Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

ISBN-13: 9798702810980

2021 Copyright © Nathan Kingsly

https://authornathankingsly.mystrikingly.com/

Cover Design by: @KBookDesigns

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author, Nathan Kingsly.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

To my Naughty Queens street team leader Queen Lorey, and the other Queens of my team (Queen Bethany, Queen Lisa, Queen Sherry, Queen Denise, Queen Deb, Queen Karen, Queen Krisha, Queen Michelle, Queen Jen, Queen Nari, Queen Nena, Queen Lynn, and Queen Stephanie) for supporting me the best. Without you, I wouldn’t have come nearly so far in such a short time.

. . . .

To Sole, for reading first, and accompanying me on this journey; it would have been a lonely one if not for my APC.

. . . .

Thank you to The Redhead's Book Blog for hosting their annual Hall of Fame competition, where I won first place for the most anticipated book of 2021.

. . . .

To my readers. Out of all the books you could have chosen to start reading today, you chose mine.  Essentially a  nobody, reaching for a dream thought to be out of reach. You do me an honor, and I thank you.

Title page

Acknowledgments

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

Epilogue

The End

About the author

“You sure you’ll be here?” she asks for the fifth time on this call and wonders why I don’t come home.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I reply with a sigh, “I promised, didn’t I?"

“Yes, but you’re not great at follow-through. I don’t want mom disappointed again.” Pain splits under my ribs. She’s another reason I haven’t made it home in years. It’s too hard to look her in the face and not see how I have failed.

Dropping my hand, my fingers curl into a fist. “Mia, I’ll be there, okay?”

“Alright, we’ll see you next week?” Her anxiety bleeds into her statement, making it into a question. If I don’t hang up, she’ll suck me into another lecture, and I’ve reached my allotment today.

“See you.” I hang up without an ounce of remorse. All too soon, I won’t have the luxury. Instead, lectures will be shouted through closed doors with no other way of shutting her out.

Putting the phone into my back pocket, I get back on the floor. The smell of tacky packaging tape, cardboard, and dust fills my nose. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting.

Having a night shift job, you’re often left with your thoughts, but tonight, I’m not sure I want to be left with mine.

“Hey, Liam?” The talkie goes off on my hip.

Unclipping it, I respond. “Yeah?”

“You close to the bullpen?”

“Yep, I was just in the office.” I point over my shoulder as if he could see. Rolling my eyes, I hook my thumb through the belt loops of my jeans. “Good, grab the key for the forklift, will ya, and drive to aisle twenty-eight.”

“K. Be there in a minute.”

Clipping the talkie back on my belt, I’m on autopilot as I grab the lift and start to drive. Brian is there waiting on me with a skid full of merchandise. He’s rubbing the hair on his face. He should shave that shit off, but he’s convinced it helps him pick up women. His apartment is next to mine, we’ve got thin walls, and I know it’s not doing him any favors. “Hey, thanks,” he says as I park it and throw him the keys.

“Sure. I’ll be in fourteen.”

“You already got the picker over there?”

I nod, “Yep. See you in an hour for a break?”

He shrugs. “Sounds about right. Oh! Did you find someone to cover for you next week?”

“Charles said he would get it covered.” I shrug.

“What’d you do to get on his good side?” He runs a hand through his short-cropped dark hair.

“We have an understanding, and it helps that I don’t call in sick unless I can’t get out of bed,” I smirk.

“I don’t do that...often.”

I laugh. “Try almost every Friday. Charles isn’t stupid; he was young once.”

“Can’t tell by looking at him,” Brian says dryly. “So, you going this time?”

Shrugging, I run my eyes over the stacks of boxes as if they have answers. My resolve is resting somewhere above the hanging lights on top of boxes I can’t see. “We’ll see.”

“You’re such a chicken shit.”

I look back at him and shake my head. “You don’t know my family.”

“They’re better than mine.”

“What! Your father the dentist and housewife mom?” I can feel the disbelief bleeding into my features.

“Normal isn’t as painless as you seem to believe.”

I snort, “Sure, man, whatever you say.” I’d kill for normal.

“Fuck off, man. Get to work.” He throws in a middle salute as he waves me off.

Going through the motions, lifting, and storing skids,  is all muscle memory now. Since leaving college, I’ve had the same job. I’ve moved a few times, changed companies a time or two, but third shift jobs are easy to come by. Most don’t want the hours and the solitary existence.

Fewer people I affect with my decisions, the better. Yet Mia never passes the opportunity to comment on my life choices. Out of everyone, she should understand why I live below my potential.

“Liam, I’m hungry as fuck. Get your ass in here.”

Not bothering to respond, I finish the lift I’m doing. When I’m done, I head over.

As I walk into