Title:Whispered Truths (Truths, #1)
Author: Anne Mercier
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 11, 2015
Myah
My life literally changed in the blink of an eye. I was happy, I was whole... and then my father died. Since then I haven't been the same. I've been battling inner demons as well as the ones on the outside--my mother the evilest of them all. It's time to take control of my life and Kyle Cooper makes me believe that I can.
Kyle
I've been half in love with Myah Wilks for as long as I can remember. She's short and sassy--or she was until tragedy struck. Changes in her life left an opening for me, the one I've been waiting for and I'm jumping--with both feet. This amazing girl has more fight in her pinky than most people do in their whole body... she just needs to be reminded. She also needs to purge those demons and let her secrets go. Maybe, just maybe, she'll let me in and trust me with her whispered truths.
Whispered Truths
©2015 Anne Mercier
Chapter 1
Myah
Dick. I'm thoroughly disgusted. Prick.
A wave of revulsion runs through me as Lisa and I pass by Jason DeMarco in
the hallway. Asshole.
"I just don't understand how
some people think they have the right to touch people or things without
permission."
Lisa shakes her head and mutters,
"Motherfucking douche bag," as we walk past my nightmare in the form
of a 17-year-old linebacker for our high school, Lake Point Academy South.
Now I'm going to stop right here
for a minute and let you know that Lisa is full-blooded Italian with the
stereotypical Italian temper and she's got a super filthy mouth. You can take
the girl out of the Bronx, but you can't take the Bronx out of the girl.
Seriously, she curses more than Alec Baldwin on a crack-induced temper tantrum.
Thing is, that's all offset by the
fact she's gorgeous. I mean supermodel gorgeous at the age of seventeen. She's
five-eleven, blonde hair, blue eyes, 36-24-36, and I swear her legs go up to my
chest. Jealous? A little. Envious? TONS.
"You remember my Uncle
Leo?" she asks.
"The scary one that lives in
Brooklyn?"
"Yeah."
I nod. Oh yeah, I remember her
Uncle Leo. He's gigantic, like six-three, two hundred fifty pounds of
intimidation. I nearly peed my pants (literally) when I met him for the first
time. There was just so much of him and his scowl could send the bravest of men
crying in the corner—I shit you not. Those frighteningly piercing eyes, Robert DeNiro scowl,
and nose that had obviously been broken more than once had a shudder running through
me every single time I looked at him. He reminded me of an Italian version of a
very pissed off Brock Lesner. Yeah, no thanks. He thought my
reaction of wanting to run away from him as fast as I could was funny, yet he
tried to reassure me that through Lisa I was part of the "family" so,
as her best friend, I was safe.
"Well, he's got connections if
you know what I'm saying."
"Uh, 'family'
connections?" I wonder, not for the first time, if he's mob or mafia or
whatever they call it now.
Lisa nods. "He has friendsÉ
associates who can make accidents happen."
My eyes widen. I mean this
shouldn't come as a shock. I kinda figured out what
"family" meant, but still having their services offered is pretty
effing terrifying. I have no idea what to say so I just remain quiet and
bug-eyed.
"That motherfucker over there
could have a really, really bad accident. Leo knows people who would be on the
next flight out to take care of his bitch ass."
It's a tempting proposition. I tilt
my head to the side as I ponder Lisa's offer for a moment. Her eyes widen and
she grins when she sees me seriously considering it. The bastard truly deserves
it butÉ
"That might be taking things a
little too far."
Lisa grabs my arm gently and angles
her head down the hall. "Hottie central."
I look down the hall and see a
group of gorgeous maleness. Lucas Matthews, Lisa's sexy boyfriend; Marcus
Stewart aka Stewie; Jackson Brandt; and the one and only Kyle Cooper aka
Coop.
"Damn. Right there are four
tall, muscular, extremely attractive and sexy male specimens."
"Wipe the drool, Myah."
"Why? I'm proud of this drool.
I'm gonna let it drip off my chin."
"Gross."
"Yep. Kyle Cooper is worth
every drop of drool."
"I agree, Coop is hot, but that's
sick. You're aware of that, right?"
"Yep. Ask me if I care."
"Do you care?"
"Nope."
She lets out an unladylike snort.
I smirk. "We better head
inside."
Lisa stops me once more just
outside the classroom and looks me in the eye. "Let me know if you change
your mind. All it takes is one phone call."
I nod. Scary shit right there. Just
saying.
We walk into the last class of the
day.
So far the first day of the second
semester of my Junior year of at Lake Point Academy South is going
pretty well, yet I can't help but wish it was my Senior year instead. I need to
get the hell away from my Mother before she drives me completely insane.
Mommy dearest, I think with a snort
as I sit in Ms. Pritchard's Creative Writing class and turn to look out the
window. The snow has really started to come down. Large flakes are blowing
harshly in the wind, and when it stops, they spiral gloriously to the ground.
My Dad used to tell me a story my grandma (his mom) told him when he was
little. She'd said that when it snowed like this, the angels were having pillow
fights and those were the feathers from a torn pillow floating listlessly to
the earth. The memory brings a tear to my eye. My dad died last summer and I
don't think I'll ever get over it. He was my savior, my best friend, my
protector and I miss him every minute of every single day.
Circle of life and all that BS is
what people keep saying but the gist of it is: Everything and everyone dies.
Some days I wish I would. It would be a lot easier than fighting the
never-ending battle of my miserable life. I sigh inwardly.
I guess my life isn't so bad on the
outside looking in. I mean, I'm not a social outcast but I'm not the most
popular kid either. I've got more acquaintances than friends, and they keep a
safe distance. Who can really blame them—as screwed up as I am? It's not that I
haven't tried to fake normal, but a person can only pretend so much before the
truth surfaces.
Meh. I blink and shake off the
heavy thoughts ruining the beauty of the storm outside when the final bell
rings. I pick up my pen as the last of the stragglers come in. I'm usually one
of the stragglers but not to this class. I love to write and I actually love
this class—not that I'd ever admit that out loud to anyone. It's my secret.
I've shared some poetry with a couple people I trust but the rest is mine.
The final bell rings and Lisa looks
at me and mouths "No Hottie God?"
I shrug, but to tell you the truth
I'm a bit surprised myselfÉ and if IÕm being honest, I'm a bit disappointed.
"First time in a year and a
half," Lisa whispers.
I nod solemnly and her eyebrows go
up.
Ms. Pritchard calls attention,
pulling me from my thoughts as she starts babbling on about nouns, pronouns,
and all that happy horseshit. Truthfully, I don't care about that crap and I
can't tell you what a pronoun is to save my life. I just enjoy stringing
sentences together and telling the stories that create themselves in my mind.
I tap my pen on my notebook in
boredom when Lisa, next to me, sends me a glare. I smile apologetically then
bring the pen to my mouth and begin to chew on the cap.
Lisa Renzi's been my best
friend since the third grade. We met when she moved from two towns over. She
wore glasses so all the kids picked on her, calling her four-eyes. I thought
she was pretty, even with the glasses. They suited her. So I walked right up to
her in the middle of the bullying at recess, took her hand and walked to the
jungle gym where we hung upside down like monkeys and became instant friends.
She knows all my secrets and I know all of hers. She's one of the few people in
the world I know I can trust—I can trust her to be honest and to keep my
secrets, even the really bad ones.
While Lisa's supermodel beautiful,
I on the other hand am five feet nothing. I admit to having pretty awesome long
light brown, naturally curly hair and that along with my blue-green eyes are my
best features. The rest of my face isn't anything spectacular. My body is a bit
too curvy for my liking. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not fat—far from it. I've
just got more hip and boob proportion than I'm comfortable with.
There's a knock at the door and
that's when he walks in. Oh my God. What's he doing here? I thoughtÉ
Lisa looks over and smirks. I watch
resigned to the fact that there is no escaping all that is his hotness.
"Mr. Cooper," Ms.
Pritchard starts, flustered and blushing, "to what do we owe the
pleasure?"
I roll my eyes. Even the teachers
fawn over him. Mr. Popular. Mr. Quarterback. Mr. Basketball. Mr. Tall, Dark,
and Yummy. Who can blame her, really? He's six feet tall with unruly brown hair
that sticks up in disarray giving him that just jumped out of bed look—or been
thoroughly kissed and the girl (preferably me) ran her fingers rapturously
through his hair. Yeah, oh yeah. A girl can dream.
His eyesÉ eyes the color of milk
chocolate surrounded by long thick eyelashes I'd kill to have, his lips full
and lush, and his body firm and muscular. In other words: sex on a stick and
every female that comes within ten feet of him wants to take a lickÉor a bite.
Lisa leans across the aisle and
whispers, "And the Hottie God has arrived."
I roll my eyes again.
"Every class for three
semesters?" she asks.
I nod and she smirks.
"Luca told me today that Kyle
dumped Macyn in the middle of his party the other night. He just
looked at her when she started hanging all over him and told her to take a
hike."
I raise my eyebrows and my eyes
widen. "No shit?"
"No shit." she whispers.
"That had to be
humiliating." I bite my bottom lip trying to stifle my grin. Awww,
poor, poor Macyn.
Lisa smirks, knowing exactly what
I'm thinking. "It was time. That skank was with him entirely too long if
you ask me."
"It was barely a week."
"Too long," Lisa says
with a pointed look.
Aaron Weber, who's sitting in front
of me, adds, "I heard she cheated with DeMarco."
"Ewww," Lisa and I say at
the same time.
"What theÉ why?" I ask
aloud.
"No shit," Lisa adds.
"Chicks," Aaron says with
a shrug and turns around.
I lean forward a bit and whisper to
Aaron, "Because you've recently gone through an ugly breakup, Weber, I'm
not going to cuff you on the back of your head for that incredibly sexist
comment. Any other time and you'd be feeling the pain."
He responds with a sheepish grin.
"For someone so small, you're really fucking scary, Wilks."
"Don't forget it either."
Like my wimpy self could even hurt anyone. I snort inwardly. What they don't
know won't hurt them.
Lisa points at me and mouths, your
turn with the Hottie God.
I wish. I just shake my head and
give her a helpless look. She's the only one who knows my secret.
So, okay, I have a crush on Kyle
Cooper. He's hot, he's sexy, he's one of the sweetest guys I've ever met—and
I'm too shy to let him in on the fact that my heart ping pongs around inside my
chest whenever he's around.
I've known him all my life but he's
always been untouchable. We're friends, but not close friends and we're never
alone together unless it has to do with family obligations, and I never really
thought we would be—until ninth grade.
He'd been assigned as my Biology
lab partner. He sensed my desperation when we were faced with the
"dissection" portion of class. He recognized it without having to
even tell him. It'd probably been written all over my face, but in any event,
he took pity on me and that was the one and only time I would never bristle
when someone pitied me.
He took over, soothing me with his
voice while he cut open the nauseating, formaldehyde-drenched insects and frog. Gawd,
it'd been disgusting, but disgusting took on a whole new level when we got to
the earthworm.
A long, filthy worm. I shudder
in remembrance. Apparently I turned a bit greener than I had with any of the
other "victims." Kyle just rubbed my back and told me it'd
be all right. I'm not usually such a sissy. I mean, when I used to go fishing
with my parents, I put my own worm on the hook, so I don't know what prompted
that reaction.
Maybe it was because I had to
inspect the guts of this worm. Maybe it was the smell. Jesus, did
that thing smell—like smelly feet combined with ass. I don't know. All I do
know is I'm glad that Kyle Cooper had been my partner because not every guy
would've let me get by without doing some of the cutting.
Then one day he produced a small
jar of Vicks, opened it, put a little on his finger, and rubbed it underneath
my nose.
"That should help with the
smell," he said as he closed the jar and returned it to his backpack.
That's when my heart started
beating for him. He wasn't like the rest of them—the rich, preppy jocks. He was
kind, caring and sweet.
"I switched a class, so you
get me for the rest of the semester." He gives Ms. Pritchard his best
smile and I swear I hear every female in the class sigh. IÕm not immune, I
feel it as much as the next girl. I just don't want him to know. What would be
the point?
My heart kicks up. I look at Lisa
and she looks at me and wiggles her eyebrows and mouths, "Eye candy."
I don't smile and I'm glad I don't
because when I look back at Kyle he's looking right at me. Crap! I look down at
my paper and start drawing random shapes again.
"Well, lucky us!" Ms.
Pritchard says enthusiastically. Yeah, on top of being hot, popular, the star
quarterback, point guard of the basketball team, and prom king, Kyle was also a
straight-A student. Teachers loved him extra for that.
"You can take the desk behind
Ms. Wilks."
He turns and smiles in my
direction.
"Myah," he says as he
winks at me from the front of the classroom. In front of everyone.
Oh God.
Naturally, I blush, my
heart races, and the butterflies start doing some funky dance in my stomach.
When I notice the entire class staring I wish I could crawl under my desk and
hide. Lisa snickers next to me.
Oh God.
No.
No. No. No. No. No.
It's not as if I'm not used to
having him in my classes. I can handle the fact that whatever God is out there
has it in for me and put him in every single one of my classes the last three
semesters—even Home Ec. The only saving grace for me is his last name starts
with "C" and mine with "W". That means, unless there's an
unusual pairing up as had been done in Biology, we're always on opposite sides
of the room—because even if we aren't seated in alphabetical order, I keep my
distance.
I need that distance. From
him. I can admit that out loud. He overloads my senses. Not just because
he's gorgeous, but because he smells delicious and more than once I've had the
urge to lick his skin to see if he tastes as good as he smells. On top of all
that, he's got an amazing personality. He's not your typical jock. He is—as I
said before—sweet and kind and I really, really wish he was mine.
My head is down and I'm still
doodling as he walks by and sits in the desk behind me, his scent floating over
me. I close my eyes briefly and enjoy the woodsy smell of him.
I hear and feel him lean forward in
his desk. He's close, so close I swear I feel his hands on my hair. I'm
grateful I wore it down today because having it up, my neck exposed, would
leave me feeling naked and push me over the edge.
I take a deep, steadying breath
when Ms. Pritchard finishes her blather about adverbs. I can do this. I can.
"We're going to start the
semester off with something a little different," Ms. Pritchard says, going
from row to row passing out packets of paper.
I sit waiting for Aaron in front of
me to pass back my packet and thenÉ then I have to turn and give one to Coop.
The butterflies have come alive again.
I turn and hand the packet to Coop
who winks at me and grins that too-sexy grin that makes me melt. I can feel my
face flame red and he chuckles as I quickly turn to face forward. I glance at
Lisa who is grinning. The traitor. Where's the sympathy for her BFF? I send her
a glare and give her the finger in return and she laughs under her breath.
I tune in just in time to hear Ms.
Pritchard tell us that we're going to be working on a fictional story, we
can choose the genre. This totally rocks! I will, of course, be writing a
romance or romantic suspense.
"You'll be working in groups
of two. Now let's see," she says as she starts going around the room
pairing people up. It would be amazing if I'd get Lisa as my partner but from
the way she's pairing people up it looks like I'm going to be paired
with—"
"Mr. Cooper and Ms. Wilks."
My face must reflect my horror and
Lisa reaches over and nudges my arm. OhGod,ohGod,ohGod. This can't be
happening. A semester-long project with Kyle Cooper. Fuck my life.
I drop my head to the desk, my
forehead hitting it with a thud.
I glance to Lisa who gives me a
reassuring smile just as I feel a tug on my hair. I sit up and slowly turn to
look at Coop.
"Hey," he says smiling
brightly, "—partner."
"Hey," is all I can
manage to say.
"From your reaction there, a
person would think you don't like me or want to work with me," he says,
his grin doesn't quite meet his eyes. Oh crap. He totally read that wrong.
"No, no. Oh my God, Kyle,
that's not it at all," I tell him, absent-mindedly reaching out to touch
his forearm.
His hand covers mine. "Yeah?
You sure?" He sounds so un-Kyle-likeÉ almost insecure.
"Positive. I'm happy to work
with you," I tell him smiling, hoping he can't feel the erratic pulse in
my hand or wrist as he squeezes my hand.
"HappyÉ that's more like it. I
like enthusiasm. You should shout that from the rooftops. It's a pretty big
deal, being able to work with me.
"So you're gonna wanna do
the chick thing, huh?"
I get lost in his eyes. "Chick
thing?"
He smiles that smile again and my
heart flutters. I'm barely able to hold back my sigh. He is so completely
gorgeous. I just want to lick his lips. Maybe gently tug on the bottom one with
my teeth.
"Yeah, romance. The chick
thing."
"Oh," I reply tucking a
strand of hair behind my ear. "That was my plan—well, until she said we
were partnering," I say with a wry grin.
"It's cool. We can do a
romantic suspense or something."
"Really?" I thought for
sure he was going to go all macho and insist on writing horror or
straight suspense or thriller.
He shrugs. "Sure. So long as
there's murder and mayhem, why not?"
"Um, okay."
"Do you have any plot
ideas?"
"No, not just yet."
Truthfully I'd like to write a fictional story of my dream version of me and
Coop. We'd be in a relationship, in love and no one would ever be able to come
between us. I sigh and he chuckles.
"Already 'romancing' I
see."
I blush and shrug.
"We've got a lot to plot out.
Age, race, characters, the suspense part, the romance, locationÉ" he
trails off and I nod.
"It's going to be a big
project."
He nods. "We'll have to hook
up outside of school to work on this, probably two or three times a week."
OhMyGod. I had planned on doing a
lot of the work on my own and letting him come in and give his thoughts and
changes. I hadn't planned on him participating. At all.
He must notice the surprise on my
face because he tilts his head and asked, "What?"
"Uh, well. I guess I didn't
figure you'd want to put that much effort into it and that's fine. I don't mind
doing my share of the work."
His brows furrow and he frowns.
"Why would you think that?"
"I don't know," I shrug.
"I guess I didn't think you'd have time with all the stuff you've got
going on." You know, I think, basketball and Macyn. Only if what Lisa
said is true, there is no more Macyn.
"Nah, I make time. I'm not one
to slack off on the work. Remember Biology?"
I smile. "Yeah, I
remember."
He grins and my breath catches. Oh
God, that grin. For an entire semester. One-on-one. I'm never gonna survive.
"You were so repulsed I
thought for sure you were gonna puke right there in the lab."
"I came pretty
close—especially with those worms." I shudder.
He laughs. "Yeah, you looked
pretty green with those."
I sigh.
"What?" he asks.
"Green is so not my
color."
He laughs again. "Oh, I don't
know. You were pretty cute."
Cute? Did Kyle Cooper just call me
cute? I instantly blush.
"You have your cell on
you?"
"What?" I'm still hung up
on the cute comment.
"Do you have your cell phone
with you?"
"Oh, yeah." I pull my
iPhone out of my back pocket and hold it up.
"I knew it would be
pink," he says just before he reaches for it. I won't apologize for being
a girlie-girl who loves pink. I won't apologize for the daisy stickers on it
either. I'm girlie. People can deal. Every day I wear something that has
pink in it. I don't know why, but I just love the color. Lisa hates it and
wouldn't be caught dead in pink.
Kyle reaches for my phone. I
quickly pull it back and hold it against my chest, narrowing my eyes.
"What do you want with
it?"
"I'm not going to go through
it or anything. I was just going to put my number in so you can text or call
whenever you want to hook up."
My mouth goes dry. Coop's
phone number. In my phone. Holy shit.
I keep my eyes narrowed and slowly
hand him the phone and he works it like a pro then I hear a beep. He pulls his
nearly identical iPhone out of his back pocket only his is black where mine is
pink. He slides his long fingers across the screen.
"There." He turns his
phone toward me. "Now I've got your number too." He wiggles his
eyebrows.
"Well, don't go all stalker on
me like Jason DeMarco did last year when we had to work on that Psych
project."
I look at him and note he's
frowning instead of laughing at my, apparently, poor attempt at a joke.
"What the hell? He stalked
you?"
I shrug. "I may be
exaggerating a bit."
"She's not." This
from Lisa, the traitor across the aisle.
"Thank you very much," I
say sarcastically, sending her a glare.
"You're welcome," she
replies, sweet as can be.
"What happened?" he asks.
I shrug and shake my head. "It
doesn't matter. It's done and over with."
"Hmm," is his only reply. I
really don't want to talk to Coop about douchebag DeMarco and his
nonstop texts and phone calls. The nude pictures and—dear God—the videos. The
party where he trapped me, forced his tongue down my throat then proceeded to
touch me wherever he wanted to while I fought, scratched, and clawed at him. I
shudder and shut the memory down, closing my eyes briefly. This isn't something
I want to talk about to him—or anyone—ever.
"AnywayÉ" I say hoping to
change the subject. The bell rings and I breathe a sigh of relief.
He leans forward, his nose nearly
touching mine and I barely cover my gasp—barely. My heart speeds up and I can't
look away from his eyes staring directly into mine.
"This isn't over. You'll tell
me what he did."
"You think so, huh?" I
reply smartly.
He nods. "I do."
"We'll see," is all I say
as I grab my books and stand.
"I'll give you a call tonight
after basketball practice and we can figure out a schedule."
I nod. "Sounds good but I'll
need—" I was about to say my phone when he leans forward, his chest
brushing mine, his lips a hair's breadth away from mine. My eyes widen as I
lick my lips. His gaze locks onto the movement as he reaches around me and
boldly tucks my phone into my back pocket, my breasts brushing against his
chest as he does. My breath catches and I know he hears it. He pauses and looks
at me, his eyes now almost black as his gaze sears into mine.
After what feels like an eternity
but is really only a matter of seconds, he pulls back straightening to his full
height and touches his index finger to the tip of my nose. While the gesture is
light and flirty, he doesn't crack a smile.
"I'll call you."
I nod. As he walks away,
I pull my books up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. My eyes still
wide. My mouth hanging open. He's rendered me speechless.
"Wow," Lisa breathes
standing next to me.
I can only stand there and nod.
What the hell just happened?
Lisa elbows me and wiggles her
eyebrows. "And," she says saucily, "he's single."
"He's not interested in me
like that."
"Don't be stupid, Wilks,"
Aaron says as he turns and starts walking toward the door. "His eyes
dilated and darkened. He's more than interested."
"Because you shared that
information, again, I won't cuff you upside the head for the insult."
He grunts and gives a half-assed
wave as he walks out the door.
Lisa smirks. "See? Girl,
you're neither dumb nor blind."
No, I'm not butÉ he's Kyle Cooper
and I'm justÉ me. He is way out of my league.
She nudges my shoulder with hers.
"Let's go. We're gonna be late."
"For what?"
"Tryouts."
Kill me now.
I was born and raised in Wisconsin and still live here today with my two sons and puppy. (Though one day soon I hope to move to southern California!)
I’m an avid reader who gets inspired by reading the stories from my favorite authors as well as listening to various types of music. I am a huge fan of music, chocolate, fruit, desserts, autumn, M. Shadows, Avenged Sevenfold, and Milo Ventimiglia. Through my books, I am proudly creating new Avenged Sevenfold and Milo Ventimiglia fans one reader at a time.
I absolutely love interacting with readers and invite you to contact me any time via email: Anne@AnneMercierAuthor.com.
“The best part of being an author, to me, is being able to take the reader to that one place they long to go when they need to escape reality. Knowing I can do that, for even one reader, makes what I do worthwhile.” ~ Anne Mercier
Hugs and love,
Anne xoxo
