Elias (New Adult Romance) (West Bend Saints Book 1) Read online

  "This isn't a goddamned movie, Silas," I said. "Mom's in the fucking ICU. Let it go."

  And then one of the doctors walked out of the door, and shook his head.

  "I'm afraid I have bad news," he said.

  I folded clothes carefully, putting pieces in my suitcases.

  My best friend Abby sat in the armchair in my bedroom, her long legs draped over the side, back leaning up against the other side, sipping a cocktail. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "I need a change," I said. "I'm done with the movie. I have no obligations here. Why shouldn't I?"

  Abby shrugged. "If you say so," she said. "Or you could, I don't know, fly to Colorado instead."

  "Look," I said. "I did the interview. I said what I had to say. That's it. It's over. It wasn't even anything to begin with. He thought it was a fling, and that's what it was. Nothing more than that. It was less than two weeks. No one falls in love in two weeks."

  "They do in your movies," Abby said.

  I sighed. "Everyone thinks real life is like the movies, but it's not. And I was stupid to think otherwise."

  Abby huffed. "I still think you're being a dumbass."

  "You're just jealous," I said, balling up a shirt and tossing it across the room at her. She shrieked, angling her glass away from direction of the projectile.

  "Jealous of what?" she asked. "Your boyfriend? I don't think so. You know I stay as far away from dick as possible."

  "Morocco," I said. "You're jealous you're not going. You should come."

  "You know I would," she said. "But I've got a show coming up. Besides, I'm not trying to commit career suicide here. I'm going to have my big break. Soon."

  "You should," I said. "You're a talented artist."

  "Anyway," she said, sipping her drink. "I give it six months before you're right back here, doing another movie. Tops. Not that I'm not happy for you, but, well, what the hell are you going to do without awards shows and...shit...shoes?"

  I laughed. "They have shoes in Morocco, you bitch."

  "But seriously- " Abby finished her drink, then crossed the room, throwing herself dramatically on my bed. "You and Elias...it was like the movies, right?"

  "I don't know. It was...passionate. I've never had that kind of sex with anyone before. That kind of lust," I shrugged. "But that's all it was, you know? Lust. If it were anything more..." I left it unspoken.

  If it had been anything more, he would have called.

  He wouldn't have said what he said.

  We would be together right now.

  "He probably didn't even watch the interview," she said. "You still have your cell phone, the one you got there, right?"

  I glanced toward my bureau drawer, at the place where I'd stashed it and checked it obsessively since I'd returned, fantasizing that Elias would call.

  But that was just a fantasy. Nothing more.

  He didn't give a shit. And I needed to let go. It wasn't healthy, pining away after someone who didn't even like me.

  "You have it, don't you?" she asked. "You kept it. Call him."

  "No," I said. "I'm not calling him. If he were interested, he'd call me. I'm not throwing myself at him."

  Abby sighed. "What if it was all just some kind of misunderstanding? Would you really be okay with walking away and not knowing?"

  I shook my head. "It's not a misunderstanding," I said. "It's crystal clear to me. He thought it would be awesome to screw an actress. And I was stupid and thought it was more. That's it. Besides -"

  The doorbell rang, and I looked for my purse. "Pizza guy is here. Perfect timing, because I'm totally over talking about Elias. When I get back, new conversation topic- Morocco."

  "She tried, I guess," Luke said. "I mean, she was just weak. She wasn't like the asshole."

  We all nodded, sitting around the table in the house where we grew up. We'd buried her two hours earlier, just the four of us standing around her grave. I'd purchased the plot with my savings, something to make sure she wasn't in a state burial plot, the way the asshole had been buried. I didn't want her buried with him. No matter what kind of inadequate mother she'd been, there was something that didn't sound right about that. At least I could do that much.

  Their feelings about her were as mixed as mine, I was sure. What could you really say about a woman who stayed with a man like our father, someone who beat his wife, beat his kids within an inch of their lives? She tried, at least.

  But she should have tried harder, Killian said. We were kids, so she should have tried harder.

  I guess that was the reality. I wasn't glad she was gone, not like I felt about the asshole - but I wasn't devastated, either.

  It was what it was. Just the way life goes.

  Killian held up a whiskey glass. "To our mother. May she finally have some peace."

  I nodded. "To our mother."

  We tossed back the whiskey, otherwise silent. It was a strange thing, all of us together, for the first time in years. It didn't feel right, somehow, the fact that we were all together solely because she'd died.

  Brothers should be tighter than that, I thought.

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the silence, and I slid it out, looking at the number.

  I looked up at Silas.

  "What is it?" he asked, his face apprehensive. "What happened now?"

  I recognized the number immediately. It was the number I had emblazoned on my brain, the one I kept telling myself I should call.

  It just didn't seem right, me being concerned about what happened with some girl, when my mother had just died.

  "It's River's number," I said, the cell phone buzzing over and over. "Her throwaway. The one we got her here."

  "Well, fuck, man," Killian said. "A fucking movie star is calling you. Pick up the goddamn phone."

  The buzzing stopped, and I shrugged, putting the phone on the table. "It's nothing," I said, looking around at their faces.

  "Are you fucking serious?" Silas said. "She left because she thought you were a douchebag who said shitty things about her. Then she said you were -and I quote- the real deal on fucking TV, and now she's calling you? What the hell is wrong with you? You don't not answer the phone. Now you are being a douchebag."

  Killian and Luke stared at me, nodding.

  "Douchebag," Luke chimed in.

  "You're being a dickwad," Killian said.

  The phone buzzed again, and I slid the screen open to read the message.

  "It's not from her," I said, reading it, my heart pounding in my chest.

  "Who's it from?" Silas asked. "What does it say?"

  "Fuck," I said, realizing what I had to do. "I have to go to LA. Now. And you fucked this all up, Silas. So you're coming with me."

  "This is it," I said. "This is the address."

  Silas whistled. "Fancy."

  "Well, what'd you think it was going to be?" I asked. "She's a fucking star. Shit, man, she's way out of my fucking league. I shouldn't be here."

  "Yeah, well, you are now," he said. "Too late to change your mind."

  What the hell was I going to say now that I got here?

  "I don't even know if she's here."

  "Her friend, the chick that texted you, said she wasn't leaving until tomorrow," Silas said. "Get in and fucking see her."

  Inside, the security guard stopped me. "Resident?"

  "Visiting," I said.

  He looked down at me, brow burrowed. "Yes," he said, his tone nasal. "Visiting who precisely?"

  "River Andrews."

  He smirked. "Nice try," he said. "But there's no one by that name who lives here."

  "Number 1279," I said. "This is the address she sent me."

  He shrugged. "Like I said, no one by that name."

  "Shit, man," Silas said. "Are you fucking serious?"

  Fuck. I racked my brain. What was the fake name she gave Jed? Brenda. Bailey. Beth. "Beth Winters."

  He shook his head, his eyes narrowed.

  "Shit, man, come on