Behind the Pitch, a novella: Seeking Serenity 1.5
Copyright © 2014 Eden Butler
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author Publisher.
Edited by Sharon B. Browning
Cover Design by Steven Novack
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin,
Fictional Formats
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following word-marks and references mentioned in this work of fiction:
(Literature/Authors)
The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences series by Pip Ballaentine and Tee Morris, “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee,
(Film/Television)
“Doctor Who,” BBC, Steven Moffat,
(Music/Artist)
“I Got A Woman,” Ray Charles, “I Will Survive,”
Gloria Gaynor,
“Nothing Compares 2U,” Prince;
Sinéad O’Connor
;
(Locales)
The City of Nashville, Tennessee, The Great Smoky Mountains National Park;
(Miscellaneous)
Newcastle Brown Ale, Heineken.
THEN ~ Five Months and Three Weeks Ago
THEN ~ Four Months and Two Weeks Ago
For Ing, who called dibs on Declan first.
Note:
This novella takes an alternative Point of View from the novel
“Chasing Serenity”
(Book One of the Seeking Serenity series); reading the original novel first is highly recommended.
The timeline in this novella shifts from present (Now) to past (Then) and takes place
prior
to the epilogue of “Chasing Serenity.”
Irish expat Declan Fraser met graduate student Autumn McShane amid the fire and confusion of undergrad hazing and too much whiskey. He isn’t proud of his drunken approach or the Neanderthal way in which he groped her that night on the rugby pitch. He can only excuse this behavior by saying that whiskey and a beautiful woman can make a lad completely forget that he normally is not a wanker.
Through that first impetuous and rather embarrassing encounter, Declan and Autumn’s lives would be irrevocably changed.
He still apologizes for being a drunken arsehole.
He’ll never apologize for kissing her.
One day this pain will make sense to you.
Love, Rugby
The same can be said of love.
I’m convinced love makes you stupid.
How does anyone believe that not to be the case? For a time, I didn’t mind being a stupid wanker. I thought maybe, just maybe, the great well of shite my life has been was becoming a bit shallower.
Now I mind a bit more.
The plastic chair I’m sitting in squeaks when I stretch and the crack in the surface pinches my back. Guess cops don’t really care if their suspects are comfortable in this station. This town is so small, I doubt the cops even have a proper holding cell. At least
that
would have a cot for me to lay down on.
“Dude, you’re dripping.”
I look at Donovan with a frown I’m sure tells him what a ruddy arsehole I think he is. “What?”
He twists his chin at me, to the plastic Ziploc bag filled with ice I have been forced to keep on my swollen cheek. “It’s dripping.”
“Like you fecking care,” I tell him.
“Declan, I said I was sorry. I don’t know what happened, man. Honest.”
When I glare at him, my supposed best mate slinks down in his chair, pulls his fingers through his messy blonde hair. He doesn’t know what made him take a swing at me? Well, I sure as hell do.
It wasn’t my sodding idea. Layla thought we could discuss Autumn’s anger. Her other friends, Sayo and Mollie, were staying well out of this entire debacle. But Layla wanted my side of things before she decided if she should refuse to talk to me. I’ll admit, I was desperate. I’d likely have agreed to just about anything to get my ginger angel to speak to me again. The pub had been loud and Autumn saw me and Layla at the corner of the bar, inching toward each other to hear over the noise of the crowd. She made some assumptions. Like I’d ever be interested in anyone but her. She was fecking gorgeous with long, thick ginger hair and about a billion freckles. Fit body that is tight in all the right places. She’s funny and smart and has had me wrapped around her bleeding finger since that first time I kissed her in the library basement. She knows that. So how could she think I was trying to chat up one of her best mates? The light dimmed in Autumn’s eyes. She frowned. Betrayal was written all over her face and the tight grip that clutched my heart at that expression, made me blind to Donovan’s fist flying toward my face. It seems my best mate made some assumptions of his own.
That bugger has a vicious right hook.
Donovan is slumped over in the seat next to me, resting his elbows on his knees, shaking his head as though he can’t sort out what made him react that way, seeing Layla inching toward me.
A quick glance down at the poor sod and I decide to cut him a break.
“You fancy her.”
Immediately, his head jerks toward me. “What? Don’t be stupid.”
My cheek aches when I smile. It’s the first one I’ve managed since Autumn and I had our fight two days ago. “You’re a stupid bollocks, Donovan. You and Layla have been going after each other for months now. Get on with it, mate. You’re driving us all mad.”
“What the hell are you—”
“Don’t be thick. You lot have been pranking each other for ages and when you’re not doing that, you’re screaming at each other.” The ache in my cheek worsens when the smile goes wide. “That’s a long bout of foreplay, mate.”
“It’s not…she’s not—”
Now Donovan’s face goes all red and splotchy and he gives up his protests, abandoning me for the water fountain next to the lady cop typing at her desk. He gulps down the cool water like he hasn’t had a drink in ages and the woman at the desk eyes him hard.
Poor wanker. I can relate. I’m the biggest wanker of all. It’s because of Autumn that I was, and until just a couple of days ago I couldn’t care less about me being love’s bitch.
But then, that bleeding letter had to come from Ireland and Joe finally told me a secret he had been holding on to for years. Him and his fecking secrets. Should have known it would have blown up, would have driven a wedge between Autumn and me.
“I should have told you, Deco.” Joe went all fidgety, headed straight for the liquor cabinet and a half empty bottle of Scotch. I knew it was bad then. He hadn’t drank a drop in months. One massive heart attack and a near death experience had blunted his taste for the drink. But that day, his hands shook when he pushed the glass to his lips and he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Joe had been my father since I was a teenager. He’d never lied to me, not about anything important. He’d taken care of me when my mum died. He’d been the only father I’ve ever known, but when the lawyers sent that letter to me, and Joe couldn’t quite make his eyes stay trained on my face, I felt like I didn’t know him at all. “I didn’t want to upset you, you see.”
