You Again Read online

  You Again

  ◆◆◆

  Copyright 2020 Monica Clayton

  Published by M.E. Clayton

  All Rights Reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The entire content is a product of the author’s imagination and all names, places, businesses, and incidences are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), places or occurrences, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner, whatsoever, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Formatting: Smashwords

  Cover: Adobe Stock

  Warning: This book contains sexual situations and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 years of age and over.

  Table of Contents

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  Author's Note

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Prologue

  1. Henley

  2. Dash

  3. Henley

  4. Dash

  5. Henley

  6. Dash

  7. Henley

  8. Dash

  9. Henley

  10.Dash

  11. Henley

  12. Dash

  13. Henley

  14. Dash

  15. Henley

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Contact Me

  Newsletter Sign-Up

  Author’s Note

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  Just a couple of things before I let you go and get your read on. While I am doing my best to work with better editing and proofreading software, all my books are solo, independent works. I write my books, proofread my books, edit my books, create the covers, etc. I have one beta who gives me feedback on my stories, but other than that, all my books are independent projects.

  That being said, I apologize, in advance, for the typos, grammar inconsistencies, or any other mistakes I may make. Since writing is strictly a hobby for me, I haven’t looked into commitments in regard to publishers, editors, etc. My hope is that my stories are enjoyable enough that a few mistakes, here and there, can be overlooked. However, if you’re a stickler for grammar, my books are probably not for you.

  Also, I am an avid reader-I mean an AVID reader. I love to read above any other hobby. However, the only downside to my reading obsession is when I fall in love with a series, but I have to wait for the additional books to come out. And because I feel that disappointment down to my soul, when I started publishing my works, I vowed to publish all books in my series all at once. No waiting here…LOL. Now, the exception to that will be if enough readers request additional stories based off the standalone, such as in Facing the Enemy. At that point, if I decide to move forward with a requested series, I will make sure all additional books are available all at once. As much as this is a hobby for me, I am writing these books for all of you, as well as myself.

  Thank you, for everything!

  Acknowledgements

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  The first acknowledgement will always be my husband. There aren’t enough words to express my gratitude for having this man in my life. There is a little bit of him in every hero I dream up, and I can’t thank God enough for bringing him into my life. Thirty years, and still going strong!

  Second, there’s my family; my daughter, my son, my grandchildren, my sister, and my mother. Family is everything, and I have one of the best. They are truly the best cheerleaders I could ever ask for, and I never forget just how truly blessed I am to have them in my life.

  And, of course, there’s Kamala. This woman is not only my beta and idea guinea pig, she’s one of my closest friends. She’s been with me from the beginning of this journey, and we’re going to ride this thing to the end. Kam’s the encouragement that sparked it all, folks.

  And, finally, I’d like to thank everyone who’s purchased, read, reviewed, shared, and supported me and my writing. Thank you so much for helping make this dream a reality and a happy, fun one at that! I cannot say thank you enough!

  Dedication

  ◆◆◆

  For –

  Anyone who’s had a bad day, and just needs a good laugh.

  Playlist

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  Warrior – Demi Lovato

  Part of Me – Katy Perry

  Chasing Cars – Snow Patrol

  I’m Falling For You – Chester See

  Love Song – The Cure

  Prologue

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Not to me.

  My mind was stunned in disbelief at what I was seeing. My heart was searching for an explanation, while my mind was screaming that the explanation was right there, staring me in the face.

  I was standing on the sidewalk, wondering how everyone else could just be going on with their lives, while mine was shattering to pieces in front of them all.

  Could they not see it?

  Was it just me?

  Was this some horrible nightmare I just needed to shake myself awake from?

  I watched him wrap his arms around her and throw his head back, laughing towards the sky. Even from where I stood, I could hear that it was a genuinely happy sound. He looked back down at her and his smile spread across his entire face. I also noticed it reached his eyes.

  When was the last time he laughed like that around me?

  Nope.

  No.

  Hell, no.

  My self-respect shoved my insecurities aside and reminded me that, if he were unhappy, he could have said something. If he no longer loved me, he could have just told me. However, he should have said something when he began to fall out of love with me, not after the fact. He could have communicated his doubts or concerns.

  I stood on the sidewalk, feeling like an utter fool.

  I thought we were happy.

  I thought we were getting married.

  That’s when anger pushed self-respect aside and I walked up to the asshole and his floozy.

  *****

  This couldn’t be happening.

  No to me.

  This shit only happened in bad romantic comedies. This was the shit you heard happened, but never imagined it truly happened in real life.

  But it was happening.

  I stood outside the bedroom door, my hand on the doorknob, white-knuckled, wondering how in the fuck something like this happens.

  How did a person explain this type of crazy shit?

  How did a person not see the signs of something like this coming?

  Was I that blind?

  Or was I just that stupid?

  Had I been hoodwinked by perfectly styled blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes?

  With a sickening dose of reality, I knew I’d been played for the fool when I heard the exact same moans escape through the door that I’ve heard over, and over again this past year. There was no change up. It was almost as if they were scripted.

  And I’d been replaced as the leading man in her fucked-up little show.

  And, well fuck, did I just suck in bed?

  Nope.

  No.

  Hell, no.

  My self-respect slapped me in the back of the head and reassured me that my dic
k and its skills were just fine. If she were unhappy or unsatisfied, she damn well sure should have said something. I wasn’t a prude. If she wanted to spice things up, all she had to do was say something. Communicate, damn it!

  I thought we were happy.

  I actually considered marrying the cheating tramp.

  That’s when anger pushed maturity aside and I opened the door and lost my ever lovin’ shit.

  Chapter 1

  Henley~

  Men were evil.

  They were the spawn of Satan and I had no use for them.

  I slapped my purse on the counter, and the bartender must have felt the man-hating vibes permeating off me when I walked in, because he was standing in front of me before my ass even hit the barstool.

  “What can I get you?” he said, smiling.

  The prick.

  “A Bud Light and a shot of tequila,” I growled. “And keep them coming, please.” He was wise enough not to look at the clock before he went to make my order.

  So what if it wasn’t even five? I felt this was appropriate, considering I’d just flown in from Texas this afternoon, after surprising my very ex-fiancé on his business trip to Austin. The surprise? Well, that had been me getting ready to walk into his hotel lobby and witnessing the asshole with his hands and lips all over some woman-who wasn’t me, by the way-as they waited for the valet. I knew this because I had stood frozen on the sidewalk and had watched them both make their way to his rental when it had pulled up.

  And what did I do, you ask?

  I behaved like a goddamn grownup because I hadn’t wanted to end up an internet clip.

  Instead of losing my shit-like I’d had every right to-I had walked up to the car after Arnold had secured his lady friend in the passenger seat and shoved my engagement ring into his gaping mouth once he noticed me standing next to him. Then I had turned around, praying he’d choke on the goddamn thing, and grabbed a flight back to California. From there I’d gone home, changed, and hit the first bar my Uber driver had recommended.

  Men fucking sucked.

  The bartender placed my beer and shot on the bar and I knew I was going to have to leave him a huge tip when I asked, “Why do men suck?” He was a good-looking guy, but now a bit nervous as his blue eyes started darting around the room like a cornered animal. “I mean, not you personally, but why do they suck in general? What’s up with their bullshit?”

  Before the man could answer-or run for cover-a deep, gravelly voice hit my eardrums and my last nerve. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I turned, and in a different place and at a different time, I probably would have swooned. The guy butting into my one-sided conversation was gorgeous, and even in my man-hating mental state, I could acknowledge that.

  It was dim in here, but he looked to have black hair and his eyes-currently shooting daggers my way-were grey. He looked like he might be tall, but since he was sitting down, I couldn’t tell for sure. He also looked like he knew the inside of a gym. I must have been in a serious haze of rage to have missed him when I had walked in.

  I saw him now, though.

  “Excuse me?” I snapped.

  He turned his body to face me head-on. “Why do men suck?” he bit out. “Why do women suck, is the real question.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the bartender slowly backing away, but that was okay. My focus was now on this man-no matter how gorgeous-trying to shit on my broken heart. “Are you serious?” I asked incredulously. “It’s not women who can’t keep their dicks in their pants.”

  His bruised knuckles turned white around the tumbler in his hand. “No. It’s just women who can’t keep their legs closed,” he shot back. “What is it with you people? One dick isn’t enough?”

  I was going to murder this man.

  Arnold had gotten away unscathed-unless the diamond tore at his esophagus on the way down-but this man…yeah. “You have nerve,” I replied. “Tell me this, then. Why do men ask women to marry them when they really don’t want to be tied down to one woman? Tell me that.”

  “I got one better,” he countered. “Why do women lie and say they want a good man, one who’s nice and sensitive and considerate, when they really don’t? You get a nice guy, then cheat on him with some jerk who wears too much cologne and has a shit vocabulary. Explain that.”

  I couldn’t because I wasn’t a cheater, so instead…“Why do men claim to love you just the way you are, but when you ruin your body, giving them their little eight to ten pound legacies, they turn around, and then dump you for a size two?” I slammed my tequila shot after that question, because that was one question that really burned in my gut.

  His brows shot up. “You think women are the only victims to vanity?” he challenged. “Why do you think men spend hours at the gym, trying to keep their six-packs intact?”

  “To look at all the spandex-clad ass running all over the place,” I tossed back.

  He leaned forward, but he was not going to intimidate me. I grabbed my beer and my purse, and skipped three seats over, until we were face-to-face as he growled out, “It’s because, if our dicks aren’t big enough, we have to keep your interests somehow. And consideration is obviously not the way to go.”

  “It’s because you guys aren’t considerate,” I argued. “Women do it all. We work, raise the kids, clean the house, do the laundry, cook dinner, do the shopping, pay the bills, and basically manage the entire household. What do you guys do? Work and do the goddamn yard. And, yet, you’re still not happy. On top of everything else, we’re still expected to remain a size nothing and take your dick down our throats like a porn star. You talk about being considerate, have you ever considered all of that?”

  “Oh, you’re a piece of work,” he replied, slamming his glass on the bar. “Men do more than just work and do the fucking yard.”

  “Uh…just…there are other patrons in the-” I shot the bartender a withering look, and he backed off in defeat. However, I didn’t want to get thrown out before I won this argument, so I moved my seat closer, so we could whisper-yell at each other.

  My nemesis followed my cue and moved his seat closer until we were almost nose-to-nose. He also lowered his voice. “We do more than just work and do the goddamn yard,” he repeated. “And you know it.”

  I snorted. “Enlighten me, oh, wise one.”

  “We carry the work, do the yard, fix any-damn-thing that needs fixing, maintain the vehicles, pay the bills-you can’t claim that one-also raise the kids because we’re parents, too. Also, who says we don’t cook or clean or shop? And on top of doing just as much as women do, we’re expected to haul around a ten-inch dick and perform on cue. And God forbid you don’t have an orgasm. We’re really worthless then, aren’t we?”

  A shadow passed, and when I looked up, the bartender had replaced our drinks, he had also included a shot of tequila for Misguided Jim here, and slowly backed away again.

  Coward.

  “If you’d just ask, we’d be more than happy to tell you how to find your way around,” I said, scorn and dissatisfaction coating every word. I had traded satisfying sex for love. I had convinced myself it had been a worthy sacrifice if it meant I was going to spend the rest of my life with a man who was going to love and cherish me. Sex was just a small part of the bigger picture.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  Nem-I didn’t know his name, so in my mind, it was easier to shorten the word nemesis-let out a genuine growl. “That only works if you guys aren’t too busy pretending to be The Virgin Mary,” he threw back. “You’re so damn worried we’re going to think you’re a trashy slut, you guys hide under the covers and pretend you’ve never done it before. In the meantime, you’re taking it up the ass from a complete stranger because you can’t just fucking communicate and trust that you’re not going to be judged for your desires.”

  Nem damn near knocked the wind out of me. “Are you out of your mind?” I whispered-screeched. I reached for my shot and threw it back, not feeling the burn, I was so mad.
I waited until as he drank his shot down and continued. “Of course, we’re being judged. Do you think any woman wants a goddamn treadmill for her birthday? You get mad if another man shows us any attention, but in the meantime, you treat us as if we’re part of the furniture in your home. Gone are the compliments, the date nights, and just the all-around appreciation.”

  “And do you think, after coming home from working a long day, we want to hear how we’ve failed for the week?” he countered. “We’re supposed give you compliments, when all we get are spotlights on our failures all goddamn week?”

  My mind was scrambling with all the bullshit he was throwing my way. I wasn’t like that. I never nagged Arnold or pointed out his failures. I had encouraged the asshole. I had been his biggest cheerleader when there were promotions at work or when he had wanted to take up rock climbing.

  “We don’t do that,” I insisted.

  Nem scoffed. “Sure, you do. You just don’t know you’re doing it. You just think you’re giving us constructive criticism. Newsflash, Red, you’re not. And,” he continued, “on top of doing all the shit we already do, we’re expected to remember Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Anniversaries, and not just our wedding anniversary. Nooooooo. We’re expected to remember when we first asked you out. When we first held hands. When we first went to the coast. When we first bought matching Christmas sweaters. When we first fucked-oh, sorry. When we first made love, because cut my tongue out if we dare call fucking, fucking.”

  That’s it.

  I was going to kill this man.

  Chapter 2

  Dash~

  Women were evil.

  Case in point, this man-hating redhead daring to talk to me about how men sucked when I just barely escaped getting arrested for kicking Glen’s naked ass in Whitney’s apartment.