Waking Up
Authors: Renee Dyer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright @ 2014 Renee Dyer All Rights Reserved
No portion of this book may be reproduced-mechanically, electronically, or by any other means, including photocopying- without written permission of the publisher.
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Editing: Michael R. Burhans
Formatting: Michael R. Burhans
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Dedication
To my mom:
Thank you for always being my biggest supporter, my rock, my best friend, the one to tell me to keep reaching for my dreams. You are the most amazing woman I have ever known and my hope is that one day I can grow to be even half the wonderful women you are. I love you Mom!
And to my husband Marty:
You are my sun and moon and the stars that shine down on me. Thank you for being my own personal book boyfriend. Not many people can say they live a fairy tale, but you sir, saved me the day I found you and fell in love with you and you continue to save me every day. You are my knight in shining armor. I love you always!
Chapter One
Adriana
“No. Alex. Stay with me. Please, God. NOOOOOOO!”
I spring into a sitting position, darkness surrounding me, sweat slicking my hair to my face, and blankets tangled around my legs. I gulp for air, trying to slow my racing heart. It was just a dream, another damn dream. How many times will I be tormented by this dream before I can move on and not feel my heart shatter all over again? My life is stagnant and has been ever since… no, don’t think about it, Adriana. If you do, you’ll start crying again. And, if you start crying again, you may never stop. I look at the clock.
“4:42. How fucking ironic,” I mumble to the darkness, the emptiness– another irony. “I’ll never get back to sleep now.” Maybe I should get an early start on the day, I think to myself.
Get your ass up, girl, and get a move on. The food won’t make itself.
The thought of having all my neighborhood friends over puts a smile on my face. The smile is short lived. Thinking of my friends always brings me a mixture of happiness and pain. They have been my rock and all that has kept me together for the past sixteen months. But, how would they feel if they knew I was thinking of selling the house and moving away? I love all of them as much as I love my family, but the memories of him who can’t be thought of or talked about, are crushing me. My friends think I’m getting better, but the truth is, I’m putting on a brave face to keep them happy. I’ve been dying inside since he’s gone. I’d miss the crew I’ve come to love so much. Could I really move away from them? Could I move away from the home I had with him?
No… no thinking of him. It’s too sad... too much for you, Adri. Too real, still. Think of the girls. Yeah, your bitches.
A small smile curves my lips as I categorize the three girls who have gotten as close to me as my own sister.
Alahna, my book bitch. How many hours have her and I wasted, according to others, reading and talking books and finding new book boyfriends? Remembering how we lose ourselves in conversations for hours and forget everyone else in the room exists brings a smile to my tired face. I laugh at myself in the dark room thinking of all the books we’ve ordered to read together so we can talk about them, relive them with each other. We drive everyone else crazy talking about them. Then, there’s the t-shirts. Oh my God, the t-shirts. I don’t know how many book t-shirts we’ve collected because we’re such book geeks. People sometimes think that Alahna is rough around the edges, but she’s a total softie. I can tell by all the romantic stuff she likes to read. It turns her into a weepy mess. Me, too. We talk about it and sometimes weep together. I love my book bitch. Yeah…
I love her.
Picturing her, curled up on the couch, her black hair pulled back in a ponytail, blue eyes locked on her Kindle, totally engrossed in a book. I can see the emotions crossing her face as she reads, gets lost in the characters, the story. Just like me, she feels the books. She’s a private person. Doesn’t let people into her world, but her and I clicked right away and were instant friends. Maybe it was our love for photography, but I think it was more our love for books. Our love for getting lost in the fantasy of what could be. How many times did Al…
no, Adriana, don’t think his name.
How many times did he say that all the reading was going to rot our brains and we would just laugh it off? Putting my fist to my mouth, I fight back a threatening sob. Could I move away from her? Could I live my life without her in it? Could I move away and not see her nearly every day?
Mickayla, my all things supernatural freak. My fiery Mick. I can’t think of her without thinking of her flaming auburn hair always falling over her shoulders. How many nights have we sat on my couch because she likes my TV better? Says she gets a clearer image of Dean. She’s here every week. Never stands me up, especially now that he who I don’t talk about is gone. Mickayla loves all that crazy stuff, like me. We are so team Dean/Jensen, whatever he prefers to be called. Looking like he does, with lips and eyes like that, it gives way to many fun and dirty conversations. Having a love for vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, all kinds of ooglie booglies, is so much better when you have a friend to share it with. I love that Mick is into all these creepy crawlies like me, even though she’s into zombies too and I’m not. I chuckle remembering when she got me to start watching the Walking Dead. It’s a good show, but I shudder just thinking of the gory scenes. She laughs at me because I can watch all the other creatures that go bump in the night with no problems, but close my eyes through zombies. I’m a wimp that way, but she doesn’t mind. She giggles and tells me when it’s over. It cracks her up. If I move, I’ll miss Mick’s sense of humor. It offends most people, but I love it. She has a total potty mouth, but that makes me love her all the more. People normally see me as a goodie two shoes, but Mick has always seen my fun, dark side. If I move away, I’ll really miss all the laughs with her. But, I think I need a clean break, a new start.
I never did think about who I’ll watch the Pats with if I move.
No one screams at the TV with me like Mick. Not even the guys. They can’t trash talk like her. I smile again, thinking about her jumping up and down, screaming profanity at my TV. A tear slides down my cheek that I quickly swipe away.
Not yet, Adriana. No time for crying yet.
Deidre, the party starter of our little group and our group mom. I want to laugh thinking about the title we’ve all given her, but I can’t. My heart hurts thinking about leaving her and her kids. Dee makes me laugh with her crazy dancing, drunk or not. I’ll never forget the first time she broke out in the running man. Thinking back to that night, I recall her dirty blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders, the smile on her face. Sitting against my headboard in my dark room, I grin, thinking of all of her crazy dance moves, the sprinkler, round the world, the hump. . . so many others that have brought me to tears laughing. A gift that Dee has, entertaining without even trying. Get her drinking and watch out, I think to myself. She’ll drink the guys under the table. And never have a hangover. How is that possible? I shake my head. But then, she cares for us all like we’re her kids, even though she already has four of her own. She never forgets a birthday or anniversary-any special moment. She looks at you with those big brown eyes and you know she cares about you, you just know she’s going to take care of whatever’s wrong. She’s got a heart of gold and parties like a rock star. It’s unbelievable how much liquor that girl can put away and how many craft projects she can figure out how to put together. And, she can put a party together in ten minutes flat. It’s amazing. She’s amazing. Like all my girls, she fills a spot in my life. My heart.
Oh God, her kids. I’ll have to say goodbye to her kids, too.
I love those boys so much. What the hell am I supposed to do?
What about the men in their lives? They’ve been amazing through all of this, too. None of them have complained during the countless hours the ladies have been by my side. The guys have been there for me in their own way, nudges to the side, trying to wrap me in bear hugs even though I just push them away, cracking jokes about me cooking them dinner because their wives can’t cook, telling me to steal the girls whenever I need them, dealing with my middle of the night freak outs. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell them how much it has all meant or why I feel like I need to go away. Especially Preston—he’s been part of my life for forever. Part of my and his life. Why did Preston have to be his best friend, too? Can I walk away from my best friend, from all of my best friends?
How do I tell them that when I look at them I see him? They were his friend and he loved them as much as I do. They were family to him, too. We all did holidays together. He designed Alahna and Preston’s house specifically for them. He was at Dee and Kale’s kid’s parties. When Mick and Blake get married, he’s supposed to be one of the Groomsmen. It’s all different now. Holidays are sad, the kid’s parties are sad and, even though I’m Mick ‘s Matron, I mean, Maid of Honor, I feel sad about that, too. How do I tell them they all make me sad? I look at them and see him. And it’s killing me more and more each day.
Not thinking about him isn’t working. I realize my cheeks are wet. Is it because I’m thinking about leaving my friends or is it because Alex has entered my thoughts again? Yes, I thought his name. Alex. My Alex. Alexander William Monroe. My heart, who is gone and never coming back. Fate is a cruel bitch and she decided she didn’t like me. She took my reason to breathe away from me. I can still picture Alex like he’s right beside me in bed. He’d be naked because he said clothes were too restrictive under blankets even though I knew he was really just a horny bastard who was always trying to have his way with me. I didn’t mind, though. I could never get enough of Alex. I loved running my fingers through his blonde hair and staring into his green eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. I would run my hands over his chest and listen to him purr in contentment. I could stare at Alex for hours. He had skin that was tanned year round like he was always at the beach. He worked out a little each day, but never so much that he had too much muscle. To me, everything about Alex was perfect and had been since the day I met him. All the way back in first grade. He was the boy I had a crush on my whole life, my prom date, my best friend. We were best friends all our lives until college. That’s when things changed.
Stop, Adri. Stop. This is getting you nowhere. Alex is gone. You need to accept that. You need to
— Sobs break free from my throat. I try to hold back, but they are too strong and my throat burns with the need to let it out. I let out a scream of agony and just let the dam go. I cry until there is nothing left in me to cry. Then, I just sit there for a little while. When I feel that I can move, I look at my alarm clock. “6:04, ugh. Guess I better get my ass in the shower and get to the store.” With that little self-motivation speech said, I get out of bed and head in for a hot shower to work the tension out of my body.