EverGreene (Fallen Soldiers #1)

Chapter 1

Ever

God, I needed to get laid. Or as my friend Katy would say, “You need a good dickin’, Ever.”

She was wrong.

I needed something far more carnal than a good dickin’.

A good dickin’ would have satisfied my needs months ago.

What I needed now was on a whole nother level.

What I needed now, as in right now, was a toe-curling, leg-numbing, vagina-wrecking, cervix-bruising pounding.

I needed to be thrown against a wall, chained to a bed, made to ride the handle of a knife—

Okay, maybe not that extreme.

Yet.

That would require a level of trust and intimacy I wasn’t looking for right now—and perhaps never would again.

Tonight, I needed a good old-fashioned one-night stand.

Bonus points if the guy knew what the fuck he was doing.

And then, after it was all said and done, I needed him to leave, disappearing into the night like the ghost of every poor decision I’d ever made.

And what better place to find my next big mistake than a costume party.

I leaned against the vinyl siding of my friend Katy’s condo, shivering as I stood on the back deck, wishing I’d dressed up as Chewbacca instead of the sexy peacock I picked up at Spirit Halloween after I finally caved in to Katy’s insistence that I be here.

Every year on the Saturday before Halloween, Katy and her roommate Jem hosted their annual Monster Slash Bash, drawing practically everyone living within a fifty-mile radius of our mid-sized Midwest town to their cramped condo—or so I’d been told.

I’d only been living here for just over a year, meeting Katy by happenstance when a piece of mail belonging to her was delivered to me by accident.

“I can’t believe you drove over here just to bring this to me,” she’d said after opening her door and finding me standing on her porch.

I’d wanted to be anywhere but standing on a total stranger’s porch, clutching their mail in my hand.

Her deep blue eyes inspected me, boring a hole into my soul as her brow arched suspiciously above one eye as though expecting me to whip a Dyson out from behind my back like a rabbit from a hat while I extolled the virtues of using bananas as lube.

“You know,” she’d said, “you could have just written Wrong Address on the envelope and slipped it back in the mail. For all you know, I could be some deranged serial killer who chooses her unsuspecting victims by sticking random flyers”—she looked down at the piece of paper she’d pulled from the envelope—"offering to extend my car’s extended warranty into mailboxes just so I can murder them for sport when they show up at my door. ”

“That all may be true, but to be honest, my biggest concern was that you were going to invite me in to play euchre, which seems to be a requirement for citizenship in the Midwest. Also, the name Katy didn’t exactly scream, ‘This is the name of a killer, Ever.’”

She stood, staring at me, the corners of her lips tugging ever so incrementally northward into a smirk as she grasped the flyer most likely referencing the Toyota Corolla sitting in her driveway between a pair of perfectly manicured stiletto nails in a startling shade of onyx.

“I’m going to go,” I’d said, pointing needlessly behind me with my thumb as I turned to walk down the concrete steps back to my own mid-sized sedan.

“Ever, wait,” she’d called after me, stopping me in my tracks. “If that’s actually your name.”

Oh God, this is what I get for venturing outside my house after work hours.

I turned to face her, already wishing I could teleport back home to the confines of my Snuggie and daily diet of murder shows. “It’s Everleigh, actually, but my friends call me Ever.”

At least, that’s what I wanted them to call me whenever I had friends again.

“I haven’t seen you around here, and I know everyone.”

“You know everyone in a city with a population of seventy thousand?”

“I know everyone who matters.”

“Well, that explains it, then. I don’t matter.”

“I find that hard to believe. Where are you from? Because I know it’s not from around here.”

“Nowhere,” I’d answered, feeling the gnawing bite of nausea that tugged at my stomach whenever anyone asked me anything about my personal life.

She’d squinted at me, giving me the impression that no one had ever denied her anything she’d ever asked from them before. “Huh. Secretive.”

If you only knew, Katy. If you only knew.

“Yeah, well, that’s me. International Woman of Mystery.

” Jesus take the wheel, Ever. Shut your hole right now and get out of here.

“It was nice meeting you. Hope that warranty works out.” At precisely the moment I’d thought I’d gotten off scot-free, Katy stopped me once more.

“Ever, why don’t you stay. We just got the cards out to play some euchre. I could use a new partner.”

“I, uh…”

A wide shit-eating grin spread across her face. “I’m just fucking with you. But my roommate and I really are making margaritas and vegging out in front of the TV to watch a Scream marathon. We’re going to dissect our attraction to morally gray men. You’re welcome to join us.”

And that’s the story of how I was adopted by Katy Vickers.

“Hey. Katy said you may be looking for me.”

“Jesus Christ!” I jumped, practically spilling the rum and Coke I’d been nursing since I arrived earlier in the evening.

Regaining my composure, I looked over my shoulder at the person attached to the voice that had interrupted my dissociation, trying my best to plaster on a smile as, according to Katy, my usual scowl was giving ‘come near me and I’ll cut you vibes. ’

“Women don’t normally scream that until later,” he said, a grin breaking across his face, half of which was covered by a white mask made to resemble the one worn by the Phantom in Phantom of the Opera, which this horny stranger was now tainting for me.

Each word that had come out of his mouth sent the stench of cheap beer and nicotine straight up my nostrils, and the noxious fumes were now banding together to form a nauseating knot in my stomach.

“I sincerely doubt that,” I muttered, taking a sip from the red plastic cup that had become something of a harbinger of mornings spent hugging the porcelain throne.

“What did you say?” he asked, unable to hear me over Cardi B rapping about a part of me I feared would never be wet again with the way this night was going.

“I was just asking you,” I said, raising my voice, “where the rest of your costume is?” I gestured up and down the length of his stubby body. “I don’t recall the Phantom wearing an Under Armour hoodie and Hey Dudes while traversing the sewers of Paris.”

The would-be woman-to-woman dick salesman stared at me, unblinking. “Uh, yeah. Whatever. Look, are we going to fuck or not?”

“Well, when you put it like that—no. No, we are absolutely not fucking, Frodo.”

“Katy said you were desperate. I thought it was because of your flat ass, but it turns out it’s because you’re a total bitch.”

I wanted to slap the smile off his face. It was the typical insecure male response when their fragile ego was bruised. Dismantle the woman’s self-esteem, tear her down, gaslight her until she believes she’s being rejected by you. Something I was all too familiar with.

Not today, Satan.

“Both things can be true. I can have a flat ass while in fact also being a total bitch.” There was never a more satisfying face fall in recorded history than the one from my wannabe suitor. “It has to be what, ten—eleven o’clock? I think your mom is expecting you back at home.”

His face flushed, and he mumbled something I probably wouldn’t have heard even if the music outside hadn’t been cranked up to a level that would later contribute to my going deaf in about fifty years as he walked away with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

“What the hell was that?”

Uh-oh.

I looked over my shoulder, locking eyes with Katy, who stood behind me like a stern parent.

Her arms were crossed in front of her, which would have been a little more intimidating if she weren’t half a foot shorter than me—and if she weren’t dressed like a sexy accountant because she’d bet Jem she could make anything sexy.

“I’m sorry.” I snort—laughed, catching sight of the calculator dangling from a lanyard around her neck. “But I can’t take you seriously when you look at me like that.”

“This isn’t funny, Ever. You’ve been thank-you-nexting everyone I’ve sent over, as if you’re Ariana Grande. What was wrong with Milton?”

“His name was Milton? Damn, I really did dodge a bullet.”

“I’m running out of the single guys I haven’t already called dibs on.

I’m done.” She threw her arms over her head in an exaggerated manner, causing her crop top to ride up and expose a hint of underboob that undoubtedly acted as a Bat-Signal to all the single men within a twenty-foot radius.

Fitting because ‘Boobies’ was spelled out on the calculator that was lodged between her cleavage.

“And I appreciate your efforts. I really do. Maybe this was a bad idea. I—I think I just need to call it a night.”

Her face softened, but unlike any of the other people who knew my story, Katy kept the pity out of her eyes, for which I was always grateful.

“It’s okay.” She took my free hand in hers.

“If you need more time, I get it. You shouldn’t rush into anything you aren’t ready for. Especially dressed as a fancy chicken.”

“I’m a peacock.”

“Honey, I don’t care.”

I gave Katy an apologetic grin. “I’m going inside; maybe I’ll take off soon.”

She nodded, letting go of my hand. “Okay. Do you need me to come with you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “You plan all year for this. I’ll be fine.”