Waiting for the pieces g.., p.1
Waiting for the Pieces (Gravity Hill Book 1), page 1
Copyright ©️ 2024 by Taylor Wilson-West
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, living or deceased, places, buildings, products, events and incidents. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or events is purely coincidental.
Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9883969-6-3
eBook ISBN: 979-8-9883969-7-0
Cover Design and Formatting by Karley Stafford, Literary Bound Designs
Edited by Trinity McIntosh, Type A Tweaks
Proofread by Tina White, Ashley DePointe
To all of my thriller babes who need a little romance too.
Authors Note
Hello party people, if you’ve picked Waiting for the Pieces up, welcome! I’m so excited you’re here. This is not my usual brand of sweet and steamy, this book is twisted and sometimes crude and graphic. Some content to be aware of:
Death of a loved one
Graphic depictions of torture (incl genital mutilation)
On page murder
Sexually explicit scenes
Consensual-nonconsent
Exhibitionism
Voyeurism
Degradation
Praise
Stalking
As always, I strive to be as transparent as I can by giving you these warnings, however I am human, so if I missed one, please let me know, and I will correct it as soon as possible.
Now, buckle up, buttercup.
You’re in for a ride.
Chapter One
He’s late…again.
I swear that man would be late to his own funeral with the way he cares for time. Everyone here though, they would still cheer as his casket made the trek down the aisle. He was Manson Hayes, the great and wonderful.
The soiree our mother insisted on, is one for the ages. Anyone who is anyone got an invite.
The only reason I’m here is because the golden boy himself is my brother. Yes, biologically. Though you wouldn’t know it looking at us. Where he’s tall, I’m short. He’s slim and well muscled, and I’m thicker around the midsection. He is beautiful and I’m less…in-your-face pretty. Just your average, lovely, dark haired angel, our dad says.
It’s not like I think I’m ugly or anything. My nose is straight, without plastic surgery, my lips are full and shapely, and man did God really give me the best tits a girl could ask for. High and perky, and more than a handful. I’ve always thought I was a knockout.
Manson oozes confidence, no matter what he is doing, it’s his superpower. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He walks through the front door with a big grin on his face, showcasing the natural straight pearly white of his teeth.
His blue eyes are so bright against the beginning of his summer tan. He scans the crowd of his colleagues and our family’s closest friends until those bright blue eyes land on my hazel ones.
He makes a beeline for me. I stand with our parents looking like the perfect family, and we are, for the most part. Our dad is the Mayor of our small town, Gravity Hill, and our mother is the biggest socialite. She leads all of the school functions, every ladies night out at the country club, and heads every committee on this side of the state line.
Manson wraps his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me to his chest, “well, Ferny, I finally did it huh?”
I shove him off me, laughing at his insinuation that he wouldn’t be opening his own practice. Valedictorian of his class, and president of the debate team, he graduated a semester early. Manson was always an overachiever, so working for someone else wasn’t going to be enough for him for long.
“You smell like women’s perfume.” I complain, because his latest hook-up is right behind him, and I have hated her since freshman orientation. His freshman orientation. Stella Briggs has had her sights set on my brother forever, despite him never paying much attention to her. It’s been years since college, and she is still following him around. I’m just glad this will be the last we see of her, with Manson finally leaving TWTM Counseling and Psychology, she has no reason to shadow him like a stalker anymore.
I just finished my PhD in Literacy at Cardis University–at nearly twenty-six years old–I feel pretty accomplished, and our mother simply had to throw a party to celebrate.
Stella sneers over his shoulder as our mother grabs Manson by his biceps and hauls him to her chest. Placing a gentle kiss on both of his cheeks.
“My baby boy,” she croons, tears lining her eyes. Manson is close to thirty-two years old for God’s sake, but to mom he will always be her baby.
Gag me.
Her nails are bright red against Manson’s trim, dark beard. Her hair perfectly styled in beachy waves. Gray streaks almost professionally throughout her dark tresses. Only our mother would grow gray hair damn near perfectly.
Dad slaps Manson on the back and offers him a lowball glass with a few splashes of whiskey, “my son, the Psychiatrist, branching out on his own.”
Manson blushes, as he always does when our father gifts him compliments. His cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. Almost unnoticeable to others, but not me. My brother and I are best friends. Well, as much as we can be.
I still have my secrets, and the biggest one just walked through the door.
Awareness prickles the hair on my arms, sending shocks of goosebumps over my flesh. Creed Hemlock lights up all of my senses, and has since Manson brought him home for the first time when I was eight.
I didn’t understand attraction then. How could I, when the most manly man I knew was my father, and I certainly have never been attracted to him.
Creed walks in with the swagger of a well built man. His shoulders thrown back, solid arms hanging by his sides, legs toned and lean. But his face is set in a permanent scowl when he isn’t hamming it up for some one night stand, or laughing at my brother. He wears his beard a little scruffy after he found out women preferred his dark facial hair this side of just unkempt, making him look rugged like that cowboy on Yellowstone girls go nuts over.
He nods in my direction when Manson hollers for him to come over. His eyes lingering on me for just a few more seconds than normal.
I swear he’s known about my crush for years, and is waiting on the right time to out me to my brother.
“Hey, man!” Manson shouts over the crowd. They did everything together, until Creed left for New York. He’s been gone on and off over the past three years, and I swear Manson gets lonely when Creed isn’t around.
“Doc,” he says, a small smile gracing his lips. I look away before I get that stupid look on my face like every other woman in this room. “Thank you for inviting me Mr. and Mrs. Hayes.”
Always such a gentleman, even though I’ve seen a different side of him on the odd occasion that Manson would invite me out with them.
“You know we wouldn’t think about celebrating without you, you’re like our second son,” my mother chirps, her eyes full of genuine love. It’s true, he is basically a surrogate son to my mom and dad. He lived with his mother, but every summer he disappeared for a few weeks, presumably to spend with his dad.
Now, he lives at his mother’s house when he’s here, and who knows where when he is in New York.
I’m not even one hundred percent sure what his family does for a living. I just know they’re loaded, and his older brother hasn’t done too bad for himself either.
“I appreciate that,” he slaps a hand on Manson’s back in one of those bro hugs I have seen one too many times.
“Well, honey. We should mingle.” My mother lays her hand on my fathers forearm, and guides him toward the crowd of onlookers while he mouths, “help me.” Mom swats his shoulder playfully before they disappear into the crowd.
“Welp,” I start, “I should get going.” I ball my hands into fists, pointing my thumbs in the direction of the front door.
“And where are you going?” Manson fires off.
Overprotective brother alert.
“Out with Candy,” it’s all I was going to give him, and he knows it by the way he locks his fists together in front of his body. It’s his tell that he isn’t happy. I have been stuck with our parents all day, and I just want to relax.
To unwind with my friends and maybe get laid. He should know it’s not easy to find the time to fuck around when you’re working toward a PhD, I deserve this.
I need this.
“Come out with us tonight,” he offers, knowing that it’s a tempting suggestion. I would usually jump at the chance, but I’ve been in a dry spell for months, and if I go out with them I know I will embarrass myself, and definitely Creed too.
I need to get laid if I am going to be spending time with them anytime soon.
“And watch you try to hook up with someone all night? Thanks, but I’d rather stay in, than suffer through that.”
“Hey!” He shouts and pulls me closer, “I never have to try too hard.”
I push away from him, and practically scream, “gross!”
Manson laughs, and I try my hardest not to look at Creed who is either smiling, or watching us with thinly veiled irritation. Either way, I can’t look because if I did, I would probably try to climb him like I’ve wanted to for years.
I
Chapter Two
I lean against my bedroom door, panting from the exertion of running up the grand staircase of our house. The dark wood is a blur in my rush to get away from everyone downstairs.
Yes, I still live with my parents, but in my defense it just made the most sense. I’m not in a relationship and I spend nearly all of my time either at school, studying, or sleeping. There wasn’t any rush for me to move out on my own.
My dark purple curtains are thrown open. Big paneless windows lined one whole side of my room, revealing the dusky sky. The sun has barely set over the pine tree tops. A beautiful night for a little debauchery.
Candace has been my best friend since we were in diapers. She’s sitting on my bed, her long legs draped over the side, waiting. I have been calling her Candy since we could talk. Mostly because I couldn’t say Candace when I was little. Then, it just stuck.
Much to my mothers dismay, Candy lives in the trailer park on the outskirts of town. Her dad lost everything they had in a gambling den and her mom left not long after he showed no signs of changing.
But he did change, albeit slowly, and even though he doesn’t have much, he gives everything he can to Candy. It’s a different type of love, and I find it interesting. Mr. Hayworth hasn’t once treated me differently, even after my mother found out who he was, and started trimming our playdates short. Or stopping them all together.
“You said maybe an hour,” she gripes playfully. She’s probably scrolled on her phone, or tried on all my shoes while she has been waiting a few minutes past the hour I said it would take.
“Manson doesn’t want us to go,” I say and shrug. It’s nothing new that Manson doesn’t want me going out, he practically hounded me all through grad school.
“Boooooo,” she crows as a knock comes at my door. She giggles and hops up, reaching for the door. She turns the knob but I hold firm against the door.
“I don’t think that's a good idea,” I whisper.
Her eyebrows shoot up and her lips curl into a knowing smile, “he’s here.”
I shake my head, even though she knows I’m a liar, “please,” I almost beg. I’m not above it.
“This is too good. Maybe now you can tell him how much you wanna ride his big cock until you spray your juices all over him!” She starts moving her hips and laughing at my rapidly reddening face.
“Candy!” I whisper-shout, praying whoever is on the other side of that door didn’t hear a filthy word she’s saying. My skin heats and the fine hairs on my body lift.
“Fern?” I hear Manson on the other side of the door, “who are you talking to?”
Candy uses my surprise against me and pulls the door open a crack.
“Hi hot stuff, miss me?” she croons, leaning suggestively against the door frame. Her white t-shirt is ripped from base, to right under where her bra sits, in strips. Jeans covering her from her belly button to her sock feet.
“You know I did, little Candy Cane,” he replies, using the nickname he knows she hates.
I pull the door open all the way to end the grossness but stop short when I see Creed behind him.
Shit.
“Well, where are we partying tonight?” Manson claps his hands together, still eyeing Candy.
“We were just saying we might stay in instead, watch some movies. You know, girl time,” I lie, and bless her, Candy jumps right in.
“Yeah, lady times and all,” she fakes period cramps and Manson takes a step back like he might just catch them.
It takes all I have in me to not laugh.
“Okay, well if you change your mind we’ll be over at Brady’s,” he tells us before saluting Candy with two fingers and turning on his heel. Creed stands there a moment longer before following my brother down the stairs.
“Oh,” lifting his finger to tap his nose, he turns back so I can see his profile, “I don’t think you could handle my big cock, Charmer.”
Candy cackles and all I can do is stand there, mouth open, praying for the ground to open and swallow me up. Because he can’t have possibly heard Candy and I talking that far
from the door, and how the hell does he know Candy was talking about him?
“If I wasn’t already in love with your brother, I’d take Creed up on his challenge,” she wiggles her brows.
Candy and Manson are hot and cold with each other, and have been for the past year. I sometimes think if Candy wasn’t so free spirited, Manson would be serious about her. She likes to live without restraints, and honestly, with her hand in life, I can’t blame her for it.
My brother is about as straight-laced as they come though, and now that his practice is open, he wants to settle down, get married, and have kids.
I sigh, resigned in the knowledge that she would never, ever fuck me over with Creed. She may tease, but she’s my person. The vault for all my dirty secrets, tears, and bad deeds.
By the time I allow Candy to do my makeup and dress me like an off-brand Barbie, the party we decided to go to is in full swing. People loitering on the front porch of Dean’s family estate. Couples are making out on the lawn, drinks and other party favors flowing. Dean himself gives us a tilt of his cup in recognition before we saunter our way through his front door.
Dean’s doing well, a mutual friend of both me and Manson. Taking over his family’s business, whatever the fuck it’s called, was better for him when he graduated with his bachelors degree. He makes more money throwing parties than most college graduates make in their first year working.
We hooked up in high school and a little while I was at Cardis, but it never meant anything.
I don’t date…
“I’m gonna go say hi,” Candy wiggles her fingers and I wave her away, already knowing the drill. She will get some sort of contact high while in Dean’s presence and come back more handsy than a horny teenager.
I don’t mind it. Candy and I are sometimes friends-with-benefits, and we both know it’s only for a good time, not a long time. She usually gets her simple pleasures from Manson. But, seeing as he isn’t here, my kisses will have to suffice. I think hooking up with my best friend was all the action I got while in school, until I met him, the man who checked all my hook-up boxes.
My brother knows Candy and I fool around, but it isn’t exactly his favorite subject, so we mostly don’t speak of it.
I weave in and out of couples, saying ‘hi’ when necessary, all while making my way toward the back porch. It’s a massive screened-in area where I plan to spend most of my night. Dancing here is cooler than inside, with the late May breeze gently sawing through the mesh.
Gretchen from my freshman dorm sways her way toward me, handing me a cup filled with whatever’s on tap tonight, “thought you looked a little parched.”
I laugh, throwing my head back and feeling my dark hair brush along my spine, “bullshit.” I know her better than that. She wants to know what every woman here wants to know.
‘Did Manson come out with you?’
‘Is Manson here tonight?’
I learned a long time ago that girls are not my friends.
Candy being the exception. Even though I know she has a thing for Manson, she doesn’t flip her whole life around to only hang out with me when he’s home. She simply wants to be friends with me.
Gretchen smiles, like I knew she would, and taps her red cup against mine, “to hot older brothers.”
“I’m not fucking drinking to that,” I say. I don’t give a shit if Gretchen’s older brother is a tall, golden snack. Thinking of anyone fawning over Manson makes me want to puke.
The ‘G twins’–Gretchen and Garrett–aren’t locals, but they stuck around after Gretchen graduated from Cardis. I’m not sure why, since Garrett only came around because she decided to settle in.
Gretchen meanders through the crowd, laughing as she does, before the golden snack himself makes his appearance.
“Thought I might see you here,” he smiles, his mouth a little too big for his face, but still handsome in a surfer way. He went to school on the west coast, where they're from, for something to do with acting or whatever, “though, I don’t see your brother.” I guess the acting thing didn’t work out.
