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  Beneath Your Beautiful

  emery rose

  Beneath Your Beautiful

  Copyright © Emery Rose, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of a fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Editing: Chelsea Kuhel and Madison Seidler, www.madisonseidler.com

  Proofreading: Monica Black, www.wordnerdediting.com

  Cover Design: Sarah Hansen, www.okaycreations.com

  Interior: Stacey Blake, www.champagnebookdesign.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Connect with Emery

  Dedication

  To my daughters, Maddie and Lillie, you are beautiful inside and out.

  Chapter One

  Eden

  I brushed snow off my down jacket and laughed at the inflatable Santa hanging from the porch rafters as I opened the front door. Trevor, one of Luke’s housemates, was sitting on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table, a slice of pizza in one hand and the remote in the other. “Hey, Trev.” I took off my beanie and let my blonde hair tumble down. “Studying hard for finals?” I joked.

  He tossed the pizza in the box and vaulted over the back of the sofa.

  “Impressive. Do you do that for all the girls?” I teased.

  He ran a hand through his mussed-up hair, his eyes darting around the room, looking at everything except me. “What are you doing here? It’s Thursday.”

  I laughed. “I’m not allowed to stop by on Thursdays? Is that a house rule?”

  “You usually have class all day.”

  True. I was playing hooky this afternoon. Luke’s text sealed the deal. Ditch your next class. I need you. Now. He’d never asked me to ditch class for sex. I was so thrilled he was finally letting out his inner rebel, I practically sprinted here. “Is he in his room?”

  “Uh, no…he’s out.”

  I furrowed my brow. “He said he’d be here.”

  “Let’s go for a beer. I’m buying.”

  “I’m still recovering from last night’s birthday celebration.”

  “Hair of the dog.”

  Hangover sex would be a better cure, but I kept that to myself. “I’ll wait in his room.” I breezed past him. “Catch you later.”

  Trevor’s hand wrapped around my arm, and he tugged me back.

  “You don’t want to go up there.”

  I looked up the stairs, dread gnawing at my stomach. “Why not?” I whispered.

  “Just…don’t do it.”

  I shook off his arm and quietly climbed the stairs. As I crept down the hallway, voices came from Luke’s bedroom. His door was open a crack, and I stood outside it, straining my ears to hear.

  “When are you going to tell her?” After three years of listening to Lexie’s voice in the dark while we talked late into the night, I knew it well.

  “Soon,” Luke said. “I just need more time. I couldn’t tell her on her birthday. And with finals coming up…”

  “This is making me crazy,” Lexie said. “I feel so guilty. Every time I look at her, I feel like she knows.”

  I didn’t know. I had no idea.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “Don’t cry, Lex. I’ll talk to her. It’s just…hard.”

  Oh God. When? How? I wracked my brain, trying to figure out how any of this was possible.

  “Do you still love her?” she asked, sniffling.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath as I waited for the answer. “I still care about her.”

  He still cared about me? That was the best he could muster? In our senior year of high school, he’d begged me to come to Penn State with him. Like the fool I was, I had followed him to college, telling myself art was just a hobby. I could do it without the fancy degree. Not that my dad would have paid for art school. Still, I could have at least tried to get in, and I would have figured out a way to pay for it myself. But no, I had tossed the art school brochures into the trash.

  All because Luke was my first love.

  “Luke…I…there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What’s that?” His voice was muffled. Was his face buried in her hair? Was he holding her? Kissing her? My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I struggled to get air into my lungs. My heart hurt so much, I could barely breathe.

  “Promise you won’t get mad,” she pleaded. “It was an accident. I don’t even know how it happened. But…I’m pregnant.”

  I leaned against the wall for support. Pregnant? She didn’t know how it happened? Bile rose up in my throat. I swallowed the bitterness and squared my shoulders.

  Rage flooded my veins.

  I pushed the door open, slamming it against the wall. Planting my hands on my hips, I took in the whole scene. Luke was spooning her, and she was facing the door, a smug smile on her face. She was triumphant, and not the least bit surprised to see me. Lexie must have sent that text from Luke’s phone. She was the winner, and she was thrilled at her victory.

  Luke’s face was frozen in shock, his brown eyes wide, his mouth hanging open as if I’d caught him mid-sentence. The short layers of his golden-brown hair were ruffled like Lexie had been running her fingers through it. I diverted my gaze. I couldn’t bear to look at the boy I’d loved for five years. Five years.

  “Did I interrupt?” I asked, surprised by how calm I sounded.

  Luke rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hands. Coward. If their clothes strewn across the floor was any indication, he was naked under those covers. And now it became painfully clear why our sex life had dwindled over the past few months. He was getting it from someone else—my best friend.

  “Eden…it’s not what you think.” He sounded so lame, I la
ughed harshly. “I can explain.”

  “Save it for someone who cares.”

  I loved you. How could you do this to me? And Lexie, that backstabber, had been my roommate since freshman year. I took her home with me for the holidays because she said her parents didn’t care about her. I let her borrow my clothes. My friends became her friends, and now, my boyfriend was her boyfriend.

  My heart was shattering into so many pieces, I didn’t know how I’d put them back together. But I refused to give Lexie the satisfaction of seeing me break down. Time for action, not tears. I flung open Luke’s closet and reached inside for a baseball bat. I chose the Combat Maxum, a bat for power hitters, and came out swinging. Lexie cowered, hugging herself for protection.

  I laughed. “Don’t worry, Lexie. You’re not worth an arrest for assault and battery.”

  I walked out of the room, my head held high. When I got into the hallway, I sprinted down the stairs and barreled out the front door. I flew down the front porch steps and rounded the corner, my feet slipping and sliding on the freshly fallen snow as I skidded to a halt in front of Luke’s silver BMW, a high school graduation present from his parents. Everything in Luke Prescott’s life had been handed to him on a silver platter. An only child of doting parents who put him on a pedestal, he was spoiled rotten. They should have given their son values instead of material possessions. Who got a BMW for graduating high school?

  I swung the bat, and it connected with the hood. Crunch. Another mighty swing, and I took out a headlight. My body was coiled tight with rage. I needed to unleash it. Anger beat the alternative—curling up into a ball and crying enough tears to fill an ocean.

  “Eden. Stop!” Luke yelled. I ignored him and swung at the other headlight. Bam! Bam! Bam! I kept swinging, metal crunching under my bat. Hell hath no fury like Eden Madley scorned. Not that I was a violent person. But I pictured Lexie’s triumphant smile, and it fueled my anger.

  I raised the bat, ready to inflict more damage.

  Luke wrapped his arms around me from behind and dragged me a safe distance away from the car. “What have you done?” Luke wailed, sounding like a big fat baby.

  “The same thing you did to my heart.”

  I struggled free of his hold and dropped the bat to the ground. Crisis averted, he moved closer to inspect the damage, brushing off the snow with his hands. It wasn’t nearly enough. But defeat and heartache had drained the fight right out of me. “I’m sorry,” he said, his back to me. He didn’t even have the guts to look me in the eye. “I’m really sorry, Eden.”

  “Fuck you, Luke. Take your sorry and shove it up your ass.” I strode away, shoulders squared and head held high, trying to hang on to any shred of dignity I had left. Tears lodged in my throat, but I swallowed them. On the way over here, I’d thought the snow looked pretty. Like being inside a snow globe. Now the snow stung my face, impeding my progress. I burrowed into my jacket and stuffed my hands in my pockets.

  “Hey, Eden,” Trevor called, jogging to catch up to me. He knew what was going on under their roof. I was the last to find out. Wasn’t that always the way? “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve a hell of a lot better. If you ever wanna grab a beer, call me.”

  I nodded and kept walking, choking back the tears. I unclasped the bracelet Luke gave me for my twenty-second birthday yesterday, tossed it on the ground, and crushed it under the sole of my boot. It had come in a blue Tiffany’s box—a sterling silver charm bracelet with a heart medallion.

  Chapter Two

  Killian

  I pulled out of Joss and slid off the condom, retreating into her bathroom. After I flushed the toilet, I washed my hands and used her fancy hand soap and my fingers to clean the makeup smears off her sink. The bathroom was cavernous, but apparently not big enough to corral all her crap—makeup, hairspray, perfume, lotions, and potions cluttered all the shelves and every available surface. Towels were tossed carelessly into a heap on the limestone tiled floors like she was waiting for the maid to replace them with fresh ones. I folded the towels and hung them on the rail. I wouldn’t even know where to begin cleaning up the rest of the shit in here.

  I returned to Joss’s room, sidestepping a mountain of discarded clothes. She was lying on her bed naked, a lit cigarette clamped between her lips. Outside her wall of windows, Lower Manhattan was lit up like the Fourth of July. Joss lived in a luxury condo in Brooklyn Heights. I’d never seen her apartment in the light of day—never seen her in the light of day.

  Joss never asked for pillow talk or cuddling. She had zero interest in a relationship, and that was the only reason it had lasted this long. She stayed out of my business, never asked questions, and didn’t try to analyze me. But tonight, the sex just left me feeling empty. Or numb. I couldn’t even find a word for this dull, aching nothingness. I didn’t know why I came over tonight. It was a mistake, and I knew it as soon as I walked in the door.

  She watched me through slitted eyes as I got dressed, the smoke from her cigarette billowing up and into the stale air. Joss once told me she had a huge trust fund. She didn’t work, and I had no idea what she did all day. Maybe she slept, or shopped, or got manicures. I’d never cared enough to ask.

  “Did you meet someone special?” she asked. She took another drag of her cigarette and blew smoke out the side of her mouth.

  “You should know me better than that.” She didn’t know me at all, but I made the rules clear from the beginning. No personal questions.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Things change.”

  “Did they change for you?” I sat on the edge of her bed to tie the laces of my combat boots. I’d had them since high school and they were as worn and battered as I was. Much too young to feel this damn old. That line came from a country song I’d heard at Fat Earl’s once. I hated that bar. My old man used to frequent it before the hipsters invaded, back when Earl was still alive and turned a blind eye. But even now, with a new owner and a different crowd, the place probably hadn’t changed much. Country music probably still blared from the jukebox, and it probably still smelled like stale beer and fried food. My stomach still knotted with dread whenever I drove past it.

  “I don’t need you to love me,” Joss said. Love? I bristled at the word. She never brought any of this up before, and I didn’t know what prompted her to do it now. This had never been our deal, and now I knew for sure it was time to bail. “But I’m not stupid. You kept your eyes closed.”

  “Orgasmic bliss.” A lie. It had gotten the job done, but it wasn’t blissful. It felt like we were going through the motions, like two well-oiled machines. All mechanics, no emotions.

  That’s what you wanted, asshole.

  “Bullshit,” she said. “You were pretending I was someone else.”

  Wrong. I was pretending I was someone else. I stood and turned to face her. “Time for you to move on.”

  “Maybe I already have.” She let a curtain of brown hair fall into her face to mask her hurt expression. Jesus. Did she think she was in love with some guy who called her at two in the morning for sex? She didn’t even know my last name or what I did for a living.

  “I never made any promises,” I said.

  Joss laughed, but it sounded harsh in her quiet room. “I knew the deal. But I still hoped…it would be different.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and exhaled. What in the hell could I say? I couldn’t pretend to love her. I didn’t know what love felt like, but I knew this wasn’t it. I never thought about her after I left. Never asked about her family, never asked what she did in her free time, never asked anything about her life. We met at a club six months ago. I was drunk and beyond fucked-up. She was looking for a good time with no strings attached. She brought me home, and we fucked. We’d been doing it ever since, but I’d never once felt the urge to get to know her better.

  “I can live without the three a.m. booty calls.” She jutted out her chin. “Besides, I deserve better. My shrink told me that, so it must be true.”


  She had a shrink. And she did deserve better. Someone who stayed the night and gave a shit. “I won’t call again.”

  My hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave when her words stopped me. “You thought I didn’t know you were Killian ‘The Kill’ Vincent, the champion of the Octagon?”

  I stilled, my body tensing. I’d walked away from fighting right before I met her. The media had been all over it, so I shouldn’t have been surprised she knew who I was, but she’d never mentioned it. And that was a good thing. I hated to be reminded of what I used to be.

  “Someone at the club pointed you out the night we met,” Joss said. “Do you really think I would have gone for you if you’d been a nobody?”

  I was a nobody. What did she think would happen? I’d take her with me to my fights, let her bask in the limelight like those other nameless girls who attached themselves to me because of who they thought I was. None of them knew me. None of them wanted to know me. They just wanted to be seen with me—and fuck me. “I don’t fight anymore.”

  “I know. And I’m disappointed. I wanted to be with a champion, but I ended up with a has-been loser who runs a stupid bar.” She faked a yawn. “Boring.”

  All along, Joss had been fucking someone else. Okay, it was me. But sometimes, I felt like it was more of an alter ego. I’d been a showman who got the crowd loving me and rooting for me, chanting my name. An actor, playing a role, all swagger and bravado, but I’d backed it up with a grueling training schedule, and I’d delivered the goods. My brother Connor once asked me if I was fighting my opponent or my own demons. I didn’t bother answering him. If I had, I would have said: both.

  She turned her back to me, and I let myself out. I was relieved it was over, but I felt shitty about it. My old man would tell me it was the price I paid for having a conscience. He was born without one, but mine was big enough to take on the guilt of the whole God damn world.

  “The ref called a clean hit,” my dad said.

  “I don’t give a shit what the ref called it. I killed a man.”

  “Don’t be dramatic. He’s still alive.”