by Hollis Wynn
Now we’re settled in our new home and life is good. I still eat way too many cupcakes, but B doesn’t care. He’s even learned how to make some of my favorites.
So, catching up and wrapping up because this is going to be my final post . . .
I introduced Lawyer Mike to B a couple of years ago, and now they’re the best of friends, which I knew would happen since they have a lot in common. Last I heard, Pilot Mike settled down and is in a polyamorous relationship with two women. Is that not perfect for him or what? And Control Freak Mike finally got the message that I didn’t want to see him anymore. Guess seeing the engagement and wedding rings on my left hand gave him the hard evidence he needed.
Online dating is hard. I’m glad I took a chance to experience it, but I’m also glad I don’t have to use it any more for myself. Now, I just help my friends with their “swipe left or right” decisions.
My mom is the happiest she’s ever been living in Texas. She keeps herself busy volunteering and lunching with her friends. I have no idea what my father is up to now that B and I own my family business. He’s probably still with Cruella, freeloading off her and her money.
Smut Club is still going strong. We’ve even added to the ranks. Some of the guys at work who’d been reading the blog wanted to join, and it’s been fun having a male perspective in the conversation. The guys are even on board with the cupcakes and cocktails.
Thank you for reading. I don’t know if you guys are still around, but never forget love will find you when it’s time, even if it has to come crashing into your life.
Signing off, for now,
No longer Searching Sterling
THE END
Sneak Peek - Bent
https://www.holliswynn.com/bent
The line at the train station is insane. There are people everywhere, and luggage sits piled up in corners. This isn’t like flying with all the drama you hear about on television when heading to the airport. I walked in, bought a ticket with cash, and strode to the line for boarding. I based my location of choice strictly on time of departure and how well I could blend in upon arrival. Chicago, here I come.
I stack my suitcases against the window in a corner overlooking the tracks. Leaning against the window, I sit with my legs crossed. A giant tote sits in my lap that holds my most important possessions: my e-reader, my old cell phone, and a letter from Mrs. Scott. When she dropped me off, she handed me a letter she wrote to me. It was heartbreaking to see her cry, but she knows I need a change. I need to find myself. Staring at the envelope, I recall the exchange with her.
“Carrigan, you know I love you. I’m so thankful for the time I’ve been able to spend with you.” She hugs me with all her might. “This is for you. Please don’t open it until you’ve decided where you’re going and on the train.” With a deep breath, she said to me, “Know that I’m here for you always.”
I want to open the letter now, but she asked me to wait until I was on the train. An Amtrak employee comes over the loudspeaker and tells us two minutes until boarding on track D. I stand up, toss my bag over my right shoulder and reach for my two second-hand suitcases. They’re ugly with their dull flowered print and covered in stains, but they’re mine. I heft them up because, unlike most of the people in line, these don’t have wheels.
The line moves quickly, and I apologize to the people around me as I attempt the escalator like the bag lady. Little do they know, I am homeless, and the train will be my home until I make some serious decisions about my life. I’ve saved some money throughout the years. It’s not much, but hopefully, it’s enough to get me started.
The conductor is kind enough to help me onto the train with my suitcases. Even though he helped me, it didn’t slow down the line of people behind me murmuring “hurry up” and a variety of swear words.
I make it to the nearest set of seats where there is no one sitting yet. Heaving one suitcase into the aisle seat, leaving the other one on the floor in front of it, I sit in the seat by the window. Sweat runs down my neck as I flop into the chair with a loud humph. I am worn out.
Glancing around my seat, I realize my blond roots are showing because I’ve blocked myself in, and now, I can’t move at all. What if I need a bathroom break? I stand up and look around. The railcar still seems pretty empty, which pleases me. The idea of having to talk to someone right now is a bit daunting. With a hard push, the suitcase is in the aisle, and I look around for a storage place.
“Do you need some help?” I turn around and notice the same conductor from the platform standing beside me. I’m sure by the gentle smile on his face, he can tell I’m overwhelmed.
“Can you show me where to stow these?”
“Sure. On the train, we stow all luggage above the seats.” He points up. Thankfully, I’m tall enough to reach the overhead racks, but I’ve packed my life in these bags, and they are heavy.
He picks up each one and slides them carefully into the storage compartment above my seat with the handles out.
“Just ask someone to help you when you get to your stop. The handles are facing out for easier pull,” he says. “But don’t stand in your seat, or you’ll have a banged-up head.” His laugh is full and loud.
“Thank you, sir.” I smile at him.
“No problem. You remind me of my daughter, and I hope someone would be kind enough to help her if she ever needs it,” he says before he continues through the railcar.
I fling my weary body into my seat and lean against the window. This is the beginning of after. Life after Mom. Life after Barron Falls. It’s both frightening and exhilarating to know that I could make my own decisions for my life. Even though I’ve never been much of a dreamer because reality was scary enough, for the first time, I want to. I want to dream, explore, and find my place in the world.
Turning my head, I stare at the landscape of the area. I’m leaving behind the broken-down buildings and the high grass that lines the railroad track and Barron Falls. It’s all I know, but I can’t wait to see what the city will hold.
The train whistle blows, and we’re off. Next stop: New York Penn Station.
The time flies as I watch the Hudson River pass by in a flash, while we soar through the Catskills. The landscape is so green and lush. I know it won’t be long before fall is upon the area, and the colors will be vibrant and full of life. Then comes winter, where the world seems to go to sleep and is covered by a snow-white blanket sparkling with crystals.
Soon the landscape turns to cityscape as we come into the outskirts of New York City. Buildings and traffic surround the tracks and are seen from every vantage point. The noise of the train drowns out the city, but it’s obvious where we are.
We’ve entered the dark zone of an underground city of tracks. Walls are full of graffiti with tracks that lead to and from Gotham. The city that never sleeps has a whole separate, underground world where the day folks travel back and forth, and the night dwellers hide from the lights of the city.
The Penn Station stopover is only fifteen minutes. If I disembark and miss the train, I’ll have to buy another ticket, and I don’t want to waste that much money. Not to mention, we are supposed to take all our luggage with us. When the train stops, I’ll use the toilet because who knows how long it will be before I’m brave enough to do that again.
I’ve watched enough Law & Order to know that New York harbors some scary things. Murders, drug dealings, and kidnappings are the things for which this city is known. They also have food, fashion, and finance. I giggle at my joke of everything starting with the letter F.
I open the door after a quick bathroom break and wash up, and there are already people filing onto the train. My feet move at a rapid pace toward my seat before someone can claim the one beside it, and I’ll have to share my space for the next twenty-eight hours.
Settling back down, I notice a handsome man coming down the aisle toward me. His dark brown hair, intense midnight blue eyes, and strong jaw make it hard for me to look away. The blue-chec
kered button-down, with the sleeves rolled up, show off muscular forearms. It’s the perfect combination with his dark jeans. As he strides past me, we make eye contact, and I feel myself blush. I immediately look down to my lap when butterflies take over my stomach, a foreign feeling where I feel out of control. Unsure of what to do, I shake my head to get rid of the rush felt from this gorgeous stranger. My whole body shudders. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I reach into my bag for my e-reader that will serve as a good distraction. My secret obsession is alpha men and heroines in distress. Since my life is full of anything but mystery and fun, I gravitate toward reading romantic suspense. The more suspense, the better. But there is nothing wrong with a romantic comedy thrown into the mix to bring some levity to my life.
While working at the flower shop for Mrs. Scott, the tendency to meet men was high. Married. Head over heels in love. Even the cheaters. Not any of the types I want—one who looks at me with stars in his eyes and aspires to live a life full of exploration, laughter, and love.
Most days, I’m thankful for my time at the shop; otherwise, I wouldn’t have had any interaction with others besides Mom and her doctors. I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t seeing a doctor for one of her addictions or afflictions. She may have given birth to me, but she wasn’t a mother who cared for me or showed me affection. Though she demanded I call her that. Mother. She was anything but a mother. If I hadn’t taken care of us, then we would have been more destitute than we already were. And that would’ve made life even more difficult.
Turning my attention to my book, I try to focus on the words on the page but am still too distracted to read. The noises fill the train car as the train leaves the station. The city passes by in a blur. My heart hurts, and my eyes burn at the realization that this could be the last time I may be this close to home. I have no clue what the future holds, but I know I’ll have to watch my pennies to make this new life count.
Remembering the letter Mrs. Scott gave me, I rummage through my bag for the envelope. I get a whiff of her perfume and recognize her stationery immediately.
My darling Carrigan,
I’ve written and re-written this letter many times since the death of your mother. My heart is breaking for you once again, only this time you’re aware of the heartbreak you’re experiencing. As you know, my son, Sam, died in a car accident twenty-four years ago. He was a wonderful man and was head-over-heels in love. Her name was Mara, and she was your mother. They met in school and were inseparable. Carrigan, your mother wasn’t always the broken woman you know. She was vibrant and beautiful and full of life until the day your father was killed.
The pages of the letter fall from my hands, and my heart stops. I can’t believe it. Wait, does this mean Sam was my father? Why am I finding this out now? I wipe the tears from my face that I don’t realize are falling, gather the pages back up, and keep reading.
That was the day her light snuffed out. I hoped that you would bring that light back to her. But, unfortunately, she couldn’t handle this world without him. She cried and begged me to take care of you so she didn’t have to be a parent. She even asked me if I’d give you to another family, but I could never do that. My heart would not allow me to give you to an unknown person or be in an unknown place where I couldn’t see you. I’m glad that she kept you—even though your life was hard.
I’ve experienced so much loss in this life. First, my only son, and then Mr. Scott. All I had was the flower shop and you. I couldn’t bear letting you go, so I bought the home for your mother so the two of you would have a place to live and be close to me. I checked on you even when you didn’t know it.
Your mother and I had a deal. If anything happened to her, I’d tell you who your father was and the story of their love. She didn’t want to taint you with her sickness, but after you were born, she knew she couldn’t let you go either.
Salty tears burn my face as they pour from my eyes. There is no use wiping them away because I’m still reading. Still wondering how I will put myself back together. Still trying to decide if I should turn around and go back to Barron Falls.
Sam would have loved you. You’re so much like him, and I often smile thinking about it. You may look like your mother, but your sense of wonder, the way you cross your legs when you sit, and the faces you make when you concentrate are all Sam.
I’m so thankful for having you in my life all these years. You may be sad or even mad at me for not telling you until now, but I was only honoring your mother’s wishes.
John and I planned and saved for Sam to go to college. We invested the money, and it’s ready for you when you need it. Included is a check for five thousand dollars to get you started. If you need more, please don’t hesitate to call me.
You may have never known that I’m your grandmother, or that I was telling you about your father when I was telling you the stories of Sam, but I’ve loved you from afar and for always. My heart is with you, and I know you will soar on wings like eagles. You have angels watching your every step, and they will cheer you on.
All my love,
Mrs. Scott
Grandmother—when you’re ready
I can taste the salt on my lips when I lick them. For the first time, my heart is truly breaking. I left the one person who loves me. The one person who’s loved me all these years. Someone who wasn’t some neighbor who showered love on me, but my grandmother. My Grandmother.
My shoulders tremble, and the hiccups have set in. With my chest tightened, I attempt to take a deep breath and settle myself. I never dreamed that Sam was my father or that Mrs. Scott was my grandmother.
Damn. I’m pissed off that she left me with my mom to take care of her all these years. Yet, at the same time, she was honoring her word. Plus, she probably thought I’d have left by now.
But I was loyal to my mother, and even though she was addicted to alcohol, she was still my mom. Love isn’t something we walk out on because someone upsets us or hurts us. Love is unconditional. Love is love—even when it isn’t what we think it should look like. And I’ve always strived to show Mom the love I wished she would show me, even if it never happened.
I send Mrs. Scott a text while I’m feeling brave.
Carrigan: Hi
Carrigan: I’m not sure what to say to you. But thank you for the money. I’ll be in touch later.
Mrs. Scott: I’ll always love you. No matter what. Be safe and let me know when you’ve made it to your destination.
Carrigan: <3
Also by Hollis Wynn
Available Now
Bent: A Love’s Complicated Novel
Breathe: A Love’s Complicated Novel
Crashing Into Love: Written in the Stars #12
2021 Releases
Shameless Stranger - Cocky Hero Club
Aegis - The Everyday Heroes World
Acknowledgments
Each time I sit down to write this, I fear I’m going to leave someone out. So, before we go much further, please know I’m so grateful for each one of you who have come into my life and support me.
Colleen – I wrote this story a long time ago, but it didn’t have a home yet, so when you asked me to be part of the WITS project, I knew exactly where it would fit. Thank you for being a friend, light and supporter. You’re amazing.
Deena – God knew what he was doing when he dropped us in the same space at the same time. I’ll always be grateful for what you bring to my life.
Lana – Thank you for your encouragement, love and support. I truly believe you’re my angel on Earth.
To my team – JoAnna, Ande, Missy, and Becca. Thank you to each of you for taking time out of your schedule and helping Sutton & Baker’s story come to life.
JoAnna – thanks for keeping Home Sweet Hollis going when I’m hiding out in the cave. I can’t wait to hug you at BRAE!
Missy – you’re extraordinary with bringing a story together when I’m struggling to make the pieces fit. Thank you for everything (ev
en when it’s last minute and I’m at mess).
Becca – together we’re awesomesauce and this ride would be much bumpier without you.
Ande – there aren’t words for how wonderful you are and how much I love you.
A huge shoutout to Cover Me Darling (Marisa) for the spectacular covers you did for this series. They deserve a place on my wall.
Eric Battershell – This intensity in this photo is amazing and I love it.
To my family – thank you for understanding when I need to hide out and get all the words written.
To the Mommies – you’re the best and I love you for all the laughs and support.
To my Sweeties in Home Sweet Hollis – Each one of you fills a space in my heart and I’m so thankful.
To my readers – every review, email, and message you guys encourage me to keep writing. Thank you for buying my books and loving them.
About the Author
Hollis Wynn is a thirty-something gypsy who lives for adventure and calls home anywhere that she lays her head. But she can’t live without three things: music, books and her Yorkie Poo Boston.
Hollis has been writing stories for years and after successfully running the White Hot Reads blog, she finally gave into her passion and took the publishing leap.
When she’s penning stories where life and love collide, you’ll find her desk covered in empty wine glasses, gluten-free cupcake crumbs, and multiple drafts of her WIP covered in ink – pink of course.
