Shh! (32 page)

The music lulled and a song I knew well blared to life. I grabbed Amber’s hand and pulled her up onto one of the long wooden picnic tables in a corner of the courtyard. She squealed the second she realised what I was up to, and in three seconds flat had her hands above her head, her eyes closed, and was shimmying her body like a pro. I’d definitely found my long-lost twin. Someone wolf whistled below us, but I drowned them all out with singing.

When the music ended, all I could hear was a chant.

He-ex. He-ex. He-ex.

I grinned as I took the plastic cup some guy held up to me. Then Amber joined in the chant and I realised what it was they wanted me to do. I yelled out, “bottom’s up,” and tipped the entire contents of the cup into my mouth. Amber’s name came next and she followed my lead, giving the people what they wanted.

She must have decided it was time to climb down, because she stumbled to the side, and almost fell. We both grabbed hold of each other at the same time and she laughed as if it were the funniest thing ever. Her laugh was amazingly contagious and I burst out too as we both stood there clutching each other by the arms.

When we’d finally pulled ourselves together, I stepped down off the table and right into the personal space of a six-foot-odd hunk of solid muscle. Dark eyes regarded me with a deadly seriousness that shouldn’t be seen in a face that handsome. I held his stare for a long minute. There was no way I would back down to this guy who thought he was all that. His jaw clenched and my god, it was as chiselled as any A-grade movie star’s. A peppering of jet-black stubble gave him a rugged edge, or maybe that came from his shaggy hair. But geez, he needed to give it up already. He was still staring like he was waiting for me to apologise. God only knew how I’d offended him. A quick check proved my feet weren’t stomping his toes.

I raised my right eyebrow.

That made both of his dip.

I held out my hand. “I’m Hex.”

“Hex?” His nose screwed up.

“Yes, Hex.”

“Weird name.”

“No weirder than your attitude.”

“You should slow down.”

“Excuse me?”

“With the drink. You should slow down.”

“And you should piss off.”

Who did this guy think he was? He was a tool, that’s who. Probably some member of the anti-fun brigade, and that was too bad, because damn, his whole look was amazing.

A laugh burst from him so suddenly, I flinched, and realised our hands were still clasped. “Jordan,” he said, like he’d only just remembered he hadn’t told me his name.

“Well, the pleasure was all yours, Jordan.” I retracted my hand. “Don’t party too hard, now.”

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In many ways writing Shh! was a huge step out of my comfort zone, but I’m so glad I took that leap. There are many people I need to thank for pushing me into writing this book, into publishing, and most of all into believing I could do this.

As always, my family and in particular my hubby were my biggest supporters. Without their loving support I could never be the writer I am. So, thank you for the constant love and encouragement, and for being my first fans.

I need to send out a huge thank you to the ever patient Keely Crosbie. Thank you for answering my endless questions about life on campus today. It is true that I was once a college student, but you ensured all my knowledge was up to date. Good luck in this year’s MB comp!

My twisted pea, ST Bende. If ever there was a born and bred cheerleader it is you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for urging me to write this book. When I said what about a girl with Sexomnia, you could have said no, write MORE JAX, but you didn’t and because of that we got Logan. For encouraging me when I thought I couldn’t write this story. Whenever I had a moment of doubt you were there telling me that I could, reading my terrible first draft and assuring me that it rocked.

The ever fabulous Anabel is always at the other end of my phone. Whether it’s for a brainstorming sessions, help naming a character, or just to chat about books. You encourage me in so many ways, and for that I am ever thankful. You always read and reread my stories, your generosity knows no bounds. I heart you.

Ah Lauren McKellar, guess what? Contemporary romance is my genre now too. I love you. Thank you for being there through all the yo-yos of will or won’t I, which is the right publishing path for this book, oh-my-god have I made the right decision? You never once influenced me one way or another, but were always amazingly supportive. Then when I decided to bring Shh! into the world, you helped me every step of the way. I’d be lost without you.

Also huge a thank you to Suz and Kim for reading Logan and Olivia’s story with a fine tooth comb. You ladies are the best. As is my support network; Aussie and Owned and Read, Hunter Romance Writers, thanks for keeping me on the straight and narrow with goals and deadlines, and just well, everything.

My talented cover artist, KA Last, of KILA Designs, you are one clever lady. The art you’ve created is perfect for Olivia’s story. Max Effects did a wonderful job with the formatting, and even though I’ve already mentioned the wonderful Lauren McKellar it must also be noted that she is the best editor. 

But the hugest thank you of all goes out to all my readers, the Nash-alohic street team, all the bloggers and readers who’ve supported me since Forget Me Not. You are the most important people in this whole process. I am so grateful for each and every person who takes time out of their busy schedules to read and enjoy my books. Readers rock!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stacey Nash calls the Hunter Valley of New South Wales, Australia home. An area nestled between mountains and vineyards, its history and culture have always called to her. Stacey has loved reading for as long as she can remember, so it’s no wonder she finally opened a word document and wrote chapter one. Stacey made her publishing debut in 2014 with a young adult novel titled
Forget Me Not
. Writing for the young and new adult market, Stacey’s books are all adventure filled stories with a lot of adventure, a good dose of danger, a smattering of romance, and plenty of KISSING!

You can connect with Stacey via

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To stay up to date with new releases and upcoming titles be sure to sign up for Stacey’s newsletter at the
www.stacey-nash.com

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The Problem With Crazy.

By Lauren K. McKellar

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The Problem With Crazy.

By Lauren K. McKellar

In books, people say that bad news can make you look older. I hadn’t really seen evidence of that before, but looking at my parents, I could definitely see the toll of time wearing on their faces and bodies: slumped shoulders, crushed foreheads, tired eyes. My middle-aged parents had become old.

“Katie, I’m sorry.” Dad raised his head and looked at me. His blue eyes were surrounded by fiery-red streaks from the tears he’d shed, little spidery veins of sadness.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Th … there’s more.”

I clutched the edge of my seat, my fingernails digging deep into the creamy suede material. What else could there possibly be? What could possibly be worse than a disease that was going to make him half a man?

“I’m … I’m going to die.”

The words ricocheted through my body.

Die.

My dad was going to die.

“He doesn’t mean in the ‘everyone-is-going-to-die-one-day’ way, sweetie, he means—”

“Mum, I know what he means.” I snapped my lips together.

“H … how long?”

“Prognosis is good. About fifteen to twenty years.” Mum stared at her nails, unable to make eye contact.

“Wow.” I thought about all the things that would happen in the next fifteen to twenty years. I’d move out. I’d have a tour management career. I’d get married. I’d have children. They’d grow up, and Dad would be there for some of it, but not all of it. One day, my dad was going to die, and my kids may not ever have known him except as a distant memory.

One day, I was going to have to face the world alone.

Without him.

Even more without him than I’d been for the last three-hundred and seventy-something days.

“This is just—it’s a lot to take in.” I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

I stood from my seat and crossed the room, hovering over him with my arms extended in an awkward sort of way while Mum, reluctant to leave his side, extended one of her hands to my shoulder.

I felt myself still as time slowed down. My hand was on Dad’s shoulder, and he wasn’t hugging me back. It was surreal, this moment, seeing the drool as it pooled in the corner of my father’s lip. Was this really happening?

“How sweet.” I heard Dave before I saw him. He’d walked in the door without knocking. For the first time ever, I wished he were a tiny bit less familiar with my home.

“Hi.” I quickly disentangled myself from our embrace and smoothed down my shirt, before walking to Dave’s side. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and handed me a weighted plastic bag.

“I bought ice cream,” he smiled, “but only for three.” The last sentence was directed with a cool gaze in Dad’s direction. I elbowed Dave in the ribs. Couldn’t he see that my father was upset?

“Deb, do you need me to remove any unwanted guests?” Dave took a step towards my parents. His knuckles were fisted, white bones showing through. Mum shook her head, no.

“Can you help me pop these in the freezer?” I grabbed the plastic bag from Dave’s hands and walked to the kitchen. He followed.

The second we were alone, he cornered me against the bench, his arms on either side of mine so my body pressed hard up against his.

“Now I can give you a proper hello,” he whispered in my ear and started nibbling against it.

“Dave.” I sighed, and gave him a nudge. He ignored me, pressing closer still.

“Dave. Seriously.” This time I gave him a shove, and he stumbled backward. I pushed away from the bench and opened the freezer to put the ice cream in.

“What’s your problem?” His arms were folded and his face was grim.

“Dave, it’s Dad,” I whispered. “He’s sick.” Even as I said it, the words seemed surreal. How did I describe an illness I barely knew anything about myself?

“Like, a sick idiot who ruined graduation?” I punched Dave on the shoulder. How could he be so tactless when I was trying to tell him something important?

“Stop being such a shit,” I hissed. “He has a disease. Something starting with
H
.” The actual name escaped me. I hadn’t heard of it before today. There was no “day” or “month” to honour it, like there was with cancer or MS.

This disease was going to steal my father from me—and it wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard of.

“What sort of disease?”

“It affects everything. He’s going to lose control of his speech, his movement—and then he’s going to die.” I felt tears well in my eyes and forced them back. Dave put his arms around me and I collapsed into him. I breathed in his cologne as he stroked my hair.

“How long?”

“Mum said maybe fifteen to twenty years? He’s going to die,” I repeated the words, with little to no inflection. I was removed from myself, from this scene.

“You’ll be okay.”

His words were of no direct comfort to me, but feeling his arms take my weight and support my body helped. I stood there for a moment, losing myself in him, and let my thoughts fly. I was angry Dad hadn’t told us, furious he’d run away, and devastated about the whole situation. I’d never felt so many emotions before: mad, upset, protective, confused, and hurt. Was this normal? To feel everything, all at once?

“I have to go back out there.” I forced out the words. I pulled back to look at Dave’s face, his pale skin, his electric-green eyes … he looked so steady, so sure. I wanted to stay in his arms forever.

“We’ll go together.”

Dave placed his hand on the small of my back and led me back into the living room where my parents waited.

“Kate told me.” Dave walked over to the couch. “And I’m sorry, man. That’s really rough.” He stretched his arm out and took Dad’s hand, pumping twice before joining me on the opposite couch. Dad’s forehead creased up.

“Paul.” Dad nodded slowly.

“You’ve met Dave, dear, that’s Kate’s boyfriend.”

“Dave,” Dad repeated, stretching the word out on his tongue.

Everything my parents had said became somehow more real. Dad had met Dave before, many times. And yet, here he was, acting like he was being introduced to a total stranger. Memory loss.

Wow.

“Dude, you like, came to some of our concerts.”

I gave a sharp kick to Dave’s ankle.

“Kate, I know you must have a lot of questions,” Mum said. “So feel free to ask us anything, anytime. I’m still—I’m still trying to take it all in myself.”

“O … okay.” I’d never stuttered so much in my life.

“And there is something else we need to tell you, dear.”

“Deb, not now. Give ‘er a rest,” Dad interjected, his voice sounding ever more weary with each passing word.

“What? Tell me.” My fingers clenched into tiny fists. “What could possibly be worse than what you’ve already said?” I felt Dave place his arm protectively around my shoulders.

“Maybe we should wait.” Mum eyed Dave’s hand.

“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of him.” I shook my head. “He’s family. You know that.” Dave and I locked eyes, and he gave me a special little smile.

“Kate, it’s not a good time.” Mum’s voice was shrill. My heart was beating like a jackhammer,
thud-thud-thud
, over and over in double-time.

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll Google it. I’ll just search the disease and see what I can find. We both will.”