Unfiltered Read online

  Unfiltered

  Leigh Lennon

  Contents

  Untitled

  About This Book

  1. Justine

  2. Nick

  3. Justine

  4. Justine

  5. Nick

  6. Justine

  7. Nick

  8. Justine

  9. Justine

  10. Nick

  11. Justine

  12. Justine

  13. Nick

  14. Justine

  15. Nick

  16. Justine

  17. Nick

  18. Justine

  19. Justine

  20. Nick

  21. Justine

  22. Nick

  23. Nick

  24. Justine

  25. Nick

  26. Justine

  27. Nick

  28. Justine

  29. Justine

  30. Nick

  31. Justine

  32. Nick

  33. Justine

  34. Nick

  35. Justine

  36. Nick

  37. Justine

  38. Justine

  39. Nick

  40. Justine

  41. Nick

  42. Justine

  43. Justine

  44. Justine

  45. Justine

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Things I Learn Along the Way: Whisky or Whiskey?

  About the Author

  Unfiltered

  Copyright @2017 Leigh Lennon

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

  Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

  This is an eBook copy and is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not re-sold or given away.

  This book is a work of fiction and is the product of the author’s imagination.

  Editing by Carol Tietsworth, Rosemary Kalonaros and Editing For You

  Proofreading services by Elevated Edits and Ink It Out Editing

  Formatting by Ink It Out Editing

  Cover design by Kasmit Designs

  Beta Readers: Ann Barajas, Tina Snider, Auden Dar, J.J. Lawson, Carla VanZandt

  About This Book

  Justine:

  I never will get my happy ending. With my past threatening to ruin the possibility of love in my future, I keep every man at arm’s length. Nick appears out of thin air, becoming a part of my life instantly, leaving me breathless and wanting more. The pain that haunts me is still present, but Nick is worth the risk. When he promises me forever, can I trust him?

  Nick:

  Justine makes me see that a forever is in reach with her. She keeps telling me she is hard to love, yet I find it quite easy. Once I break down her walls, she finally lets me in. But, I have a secret of my own which can expose her to the demons that destroyed me in the past. However, with Justine, I will do anything and everything to make her mine.

  Content Warning: Certain passages in the novel contain depictions of sexual abuse.

  Dedication

  Sometimes in life you find yourself left without those you need the most. This year, I’ve had to navigate my life without my biggest fan there to cheer me on. There are so many times I’ve longed to pick up the phone to tell you the latest twist in my book. You will always be in my heart, though you aren’t physically on this earth. You are the person who made me who I am today and for that, I am endlessly thankful and beyond proud to have called you Mom! I miss you!

  Sometimes you find yourself surrounded by those you need to help you make it through the tough times, too! Thank you to the one person I could call everyday and share the same plotline with over and over again. You would always listen to me as if you had never heard it before. Friendship has been the lifeline that sustained me this year and you have been there at every twist and turn, and through the moments I thought I might just give up. Thanks for all you’ve done for me, Beth! My life would be boring without you!

  And of course, I can’t forget my hubs! There are not enough words to express how much I love you! (You may only get a couple of lines here, but know my heart has pages and pages worth of love for you!)

  1

  Justine

  October 2011

  If I close my eyes, my children’s empty rooms taunt me. In a split second, motherhood has been stripped from my soul. Before I have a chance to explode at my ex-husband, he opens his mouth, and my desire to seize the fire poker and rip out his eye sockets is real.

  “Justine, you’re controlling! If I don’t get our kids away from you, you’ll crush them. Your approach is pushing them away. Rose came home today crying because you called her a floozy. And did I understand you right? You called Kai a pothead?”

  “Funny how they’re suddenly our fucking kids, when for the last eight years, they’ve been my sole responsibility.” By the time I finish my sentence, I’m screaming.

  The vase near my hand beckons me to throw it at my ex-husband’s head; my hand clenches with the urge to smash it against his arrogant face. My breath quickens to short gasps. Beads of sweat race down my face, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

  In the midst of our showdown, his smug smile leaves me with a desire to slap him.

  “You can fight me on this, but you won’t win, not now. They’re sixteen and seventeen, and their preferences will sway a judge’s decision!” he yells.

  Fear grips me that he may be right. “And when did you graduate from law school?” I ask sardonically as the blood rushes through my head. Fury swells in my gut and anger clutches my chest. I feel as empty as my bank account was the day I left Rafe. How dare he threaten me like this? “And yes, I called Rose a floozy. She’s sleeping with Jones to get attention. Maybe she needs your fucking devotion since all your effort has been focused on your new family, instead of the one we started almost eighteen years ago.”

  “Oh, this again.” Rafe unloads arrogance in the way only the president could pardon Richard Nixon. “I know, I know, Justine. You use my family as a reason for hating me more and more every time you dump on me.”

  I hate Rafe Hernandez, but I also love him in a way I can never articulate. It might have something to do with the two children who want to disown me in this moment. They own me, though the emptiness they’ve left in my heart mocks me.

  “Abuse is not just physical harm, you know,” he retorts.

  His vicious accusations prompt me to grab the vase and pitch it just left of his head. My aim is good, and if I’d wanted, I would have hit the son of a bitch.

  “You were an ass when we were married, but now, there’s nothing I can say.” I spin around as a single tear falls from my eye. I don’t need him thinking I’ve turned soft through the years. My voice is now raspy from all the screaming.

  “Again, this is really mature, Justine!” His arrogance is gone when in a split second, in my anger, I walk toward him. Like the wimp he is, he scurries away from me. He seems almost scared.

  Yes, be very scared of me, Rafe Hernandez. You just poked a mother bear, and now I’m fucking enraged.

  Turning toward him, I struggle to remain calm; adrenaline courses through my veins as he walks out the door, and I follow him the whole way.

  I yell, hurdling towards him while he backs down the bottom stair of my front porch, “You think
you can fix our kids’ behaviors by being their friend.”

  “Anything is better than it is now. If I don’t get them away from you, they’ll do something rash.” I see one vein visibly pumping in his forehead, reminding me of when we were married and our words would become heated. Rafe’s hands shake, and perspiration seeps through his shirt.

  I can feel a sheen of sweat break out on my face in the cold Pacific Northwest temperatures. “How can you be okay with Rose fucking virtually a stranger, or Kai smoking pot?”

  This gets Rafe’s attention. If their behavior continues, teen pregnancy or drug addiction is a real possibility. The idea of these tumultuous activities becoming more severe infuriates me. In a rare fit of anger, I approach him, pulling every ounce of restraint I have not to push him, even a little.

  “Listen. To. Me!” I yell, emphasizing all three words. “They’re my fucking kids, too! You can’t barge in here and take them from me! But they want their daddy to fix this. Be my fucking guest! You made your bed. Now sleep in it, like you did when you were married to me but fucking Hildy.”

  Though I’ve long suspected Hildy of sniffing the leftover trash of my marriage before I set it by the curb, those words have never before escaped my mouth.

  “And you wonder how you’ve alienated everyone who’s cared for you? I feel sorry for you, Justine.” These words hit me like a brick as I come to accept that the three most precious relationships, those with my kids, my mother, and my best friend, are currently in the shitter.

  However, I’m done and can’t take another word from Rafe. What little bit of composure I have left is gone. When I stalk toward him, Rafe slinks down the walkway like a coward. Before I catch up to him, he races to his car.

  “Always good talking to you, Justine!” he yells.

  “Same here, asshole!”

  Before I retreat into my lonely house, I find eyes peeled on me. In all the excitement of Rafe, I’d forgotten a new neighbor was moving in today. Part of me should be embarrassed, as if I am being judged, but I am nothing if not transparent.

  “Well, that was the welcoming party. Sorry, I guess he doesn’t want to celebrate with us.” It’s rude, but the climate of our relationship should be established right now. If my snippy words fail, maybe slamming the door will work. Sooner rather than later, my neighbor needs to know what a bitch I am. I certainly don’t want him borrowing sugar from me at all hours or trying to be neighborly.

  In the brief exchange, I’d almost forgotten what had just taken place in my house. I look at the stairs, the lifeline to their rooms. For eight years, my two children have used that staircase more than I can count. I remember the Christmas morning Kai had been so excited to see if Santa left him the newest Xbox. He’d tripped down the stairs, landing us in the emergency room by eight a.m. Before we’d left, I’d let him open his present from Santa to relieve a little of his pain.

  I have never felt more alone than I do right this second. The departure of my kids now enforces my loneliness. I melt on the floor in a puddle as if I were a snowman on a warm winter’s day. Tears are unusual for me, yet here I am, watering the wood surface.

  After an hour, I realize feeling sorry for myself is not a routine I am accustomed to. I need to wash my face and pull myself together for now. Moping has never been my strong suit.

  Desperate to feel something other than the grief surrounding me, I take to my front porch with a blanket for warmth, rocking on my large porch swing, listening to the occasional car pass. Eric Clapton is playing “Layla” from inside my house, just loud enough for me to tap my fingers to the beat. My mind not only drifts to my kids’ departure, but to my mom and best friend’s void in my life. Somehow, I have navigated to a time in my life where I am all alone. The emptiness wraps me like the darkness in the sky and it fucking rips a fresh wound in my flesh.

  The breeze of the mild autumn night hits my cheeks and I welcome any physical feeling on my skin. Fresh air and a cup of coffee are what I crave. Nothing calms me like the outdoors. The scent of diesel fuel from the moving truck hits me, reminding me of how I spoke to my neighbor earlier.

  Wrapped tight in my blanket, I stare down into the cup of hot, dark coffee. My mind drifts to a particular statement Rafe had made years ago. In this memory, I’d thought we were enjoying a relaxing night on the back deck of my old house, but I should have known better. Uptight Rafe would never loosen up enough to enjoy time with me.

  “You’re as bitter as the black coffee you drink,” he’d said from out of nowhere. What I’d thought might have been a joke had actually been a true revelation of how he’d seen me.

  His words hurt me still today. I may be a bitch, but I’m not heartless.

  I don’t have a chance to reflect on Rafe’s words long when I hear a husky voice near the railings of my porch say, “Hey there. Since my other party goer left, I will settle for you as my welcoming committee.”

  His voice startles me, my heart racing against the intrusion. After my rude comments earlier, my new neighbor deserves some semblance of civility, even if he’s ruined my peace and quiet. “Hey,” I mutter.

  “Thanks for the party, but if I had to guess, I think you really pissed off the other guest.”

  The urge to laugh hits me. He isn’t stand-up comedy funny, but he’s certainly entertaining enough to help me forget this night.

  “Well, you’ll find, neighbor, I have the tendency to do that,” I say, peering at him over my mug as he is still standing to the side of my porch, just enough of his face showing over the slats of wood.

  “Ah, that has never really bothered me before, and your words made me chuckle. I like brutally honest women,” he adds as he now moves to the front of my steps as I get a better look at this man. “By the way, I am Nick, Nick Wallace.”

  “I’m Justine Hernandez,” I reply, taking my blanket, covering myself a little more, not out of the coldness of the air but to protect my exposed pain.

  “You don’t look like a Hernandez,” he states as he inspects me from head to toe.

  Good, blunt people I can handle. They don’t get their feelings hurt. I may just like this new neighbor of mine.

  “I don’t?” I say, mocking him as I playfully examine my white skin. “What’s happened to my Latino complexion?” He laughs at my gasp. “I guess I don’t, now that you mention it. It’s my married name from the ass I was screaming at earlier. After the divorce, my children were only eight and nine at the time and I kept it in order to have the same name as them.”

  “Ah, I see. Sorry to have eavesdropped earlier,” he says with a soothing tone and his hands open. “I ran out here to make sure no one was hurting you, but you appear to be the type of person who can hold her own.”

  “Oh, I am.” I don’t mention throwing a vase at Rafe’s head. No need for all my imperfections to come to light at once.

  He peers toward me with his head raised as he asks, “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “Yes.” I glance down at the forgotten carafe.

  He smiles widely and walks off without another word. Before I have time to find this behavior odd, he reappears at my railing, clutching a cup and a bottle of something.

  “May I?” he asks, pointing to the porch.

  “Be my guest,” I reply, still holding on tight to my blanket.

  He grabs the carafe, pouring coffee in his mug, and follows with a long swig of whisky. Without asking, he also fills my mug, leaving me with more whisky than coffee. An intrusion involving alcohol is certainly something I can get behind. He makes himself comfortable on the end of the porch swing opposite of me.

  His curious stare follows my every move; though all I am doing is rocking, sucking in the alcohol which I hope will make me numb.

  As he inspects me, I return the favor. He is tall, over six feet and is slender but solid. Underneath a simple lightweight jacket, I can see the definition of muscles. Laugh lines crease the corners of his mouth, making me guess he is in his later thirties or early forties. His larg
e puppy eyes that are a deep mocha color draw me in along with a sweet smile which is still present on his face. I see just enough gray to make his already attractive face look rugged. However, I stop on his eyes again. If I look too hard, I am afraid they will draw me in because they are as welcoming as he is. Despite wanting nothing to do with my neighbor, I admit, he’s quite attractive in a dark and handsome way.

  “Tell me, Justine Hernandez, besides the fact that you piss off most people, what else should I know about my new neighbor?”

  Blunt and to the point isn’t a feature many people enjoy, but I find it endearing. My thirty-second backstory is on the tip of my tongue, but his eyes appear to be begging me for more. Now, I notice it is not just the eyes, his voice is velvety low, sending shivers down my spine.

  “The truth and irony of what you witnessed is my ex and I are actually closer now than when we were married.” His brow arches in understandable doubt after witnessing the argument between Rafe and me. “No, seriously, we’re very amicable. We share the same circle of friends, and his wife Hildy and I are close.” I sigh. “I seldom let him ruffle my feathers.”