After the Pain Read online

  Contents

  Dedication

  After the Pain Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2014 by Gia Riley

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design © Christa Holland, Paper and Sage Design

  Interior Design: Kassi Cooper

  Paperback:

  ISBN 13: 978-1500821463

  ISBN 10: 1500821462

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is in violation of the International copyright law.

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

  To my son…my inspiration to never stop dreaming.

  To my husband…my source of strength.

  My world wouldn’t be complete without you both. Thank you for loving me unconditionally.

  Wait For You – Elliott Yamin

  Beautiful With You – Halestorm

  Cannonball – Lea Michele

  Beneath Your Beautiful – Labrinth & Emeli Sande

  Say Something – A Great Big World

  Already Gone – Kelly Clarkson

  Broken – Seether ft. Amy Lee

  I Won’t Give Up – Jason Mraz

  Don’t You Wanna Stay – Jason Aldean & Kelly Clarkson

  God Gave Me You – Blake Shelton

  Marry Me – Jason Derulo

  I Choose You – Sara Bareilles

  Unconditionally – Katy Perry

  A Thousand Years – Christina Peri

  Bless the Broken Road – Rascal Flatts

  My Little Girl – Tim McGraw

  Mama’s Song – Carrie Underwood

  Pour Some Sugar On Me – Def Leppard

  EVERY TIME I LOOK AT myself in the mirror, I see a piece of my past mixed with my future. Losing my boyfriend, Ryan, last year shook me to my core and opened my eyes to how fragile life really can be. Never in my wildest dreams did I think our time together would be cut so short. Each moment we spent as a couple gave me the confidence I was desperately searching for. No longer did I find myself second guessing every decision I made, or worrying about saying just the right thing. For once, I was comfortable in my own skin. Ryan made me feel desired and that nothing in this world felt more incredible than the admiration pouring from his soul. From the moment our worlds collided, I knew I would be forever changed. While his spirit remains in my memories, I’m finally living with hope again as I refuse to let the past define me. Surviving Ryan’s loss has shown me how strong I can be when faced with absolute anguish.

  I’ve also decided there’s no use fearing love. It was good to me once and I’m determined to get back to a place where I can freely give my heart away one more time. Since I can’t predict the future, and I know true love is out there, I’m willing to embrace the thought of another happily ever after as daunting as it may seem.

  My faith has definitely wavered over the past months, but my soul is anxious to make new memories. Although it may be time for me to move to the next chapter in my life, I will always keep Ryan’s memory close to my heart. I’ll apply every lesson he taught me as I continue down the path that awaits me. Moving on isn’t about forgetting - it’s about embracing everything that has been holding me back. Everyone deserves a fresh start filled with endless possibilities.

  These are my moments After the Pain.

  I SIT HERE NEXT TO the living room window tuning my guitar. I strum my warm up chords and hum a random melody as tiny raindrops pelt against the glass, creating a staccato beat of their own. Music has become my favorite hobby ever since I sang my heart out at Ryan’s memorial celebration. It never occurred to me that I would have the courage to place myself in such a vulnerable position. It’s honestly one of my greatest achievements to date along with my nursing degree; I just wish it would have been under much different circumstances.

  I’ve also become addicted to performing ever since I realized I could express my grief and anger by simply chaining a few notes together to create a brief moment of bliss. Writing my own lyrics is both therapeutic and calming. When I feel stressed, I pick up my pen and paper, and let my music do the talking. Before long, I come up with a melody to chase away my depressing emotions, replacing them with a purpose.

  Considering I had to get liquored up in order to gather enough courage to go through with my memorial gift to Ryan, I shocked myself when I signed up for an open-mic night at Shorty’s. The lead therapist in my grief counseling group agreed that singing is a healthy way for me to express my grief, rather than keep my emotions bottled up inside where they can become toxic. So, every Wednesday night, I head to Shorty’s and sign my name on the list to perform. I’ve never told any of my family members or friends I do this. Maybe it’s selfish of me to keep this secret, but it’s my therapy, and I feel less pressure if I don’t have a personal connection with anyone in the room. I don’t want to talk about what I feel or what I need to change. I’d rather enjoy my time on the stage instead of dreading it because I’m too worried about someone else’s opinion.

  I should be honest to Sean about where I’m going. He and I have a complicated relationship. We aren’t an official couple yet, but I consider him one of my best friends. He knows I’ve wanted to work on myself, getting my heart and mind in the right place before I try to pursue another relationship. He’s been nothing but patient with me, but I know he wants more. Luckily Alex, my pseudo-brother, works Wednesday evenings at the adoption center, so I never have to lie to him about where I’ll be. He would kill me if he knew, not because I’m doing anything wrong, but because he would want to be in the front row to support me in typical Alex fashion.

  So, here I sit on another Wednesday night waiting for my name to be called. Tonight I’m performing an original called Freeing. I’m not sure how it will be perceived, but it’s a ballad loaded with the turmoil throughout my journey of acceptance. The words of the song sum up my loss perfectly, but tonight after I perform, I won’t let a single syllable come home with me. I need a fresh beginning from here on out as I work on building my forever with Sean. He has no idea I plan on asking him to be my man tonight after I get home. Typically, I’d wait for the guy to ask me, but our situation is unique, so I’m taking matters into my own hands to get exactly what I want.

  Wanting Sean to be my other half used to scare me considering I knew Ryan would probably always hold a piece of my heart. I’ve been told that’s a very natural occurrence following such a tragic loss. It’s okay to keep him with me; I just can’t stop living in the present to dwell on the past. Trust me; it took me a long time to get to this place. I fought it mentally as much as I did emotionally. I have lost, but I continue to gain so muc
h as I let myself truly live. If I’ve learned anything about life this past year, it’s that time is precious.

  I’m a little tentative during the first verse of my song as I try to get my confidence to agree with my ability. By the second verse, the words tumble from my lips effortlessly as I find my groove after the chorus. It’s about me and letting go in this moment, nothing else. The chorus catches on with the bar patrons and I notice some swaying back and forth through my musical journey. As the last notes are sung, I feel alive – ready to take on the world all over again.

  My performance goes just as I’d hoped it might despite the song being an unknown. The crowd applauds wildly, giving me a standing ovation. It’s not like anyone ever gets booed off the stage around here, but to know this room full of strangers accepts me, is actually very freeing.

  My body is still in a state of bliss from the rush of being on stage as I approach my table next to the bar. After I order another drink I hear someone clapping. I turn my head to the right and see a handsome guy sitting at the bar. His hair is a shaggy blond with a few pieces dipping down below his brows. He does a little head flick to get the strands out of his eyes which are very blue, almost turquoise. He has a sexy surfer vibe going on with his distressed jeans and vintage t-shirt with a band name across the front. At least I assume it’s a band and not a brand name. He has several tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of his tee, cascading down his arms. He knows I’m checking him out. Finally his turquoise eyes meet mine and I give him a friendly smile.

  “Nice job, hot shot,” he says to me from his stool. He’s drinking a beer and as I move closer to where he’s seated, I notice he has a guitar case propped up against the bar next to him. I assume he’s here to perform too, but I’ve never seen him at Shorty’s and I never miss a week.

  “Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it. Are you performing here tonight too?” I ask as I tilt my head to the side while trying to decipher the tattoo on his wrist. I could swear it looks like a penis. I doubt that’s what it is though. Who in their right mind would get something like that permanently put on their body?

  “Yeah, I was considering it. You’re a tough act to follow though.”

  “I doubt that but thanks for the compliment.” I sit down on the stool next to him and order some water.

  “Hold up,” he tells the bartender as he swivels his stool to look at me. “Water? Going right for the hard stuff, aren’t ya?” he says jokingly. He looks straight into my eyes while he decides to change my order without even asking, “She wants a screaming orgasm.” The bartender takes his request and gets to work like this sort of thing happens all the time. I, on the other hand, am stunned into silence by his blatant attempt to flirt with me.

  “I’m not drinking that. I have to drive myself home soon,” I tell him.

  He whistles to get the bartenders attention again and says, “Add a water to that.”

  Looking very satisfied with himself I just laugh. “Because the water makes it all better, right? If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to get me drunk.”

  “Who says I’m not?” he says with a wink.

  “You could at least ask me my name before you intoxicate me. It’s Hallie, by the way.” I reach out my hand for him to shake. He looks at it for a few seconds like this is strange behavior before placing his hand in mine.

  “Nice to meet you, Hallie. I’m Colby”

  “Like the cheese?” I ask

  “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that one, I’d be a rich-ass dude.”

  “Maybe you should start charging then.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Is that a penis?” I tried really hard to ignore his tattoo, but I can’t let it go. I feel like there’s a neon sign attached to it that screams ask me about my penis!

  “You must be referring to my tattoo because there’s no mistaking my dick. It’s hard to miss. If you need clarification, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “Wow. You don’t waste any time do you? You go right for the kill.”

  “Eh, I know a good thing when I see it. Why waste time?”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I turn his arm over and do a closer inspection of his body art. It’s definitely a penis. “Damn, it really is.”

  “Oh it is all right,” he says as he laughs at my reaction.

  “I have to know why you got that. Were you drunk?” I ask with curiosity.

  Luke, the manager of the bar, announces Colby is up next before I have a chance to get the dirt on the tattoo. Colby hops off his stool, opens his guitar case and takes out the most amazing instrument I’ve ever seen. The paint job looks custom and as the spotlight above reflects off the paint, I’m momentarily blinded.

  I’m already impressed with his instrument, the actual instrument, just to clarify, and he hasn’t even stepped up to the microphone yet, but when he does, holy shit balls! Colby has the most unique voice I’ve ever heard here at Shorty’s. Not only can he sing; he can work the strings of his guitar like he was born to play. The song he’s singing is new to me yet almost vaguely familiar. He finishes the performance and earns himself his own standing ovation. The talent pool at Shorty’s is deep tonight.

  Colby saunters back over to me at the bar, the cocky smirk on his face telling me he knows how good he just was. I sit on my stool mocking his position after my performance and clap just like he did. “Not so bad yourself, Colby. I’m seriously impressed.”

  “I knew you would be.”

  “Not conceited at all either, what a package!”

  “I usually don’t talk about my package until the second date but since you asked me about it twice now, I’ll let you know it’s pretty spectacular.”

  “You are something, Colby.” I’m cracking up laughing and before I know it, I’ve tossed back my screaming orgasm and am working on the addition to my sex themed drinks, a sex in the shower. I was surprised there was a drink with this name, but Colby seemed to know all the dirty ones. If I intend on getting home in one piece tonight and not ending up in jail for a DUI, I need to start chugging some water.

  We sit and talk for a few minutes and despite wanting to slow the alcohol consumption down, the drinks continue to flow. I’m having such a great time with Colby that I don’t even realize how much I’ve actually had to drink. It’s been a very long time since I’ve gotten wasted — the kind of drunk where everything is hilarious and you wake up with your head in the toilet or passed out on the bathroom floor with a serious case of cotton mouth. We all do it, and we all hate ourselves for in the morning.

  I hear my phone vibrate from inside my purse and I clumsily reach inside my bag to dig it out. I see I have three texts from Sean along with a voicemail. “Shit,” I mumble to myself. “I gotta go, I didn’t realize how late it is, and Sean’s looking for me.”

  “Your boyfriend?” he asks.

  “Well, not exactly. It’s complicated. Sorta, kinda, maybe.” In all honesty Sean doesn’t have an official title yet. I was supposed to be working on that tonight, but here I sit with Colby halfway to being completely trashed. I’m a sucky almost girlfriend.

  “Lucky dude.” He winks at me before downing the rest of his beer. As I signal to the bartender letting him know I’m ready to pay my tab, he shoves his credit card in the bartender’s hand before I ever see the amount I owe.

  “Drinks are on me tonight, Hallie.”

  “What? No way. I can pay for myself. I hardly know you.” I try to shove some cash at Colby but it’s no use. E stuHe already has the bill paid for and is pushing the buttons on his phone.

  “Calling your girl?” I ask. I don’t know why I care enough to even ask him that, but I’ve been drinking so that is enough of a reason for me.

  “You’re the only girl on my radar tonight,” he says as he playfully bumps against my shoulder with his own while waiting for the person on the other end to pick up.

  “Very smooth, Colby.”

  He finishes his
call and says, “I don’t have a girlfriend. You volunteering?” He pulls me off my stool and I have just enough time to plant my feet firmly on the ground so I don’t topple over. Why is it you never realize how much you really drank until you get up and try to walk? My stagger is a dead giveaway that I’ve had too much.

  “Where are you taking me? I’m not going home with you. I’m a lady.” Of course I get a raging case of the hiccups right as I remind him I’m a lady and not a hooker. I see a bright blue cab pull up in front of the bar. Colby yanks on my arm and ushers me into the back seat. He slides in next to me and pulls the door closed behind him. I should be a lot more scared of this situation than I am, but for whatever reason, I don’t feel intimated by him at all. If he had wanted to do something, he had hours to make a move. I am curious why I just got thrown in the back of a cab though.

  “You’re a cute drunk, Hallie. As much as I would love to take you back to my place right now, I’m taking you home and then I’ll get dropped off at my own house. That work for you?”

  “Oh. Thanks. You could have asked before we got in you know. That’s how conversation works. You say something, and then I say something. Give and take.” I hear Colby laugh at me as I rattle off my address to the driver and settle into my seat, resting my head against the cool leather upholstery. My cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and it feels incredible. I don’t even want to think about all the disgusting germs lingering on the surfaces of this ancient cab. Did I mention the thing isn’t even yellow? It’s blue. I may be drunk but even I know a cab is intended to be yellow. Once I stop dwelling on the paint job, I realize I should text Sean to let him know I’m okay so I whip out my phone and answer his last text.

  Hallie: Hey sexy, tis me. I okay. On way hme. Miss yoou. : )

  Sean: Where are you? Are you drunk?

  Hallie: In a BLUE cab. Yes a little. Wanna get naked?

  Sean: You sound a lot drunk. Call me when you get home.

  I’m giggling like a school girl as I type out my texts. I look up and notice Colby watching me as I do my best to peck away at the little keys on my smartphone. Why they make these buttons so damn small is beyond me. The task of a simple text becomes nearly impossible when you add alcohol impairment to the mix.