Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

T ully

Present

“Move, bitch.”

Some cretin with body odor elbowed me out of the way and kept walking down the busy sidewalk like my place on this hot pavement didn’t matter. The indignity of it all was what snapped me out of my stupor. The straw that broke the camel’s back. Sadly, I was the camel in this scenario, and I’d had more straw thrown at me today than I could handle.

“You coulda just walked around, asshole!” I snapped right back.

The guy had the nerve to raise his fist in the air and flip me off without so much as turning around. Several heads turned in my direction, but everyone kept walking. Los Angeles was quickly becoming New York, everyone lost in their own little worlds, heads bowed over devices.

I huffed and pulled out my own device from my pants pocket, which was surprisingly quiet. Usually this thing started vibrating with notifications the second it came out of “do not disturb” mode until I turned it off again at night. The frown crept over my face, followed by a distinct feeling of numbness. Officially in a panic, I fired off a text to my agent, Joselyn West, demanding she call me back as soon as possible. Then I fired off another text to my assistant, the one the studio had hired for me. At least she answered right away.

Liv: I don’t work for you anymore. Lose my number.

“The nerve!” I gasped out loud. More heads turned, and one lady threw a dollar bill at me. It bounced off my bright red bodysuit and hit the pavement. My jaw dropped.

I had to get out of here. If I was going to have a breakdown—and the money thrown at me indicated I was well on my way—I needed to do it in private. I lifted my nose in the air and tightened my grip on the strap to my crossbody bag. Shifting into the sea of people moving down the sidewalk, I clicked my heels with defiance until I reached the parking garage and sank into my beautiful white Range Rover. The smell of new leather didn’t even pull me out of this foul mood that had started when those assholes at the studio called me into an unscheduled meeting. I should be on my way to film a segment at the new project in Hermosa Beach, not getting jostled like a directionless loser in downtown Los Angeles.

The silence in my car became deafening. I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. Where the fuck was Joselyn? I started the car and turned the air-conditioning way up. I was about to break a sweat just from sheer panic. How the hell had I lost the show that I’d created? Fifteen years being the lead on Flip or Fail and the studio ousted me for some no-name intern who couldn’t even hold a hammer properly? My foot tapped out a fast rhythm as I counted out the minutes. Not one call, not one text came in during the thirty minutes I gave Joselyn to call me back.

I threw my head back and screamed at the top of my lungs. The outburst didn’t solve my problems, but I did feel slightly better. There was one person I could call at any time, day or night, and know that she’d answer. I hit the contact for Mama. If Joselyn called me back while I was on the phone, I’d simply let her roll to voicemail. Served her right for ignoring me in my time of need.

“Hey, Tully, how are you?” Mama’s sweet voice came through the Bluetooth speakers loud and clear.

Tears instantly burned the back of my eyes. “I’m having a rough day, Mama.”

“Oh, honey. Tell me all about it.”

I didn’t call her nearly as often as I should, but thankfully she didn’t harp on that today. There was no way I could get into my reasons for never coming home to Blueball to visit, not when the life I thought I had just imploded in spectacular fashion.

My head thunked against the headrest. “Remember that intern the studio hired to shadow me a few months back? The one half my age and with half the brain cells?”

“Sure. Hattie, right?”

I gnashed my teeth and tried not to curse on the phone with Mama. “Hattie Brooks, that’s right. Well, the studio pulled me into a meeting this morning and said they aren’t renewing my contract. They’re giving my show to that twatapotomus Hattie!”

There was silence after my announcement. I didn’t know if Mama was as upset as I was, or maybe she hadn’t heard me. The longer the silence went on, the more confused I got.

“Did you hear me, Mama?”

“Yeah, I heard you, honey. It sounds like that’s not what you wanted.”

I gaped, staring out my windshield at the tree outside the parking garage. A homeless man was using the branches to hang dry his underwear. “No, it’s not what I wanted! That’s my show! My idea. My baby!”

Mama was silent again and I was starting to think calling her was a mistake. She didn’t understand. Never had understood my desire to have one of the top-rated home improvement shows on network television. She had no idea the work and drive and fortitude required to survive in Hollywood as a woman. A nobody. No family connections. No backroom deals. Just actual talent and the stubborn willingness to see it through.

A faint laugh escaped as I realized I actually hadn’t made it in Hollywood. I thought I had. I thought fifteen years would grant me some elevated status that couldn’t be taken away in the blink of an eye. Oh, how na?ve I still was.

“Honey,” Mama sighed. “Maybe you should come home for a bit. Regroup. Take a vacation for once. You’ll see things clearer with some fresh air, I promise.”

I shook my head without even giving her suggestion real thought. “I have so much to do here. I’ve got another call coming in, Mama. I’ll call you back soon, okay?”

There was no phone call coming in. Nor did I call her back. Nor was there anything to do once I got home to my small little bungalow in the Hills. Not one “friend” or former coworker contacted me in the days that followed my firing. Even Joselyn couldn’t find the time to properly call me. She shot me a few hurried texts that said to keep my head up.

I did not, in fact, keep my head up. I buried it in my pillows and cried my eyes out as the days went on and reality set in. I was done in Hollywood. Ousted from my own brain child idea that had grown into a profitable show. On the fifth day, when Joselyn texted me a video, I had to ice my swollen eyes for ten minutes before I could even see it.

I hit play, watching in horror as the twatapotomus stood in front of the home I’d picked out for renovation in Hermosa Beach, dressed in a plaid Britney Spears look-a-like skirt that would show her vagina if the slightest breeze came through, which it most certainly would one block from the ocean. She also wore a tool belt with a pink set of tools. The end of the hammer swung and whacked her in the thigh when she walked toward the front door. I gasped as she almost went down. The show blurred her ass cheeks as they flashed below the unprofessional skirt but didn’t edit out the mistake.

“What the fuck?” I asked out loud. My bungalow didn’t answer.

Me: This is absolute trash.

Joselyn: Trash sells, baby.

And that right there was the moment I washed my hands of Hollywood. I’d convinced myself that home improvement shows were outside the philosophy of sex sells . But the twatapotomus had proven me wrong. Hell, it wasn’t even her fault. She had the body, but the executives made the decisions. The untouchable elite struck again.

A week later, I didn’t look in my rearview mirror as I drove away from my house with the new for sale sign in the yard. I didn’t let myself glance at the coffee shop I visited every morning on the weekends or the bookstore I frequented whenever I needed a pick-me-up. The headlines about my firing on obscure Hollywood gossip pages no longer dinged on my phone since I removed the app that searched for my name. My life in the land of angels was over, burned to the ground in spectacular fashion.

Sure, I could have tried to get on another home improvement show. Use my B-list credentials to host a gameshow or make cameos on other daytime shows. All of it was possible. None of it was what I wanted.

I’d come to Hollywood looking to make a name for myself. To prove that I could make it somewhere when the odds were stacked against me. I had certain ideas about home interior design that weren’t mainstream at that time. And I’d done it. High-end homes all across the nation were installing live greenery into their walls to bring the outside in. Board and batten in the fleur-de-lis pattern was now carried in the home improvement stores. My ideas were widely accepted and scores of people knew my name.

And I was on my way home to Blueball for the first time since I left at twenty-three, my tail between my legs.

The town looked nothing like I remembered, but it didn’t matter. Just the sight of the pine trees and the contrast of the red dirt had my heart pounding in my chest. Uneasiness swept through me long before I saw the first shop on Main Street. This town had been my whole world for the first half of my life.

“Colson,” I whispered as I crept down the street, head swiveling from side to side. I hadn’t said his name in years though his face flashed in my memories all the time. The familiar ache in my chest accompanied every thought about that man. I rubbed the spot, coming to a stop at the red light that had been a four-way stop when I left town.

I saw him everywhere I looked. The general store we hit late one night when I had a craving for freshly baked cookies that couldn’t be ignored. The park where we kissed for the first time. The football field where I cheered on the sidelines and he asked me to homecoming in front of everyone.

Hell, even the drug store brought up a memory I’d prefer to forget. I’d bought a pregnancy test there right before I blew up our marriage. It came back negative, but the scare had made me realize I didn’t want the same things Colson did. He would have loved nothing more than to see me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen of the little house we rented while he went out and worked. It wasn’t a bad dream to have, it just wasn’t the same dream I had in my heart. I wanted to be somebody before I became someone’s mom. I wanted to make my mark, earn my keep, and let the world dazzle me for a bit before I lost myself to a small-town life.

I didn’t want to end up like my mother.

A car honked at me, two quick taps and a friendly wave. The light had turned green. I took off, heading straight through town to turn off on the street that led to my parents’ place. A few more turns and I saw the edge of the land. The fences were dilapidated like everyone else’s fences around here. Not even calling them shabby chic made them appear nicer. The driveway gravel was worn into two grooves just like it was when I drove out of here for the last time nineteen years ago.

The house, with its shiplapped exterior, looked old but well maintained. The L-shaped house was a simple one-story, the roof a muted gray and the siding a blinding white. The trees extended higher in the bright blue sky than I remembered from my youth, but the rope swing in the side yard remained. The garage door was open, showing the back end of the same faded blue SUV Mama drove when I lived here. I couldn’t believe the damn thing still ran. I pulled in carefully next to her car and got out, glancing around at all the tools still perched on the walls of the garage. Dad had been gone for decades, but his tools still looked like they got used yesterday.

The scent of pine trees and the type of air that hasn’t blended with the exhaust from millions of cars filled my nose. I inhaled deep and held it, letting the memories of this place lash at me. Somehow, in all the running away and blazing a new trail a few hundred miles away, I had missed Blueball.

The front door creaked open and my head shot in that direction. Mama stood there, her beautiful face creased into a smile even though I hadn’t bothered to tell her I was coming. Her hair was still cut in that chin-length bob I talked her into last time I flew her out to Los Angeles to visit me, but the floral housedress was definitely not one I would condone.

“Hey!” I called out with a lame wave.

Mama just grinned harder, her eyes almost disappearing behind her round cheeks. “Get your behind in here and hug your mama.”

My feet carried me over the ten feet and nineteen years separating us. When we pulled each other into a long hug, everything felt a million degrees better. This woman wouldn’t fire me for someone prettier and younger. Mama had always shown me unconditional love, but I hadn’t realized until this exact moment how much I appreciated it.

She patted my back and smoothed her hands down my straightened hair. “You staying for a few days?”

I pulled back just enough to see her face. I needed to know if I was being an inconvenience. “I was actually going to look for a place to buy, but can I stay with you in the meantime?”

Mama’s eyes lit up and then filled with tears. My throat closed just seeing how much my words affected her. “Of course, honey. Of course.” She hooked her arm around my waist and pulled me into the house.