My One Despair Read online

  My One Despair

  Claudia Burgoa

  Copyright © 2018 by Claudia Burgoa

  Cover by: Amy Queau

  Edited by: Mara White

  Paulina Burgoa

  Kristi Falteseik

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, media, places, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Dedicated to:

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  1. Gage

  2. Tess

  Eight years ago

  3. Gage

  4. Tess

  5. Gage

  6. Gage

  7. Gage

  8. Gage

  9. Gage

  10. Tess

  11. Gage

  12. Gage

  13. Gage

  14. Gage

  15. Tess

  16. Gage

  17. Tess

  18. Tess

  19. Gage

  20. Gage

  21. Tess

  22. Tess

  23. Gage

  24. Gage

  25. Tess

  26. Gage

  27. Tess

  28. Tess

  29. Tess

  30. Tess

  31. Tess

  32. Tess

  Present Day

  33. Gage

  34. Tess

  35. Tess

  36. Gage

  37. Tess

  Six years

  38. Gage

  39. Gage

  40. Gage

  Present Day

  41. Gage

  42. Tess

  43. Gage

  44. Gage

  45. Gage

  46. Gage

  47. Gage

  48. Tess

  49. Gage

  50. Gage

  51. Gage

  52. Tess

  53. Tess

  54. Gage

  Epilogue

  My One Regret

  Until I Fall

  Found

  Knight of Wands

  Dear Reader,

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Standalones

  Knight of Wands

  My One Regret

  Found

  Fervent

  Flawed

  Until I Fall

  Finding My Reason

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  Unexpected Series

  Uncharted

  Uncut

  Undefeated

  Unlike Any Other

  Coming Soon

  Christmas in Kentburry

  Dedicated to:

  José Antonio

  Epigraph

  “Do the one thing you think you cannot do. Fail at it. Try again. Do better the second time. The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the high wire.”

  ― Oprah Winfrey

  Gage,

  It’s been nine days since the last time we talked. I’ve been thinking a lot about us. Earlier today, I was trapped in some cycle where I could only think of pointless dark scenarios about my future.

  When I met you, I never imagined that I’d fall madly in love with you. I guess there’s no other way to fall in love, is there? Never in a million years did I believe this kind of love would happen to me. Magical, intense and unconditional. This love is bigger than the entire universe. It’s infinite.

  But our story wasn’t infinite. I don’t see how we can move forward. This is the end of our tale. Tragic for me, hopefully beautiful for you.

  My wish for you is that you never give up hope. All the luck to you in the next stage of your life. It seems scary, but if anyone can jump into a situation like this and succeed, it’s you. Good luck with your career. Take care of yourself, and I hope you learn from my past. Don’t let history repeat itself.

  Yours always,

  Tess

  One

  Gage

  Music saved me from a ton of shit. Like when I was young, and my family was falling apart—or when I lost the love of my life.

  Before my parents divorced, they fought a lot. Since I couldn’t leave the house, I put my headphones on and listened to music to block them out. I grew up thinking that someday I’d become famous and untouchable. That nothing could tarnish my life if I became a celebrity, because they were a different species.

  That’s what social media would like everyone to think. It’s all lies. We’re all people with emotions and problems. Celebrities are dealt as many shitty hands as any other mortal. Back then though, I thought being a famous musician would make me happy, yet I had no plan on how I’d do it, or when it’d happen.

  It took me a long time to finally make it. It never occurred to me that becoming a celebrity would mean spending my nights alone and most of the time away from home. There are nights when I climb onto the tour bus, falling asleep in one city, only to wake up in a different one.

  The after parties were fun at first, but they were never really my scene. Maybe if I had made it big at eighteen, I’d have enjoyed them more. During my late twenties, when everything came to fruition, I was already all partied out and had different responsibilities. Now, at thirty-five it doesn’t make sense to hang out with a bunch of groupies.

  So here I am, in my hotel room at three o’clock in the morning, browsing through nonsense on my laptop. I don’t love history. Music is all I know. But when I can’t sleep, I do one of two things. Read the goodbye letter she sent while looking at old pictures of her, or turn on my computer and research facts. I’ve been told that I’m a bank of useless facts. Tonight, I learned that there isn’t a detailed record about the art of kissing. The oldest data comes from the time of the Roman Empire. Kissing originated in India and spread to the west via the Roman armies. Kisses were used to seal legal and business agreements. They used kissing as part of political campaigning.

  Thank fuck that’s over. Fuck if I’d let a politician kiss me to convince me to vote for them. The Romans even categorized kisses. Osculum was a kiss on the cheek. Basium is a kiss on the lips. Savolium is a deep kiss. Savolium kisses are a memory from another life. I huff, scrubbing down my face with both hands. Instead of googling stupidities, I should be sleeping. Tomorrow I have a busy morning before flying back home to Seattle.

  When I look around the room, my eyes settle on my guitar. It’s my favorite guitar. My girl gifted it to me. My girl. I shouldn’t be saying that. We’ve been over for too many fucking years. It’s just so hard to accept that she’s not mine.

  She arrived like a quiet summer storm. Her voice was like dancing
under the soft, warm rain. Her amber eyes remained guarded to the rest of the world, but they let me into the deep end of her wild, beautifully broken soul.

  Tess might not be mine, but I keep her close to my heart. Tucked into the poetry of my lyrics. There, I can always touch her.

  While we were together, life was simple. It was her and me. That’s the way it was since I laid eyes on her. She was a vision. An angel. An unpredictable miracle who blinded me with her beauty the moment she walked into my life. The desire to have her was bigger than anything else. Different from anyone I’d ever met, she shifted everything inside me, and we fit together perfectly.

  When we kissed, I tasted the fire in her soul burning my lips. Each kiss set my heart on fire—consuming me. Each one felt insatiable and yet, fulfilling. I kept imagining an older me and an older her taking walks on a beach. Now, I have the image stuck in my head forever, fucking me up. When I lost her, I lost a big part of myself.

  I miss her witty banter. It drove me insane, but I looked forward to hearing her constant quick comebacks. I craved it like a kid at a carnival. With her, I learned to enjoy every moment, because you never know when it will end.

  Recovering from a broken heart isn’t easy. According to Saint Google, the average person falls in love four times over the span of a lifetime. That’s not counting falling in love with your children, the sunrise, or a song written by your favorite band. If my math is correct, the next chick should be number three.

  There’s supposed to be another woman out there who’ll make this hurt go away. That’s not a priority, though. Every time I think about forgetting Tess, I feel like my heart is ripped out from my chest. I swallow hard and close my eyes. The memories of her torment me, but I pursue them like a junkie who seeks his next fix. The mere thought of not spending the rest of my days with her makes me sick. I know it’s all an illusion. I’m fucking insane. But holding onto the echoes of our past is the only way I can feel her close to me or hear her sweet voice.

  Our love is such a fucking weird thing. Confusing, timeless, evolving, overpowering, overwhelming, consuming … intense.

  Losing the one you love is painful, agonizing, crushing, and hard to recover from. Loss has been my state for years. Too many have passed, and yet to think that I put on a happy face despite every year that passes without her.

  Life is just fucking weird.

  Instead of googling the word life, I dare to google her name. Tess Hades. Nothing appears; it’s like she’s a ghost. That’s the way she likes to stay, under the radar separated from the fame that she was born into. Another heiress would be partying while her famous dad pays for it. Not Tess. I bet she’s in her room reading a book about the ocean or writing an essay about the latest oil spill down in Racoon Point, Florida.

  I google it right away. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? She must have flown to ground zero within hours of hearing about the tragedy.

  Like the good stalker I am, I google her pen name. My screen comes to life with articles, pictures, and social media information about Tess Bell. She uses her stepmother’s last name to stave off the paparazzi. I click on her Instagram, which is still private. Signing in under my private account, I can access her pictures. It’s a miracle that she hasn’t kicked me out yet.

  The latest one is from almost six months ago. It’s a Christmas tree with Halloween decorations. The caption makes me laugh. Sadie and Dad did it again. This year’s theme, The Nightmare Before Christmas. And it includes a Halloween tree. The Hades house is a nuthouse.

  There’s another picture of her holding Sin, the family cat. I study her closely. Her strawberry blonde hair is now rose gold with a few silver strands. I touch the screen, remembering her delicate skin and the freckles on her back. I used to count them at night, sometimes even connect the dots with my tongue. I feel like a creep while I continue browsing her pictures.

  During the day I deal with fans and stalkers. Some nights like tonight, I become one. Reading her paper about the impact of oil spills on the environment is music to my ears. She fucking inspires me to write—a thousand melodies about being oceans apart and the destruction of my own environment because we can’t be together. After reading the tragic consequences of the latest accident in Florida, I click on the link and donate a hefty amount to her company.

  I’m so fucking proud of her. She followed her dreams.

  Within minutes, I receive an email notification from Eco Pro-tect.

  Dear Mr. Rodin,

  Thank you for your generous donation. Attached please find your receipt.

  EPT

  I wonder if it’s Tess who responded or just an automatic message set up to reply when they receive a donation. Like every night, I wonder how she’s doing. Is she hurting as much as I am? I hope she’s happy and has found her forever love, though, my heart doesn’t like the idea of her belonging to someone else.

  For some forsaken reason I believed she was mine from the moment I saw her. Her soul held my heart, and every other desire I had melted away. It was only her who I wanted and needed. Tess was a mystery when I met her. Every day I spent with her was magical.

  Two

  Tess

  He sent me money. My pulse went into overdrive when I got the notification. It’s been ten minutes since I emailed him his receipt. I’m not sure why I did it instead of waiting for Callie, my assistant, to do it in the morning. I’m still breathless. This shouldn’t surprise me. Gage’s done it before. It’s like no matter how far apart or how impossible our love might be, he still needs to take care of me.

  Some days I fucking hate him, for being thoughtful. Others I miss him so much that I can barely function.

  How can I forget him when no other man measures up to the great Gage Rodin? I’m not talking about the singer who’s sold out every concert he plays. I’m referring to the guy who stole my heart from the moment we met.

  Tempted to search for information that would tell me where Gage is today—or about his private life—I decide to shut down my computer. I avoid all things related to Gage Rodin. It’s a task and a half when the guy’s face is everywhere—magazines, social media, and even billboards. Every day, I fight to reach out to him. I miss him. I crave him.

  Everyone has an addiction. Mine comes in the forms of chocolate and the deep voice of Gage Rodin. Not knowing about his personal life is one thing, listening to his music is a completely different deal. I play him day and night. It doesn’t matter if I’m showering, working, or jogging. His voice is there to keep me company.

  I stare at the closed computer and decide that I better go to bed. Just then, my phone buzzes. My pulse accelerates again; what if he decided to text? What if he calls me? I let out the air I held in when I realize it’s my dad who’s contacting me.

  Dad: Go to sleep, kid.

  Tess: How do you know I’m awake?

  Dad: You never sleep when there’s a big ecological crisis. I bet you’ve been working around the clock since you landed in Florida.

  Tess: How do you know you didn’t just wake me up?

  Dad: You sleep like a rock. My text wouldn’t have woken you up.

  Tess: Fine, I’ll go to bed now.

  Dad: Do you need any financial help?

  Tess: No, we’re covered.

  Dad: Are we still meeting at Disney World?

  Tess: Not sure. I’ll let you know.

  Dad: When?

  Tess: Soon, I promise. Give my love to Mom and the rug rats.

  Dad: We miss you. Love you, kid.

  Tess: Tell Mom that I’ll call her tomorrow. Love you too.

  Being the eldest of five siblings is complicated. I’m boss to four cherubs who think I know everything. Poor little ones, they’re following the wrong leader. Dad and I are a lot alike in that aspect. He’s still trying to figure out his relationship with me. Some days, he treats me like an adult, and others he treats me the same way he did when I was five.

  I hope that when my younger siblings, Kieran, Aubrey, and Grady gro
w up they won’t have to go through all the shit that Hannah and I did. Peers friending you because your dad’s famous. Guys trying to use us to become famous. Though, unlike Hannah and I, they have the best mom in the world. Sadie’s the perfect combination of best friend and parent rolled into one.

  Hannah was lucky to have her in her life since she was nine. At thirteen I was too jaded to understand that she was a blessing. Before heading to bed, I text Sadie and my sister wishing them a good night. It doesn’t take them long to respond.

  Mom: Call me. I’m concerned about you.

  Tess: I’m eating and sleeping well.

  Mom: Still, I love to remind you to take care of yourself. Love you.

  Tess: Love you too.

  Hannah: Have you heard Gage’s new song?

  Tess: There’s a new song?

  I play dumb because of course I listened to it. I subscribed to the Rodin YouTube channel when Gage was starting his career. For fuck’s sake, I created the channel, and I was his first subscriber. The one who posted videos of him back in the day.