#1 Love Read online

  #1 Love

  Published by T Gephart at Smashwords

  Copyright 2019 T Gephart

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  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and scenarios are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by:

  Hang Le

  Editing by:

  Nichole Strauss, Insight Editing Services

  Interior Design & Formatting by:

  Christine Borgford

  Contents

  #1 LOVE

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Books by this Author

  To all the people who not only tolerate my crazy but encourage it. I love you all.

  And to Skarsgård, because clearly no one expected the insanity to turn into 6 books.

  FOR AS LONG AS I could remember, I’d been in love with a Larsson.

  First, it was Eric.

  Long before he was a Hollywood superstar, he was my superhero. Older and wiser than me and both of my brothers—or his for that matter—he’d always seemed so strong and larger than life. It was him we all turned to when we got into trouble. And man, did my little heart adore him.

  Next came Roman.

  Gorgeous—just like his older brother—but with a cockier attitude. He was smart and mischievous and had a smile that could charm almost anyone. He had the ability to get exactly what he wanted, and I so desperately wanted to be just like him.

  Of course, when I got a little older my attention turned to Dave.

  The man was a huge teddy bear, so caring and sweet, he never made me feel like the annoying little girl I no doubt was. He was beautiful and kind and gave the best hugs.

  But Nick—sigh—Nick was the Larsson who made my teenage heart explode in my chest.

  He was a GOD—good-looking beyond comprehension—with confidence for days. Able to melt polar ice caps with little more than his amazing smile, he knew exactly what to say in order to turn any girl into a puddle of mumbling mush.

  Especially this one.

  Oh. God.

  My heart still skipped a beat whenever I thought of him, and it had been years since I’d seen any of them.

  He—like the rest of his family—were an amazing footnote in my past. A memory of happier times in my childhood when life was simple and all I had to do was go to school, be a kid and decide which Larsson I was going to crush on.

  There had been only one who had escaped my infatuation. And not because I didn’t love him—because I think I loved him most of all—but because the feelings I’d had for him had been different.

  Alex.

  He had been my best friend since I could remember, knew all my secrets and I’d known his. I’d even helped him score his first date when we were fourteen, coaching him on exactly what to say to win Lola’s heart. He never once made me feel stupid, or small, and even tolerated my overdramatic crushes on all his older brothers.

  God, they were beautiful. Each and every single one of those boys, genetically blessed with gorgeous perfection as well as being sweet, kind and wonderful. And while three of them had become superstars—Eric, Dave and Nick, famous actors—I’d been lucky enough to know the other side of them.

  My dad, Glenn, and Jensen Larsson—the papa of those fine Larsson boys—had been friends since college. They both married their college sweethearts around the same time and impregnated their wives to add to their ever-expanding broods.

  Unlike the Larsson family, my mom and dad decided to stop at three with me being the youngest. My brother, Jordon was nine years older than me, and the same age as Roman. Ben—my other brother—shared a birthday with Nick—literally thirty minutes apart. And I was two months younger than Alex.

  Our families had been tighter than blood. Spending vacations and holidays together, with Alex and I being inseparable. He didn’t even care I was a girl, happy for me to tag along despite the protests of both of our brothers. Not going to lie, I was probably five before I even noticed I wasn’t one of the boys, able to do whatever they did without breaking a sweat.

  When I turned thirteen, and suddenly it was obvious I wasn’t one of them, Alex was great. He ignored my growing breasts and my loved-up feelings for Nick, treating me as he always did—as his best friend.

  But like all good things, my picture-perfect childhood and idyllic adolescence came to a screeching halt right after my sixteenth birthday. My parents—and the Larssons—got divorced, throwing my world into a tailspin. And where Jensen and Kate’s divorce had been amicable, Mom and Dad’s was not.

  Shame, embarrassment and a whole lot of reality landed in my lap, my mom taking us away from the scandal—and California—to go live with my grandparents in Carson City. Guess that’s what happens when your father ends up being a major player in a Ponzi scheme. Of course there was the gambling addiction and the mistress we didn’t know about either, which didn’t help the situation. My mom was hit with a one-two punch, finding out the bank was foreclosing on our family home on the same day my dad’s other woman announced she was pregnant. Surprise!

  Oh, and he’d managed to swindle a couple of Gs from his old college buddy, Jenson Larsson as well. And because my dad didn’t give a shit about his BFF, I’d also lost mine.

  I’d been devastated, not only at the reality of losing my home, my father—the bastard skipping town and going on the run with his lover—but also at the loss of my best friend.

  Sixteen was hard enough to navigate, let alone starting over in a new state and school. The only good thing my father ever did was make sure my mother was never implicated in his crimes. I’m sure his motives weren’t honorable, more like wanting to keep the cash out of her reach should it have worked out and he hadn’t gotten caught, but it was one time I was thankful for his greed. So while we’d lost everything at least we still had her. And even though my mother worked her ass off to make sure we had the most perfect life she could make it, it was never the same.

  I hated high school, never really fitting in to any of the cliques, biding my time until I could graduate and leave. But there was one benefit to the lack of friends, my time spent studying earning me an amazing scholarship to Yale.

  Then it was goodbye Nevada, hello Connecticut and the start of my new life.

  No one knew me—or the piece of shit who was my father—and I finally found my feet. I flourished, came out of my shell and nailed L
aw School. All that blood, sweat and tears—a lot of them—finally paid off. And a year after graduating, I landed a prestigious job in a big-time law firm in L.A.

  I was going back, baby.

  “Oh, Maya.” I could hear the tears in my mom’s voice. “I am so proud of you.”

  “Mom, don’t cry,” I warned, the thirtieth time I had to remind her in the last five minutes. “I’m just excited I get to have my dream job and be closer to home. I miss you and the boys.”

  “Oh sweetie, they miss you too. It will be so good—” her voice warbled, “to have my babies all together again.”

  “Mom,” I laughed. “Jordon and Vanessa have two babies of their own now, and Ben and Natalie won’t be far behind them. Safe to say, your babies have all grown up.”

  “You’ll always be my babies.”

  I didn’t bother arguing, grateful that while I had enjoyed my time on the east coast, I was finally going home.

  Especially since I didn’t get to see my brothers, their wives and my two nephews nearly enough. And I really did miss them.

  The boys had taken after my dad. While he was shitty at being a father, his genetics were pretty good. Tall and athletic, they had hazel eyes and sandy colored hair. I, on the other hand, looked like our mother. With the same emerald green eyes and light brown hair, the family connection wasn’t immediately apparent. And while I would have liked the strong, toned limbs they seemed to be able to achieve without much effort, they would have looked out of place on my petite, curvy frame. Or at least that was my excuse for not working out.

  “So . . .” My mother paused, the change in subject one I was anticipating and expecting. “Have you connected with any of your old friends and told them you’re coming back?”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned my old friends, dancing around the subject ever since I’d been given the job offer.

  “Nope,” I answered, shaking my head with a grin. “I figured once I move into my new apartment and start at my new firm, I’ll make new friends.” You know, like a regular person, I didn’t add.

  Hesitation in my mother could only mean bad things. Which was why when she didn’t immediately answer, I was worried.

  “Why don’t you call Alex and tell him you’re coming, I’m sure he’d love to show you around?”

  And there it was. Ever the optimist—probably how my father was able to cheat and swindle every cent we had without her noticing—I was wondering how long it was going to take before she brought it up. She’d been hinting at it for weeks but had stopped short at the suggestion. But with tomorrow’s departure looming, she probably figured it was situation critical and she needed to toss it in.

  “Mom, I haven’t seen or spoken to Alex since . . .” How long had it been? At least ten years, maybe even longer. “Since forever. I can’t just call him completely out of the blue and say, hey, I’m moving to Los Angeles, can you be my friend until I find a suitable substitute?”

  I wasn’t sure if it sounded ridiculous or pathetic saying it out loud, but it sure didn’t do me any favors.

  “Honey, but you are friends. You grew up together and cried every night for a month straight when we moved to Carson City. You swore that as soon as you were old enough, you were moving to Los Angeles.”

  “Yeah, I said a lot of stuff when I was younger too.” My head shook as I reminded both of us of my wide-eyed dumb love. “I was going to marry Nick Larsson and make gorgeous Larsson babies. Pretty sure his wife might have something to say about that.”

  The only saving grace to the whole tragic conversation was that I was still in New Haven and my mom was on the phone. It was bad enough that my return to the west coast had stirred feelings and curiosity in me. And fine, I did happen to glance online at a picture of Nick with his gorgeous wife, but it was hard to avoid. It was news, and they were famous and it wasn’t like I was cruising past his house and stalking him like I was a crazy ex girlfriend.

  And no, I wasn’t delusional in believing we still had a chance. Our love story had been completely one-sided—mine—with Nick not once showing any interest in me other than being an honorary little sister. Still, didn’t mean I didn’t feel a pang of jealousy.

  Thanks a lot, Dad.

  Who knew what might have happened between us if he’d been a decent person, kept his dick in his pants and the money of other people out of his pocket.

  But if nothing else, all of that turmoil made me who I was today, and that had to count for something.

  “Besides, pretty sure Alex, or anyone else in his family, doesn’t want to hear from us.” I sighed into the phone.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Her voice warbled again. “You know that you had nothing to do with what your father did. I should have been stronger and kept in contact with all our old friends, but I was just so embarrassed and—”

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself for him,” I fired back, unable to keep the edge in my voice at bay.

  Even after all these years, it still stung, and was without a doubt the reason why I went into law. I wanted him to pay, to suffer like we had. I didn’t have the stomach for blood so becoming a hitman and hunting him down to exact my revenge wasn’t an option. Instead, I would do whatever I could to make sure men like him wouldn’t get away with ruining people’s lives. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired.”

  Not to mention nervous, excited, elated and about a million other emotions. I was going to be a junior associate at one of the best law firms in Los Angeles which meant all my time and energy was going to need to be spent being the absolute best.

  “You know, Maya.” Another pause. “I found Kate on Facebook. And we’ve been chatting.”

  Oh help me, Lord, my mother was on social media.

  My mother had undergone a renaissance of late, trying new things she’d otherwise been unable to do when she was working two jobs and raising three kids solo. Making her own cheese and studying Feng Shui was a little out there but harmless; Facebook did not give me the same lack of concern.

  While I applauded her leap into the digital age—making my time away at college easier when she got a handle on Skype—the access it had given her was downright scary.

  “Kate?” I asked, knowing exactly which Kate she was referring to.

  She blew out a breath and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Don’t be mad.”

  Goddamn it.

  It was Kate Freaking Larsson.

  “It was so good to talk to her, and we’re both grandmothers now. You know Eric has two children too.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, the effort wasted because there was no one else to see it. “Mom, the whole world knows Eric has two kids. I doubt the man could take out his trash without it ending up in the tabloids.”

  She laughed. “Okay, okay, point taken. Anyway, I mentioned you—”

  “No.” It shot out of my mouth before I even knew I had said it.

  Dear. God.

  NO.

  I was happy for her to hang mirrors in corners and tie red ropes around doorknobs. Ecstatic that growing herbs and churning enough butter to make an Amish person proud gave her solace. And I was even glad she was able to reconnect with the matriarch of what was an astoundingly beautiful family, a woman who had once been her friend.

  But I drew the line at having my mother intervening. I didn’t care if her intentions were pure, I was twenty-six for Christ’s sake.

  “I’m fine. I told you, I’ll make friends, I’ve been living on my own and—”

  “Maya.” She cut me off not letting me finish the sentence. “Just call him. I’m not saying you’re going to end up being best friends again, but don’t you owe it to yourself to at least tell him you’re back in town?”

  Usually I liked logic.

  Except when it was used against me.

  The pit of my stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot. It had been so long, and we weren’t the same people we once were. And I didn’t need to ruin what had once been a fantastic
memory of a person on the chance of indifference. Or something worse.

  “Aren’t you even going to ask what he’s doing now?” she baited, and I sensed her smile.

  “Let me guess, he’s a fireman.” I rolled my eyes, wondering if she’d hoped the promise of a hot, toned first responder would tip the scale in her favor.

  It wasn’t that wild of a guess. Alex had wanted to be a fireman for years, loving the idea of running in to danger when everyone else was running away. I’d even entertained the idea of joining him until I decided my talents would be better used elsewhere.

  “He’s a lawyer.” She laughed, with zero prelude.

  “Whoa, what?” I felt the air rush out of my lungs, his change in career direction shocking the hell out of me.

  He hated paperwork and research, bribing me with candy to do his English homework when we were in eighth grade.

  “Yeah, Roman is too.”

  See, now that made sense.

  He’d been studying law when we’d left and if history was anything to go by, Roman would slay in a courtroom. He could talk his way into or out of anything, but Alex . . . well, he was different.

  Alex hated the idea of being confined to an office and thought people who wore suits and ties to work every day were suckers. We’d actively laughed at them, insisting we’d never be slaves to the grind. Instead, we’d vowed to remain misfits forever. Guess I wasn’t the only one to break our promise.

  “Where did he study?” I held my breath, waiting for her to answer. Of course I knew he hadn’t been at Yale like Roman, but wondered if he’d come across to the east coast too. My skin tingled at the thought he might have been close all those years without me ever knowing.

  “Well, if you call him, maybe you can find out.”

  She wasn’t giving me shit.

  “Mom,” I protested, wishing I could stomp my foot on the floor to get my way like when I was a kid. Not that it did much good then, I imagined it would be even less effective now.

  “Maya,” she mimicked, followed by a laugh.

  Ah. Damn. It.

  “You know cruel and unusual punishments are an indictable offense,” I deadpanned knowing my threats would get me nowhere.