The Boy Next Door: A Standalone Small Town Romance (Soulmates Series Book 3) Read online

  The Boy Next Door

  Hazel Kelly

  © 2016 Hazel Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  All characters, events, brands, companies, and locations in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

  Cover Artwork – © 2016 L.J. Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Laney

  Chapter 2: Connor

  Chapter 3: Laney

  Chapter 4: Connor

  Chapter 5: Laney

  Chapter 6: Connor

  Chapter 7: Laney

  Chapter 8: Connor

  Flashback: Laney

  Chapter 9: Laney

  Chapter 10: Connor

  Chapter 11: Laney

  Chapter 12: Connor

  Chapter 13: Laney

  Chapter 14: Connor

  Chapter 15: Laney

  Chapter 16: Connor

  Chapter 17: Laney

  Chapter 18: Connor

  Chapter 19: Laney

  Chapter 20: Connor

  Chapter 21: Laney

  Chapter 22: Connor

  Flashback: Connor

  Chapter 23: Laney

  Chapter 24: Connor

  Chapter 25: Laney

  Chapter 26: Connor

  Chapter 27: Laney

  Chapter 28: Connor

  Chapter 29: Laney

  Chapter 30: Connor

  Flashback: Andi

  Chapter 31: Laney

  Chapter 32: Connor

  Chapter 33: Laney

  Chapter 34: Connor

  Chapter 35: Laney

  Chapter 36: Connor

  Chapter 37: Laney

  Chapter 38: Connor

  Chapter 39: Laney

  Chapter 40: Connor

  Epilogue: Laney

  Note From the Author

  “The best gift in life is a second chance.”

  Prologue

  He was the one that got away, and I knew it before I ever broke things off with him.

  I didn’t want to end it, but at the time I believed it was the right thing to do… Because of who he was, who he wanted to become, and because of where I came from.

  I loved him more than I loved anything, but I thought he could do better.

  Even then I knew I’d never be able to replicate the happiness I found with him, in him.

  I tried, of course, but based on my experience, I’ve come to believe there really is one right person for everyone.

  And not only did I let my soulmate get away, I pushed him as far as he would go.

  As a result, I was convinced I deserved every second of loneliness the universe handed me.

  After all, I’d shunned the greatest gift it could offer anyone: True Love.

  But luckily for me, it turns out the universe is just as stubborn as I am.

  Chapter 1: Laney

  When I found the ring, I knew I couldn’t marry him.

  Not that it wasn’t beautiful.

  It was. In fact, it was princess cut perfection, and I was tempted to slip it on my finger.

  Just to see how it would look.

  After all, what would be the harm? I knew it was meant for me.

  But at the same time, it wasn’t. It was meant for the woman Henry thought I wanted to be, the women he thought I was. And that wasn’t me at all.

  It was all my fault, of course, for leading him on. And obviously I’d lead him too far if he believed I was ready for an engagement ring. But I didn’t mean to mislead him.

  Like I said, it was only when I found the ring that I realized I didn’t love him enough. Not like that. Not like you’re supposed to love someone when you say yes to loving them through sickness and health and all those other extremes that represent the crapshoot of goodies life might offer.

  I’d been in love before and this wasn’t it. I could feel it in my bones as I tilted the box in my hands, watching the sunbeams bounce off the color trapped inside the diamond.

  I wanted to love Henry that way. I’d spent the last year and a half convincing myself that that head over heels feeling was right around the corner, but finding the ring was proof that it wasn’t.

  I felt nothing. Nothing but disappointment in myself.

  Why couldn’t I love him back the way he was obviously prepared to love me?

  He was an amazing catch and a great provider. And not once had he ever made me feel small because he was a successful accountant who was actually important enough that had to keep his shoes shined, and I was a retired wannabe artist who pretended to be a waitress every day in hideous, practical sneakers that usually floated on a thin layer of crushed hash brown mixed with lemon cleaner and a slippery coating of grease.

  When I saw the ring, I should’ve started doing fucking cartwheels and crying and ovulating like a normal woman.

  Instead, I was looking back and forth between the ring and his sock drawer, wondering if I could just put the box back where I found it and pretend I’d never seen it.

  But what then?

  There were no good choices.

  I could wait for him to pop the question, then let him down easy and hope he’d be understanding.

  But I knew from experience the only time that ever worked out was on the Bachelorette, and it wasn’t because the potential suitors were better behaved than regular guys. It was because there were cameras everywhere.

  I suppose I could slip into conversation how I really wasn’t ready to get married and hope he’d take the hint.

  But then what? Just keep going through the motions as if I still believed we might have a bright future together?

  Maybe I could turn into some kind of unbearable monster overnight that no one in their right mind would ever possibly commit to.

  Granted, that was by far the most fun sounding option. The most cinematic.

  I could start using his toothbrush, burping in his face, and breaking things. I could decorate his apartment in bright pinks and leave crazy books around like Why He Doesn’t Really Need Space and Why Real Men Love Bitches.

  My cooking was already below average, but I could start saying nasty things about little kids on TV- maybe even tell him what I really thought of his relationship with his mother or let it slip that I’ve always wondered if his dad was well hung.

  Ugh. Okay. So I wouldn’t go quite that far.

  And to be honest, I wasn’t capable of doing any of that. Not to Henry, anyway. He was too good. He didn’t deserve it.

  Plus, after touching other people’s dirty plates all day and pretending that I thought it was cute that they let their toddler pour his own syrup or make her own powdered sugar finger paintings on the table, I really didn’t have the energy to stage such a catastrophic mess on my own turf.

  Not that it mattered.

  Because I already knew what I was going to do. I was going to flee. It was the only option.

  I couldn’t possibly look him in the eye over dinner later and pretend I hadn’t found it. I couldn’t tip toe around believing he might jump around the corner and drop to his knee any second.

  After all, I knew what it was like to break someone’s heart, and it was the last thing I ever wanted to do the first time I did it.

  So I sure as hell wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing if I thought I might have to do it again.

/>   I needed time. And I needed to put the ring down before I got my fingerprints all over the little velvet box.

  I took one last look at it. It made me sick to think how different the face I was making was from the one he probably made when he was picking it out.

  Then I closed the box gently so it wouldn’t make a sound (as if he might hear it in his office on the other side of New York) and returned it to the back of the drawer where he kept his collection of black work socks twisted into careful little balls.

  Seriously, even his sock drawer was proof that I didn’t deserve him.

  I mean, I was only in this mess because I’d failed to keep up with my laundry like other adults seemed to do so effortlessly. And I still might’ve avoided this problem if I’d happily slapped on a pair of dirty socks. But nooo, I wanted to be fresh footed on a Monday like some kind of princess.

  I groaned.

  If only I had someone to call.

  Unfortunately, all my friends in this city were Henry’s friends, too. Except for my friends at work, and I couldn’t vent to them because I had to give them an excuse for why I couldn’t be there for a few days.

  Because I desperately needed some fresh air.

  And to be on the safe side, I figured I could do with more fresh air than fit in Central Park. Plus, a safe distance would help make sure Henry couldn’t pop in while I was hatching a plan to free him from my broken, inadequate love.

  Fortunately, I’d only moved in three months ago so it didn’t take long to chuck some stuff in a bag. Not that I had much anyway.

  My former apartment was only about twice the size of a standard parking space. It also featured the occasional six legged hissing guest and an elevator straight out of a Hitchcock film.

  Needless to say, the conversation about who should be the one to move when we opted to cohabitate was a relatively short one.

  And it had been a wonderful few months, some of the best I’d had in my adult life quite frankly.

  And he had to go and ruin it by buying a damn ring.

  Chapter 2: Connor

  I faked to the left before dribbling around Dave and landing another layup.

  “Is it me or are you getting rusty?” I asked, grabbing the ball and jogging back towards center court.

  He bent over and set his hands on his knees. “I think it’s that you’re getting taller.”

  I laughed and held the ball against my hip. “Something tells me that’s not it.”

  He leaned up and wiped the sweat off his brow. “Would it be really pussy of me to blame the kid?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How old is she now?”

  “A year,” he said. “And the other two are vampires.”

  I laughed. “I thought vampires were superfast.”

  He walked to the side of the crumbling court and grabbed his water bottle off the bench. “They get it from their mother’s side.”

  “I suppose it’s not a bad excuse,” I said. “I did notice a few grays the other day.”

  “Fuck you,” he said, water dribbling down his chin. “You did not.”

  “Maybe I imagined it,” I said, shooting a free throw from the line. It swooshed in, nothing but net, and I ran to collect it.

  “I’m not even twenty eight,” Dave said, sitting on the bench.

  “Didn’t your dad go gray prematurely?” I asked, walking back to the line.

  “Didn’t your dad teach you some manners?”

  I shot again and watched the ball hit the backboard and go in.

  “And don’t guy’s hair genes come from their mom’s side?”

  “Good point,” I said, walking over to him. “In which case there’s definitely no hope for you.”

  He glared at me. “Someday your kids are going to make your thick blond waves fall out, too. Then we’ll see who’s gloating.”

  “I’m not gloating. I’m just saying you seem a bit rusty.”

  “Maybe you just aren’t rusting fast enough,” he said. “Maybe you should come on patrol with me later and see what breaking up gangland warfare does for your stress levels?”

  I sat on the bench next to him and wiped some sweat on my shoulder. “Gangs in Glastonbury, huh? Would that be the gang that sells the lemonade on Fourth Street or the gang that washes cars and sells Thin Mints on Tenth?”

  “So there are no gangs.” He leaned back. “You got me.”

  I slammed some water, which was grossly warm from sitting in the sun.

  “Sometimes I wish we’d see some more action around here to be honest,” he said. “The biggest problem we had last year was when we thought Mrs. Johnson’s purse had been stolen.”

  “Didn’t she just leave it at the fabric store?”

  He nodded.

  “At least no one can accuse you of not doing your job.”

  “True,” he said. “What about you? Haven’t seen many sick animals around so you must be doing well.”

  “Busier than ever,” I said. “And people have started coming from out of state to see me because of my new invention.”

  “That rubber wine stopper you showed me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a wine stopper. It’s an artificial animal foot.”

  “Right.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to get excited about it, but if your dog lost her leg for some reason, you’d be panicking in my office and begging me to bring back the pep in her step, too.”

  “So it works?”

  I nodded. “Over ninety percent of the time.”

  “Cool.”

  I hung an arm over the back of the bench. “It’ll be even cooler if the patent comes through.”

  “Because you’ll get paid every time another vet wants to be a hero?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “When will you know?”

  I shrugged. “There’s no telling with these things. It’s all paperwork and paper pushing and waiting around for papers to be processed.”

  “Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you- and not just because we don’t know who’s going to be this year’s local hero in the Fourth of July parade.”

  “I’m not doing that regardless.”

  He dropped his chin and raised his eyebrows. “If I ask you to wear a flag and throw candy in my parade, you’ll fucking do it.”

  I groaned. “That is so not why I moved back here. And it’s not your parade just because the mayor thinks you have a nice speaking voice.”

  “Everyone thinks I have a nice speaking voice.”

  “Whatever, the local hero should be some retiree who’s running out of chances to be the local hero.”

  “Hey,” he said, raising his hands. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “How about Billy Porter?”

  Dave furrowed his brow. “Hardware store Billy Porter?”

  “Yeah, why not? He’s never been properly recognized for setting up that sump pump hotline a decade ago, which has kept countless basements in this town from flooding. Plus, he didn’t charge anyone for borrowing his extra snowplows last winter when the blizzard rolled in. The guy’s a saint.”

  “You’ve sold me,” Dave said. “I’ll run it by the mayor.”

  “Maybe you could get one of the local gangs to make a giant sump pump for the top of the float?”

  He shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Are you kidding? A giant red, white, and blue sump pump?! Who wouldn’t be pumped to see that?”

  “You’re so right,” he said. “What a treat that would be for everyone.”

  I smiled and tilted my face up towards the late afternoon sun. “Any other problems you need solved now that you have my full attention?”

  “My girls want a treehouse.”

  “You’re on your own there,” I said. “Why don’t you get them one for the ground like a normal parent? They make pink ones and everything.”

  “They already have one of those.”

  “Maybe one of the local gangs could conveniently steal it for a
few days,” I said. “Then you can be the hero that brings it back right after they’re all cried out over thinking they’ll never see it again.”

  “I love that idea,” he said. “But I’m not sure Amber would be up for it.”

  “Do you have to run everything by her?”

  He tilted his head. “Do you know nothing about marriage?”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “Speaking of which, I meant to ask if you’d come by ours this weekend. We’re barbequing for some family reason I can’t remember. Probably the anniversary of someone’s first bite of solid food or some other bullshit. Should be fun.”

  “Is this your way of tricking me into mingling with the single ladies of Glastonbury?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not really a trick if you know about it.”

  “True.”

  “Plus, it will be more fun for me if you’re there. Amber’s lined up a babysitter so she’s guaranteed to hit the white wine until it hits her back. And I could use a trusted grill master in case I have to piss.”

  “Won’t all your work buddies be there?”

  “Some of them,” he said. “But I only invited them to make you look good.”

  “Oh look,” I whispered, nodding over his shoulder “Here comes one of those gangs you warned me about.”

  Dave turned around just as some teenagers approached the court.

  “You guys using the court or can we shoot some hoops?” the one in the Jordan’s said.

  I leaned forward. “It’s all yours.”

  “But play on this side to be safe, guys,” Dave added. “The pavement on that side’s a disgrace.”

  “We know,” the boy said. “Thanks.” Then he turned and threw the ball to a friend before dropping his Gatorade, pulling up his sagging pants, and strutting onto the court.

  “How long has the court been busted up like this?” I asked.

  Dave scanned the faded grey pavement. “It started crumbling during the recession, and it’s only gotten worse.”

  “Someone should really fix that,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Dave said. “Someone should.”

  Chapter 3: Laney