.

  “Ms. Miller, we have you secured in a king suite, room five thirty. Please let us know if you need anything throughout your stay. Your credit card has been charged nine hundred sixty-two dollars and eighty-six cents. The pool is guarded nine to nine but is open twenty-four seven, and the wet bar in your room has been fully stocked.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” I grin before signing the charge slip. Most people my age would flinch at that price. Some might assume my parents are loaded or I’m well off, but I save all year for this trip. I could have gone to a cheaper hotel, chosen a lower rate room, even stayed less days, but this is my last year for this particular trip— let alone a tradition. Next year, I will be submerged into the world of nursing, becoming low woman on the totem pole. This— this is a must.

  Making my way to the elevator banks, my phone chimes loudly signaling a call. Fumbling throug
h my tote bag, I finally find the obnoxious electronic and swipe the screen to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ads, what’s up?” My best friend’s winded voice fills my ear.

  “Hey, Braydon, not much. How many finals do you have left?” I laugh, it’s so easy to taunt him when he’s not expecting it.

  “Hearty-har-har,” he grumps. “I have one more at eight ten tomorrow morning. I can’t believe that old hag Higgens wouldn’t let me take it early. Braxton said he saw you this morning, practically plowed him.”

  “Hah, he could only dream of those days again,” I laugh, kicking the carpet. “Listen, I need to get upstairs. Can I call you later, or you call me back?”

  “You dick, you really did go early!” Braydon bellows into the phone, causing me to chuckle as I move the speaker away from my ear.

  “Hmm… what? I can’t hear you… you’ll call me back later? Okay, sounds good. Bye, best friend.” Rolling my eyes, I hit the up arrow causing it to illuminate while I wait. This trip has always been a “Guys Only and Adalyn” trip until this year. Keelie threw a monstrous fit because she wanted to come along, and Braydon almost gave in to be nice and appease her. Complete bullshit, so I did what any smart woman would do… I told him in front of her that I wouldn’t be going with them this year. They were pissed. That’s what happens when one of your best friends almost sides with the ho before the bros. I didn’t lie. I’m not a liar. I never said I wasn’t going to Vegas, I just said I wasn’t going with the guys. Not my fault she’s so damn imperceptive.

  Braydon and I haven’t always been just friends. We danced around dating my freshman year. But that’s history; although I’d love to have his full luscious lips all over me, but I want his friendship more. My sister had tried that when she was in college, and it didn’t work. Why can’t it be both?

  Before I know it I’m standing in front of my suite – auto pilot, it’s got perks. It’s gorgeous in here. A living room as soon as the door opens flowing into a dining area with a refrigerator and stocked wet bar with a bedroom to the left and the most luxurious king-sized bed. Dropping my bags, I flop onto the pillow-top mattress and sigh in contentment. This is life. Oh, there’s a Jacuzzi tub too. Hopping up, I make my way to the roomy bathroom space, holding a separate shower with at least nine showerheads. Goals.

  Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I make my way back into the bedroom to unpack my bags. I mean I packed for vacation – shorts, shirts, swimwear, undergarments, and toiletries. I’m a simple girl, hence why it’s so easy for me to have guy friends and why girls are often confused by me. I don’t try to intimidate them. I don’t really understand what’s so intimidating, I hardly ever get dolled up, and I barely use makeup. I’m not a size two, more like a size ten. I have curves, long hair that is seldom ever styled, and I hate to dress up to the nines.

  Stripping down and replacing my sports bra and underwear with my new bikini, I tie the black top, which is designed with the fox racing emblem on my left breast, around my neck. The bottoms are basic bikini briefs in the same design but the “FOX” branding is wrapped around the top band. I may not be a stick, but I’m not hanging out all over the place. I’m toned, muscular, but not manly. You can definitely tell I’m all woman. Just as I slide my flip flops on to go to the pool for a drink, my cell phone chimes.

  B – Keelie is coming over to hang before we all leave. I’ll call you soon. I’m still pissed at you.

  Me – Aww, I’m sure you’ll get over it. I’m going to the pool. ;)

  B – >:|

  Me – Super cute angry face. LOL Enjoy your time with whiny ass.

  I drop my phone onto the bed, making my way downstairs, and beeline toward the pool area. Finding an open spot at the waterside bar, I traipse through the warm water, and sidle the empty seat ordering a frozen strawberry–banana margarita. Once the concoction is in my hands, I swivel around and take in all that is Sunset Station at night. A loud, raucous group playing water volleyball directly in front of me is a train wreck, but as you know… you can’t just turn away. It just lures me in; between the stacked dudes and ditzy girls, I decide the smile plastered to my face is by far the best way to start this vacation out right.

  Braydon

  TAPPING MY MECHANICAL PENCIL against the desk I’m seated at apparently fails to bring attention that it’s time to give us the damn test. Five minutes past the class starting time and Professor Higgens is staring blankly at the clock perched on the front of her desk. My roommates, Braxton and Brenton, are waiting for me to finish my last test of the semester of our junior year so we can head out to Vegas for our annual guys’ trip. The trip my best friend typically accompanies us on, but because of Keelie— the house clinger— Adalyn left early. It’s stupid.

  I’m fairly certain Keelie has wanted to hook up with all of us over the past two years at some point. She wants a relationship, but none of us do. I’m beginning to believe my roommates are right— she’s set out to make life hell until she’s dating one of us or me specifically. Don’t get me wrong, I like her; she’s an amazing woman when she’s not being clingy and crazy, but fuck. It’s almost as if learning my last name gave her a million times more ammunition to attack.

  Professor Higgens clears her throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “Good morning, here’s how the final will go – if you were early to class you have received an A, if you were on time – meaning you got here right at eight ten you will receive a B. If you were late, congratulations you have failed the final. This is what I’ve told you all semester… be prepared, so have a great summer.” I always knew she was a stickler for attendance and punctuality, but damn, what a waste of studying. With a nod to the room, she’s gone and so am I. Kicking off a text to the boys telling them I’m done, I begin making my way through the quad. Just before turning left toward the house, I hear Keelie.

  “Bray,” she yells dragging out the ‘ay’ of my name, like she’s cooing at a baby – annoying but damn she’s got a rockin’ body. I can ignore the irritation.

  “Hey, Kee, I gotta go. I’ll call you from the car.”

  “What are you talking about; walk me to class and have a chat?” Typically, her batting of those sweet eyelashes would distract me, but I’m on a mission. Vegas.

  “Can’t. We leave for the airport in a few hours,” I explain, wrapping her in a hug before I pull away giving her a wink. “I’ll be back Monday.”

  “I’ll be driving home by then.” Keelie’s pout is adorable. Her forehead scrunches up and her bright green eyes fixate on her target – me.

  “Eh, we’ll figure it out.” Pulling away again, I smile as she shouts for me to call her. “Will do, good luck on your finals!”

  Just before I reach the steps of my bungalow, my phone rings. Odd, usually I’m in class at this time; she knows that. “Hey, Mom, what’s up? You feeling alright?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, yes,” she answers, but her voice is weak. “I just finished my final treatment and wanted to let you know. I promised you I would.”

  My mom, Margo Marie, was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer at the first of the year. She’s holding strong. She’s a fighter, but this is her second round of chemotherapy. This treatment was far more aggressive than the first round coupled with radiation after her tests came back showing no improvement. My mom, she was my first best friend in life. I’m a momma’s boy, and I’m 100% content with that. She is an angel. She’s taught me how to be responsible, respectful, but most importantly she taught me how to love myself and others without restraint.

  “You sound like shit, Ma.” Squeezing the back of my neck with my free hand, I continue, “What’s the next step?”

  “Well, I’m heading home with Zoila now to rest, and then we will see.”

  “I’ll be home after my trip with the guys and Adalyn,” I breathe out.

  “Oh no, you will not. You enjoy your summer before senior year. I want to watch my boy wear those hideous colors across that stage with his de
gree in hand.”

  “Mom,” I begin to argue before she cuts me off.

  “No, go have fun. We are almost home. Zoila is staying while your father is out campaigning. Everything is fine.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “Oh, Braydon, I love you so much. Have fun, honey, and tell that sweet girl I said hello.”

  Ending the call with my mom, I shake off the feeling of unease. I trust her, and I definitely am in agreement that I need a vacation with my friends, which includes letting loose and forgetting all the bad that’s surrounded life this year.

  THREE MEN WALKING OUT of the airport, all over six feet in height and an easy 200 pounds each. To say we aren’t turning heads would be a lie. It’s the B3 power; women gawk at all this sexiness. What? I’m confident and so are my friends. Brenton shakes his hair out, and I swear he channels Justin Bieber with that mop on his head. Braxton on the other hand, his hair is styled to a Mohawk looking peak with enough gel for all of us especially since the sides are buzzed and the top is rather short. And then there’s me, easy – little length on the top, buzzed on the sides, no gel, and no fuss. My friends and roommates are fucking chicks.

  Piling into the hotel charter van, we continue laughing and joking about the poor flight attendant who was left speechless more often than not as she passed by Braxton to only end up harassed by Brenton. I just laid back, observing it all – most of the time, with my legs stretched out as much as first class allows. Tall dudes need space. It’s worth the cost. Because this is our big getaway, we pool our money together for race tickets, the hotel, and airfare. It kind of helps that Zach Braxton Adams is fucking royalty, and his granddaddy owns Southbound Airlines.

  “Gentlemen, enjoy your stay,” our shuttle driver, Calvin, says as he opens the door to Sunset Station. This place is off the hook amazing. We stay here every year. Between the massive pool, great food, and easy access to the Sam Boyd Stadium that houses the Supercross Championship tomorrow night, there is nowhere better. At least not at this moment.