The Sky At Night

THE SKY AT NIGHT HEROIN HEARTBREAK BOOK 1 SAMANTHA LOVELOCK Copyright © 2023 by Samantha Lovelock, Folkestone Publishing All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Honey and Sin Designs Cover Model Photography by Emma Jane Photos To the one who chose to leave me behind. I forgive you. R.I.P. and For N.B., who shared the wisdom of the shattered vase. Thank you for helping me start my own mosaic. CONTENTS Trigger Warnings Introduction 1. Ty 2. Ty 3. Ty 4. Hali 5. Hali 6. Hali 7. Ty 8. Hali 9. Ty 10. Hali 11. Ty 12. Hali 13. Hali 14. Hali 15. Ty 16. Ty 17. Hali 18. Hali 19. Hali 20. Ty 21. Ty 22. Hali 23. Hali 24. Hali 25. Hali 26. Hali 27. Ty 28. Hali Untitled 29. Ty 30. Hali 31. Hali Epilogue Playlists Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Samantha Lovelock TRIGGER WARNINGS This is a story of redemption and of learning to love yourself before you can love anybody else. We all have our bag of hammers to carry. Some carry heavier loads than others. Please be aware of the following within these pages. Alcohol Addiction Drug Addiction Mental Health Issues Discussions of Past Child Abuse Discussions of Past Sexual Abuse Sexual Situations Foul Language “Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.” - Joseph Campbell 1 TY “Ty, open the fucking door.” Kess’s voice filters through the fog of misery and self-loathing. Heavy fists bang out a staccato beat against the hollow-sounding wooden barrier that’s the only thing standing between me and harsh reality. “Not interested, Kess. Go the fuck away.” The pristine marble is cold against my back, and my thin black T-shirt offers no warmth in the sea of white. Sitting on the floor, arms slung across my raised knees, I take in the ridiculousness of the hotel bathroom that’s bigger than the apartment we grew up in. The observation makes me laugh, a flat, mirthless sound that bounces back at me off my stark surroundings. “McInnis! I swear to Christ, if you don’t let me in, I'll kick the goddamn door down and piss on your shoes for spite.” Ryan Kessworth knows me better than anybody alive. We were best friends long before this crazy ride started, and that’s why I’m sure the threats aren’t idle ones. The force of a zillion-dollar black motorcycle boot thuds against the wooden plank that separates us and shakes the vast expanse of mirror covering one wall. Hoisting myself to my feet, I stumble and sway across the room to flick the lock before sliding back down the wall until my ass hits the floor. “Happy now?” I mutter, angry and nauseous as the door opens and my bandmate and best friend is framed in the opening. “This is how it’s gonna be?” He studies me with eyes so icy blue, they’re almost white. “So, what if it is, asshole?” Kess sighs at my belligerent response. He recognizes this ride. Stepping into the pristine white palace of my pain, his booted foot kicks the door shut behind him, cutting off the drone of the party raging outside. “Fucking hell, would you look at this place? Why does the label always set you up with the biggest suite? Maybe once, ask them to give it to your guitarist?” Opening the glass door to the shower large enough to park a car in, he takes a seat on the veined marble bench inside. A perfectly rolled joint and an engraved silver Zippo appear in the palm of his hand. I can’t help but shake my head at how predictable he is. And he probably thinks the same damn thing about me. Lighting up, his long fingers lift the other end to his lips to take a deep drag. He leans back and stretches his legs out toward the shower drain, his gaze knowing and his exhale raw. “He’s gone, Ty.” My silence stretches thin and taut. “Nothing you could have done would’ve changed anything,” he tries again. “I know.” And the thing is, I do know. It all comes flooding back, the blood rushing in my ears and heart pounding in my chest the sickening soundtrack to my memories. Heroin Heartbreak had a break in our schedule last Christmas, so I decided to surprise my dad. From the second I walked through the door, he was different. Thinner. Quieter. Not that he’d ever been overly talkative, but something had changed. It was months before I found out just how bad things were. We were mid-way through our second world tour when the desperate phone call came from Maggie, the woman Dad had been dating for the better part of a year. She begged me to talk some sense into the pig-headed man she’d grown rather fond of, and she told me everything. What started as treatable prostate cancer had metastasized to his lungs. He was hell-bent on ignoring the advice of all of his doctors. And now he was dying. Kess persuaded the label to postpone a string of shows, either by force or charm. I didn’t much care which because I was on a plane before they stop me. My dad and I had words—sharp, jagged ones that cut to the bone and laid the truth bare. Faced with my unapologetic fury at his behavior, he caved and agreed to start treatment. Money has the obnoxious ability to galvanize people into action, even doctors. Within two days, Dad had his first round