Hypocritically Yours: A Standalone Age-Gap Romance Read online

  Hypocritically Yours

  Hayley Faiman

  Hayley Faiman Books, LLC

  Hypocritically Yours

  Copyright © 2020 by Hayley Faiman

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Pink Ink Designs. Cassy Roop. http://www.pinkinkdesigns.com

  Editor: My Brother’s Editor. Ellie McLove. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net

  Proofreading: My Brothers Editor. Rosa Sharon. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of 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 either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website at: http://hayleyfaiman.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Stay Connected

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Men of Baseball Series—

  Pitching for Amalie

  Catching Maggie

  Forced Play for Libby

  Sweet Spot for Victoria

  Russian Bratva Series —

  Owned by the Badman

  Seducing the Badman

  Dancing for the Badman

  Living for the Badman

  Tempting the Badman

  Protected by the Badman

  Forever my Badman

  Betrothed to the Badman

  Chosen by the Badman

  Bought by the Badman

  Collared by the Badman

  Notorious Devils MC —

  Rough & Rowdy

  Rough & Raw

  Rough & Rugged

  Rough & Ruthless

  Rough & Ready

  Rough & Rich

  Rough & Real

  Cash Bar Series —

  Laced with Fear

  Chased with Strength

  Flamed with Courage

  Blended with Pain

  Twisted with Chaos

  Mixed with trouble

  SAVAGE BEAST MC —

  UnScrew Me

  UnBreak Me

  UnChain Me

  UnLeash Me

  UnTouch Me

  UnHinge Me

  Unfit Hero Series —

  CONVICT

  HERO

  FRAUD

  KILLER

  COWBOY

  Zanetti Famiglia Series —

  Becoming the Boss

  Becoming his Mistress

  Becoming his Possession

  Becoming the Street Boss

  Becoming the Hitman

  Prophecy Sisters Series

  Bride of the Traitor

  Bride of the Sea

  Esquire Black Duet Series –

  DISCOVERY

  APPEAL

  Forbidden Love Series —

  Personal Foul

  Kinetic Energy

  Standalone Titles

  Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

  Hypocritically Yours

  Stay Connected

  Website: http://hayleyfaiman.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorhayleyfaiman

  Facebook Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/433234647091715/

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10735805.Hayley_Faiman

  Signup for my Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/b5a_1v

  The only vice that cannot be forgive is hypocrisy. The repentance of a hypocrite is itself hypocrisy.

  William Hazlitt

  Prologue

  TENNESSEE

  Curling into myself, lying on my side, I stare at the white wall of my dorm room. How could I have been so stupid? So careless? I knew it happened. I’d heard of it happening to a few other girls too over the past two years.

  I never imagined that it could happen to me.

  Then it did.

  I didn’t remember the details at first. Everything was a fuzzy haze. However, that didn’t stop me from feeling the evidence of what had happened to me the night before. I felt it. There was no denying it had happened. Not really. Not even if I wanted to, and boy, did I want to.

  I shoved the feelings down, buried them deep in the recesses of my brain. I didn’t want to think about it, remember it, none of it. Because if I did, if I remembered the details then it would make it real.

  Six weeks later and it’s real alright. It’s one hundred percent undeniably real.

  Pinching my eyes closed, I wonder if I could go through with what some of the others had. Girls I’d been friendly with, girls I’d partied with, girls I’d sat beside in class. I knew a handful that had done it, could I do it too?

  Tears fall from my pinched eyes. Sucking my lips in, I shake my head before I open my eyes to stare through my watery tears at the bunk bed across from me. My roommate used to sleep there. Until she decided to pack her things and move into her boyfriend’s room, three doors down.

  Six weeks ago, I was nothing more than a college twenty-year-old going to frat parties and dancing with friends. All it took was one night of being stupid. I was drinking, but I wasn’t being careful.

  He was cute.

  I don’t even remember his name, I’m not sure that he even told me. I didn’t know him, had never seen him before. He said he was in town visiting his cousin. He said his cousin’s name, but I didn’t recognize it.

  I should have known right then there was a problem. I knew everyone in that house, either personally or at least their name was familiar to me.

  Except his cousin’s.

  My friends and I ran around with the same crowd, party after party. Football games, school functions, always together, always the same group. They were all sophomores, just like me.

  Except him, he wasn’t, and I didn’t recognize this cousin’s name at all. Not at all.

  Red flag after red flag appeared right in front of my face, but I ignored them, because, he was cute. And cute twenty-four-year-olds would never do anything to hurt someone else, not at their cousin’s part
y, right?

  Wrong.

  He did just that. A slip of something into my drink. The night was in full swing. Nobody noticed as we both swayed on our way upstairs. He locked the door behind us.

  I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn’t think we should be in a room alone. I didn’t know him, and I wasn’t promiscuous. I’d only ever been with my high school boyfriend and one other guy I dated briefly my freshman year.

  The words didn’t come out. They were slurred. It was as if my mouth wasn’t my own. I thought the words, but they just didn’t come out the way I wanted them to. I tried a second time, as he approached me, as he stalked toward me.

  I wasn’t promiscuous. I didn’t experiment like that. I shouldn’t have even gone with him upstairs. I knew better.

  I. Knew. Better.

  The last thing I remember was the smile that curved on his lips. It wasn’t the same one he greeted me with downstairs. It was different and it scared the absolute hell out of me.

  Then everything just went dark.

  When I woke up, I was naked and alone, still in the strange bedroom. I knew from the tenderness between my legs what had happened. Even if I had any doubts, the bruising on my inner thighs, my throat, and my breasts told the tale.

  I had been drugged and raped.

  I was so embarrassed. I knew what to do to prevent something like that from happening. I let myself be careless, I’d felt a false sense of security because I was surrounded by, friends. None of that excused the horrible man from his actions though. I needed to turn him in. I needed to go to campus police.

  The problem? I didn’t know him.

  How did I even go for help? Who would listen to me? Drunk college girl gets raped after drinking all night at a party and following some random guy upstairs.

  Sure. Okay.

  There’s no pretending it didn’t happen anymore. By not going to the doctor, by not going to the police, I let myself live in denial and now I’m pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  Pressing my palm against my belly, I wonder if I can go through with this. Then my heart cracks inside of me and I wonder if I can go through with the alternative. I don’t think that I can. I’m not sure my soul could survive it.

  Reaching for my phone, I call the one person that I know can guide me.

  “Tenny?”

  “I need to come home for a little bit, Mama.”

  “You need me to drive there and get you?”

  My mother always, always has my back. She has to and I have to have hers too. It’s always been the two of us, for as long as I can remember. There’s a name on my birth certificate that is listed as my father, but I don’t know him. He left before I was one and other than a few cards here and there, I don’t know anything about him.

  “I can catch the bus,” I rasp. “You have to work.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I thought I could handle life on my own. I thought I was grown up enough to make my own decisions, to be an adult. I’m not. Not even close.

  Packing a bag, I head down to the bus stop as soon as possible. I have to get out of the dorm, away from the college. I have to just go.

  Although I attend college in Arkansas, my hometown is only a couple hours away in Oklahoma. It was the stipulation of my mother allowing me to leave, I had to be within driving distance or a short-ish bus ride.

  I’m wearing a pair of leggings, an oversized T-shirt, my long dark hair is thrown up into a messy bun on top of my head, and I put on the biggest sunglasses that I could find. I don’t need anyone to see my puffy, tear-stained face.

  I just want my mama.

  After buying the bus ticket, I wait for the next bus to arrive. Thankfully it doesn’t take long. I climb onto the bus, finding a seat toward the front, too afraid to sit in the back. Bringing my feet to the seat, I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my cheek against my knees as I look out the window.

  My life is over as I know it.

  Everything is about to change.

  Everything.

  No matter what I choose, nothing, absolutely nothing will be as it once was—especially my heart and soul.

  Chapter One

  THREE YEARS LATER

  TENNESSEE

  I look at the website. It’s so nice. It’s sleek and it tells me everything that I need to know about the investment banking company, Astor Investments. The most important part of the entire About Us section is the on-site daycare.

  Licking my lips, I continue to click through the page, looking at picture after picture of the babies and toddlers playing in the outdoor playground, the indoor playground, learning their ABCs and playing with early development toys.

  Lifting my gaze, I flick my eyes over to the sleeping toddler in the crib across the bedroom from me. This is what he needs. This is the life that I want to give him. This is why I bust my ass at school all day, and night, why I moved back home and attended college in Oklahoma.

  He is the reason I will succeed.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I fill out an application for the paid intern position, praying that I am not overlooked. It will be an adjustment. We won’t be able to have any extras at all, not that we do now, but I won’t be able to do anything, but work, eat, and sleep.

  My mom won’t be there to babysit, I won’t have any family or friends anywhere near me, they’ll all be here in Tulsa, which will be a four-hour driving distance from Dallas. We’ll essentially be all alone, just the two of us, the same way my mom and I always were. The exact opposite of what I wanted for my life, but also, I would never change anything about having him.

  It’ll just be us.

  My boy and me.

  “Let me make the phone call,” my mother urges.

  Lifting my head, I look across the room to her. She’s standing at the entrance of my bedroom, leaning against the jamb, her eyes on me, a dishtowel in hand. Sinking my teeth into the corner of my lip, I push up and dangle my legs over the side of the bed.

  Not much in my childhood bedroom has changed. Same comforter as when I was in high school, same pictures on my bulletin board of people I haven’t seen in several years. One thing is drastically different though, my son’s crib, a crib that he’s dangerously close to growing out of.

  “I couldn’t ask that,” I murmur.

  “You’re not asking, I am.”

  We stare at one another for a long, quiet moment. Clearing her throat, my mother shakes her head once. “I’m doing it. There are probably hundreds of applicants from fancy-assed schools, but none of them want it as much as you do.”

  “Mama,” I plead.

  She shakes her head, leaning forward slightly. “Don’t ‘Mama’ me. Susan and I may not be close friends now, but once upon a time, we were. Let me use my contact, the one contact that I can to help my daughter and her baby have a good life.”

  Tears fill my eyes as I watch her. She wants this for me, maybe as bad as I want it for myself. Pressing my lips together, I nod my head once.

  “Okay,” I rasp.

  “Yeah?”

  Nodding again, I breathe. “Okay.”

  My mother’s lips curve up into a victorious smile and she throws her hands up. “I’m glad you agreed, because I already called her,” she exclaims.

  “What?” I gasp.

  She laughs. “I’ve already called her and she assured me that her husband would have something for you. Your interview is in three weeks. You’ll get an email with all of the details any minute.”

  “Oh my god,” I exhale.

  Tears flow down my mother’s cheeks as she watches me. I jump up and run toward her, body tackling her into a gigantic hug. Right now, I’m not a single mother, I’m not anything but an excited college student who just got her first hookup at her dream company.

  “Susan promised me that her husband would find you something. Now, we just gotta get you and Holden set up somewhere,” she whispers.

  Stepping back, I tip
my head back slightly and look up into her eyes. “What?”

  She grins. “If you’re going to work there, you’ll have to live there. If you’re going to interview there, you’ll have to be there for the interview. I took this weekend off, we’re going apartment hunting,” she says, her lips pulled into a big smile.

  My excitement fades instantly. “I can’t afford an apartment,” I admit on a whisper.

  There’s a long moment of silence between us, but my mom reaches out, her hands gripping my shoulders as her nails dig into my skin slightly through my shirt. Her eyes are sparkling, she doesn’t look scared at all. She looks almost mischievous if I didn’t know her better, and right now, I’m wondering if I do.

  “Mama?”

  “I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know how long it would last…”

  “What?” I demand.

  Her smile grows and I’m not sure how, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile so big in my entire life—not once.