The First Time is the Hardest: An Austin Brothers Novella (Austin Brothers Series Book 1)
Authors: L A Cotton
Chastity Falls Series
Austin Brothers Series
The Maverick Defense Series
Standalones
To keep up to date about future releases you can sign up to
L A’s newsletter
HERE
Published by Delesty Books
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
If you are reading a copy of this book that has not been purchased from a licensed retailer, please destroy it. Thank you for your support.
Edited by Jenny Carlsrud Sims of
Editing4Indies
Cover designed by
The Graphics Shed
Image: Licensed from Shutterstock
Hold on to the love, not the loss
~ Eva Longoria
AS MY CAR
exited the highway and made the turn for Radeno, I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror as the permanent lump in my throat rose a little higher. It wasn’t any better than the twenty times before. Puffy, tear-stained eyes, and a sore nose—I was a complete mess. But my face didn’t compare to the pain in my chest. My insides felt like they had been through a meat processor. And that was before I had even set foot in town.
Damn you, Lucas.
Another torrent of tears rushed from me, and I gripped the steering wheel tighter, easing my foot off the gas to avoid a head-on collision. Swallowing back the urge to puke or scream or cry like a baby, I drove on autopilot until my house came into view. Barely aware of anything else around me, I parked, climbed out of the car, and made for the house.
“Mila, thank God, we were so worri-”
I collapsed into Mom’s arms, sobbing into her floral blouse.
“Shh, baby, shh, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
It was a lie.
A meaningless phrase people said at times like this to make
themselves
feel less awkward. Nothing about this situation was okay. Lucas, my best friend since we were four, was gone. And I hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye. Nothing about that would
ever
be okay.
“Darlene,” Dad said. “What’s all the commoti- oh, Mila, thank the Lord. We were worried sic-”
“Shh, Frank,” Mom snapped, tightening her arms around me as I let the pain consume me.
Ever since I got the call two days ago from Lucas’s mom, Mrs. Gennery, I’d been in shock. Sure, I’d cried. I cried when I had gotten punch drunk in my bedroom and sobbed over my high school yearbook, tracing my fingers over every single photograph of Lucas. I cried as I packed my bag to return home from Tulane. And I’d cried most of the seven-hour drive.
But I hadn’t felt a thing.
Not really.
But with each mile that passed, the hole in my heart, the gut wrenching pain in my chest, grew and grew until I felt sure it would swallow me whole. And now, here, in Mom’s arms, I completely broke.
Lucas Gennery was my best friend.
He was supposed to be my everything.
My future.
And he was gone.
~
“How are you feeling?” Mom asked as I entered the living room.
“Like shit.” I dropped into the chair opposite her and scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Mila, I know you’re hurting, but language in the house, pleas-”
My jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now? I’m out of here.” I pushed off the arm of the chair, but Mom’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. Stay, please. I’m just … this is hard on all of us. Lucas was like a son to us, honey. Your father has taken the news-”
I held up my hand. “Enough, Mom. I can’t be here if you’re going to turn everything into a lecture. I just need silence. I need to figure stuff out.” Like how the hell I was going to go see Mr. and Mrs. Gennery. They were expecting me, but I wasn’t ready to be over there, at their home, at Lucas’s home.
“It’s almost five.”
“Mom!”
“Sorry, it’s just you know how I get when I’m anxious.” She shuffled along the couch, stood, and crossed the room to me. “Hug for your mom?”
I smiled weakly at her and opened my arms. She might have had a serious case of foot-in-mouth syndrome, but a hug from my mom could ease most anything, even after twenty-one years.
“I’ve missed you, Mila Jean.”
“Missed you too, Mom.” I pressed my face into her shirt letting memories flood my mind.
Mom hugging me after I slipped in the yard and cut open my leg. The time she’d had to remove a splinter from my foot when Lucas and I had been playing barefoot in the woods. And the one time I ended up sick all summer, and my older brother, Chase, teased me because I’d had my first kiss and caught mono.
“I miss him already. Is that possible? I mean I haven’t seen him in three months, but my heart knows he’s gone. How is that possible?” Tears trickled down my face as I pulled back and stared at my mother, pleading with her to say anything that might make the hurt go away.
Just for a second.
“Shh, baby. It’s natural. The two of you were closer than any two friends were. It hurts so much because you meant so much to one another. It’s a testament to your friendship, honey. It’s the very reason Lucas will be in your heart forever. Take comfort in that, Mila. What the two of you shared was special; no one can take that away from you. It’s yours. Treasure it. Even when it hurts so much you can’t breathe.”
Mom gathered me to her chest and pressed a kiss to my head. “Now, don’t you have somewhere to be? They need you, Mila. You need each other.”
~
I walked the short distance to the Gennery’s house. I was exhausted, but Mom was right; I needed to do this. For them and for myself. Carol and Peter Gennery had been like family to me my whole life, and Lucas was their whole world. Losing him would destroy them.
Has destroyed them,
I mentally corrected myself, even though it still felt wrong to think of him as gone.
Before I knew it, I was standing outside their front door. I sucked in a deep breath, letting the summer air fill my lungs. I could do this. I had to do this. For Lucas. Seconds ticked by until I lifted my hand to knock, but it swung open, and Carol’s voice cried, “Thank God, Mila.”
She pulled me into a hug and pain crashed over me. Grieving alone was one thing, but being in the presence of her grief gutted me. Agony poured out of her in waves, enveloping us as we embraced, clinging to one another.
“I’m so sorry, Carol,” I rasped.
“He loved you so much, Mila. You know that, right? The two of you had your whole lives ahead of you.”
“Carol,” a deep voice said from behind her. “Let’s sit down. I’m sure Mila would like a drink. I know I would.”
I lifted my head and found Peter Gennery smiling sadly in my direction. I gulped back the fresh wave of tears. Carol’s hand found mine, and she led me into the kitchen. I looked straight ahead to avoid laying eyes on anything that might set me off again. Lucas was in everything. The family portraits hanging on the wall, the smell of maple syrup wafting from the kitchen, even the music playing on the radio reminded me of him.
“I know, I know,” Carol said, noticing my pace slow. “I couldn’t help myself. I must have cooked thirty batches of pancakes since …” Her voice wavered, and I squeezed her hand, unable to stand to see her in pain.
“It’s okay. I could eat.”
I couldn’t, not really. But if it made her feel even a fraction better than she did now, I’d do it.
“You made it home safely?” Peter asked as he set about making coffee.
I nodded, taking a seat on the wooden bench Peter had hand made. The same bench Lucas and I had sat on so many times through the years. “The drive was a distraction, you know.”
“Mila, honey, your parents were sick with worry. You had us all scared.”
“Peter,” his wife scolded, and his face softened as he placed a mug in front of me.
“I’m sorry. It’s just what with everything, we were worried, Mila.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice was a whisper. I hadn’t thought it through much when I’d packed a bag, jumped in my car, and started for home. Maybe it was reckless, especially after Lucas’s accident. But all I’d been thinking was get home. Get home to Lucas.
“Did he- was he …” The words died on my tongue. I wanted to know how it’d happened. If he’d suffered. But whether I could live with the answer was a different matter.
“He didn’t suffer, honey.” Carol’s hand slid across the space between us and enveloped mine. “He was pronounced d- dead at the scene.”
Dead.
Lucas was dead.
Silence descended over us. Carol clutched my hand as if I might disappear at any moment while Peter stared off into the distance lost in his own grief. And I sat rigid, staring into my coffee. Steam drifted off the surface into the air until it evaporated. Poof. One second, it was there; the next, it was gone.
Just like Lucas.
Gone.
“Can I go up to his room?” The words spilled out. For a second, I wondered who had spoken, until Peter answered, “Of course. We’ll give you some time.”
~
As I entered Lucas’s bedroom, my stomach somersaulted as his smell surrounded me. It didn’t smell of anything in particular, just Lucas’s smell. Strength mixed with spice and a slight hint of sweat. I breathed in the familiarity, running my fingertips over the edge of his bed as my eyes took in his furniture, the posters on the walls, and the hoodies hanging from the hooks on the door. If I closed my eyes, it was as if Lucas was here.
Except he wasn’t.
He wouldn’t
ever
be here again.
I climbed onto the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling. I’d spent many a nights in this exact same position when we were younger. Our parents had long given up trying to stop us from sneaking into one another’s rooms after lights out. Eventually, they sat us down, and we all agreed that we could sleep over as long as we didn’t share a bed and kept our hands firmly to ourselves. Only fourteen at the time, we had laughed them off, reaffirming that we were strictly friends. There would be no touching of any kind; quite frankly, the idea grossed us out. But I guess my parents knew us better than we knew ourselves because, by the time I turned sixteen, Lucas would sneak under the covers with me after his parents went to bed, and we’d sleep wrapped in one another’s arms. But we never took it further. Not under their roof.
A smile played on my lips. The first since I got the call. But then, the door swung open, and I sat up startled.
“Oh, Mila, shit, sorry. I didn’t know you were up here.” Ryan, Lucas’s brother, rocked on the balls of his feet, his eyes darting around the room.
“It’s okay. I’m so sorry, Ryan.”
“Don’t- just don’t, okay? It’s all I’ve heard for the past two days. I just need to escape for a little while. I’ll find somewhere else.” His hand gripped the door handle, and he went to leave, but surprising myself, I said, “Stay.”
Ryan turned slowly and narrowed his eyes. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
With a nod, Ryan crossed the room and dropped on the desk chair. He didn’t speak a word, but then, he never had been a guy of many words. Where Lucas was light and warm, Ryan was dark and stormy. He wasn’t mean, or anything like that, just different. But he loved Lucas. Everyone did.
I shuffled back against the pillows and closed my eyes. Being in Lucas’s space wasn’t as painful as I had imagined it would be. In fact, for the first time since hearing about the accident, I felt a sliver of peace.
“He loved you, you know.”
My eyes flew open and found Ryan staring back. “Wh- what?”
“My brother. He loved you more than anything.”
“He never told me.”
He hadn’t.
I’d suspected he felt the same way as I did, but once we moved away to college, life ran away with us. We stayed in touch, saw each other during holidays, but we never talked about us. Not in that way, anyway.
“That’s Lucas for you.” Ryan’s brows knitted together, pain twisted on his face, and then he added, “
Was
Lucas.”
A single tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another and another until I couldn’t hold them back any longer. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I don’t know how to live without him.”
“You just do. Get up, pretend, sleep, and repeat. One day, it’ll get easier, but it’s that first damn time that’s the hardest. That first morning after the accident. Shit, I never want to live through that again. Ever.”
The morning after I had found out flashed in my mind. I’d barely been able to drag myself out of bed for all the tears and nausea. I didn’t doubt shittier days would come in the following days, weeks, even years, but Ryan was right.
The first time was the hardest.