On the Rocks (Pub Fiction Book 2)
Pub Fiction – Book 2
by
Gillian Jones
Copyright © 2015 Gillian Jones
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Inquiries please email
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Gillian Jones is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
First eBook edition: Dec 2015
Editing: Quoth the Raven Writing Co., and Deliciously Wicked Editing Service
Cover design: © Ashbee Designs
Image: Shauna Kruse
Models: Josh McCann and Chelsea Kristine
Formatting: Paul Salvette
To the two A.G.’s. You are everything…
Fall seven times, stand up eight.
—Japanese proverb
Always.
xx
“The person who completes suicide dies once. Those left behind die a thousand deaths, trying to relive those terrible moments and understand …
why
?”
(Clark 2001)
(can be found on Spotify)
Personal Jesus – Original Seven Inch Version – Depeche Mode
I Want to Believe – Sass Jordan
Guilty As Sin (explicit version) – Dan Talevski
Where Are Ü Now (with Justin Bieber) – Jack Ü, Skrillex, Diplo, Justin Bieber
Your Body Is a Wonderland – John Mayer
Lost On The Way Home (feat. Solange) – Chromeo, Solange
Where It All Begins (feat. Lady Antebellum) – Hunter Hayes, Lady Antebellum
Girls Just Want to Have Fun – Cyndi Lauper
We Belong Together – Mariah Carey
Follow Your Arrow – Kacey Musgraves
Dark Times – The Weeknd, Ed Sheeran
A Real Hero – College & Electric Youth
Can’t Feel My Face – The Weeknd
Omen – Radio Edit – Disclosure, Sam Smith
See You Again (feat. Charlie Puth) – Wiz Khalifa, Charlie Puth
Mad World (Feat. Michael Andrews) – Gary Jules, Michael Andrews
What Do You Mean? – Justin Bieber
God Gave Me You – Blake Shelton
Learning To Love Again – Mat Kearney
Full Of Grace – Sarah McLachlan
#Beautiful – Mariah Carey, Miguel
Braunwyn
Four years ago, losing the love of my life almost destroyed me.
Years of being labeled and looked upon with disdain by everyone in my hometown almost wrecked me.
Four years ago, I became a mother and together we were enough…until I met
him
.
He wanted to rebuild my broken—I just didn’t know how to let him.
This is my story, of how one man’s love changed everything I thought I knew about life, love and myself.
Can Levi Eddison prove to be my restoration?
Levi
Everything in my world changed the day Braunwyn Daniels walked into my pub.
She was a woman of many contradictions. I recognized the happiness and sorrow each fighting its way to the surface from deep within.
I was drawn to her immediately.
Behind her long legs, chestnut brown hair and beautiful eyes lay a damaged soul.
I needed to change that—I just didn’t know how.
This is my story of how I met a broken girl and vowed to make her whole.
In the end, it turns out I knew nothing about true happiness until Braunwyn Daniels let me love her.
Braunwyn
I
stand stock-still
as I read the letter, the words written in his messy scrawl. I can’t stop myself from reading it again and again, sentences I want to make disappear.
“Wynnie, don’t blame yourself.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Forgive me.”
Still not believing the words, or the fact that this is really happening, my eyes move over the rest of the letter.
No, please. Shawn, no.
I close my eyes, my heart knows what my mind refuses to believe.
He’s gone.
I read the blurred lines over and over through my tears, replaying the words like a song I can’t get out of my head.
“Don’t blame yourself.”
How can I not?
“Move on.”
How can I?
“I love you and our baby.”
If that’s true, then how could you do this to us?
“Find someone else who will take care of both of you.”
Why? Was I that terrible? How could you?
I stand in the living room of our shabby two-bedroom apartment in the small town of Mount Forest, watching, trying to listen as the coroner speaks to a police officer in the corridor. I watch as two body removal attendants wheel away a stretcher carrying a black bag, a bag that holds the body of my 18-year-old boyfriend.
No, please don’t take him. Please. I need him.
I’d come home from grocery shopping, planning on surprising Shawn with his favourite dinner, and excited to show him the new crib set I’d found on sale. It was perfect. The night I had planned was going to be low-key and relaxing. He’d been having a bad week, was moody, quiet, somewhat withdrawn. I was determined to cheer him up.
Once inside the apartment, an eerie feeling had passed through my body. Shaking it off, I dropped the shopping bags on the kitchen counter before running to the washroom.
Always running to the washroom.
That’s when I found him. My Shawn. Lying in the bathtub, completely still, eyes open, his mouth somewhat ajar.
It took me a moment to comprehend the scene unfolding in front of me. To understand this was really happening, that this was real. That I needed to believe what I was seeing.
Blood.
So much blood.
Water.
Razor blades.
An envelope.
More blood.
So much blood.
My Shawn.
Dead.
“Oh, God,” is all I can manage as sobs wrack my body. I clench my swollen belly, trying to comfort our unborn daughter and myself, and fall to the ground clutching the suicide note.
Shawn’s suicide note. A note trying to explain what I will never understand. A note I still can’t believe I had the nerve to pick up off the floor.
The police officer touches my shoulder as she gently removes the crumpled paper and envelope from my shaking hand, bringing me back to the here and now. She helps me lie back on the carpet and then a paramedic appears from somewhere and slips a blood pressure cuff on me. It squeezes my left arm like a boa constrictor, but I don’t care. I hear their radios beeping and chattering.
What the hell am I going to do?
Braunwyn
“B
raun, honey you’re
going to be late for your interview if we don’t all get moving.” Grams says, handing me a cup of steaming caffeinated goodness before she flips the last pancake onto a plate. “Why don’t you eat then get everything you need for the day, I’ll tend to Emme.”
I take the mug, steam billowing off the top. Thank you, Juan Valdez and friends, for bringing coffee to my mornings. I smile and take a sip. Its warmth fills my veins and causes me to sigh with pleasure. Glancing at the tiny microwave clock, I cringe.
Shoot. Gram’s right.
I have to hustle.
Today is a big day for the Daniels clan. I have my first job interview at a bar called Pub Fiction, and Emmerson is starting Junior Kindergarten. As for my Grams, she gets to bear witness to her girls venturing further out into the big bad world, outside of university and playgroups.
I’ll be starting back at Brock University next week, and I’m excited to be close to the finish line. It wasn’t easy staying on track after having a baby, but with Grams’ help and the genius of on-line courses, I’ve been able to keep on schedule. I did have to take a few summer classes, but it’s not like I was busy doing anything else other than being with my sweet Little Miss, so it worked out perfectly. I’m working toward my Masters Degree in Child and Youth studies to become a social worker.
As it’s my final year, I’ll have a bit more of a flexible timetable, especially since I don’t have a full course load—taking courses every summer definitely paid off. With Grams home at night, I’m able to get a job working evenings because Emmerson will most likely be sleeping by the time I’d have to start. If all goes well today and I get the job at Pub Fiction, that would be ideal. On top of wanting to pad my resume with some “human interactions”, I need all the money I can get.
Money for school has always come from government loans and scholarships, along with a few bursaries (and Grams when I’ve been desperate). I hate asking her especially after all she’s done, not that she minds. In fact, she’s always trying to give me money, saying: “it’s no good to me when I’m dead,” but I don’t take it unless I have to. Not after her taking us in and helping me out with Emmerson so much. It’s totally my hang-up; it’s something I struggle with. I hope I get this job so I can start making my own way.