Don't Say Goodbye (Taphouse Blues Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Other Title by Heather Lyn

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Don’t Say Goodbye

  Copyright © 2018 by Heather Lyn.

  Cover Design: MGBookcovers

  Formatting: Jersey Girl Design

  Photographer: FuriousFotog

  Cover Model: Robert Kelly

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to retailer and purchase.

  Warning: This book contains scenes related to domestic violence and abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

  OTHER TITLES BY HEATHER LYN

  HEARTS ON FIRE SERIES

  Hearts Ablaze

  Burning Love

  Heart’s Desire

  Unexpected Flames

  THE JACKSON TRILOGY

  Fighting for Us

  TAPHOUSE BLUES SERIES

  Stay With Me

  Don’t Say Goodbye

  For Leaona:

  You inspire me every single day.

  You’re a bright light in the darkest room.

  I cherish our friendship.

  Thank you.

  I love you always.

  xo

  PROLOGUE

  Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I run a brush through my long brown hair. My brown eyes are empty, red-rimmed, and puffy. Setting my brush on the vanity, I take a deep breath and apply makeup to the dark bruises marring my skin. As I dab some concealer on, I clench my eyes shut at the reminder of Graham’s latest episode.

  Seven years ago, I was just a college graduate with my entire future ahead of me. But that night I agreed to be his wife, my life changed. We got married three months later, and only a month after that he hit me for the first time. Shocked and devastated, I rushed to the bedroom to pack where he dropped to his knees, pleading with me to forgive him.

  And like the coward I am, I took him back.

  Every. Single. Time.

  I fell in love with Graham in our junior-year business class. I wanted to open my own clothing store, and he wanted to start a real estate company. Tall at six foot two, his blond hair and deep green eyes drew me in. He treated me like gold, taking me out every weekend. I gave him all of me, virginity included, and he set it all up in flames.

  I have no idea who I am anymore. The violence has only become worse, and I’m scared every time I see that look in his eyes. The pure hatred. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. Now, instead of owning the business I always dreamed of, I’m stuck in our house, waiting on him hand and foot. Three years ago, Graham opened his own company with his best friend, and it took off like a bat out of hell. It’s thriving, and he makes sure I know every day that every dime is his.

  I have to force the memories away, my hands shaking on the granite vanity. Counting to ten, I take a couple of deep breaths, trying hard to gain control of my emotions. We’re supposed to go to my mother’s house tonight for dinner. She’s all I have in this world, and I need to make sure there are no traces of Graham’s earlier actions.

  Usually he makes sure to hurt me in ways that don’t show. Twisting my arms, pulling my hair, slaps—they don’t leave marks as often. But he used his fists to take out his frustration this time, and unfortunately my face took a few of the main blows.

  When I’m satisfied I look okay, I straighten my shoulders and march out of the bathroom. Grabbing my purse that I left lying on the bed, I sling it over my shoulder and head downstairs to where Graham is waiting, finding him pacing in the foyer. He looks up at me with anger all over his face.

  “Take long enough? Let’s get this fucking evening over with. I have a meeting tonight.”

  Trying to hide my emotions, I brush past him to slip my feet into the heels I left by the door last night. He likes me dressed in fancy clothes, shoes that hurt my feet. I always have to look the picture-perfect image of his wife. By ‘meeting,’ I’m assuming he’ll be meeting up with one of his many female companions. We’ve been married just over seven years, and he hasn’t touched me sexually in four. Not that I’d want to even if he did.

  “I’m sorry, Graham,” I mutter, turning to face him.

  “Just shut up, Sadie. I’m not in the mood to hear your shit.”

  Grabbing the car keys off the table, he goes to open the door behind me when his cell phone starts ringing. Answering it, he strides right out the front door, leaving me behind. For just a moment, I imagine myself not following him. Instead, I’m running far away, never looking back.

  One day.

  Pulling the front door closed behind me, I head down the walkway to where his Mercedes is parked. I only make it a handful of steps before he’s turning back toward me.

  “I’m dropping you off and going to meet Nick.”

  “But we’re having dinner with Mom. She’s looking forward to seeing us.”

  “Don’t care.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I let out a huff. “Forget it. I’ll drive myself,” I say, turning to go back inside. Graham comes up behind me and unlocks the door for me, and then he’s gone, climbing into his car in seconds.

  “Asshole,” I grumble, slamming the door shut behind me. Kicking off my heels, I rush upstairs to change into a pair of flats, then grab the keys to our BMW and head out. Climbing in, I crank the engine and back out of our driveway.

  The short drive to my mom’s is made quietly. I don’t bother with music, my thoughts too loud in my head. For the first time in my almost twenty-nine years on this earth, I’m tired. Tired of the abuse. The depression. But mostly I’m done with not knowing who I am anymore.

  Graham has taken every ounce of my old self and destroyed it. I need to get away from him, need to start over. And I’m fucking terrified. I have no idea what to do.

  Pulling into my mom’s driveway, I park next to her older model Ford and climb out, not bothering to lock my doors. Strolling up to the front door, I let myself in with my own key.

  “Mom, I’m here.” Dropping my purse on the couch, I go into the kitchen, finding it silent and empty. “Mom?” I take the narrow hallway toward her room, the door half closed. Pushing it open, I step into the room, my world changing forever.

  Lying in the center of the bed, she looks like she’s asleep. I gently try waking her up with a hand on her shoulder. When she doesn’t move, I lay my hand flat on her chest, but before I can jostle her, I realize her chest isn’t rising.

  “Mom!�
� Frantically I shake her, my pulse racing. I run out to the living room, finding my cell phone in my purse. My finger’s shake as I dial 911, tears spilling down my cheeks.

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  “My mom, she’s not breathing. I don’t know what happened!” Stumbling back to the bedroom, I do as the operator tells me, performing CPR on the woman who gave me life, the only person in this world who loves me. My entire life.

  I have no idea how long I try to save my mother before the sirens sound in the driveway. I don’t stop until I’m being pulled off my mom, told to step aside so they can help her. I watch in horror as they do everything they can for her. Walking backward, I hit the wall and slide down it, teeth chattering as I cry. A police car pulls in, lights flashing wildly.

  I’m broken from my daze by one of the paramedics crouching in front of me, their eyes sad. “I’m so sorry, but she’s gone.”

  “No, you have to save her. Please.”

  “We tried everything, but she was already gone.”

  Shaking my head, I force myself to stand up, taking the few steps over to the bed. Bending over, I rest my head on her chest and cry, gripping one of her hands in mine.

  “Please, you can’t leave me, Mom. I need you too much. I love you, please.”

  Gentle hands pull me back and I fight against them, not wanting to let her go. The officer holding on to me guides me out to the living room, helping me sit on the couch. I’m asked questions I don’t want to answer. I ask questions they can’t answer.

  My mother is gone. Nothing can make this okay.

  Hours later, I arrive back home, eyes swollen and hurting, but not nearly as bad as my heart. Words like ‘autopsy’ and ‘funeral arrangements’ aren’t ones I ever thoughts I’d hear.

  The house is empty, Graham not home yet from his evening plans. Silently, I walk up the stairs to the bedroom, unable to feel or think. Stripping down to my underwear, I pull a tank on and climb into bed, pulling the blankets over my head. Burying my face in my pillow, I cry, soaking the pillowcase with my heartache.

  I never heard Graham come home, unable to sleep all night. When the sun rises, I head into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. The bruises from yesterday stand out against my pale skin. Pulling on my robe, I head down to the kitchen to make some coffee.

  I’m just taking the canister out of the cabinet when the sound of the front door opening breaks the silence. A moment later, Graham comes walking in the kitchen, still dressed in his clothes from the night before. He tosses his jacket onto the kitchen island and trains his eyes on me, disgust laced through his features.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper, going about loading the coffeepot.

  He maneuvers around me to grab the orange juice from the fridge.

  “Why are there dirty dishes in here?” he asks, motioning toward the sink.

  “I didn’t have a chance to do them,” I say, placing the coffee back in the cabinet.

  “Didn’t have a chance? What, while you were sitting around on your lazy ass doing nothing?”

  “No.”

  “Fucking clean this mess up, then. For God’s sake, you’re as useless as a fucking wet towel.”

  Tears brim in my eyes as I go over to the sink. They spill over when I see what he’s so pissed off at—three glasses and a couple plates.

  Quickly I get them clean, and I’m placing the final glass in the strainer when he painfully grabs my arm, spinning me around until he’s in my face.

  “Christ, what is it gonna take for you to get that I’m the one in charge here? You do what I say, when I say it. Got it, bitch?”

  “Got it,” I repeat, brushing away the tears on my cheeks.

  “You disgust me.”

  Roughly shoving me back, he places his empty glass in the sink, and I force myself to say the words that cause me more pain than his hands just did.

  “My mom died.”

  Looking over his shoulder, he trains his eyes on me. I somehow hope he’ll show me sympathy. Maybe an ounce of love. The twenty-year-old Graham I fell in love with would have, but this man in front of me is a stranger. And his answer only wounds me further.

  “So fucking what?”

  My eyes close at his words, the pain searing through my heart. His footsteps echo through the house as he moves upstairs, leaving me alone with my grief.

  Dropping to my knees in the middle of the kitchen floor, I sob loudly, never feeling more alone or broken.

  My life will never be the same. And I have no idea how I’m going to continue on.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nacole

  Six Months Later

  Slapping my palm on top of the alarm clock makes the shrill beeping die as I roll over, the sun streaming right into my face. Grumbling, I push myself up from the bed to a sitting position. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I yawn and stumble to the bathroom, hurrying through my normal routine before heading back to my bedroom to get dressed.

  As I’m pulling on a pair of jeans, I glance over at the clock—8:00 a.m. I have an interview today at this sports bar in Nashville. I never thought at almost thirty years old I’d be working as a waitress when I have a business degree. But here we are.

  Satisfied with my simple outfit of a black sweater and jeans, I make my way to the kitchen for coffee. My interview isn’t until ten, but I only have a couple street directions on a piece of paper. When I received the call the other day about coming in, I explained that I didn’t have GPS on my cell phone and I was given the basic instructions. I only have a couple hundred dollars left over from what I came to Tennessee with.

  Almost four months ago, I left Graham Ward. After losing Mom, I was completely lost in my grief. I wanted to have a service for her, but she was cremated, much to my devastation. He didn’t even allow me to purchase an urn for her. I still have her in the cardboard box the funeral home gave me.

  Two weeks after her death, I received a phone call from a lawyer I’d never heard of. My mom left everything to me and had given her lawyer a letter to give me. Inside, she told me that she had been putting money aside for years. It’s for me to do with as I please, but Graham was to never know. She hoped that someday I could be rid of him.

  She knew everything.

  All those years I thought I was clever at hiding bruises, any injuries, but I should’ve known. Mom knew me better than anybody. She didn’t have much, but between her life insurance and her savings, I had a large nest egg of about $100,000. While that’s not a whole hell of a lot in San Diego, it’s more than enough in a small Tennessee town.

  Graham never let me have much of anything, but the one thing I did have for years was time. I spent all my time waiting on him hand and foot, and the one thing I loved more than anything was country music. I still do. It’s soothing, and it heals my heart. When I started looking into leaving my husband, the first place I thought of was Nashville. Starting over was scary, and while I find myself looking over my shoulder at every noise, I know it was worth it.

  Check from my mom’s lawyer, Mr. Hale, in hand, I pull the large glass doors to the bank open and stroll inside, eyes darting around, sure Graham followed me. Making my way up to the teller, I inform her that I need to open an account with just my name on it.

  Thirty minutes later, I leave the bank with a navy folder and an account with six figures—all of which my husband knows nothing about. My next move is to leave, and the sooner the better. My body can’t take any more abuse, nor can my mind handle the pain another day. Losing Mom showed me just how big of a monster I’m married to.

  Every night, he comes home wanting dinner to be ready. Then I’m to leave him alone for the remainder of the evening. If dinner is even a minute later than he wants, I have to be ‘dealt with’ somehow. Last night he almost broke my arm, he twisted it so far back. Luckily I had some painkillers left over from his last episode and the throbbing has dulled enough for me to function.

 
Climbing into the Mercedes, I toss the folder on the passenger seat and hang my head, tears burning my eyes. “I’m doing it, Momma. I promise. I’m gonna get away.”

  Wiping at my face, I start the car and pull out into traffic, heading toward the law office I found online. I can do this. I just need to hang on a little longer

  I’m broken from my thoughts by my cell phone ringing loudly on the counter. Glancing at the screen, I find my attorney’s name flashing on it.

  “Hello?” I answer, gripping the phone tightly.

  “Mrs. Ward, Mitchell Hale here.”

  “Mr. Hale, yes. How are you?” I swallow down the bile at even the mere mention of my last name.

  “I’m doing just fine. So listen, last we spoke, you still hadn’t filed from your husband. We have the documentation of his abuse, so I wanted to see if you’d changed your mind.”

  “No. I’m not ready. I know I’m being stupid, but the repercussions of filing for divorce….”

  “I understand, but with what we have against him, there would be no defense for him.”

  “Still. Once I’m ready to take him on, I will. Right now I need to rest my mind. Mom hasn’t been gone that long, Mr. Hale.”

  “Please, call me Mitchell. You’ll let me know when you’re ready, yes?”

  “Of course. I can never thank you enough for everything.”

  “You’re welcome. You doing okay? You’re safe?”

  “Yes. Trying to move on. I have a job interview today, and then I can start finding a permanent home. This apartment is terrifying.”

  “Terrifying?”

  “Yeah. It’s this rickety old place, spiders everywhere, and I can hear my neighbors fighting at all hours of the night.”

  “You know you have—”

  I cut him off, knowing exactly what he’s gonna say. “I know Mom left me enough money to take care of a better place to live, but I don’t want to touch it. I don’t want her money. I want her.” My voice breaks off and I fight through the still raw emotions. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Honey, can I be frank with you?”