Copyright © 2019 by Shelley Shepard Gray
E-book published in 2019 by Blackstone Publishing
Cover design by Alenka Vdovič Linaschke
Book design by Blackstone Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.
Trade e-book ISBN 978-1-5384-4093-3
Library e-book ISBN 978-1-5384-4092-6
Fiction / Romance / General
CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress
Blackstone Publishing
31 Mistletoe Rd.
Ashland, OR 97520
www.BlackstonePublishing.com
Hold on Tight is dedicated to this series’ street team,
the Bridgeport Book Club. This group of ladies read the novels, posted reviews, gave me suggestions, and were all around exactly who I needed whenever I needed a little boost. So, thank you, Annie, Patti, Michelle, Liz, Kristi, Connie and Connie, Cindy, Cathy, and Carrie!
I hope this book does y’all proud.
Letter to Readers
Thank you for picking up Hold on Tight! I hope you like Dani and Jackson’s story. I enjoyed writing this book so much. There was something about having all four main characters in the novel be survivors of one kind or another that hit me hard. I found myself rooting for each of them—and working a little harder to do justice to their wishes and dreams. I hope at least one of them strikes a chord with you as well.
Writing this book also brought back fun memories of when our son, Arthur, played baseball. For a couple of years, my husband, Tom, was one of the team’s coaches, which meant I spent most of every spring and summer going to Little League baseball games. I’d sit in my canvas chair for hours at a time, bite my nails whenever Arthur came up to bat, and pull out lots and lots of snacks and toys for our daughter to play with while I promised that the game was “almost over.” Tom and I made friends with all the other parents, too. We sweated together in the July heat, complained about the amount of laundry we did at night, and ate too much pizza.
Then, all too soon, Arthur grew up and those years became just a jumbled memory.
Maybe you can relate?
I have to admit that my favorite part of this series is still the thing that inspired me to write the series in the first place: the Bridgeport Social Club. I enjoyed having the club evolve a bit into an organization that tries to help out when they can. I have a feeling the BSC is going to continue to grow and prosper—and maybe even welcome another couple of newcomers into town.
Until that happens, I wish you sunny days, good friends, and time to enjoy both.
With my thanks and blessings,
Shelley Shepard Gray
CHAPTER 1
From Les Larke’s
You, Too, Can Host
a Poker Tourney:
Hosting a neighborhood poker tournament is a great way to get the guys to spend more time together. It can be a lot of fun—if you follow some basic advice.
Saturday Night
“I’m really glad you’re here,” the slightly tipsy blond announced as Jackson Koch placed a third glass of merlot into her hands. “Until you came to town, I knew everybody. Having you around has shaken everything up.” She paused. “In a good way, I mean.” Leaning forward, she smiled while giving him an eyeful of cleavage.
Jackson knew that eyeful was a promise of a whole lot more—if he was inclined to take her up on the opportunity. He wasn’t. Even if he was interested in a night with a pretty blond, he wouldn’t pick one up where he worked.
“Glad I could help,” he said at last. He turned and started on a pair of gin and tonics for the couple sitting next to her.
She frowned before getting up from the barstool. After a second, she smoothed her knit dress along her hips and stepped away. No doubt, she would be smiling brightly at someone else before the hour was up.
As he poured Bombay and filled the rest of the glasses with tonic water and added the lime wedges, he couldn’t help but mentally finish his reply to the woman. He was glad he’d moved to Bridgeport, too, but she didn’t know him.
Didn’t know him at all.
If he was going to be real honest, sometimes he didn’t even know himself anymore. Bartending at the Corner Bar in Bridgeport, Ohio, had never been in his plans.
The fact of the matter was that he’d never imagined that he would be living outside of Spartan, West Virginia. He had been settled there. His family had been part of the landscape for generations. He had a group of friends that he’d known since kindergarten and a thousand memories on practically every corner of that one-stoplight town.
He’d also had a good job.
He’d liked mining. Liked the camaraderie of the men he’d worked with. Liked feeling like he was providing something useful for the rest of the population. Something necessary to help them run their businesses and lives.
But two years ago, he and everyone else at Spartan Mine Number Nine learned that they might have thought they were doing something good, but the rest of America thought they were ruining the planet. Nobody wanted to use coal anymore. And though there were no doubt a hundred other reasons his mine had needed to close, Jackson had given up trying to figure out what they were. All he knew was that he—alongside four hundred other men—was out a good job.
He’d been laid off, given a severance package for his twelve years of hard work, and left behind. Forgotten.
“Hey, Jackson?” Genevieve Schuler prompted. Her voice was laced with concern. “You all right?”
Damn it. He’d done it again—let his mind go to places it shouldn’t.
“Sorry, Gen.” Luckily, she’d already passed the gin and tonics he’d poured to the couple who had been waiting. He turned, ready to help the next customers, but only saw his boss, still standing by his side.
Realizing that they were experiencing a momentary break, he looked around, already anticipating what Gen needed. “What do you want me to do? Wash glasses?”
Gen shook her head, the slight motion causing the tail of her long blond ponytail to brush along her shoulder blades. “I was thinking you could go on home.”
After glancing at his phone, he looked at her in confusion. Gen was a couple years younger than him, had started this bar two years ago, and would have been able to put any worker at Spartan Mine Number Nine in his place with one withering look. She also seemed to have a soft spot for men down on their luck. She’d hired him even though his only bartending experience was sitting at one with his buddies.
“It’s only midnight.” It was also a Saturday night. They didn’t start shutting it down until one at the earliest. More often than not, two a.m. was last call. Given that the crowd was having a good time, he was pretty sure that that was going to be this evening’s scenario.
Still staring at him through gold wire rims, Gen explained further. “Kimmy’s working tonight, and she just got on at six. Brad’s working the door and Melissa’s doing just fine out on the patio. You’ve been on since four. Go on home. We’ve got this, Cookie.”
“I’m starting to wish I never told you about my high school nickname.”
She laughed. “You might as well wish for something else, because it’s cemented in my mind now.” Making a shooing motion with her hand, she said, “Go on, now. I’ll add up your tips and have th
em for you after you wash up.”
He nodded again as he slid out from the gate and headed toward the back rooms. As he walked, the blond he’d served earlier and her two girlfriends smiled up at him. One of them might have said something, too. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he’d be out of there soon.
As soon as he got to the back room, he washed his hands and arms with soap, as thoroughly as he could, and switched out his T-shirt. He hated to walk into his apartment smelling like stale beer. After he changed, he grabbed his backpack and strode back into the main bar.
Gen handed him an envelope, his portion of the tips for the night. “See you Tuesday night. You’re on from seven till close.”
“Yep. See you then.” He pocketed the envelope then headed out the side door and started his five-minute commute home.
The minute he walked outside, the dark silence soothed him like a balm. Though mining wasn’t the quietest job in the world, a lot of his old job had been spent in relative silence. Some guys had worn headphones, needing something to distract themselves from the repetitious sounds and hard labor. He had never been one of them. He’d gotten used to the sounds and had even come to rely on them. Plus, he liked being able to hear if one of his men had a problem.
Like an old friend, memories of being something more than a mediocre bartender flashed through his mind. He’d been a crew leader, responsible not only for his team’s output but their well-being. He’d enjoyed it. Just as he’d enjoyed being responsible for his women at home.
Before more painful memories surfaced, he shut down that train of thought. Tight.
“That part of your life is over, Jackson,” he reminded himself as he walked down the sidewalk to the entrance of his apartment building. He needed to stop thinking of his old life. Stop thinking of Beth. Stop thinking of how things used to be.
Using his key card, he let himself in the main door, then headed up the one flight to the apartment he shared with his daughter, Kate. He really hoped she’d had a good night with Dani.
His key clicked softly as he turned the lock and then shut the door behind him. Waited.
But he didn’t hear anything.
Concern snaked through him. Suddenly, he was torn between looking through the two-bedroom apartment and pulling out his cell phone. Damn. When was the last time he’d checked it? Maybe around eight or nine?
Over three hours ago.
He cursed himself again as he started toward Kate’s bedroom door. What if something happened? What if Dani had been trying to get ahold of him and had finally given up and taken Kate to the hospital? What if—
“Jackson! Oh my gosh! You scared the heck out of me!” Dani exclaimed. Looking like she’d been caught doing something bad, his babysitter shot to her feet.
His neighbor—and part-time babysitter—had been sitting at the little nook in the back of his kitchen. He hadn’t even noticed her. “Sorry, Dani. I guess I should have let you know I was getting off early.”
She was looking down at her phone. “Did you text me, and I didn’t see it?”
“Nah. I forgot. Like I said, I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I think I fell asleep reading anyway.” She pulled a pair of headphones off her head and then shook her hair slightly. Her curly dark-blond hair bounced with the motion. “So, you got off a little early, huh?”
“Yeah. At first, I was kind of bummed about losing the money, but I got over that real quick. It’s good to be home early for once.”
“I bet.”
She studied him carefully, her concern making him warm inside—reminding him that he might be lonely here in Bridgeport, but he wasn’t alone. Seeing that she was gathering her books, he grabbed her backpack and started putting her laptop and notebooks inside. “How was Kate tonight?”
“Perfect.” She smiled, her brown eyes conveying a wealth of information with just one look. “We played princess, then watched Frozen, then read her bunny book. She went to sleep around eight.”
He chuckled. “You getting tired of playing princess yet?”
Pulling out her keys, she gave him a look of mock horror. “Are you kidding? Not on your life. Jeremy had me playing trucks for hours when he was four. I was constantly sitting in the dirt. Bugs got on me! Playing dress-up and acting all girlie never gets old.”
He smiled at her, thinking that she was one of the most feminine women he’d ever met. Her long blond hair. That pretty smile. The kindness that radiated from nearly everything she did. There was something about Dani that he couldn’t seem to ignore—no matter how hard he tried. “I’ll take your word for it. I still can’t imagine you being all that pleased to be playing in the dirt.”
“Well, Kate tells me she likes to play princess with me almost as much as she does her daddy.” She raised her eyebrows. “I think that means we’re all doing things we never intended to do.”
She had him there. “Do me a favor and don’t picture me in a tiara.”
“What? You afraid you’ll ruin your street cred?”
“Absolutely.”
Dani chuckled as she walked toward his door, her bright-red backpack slung over one shoulder. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. How about we simply agree that good parents will do just about anything for their children instead?”
Thinking about his sacrifices, and the ones that both of their former spouses had made, Jackson swallowed hard. “Agreed.”
Turning back toward him, Dani paused. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all. What you said was everything right.” Just as he opened the door for her, he realized that he’d been so busy bantering with her that he’d forgotten to get out his tip envelope and pay her. “Dan, crap. Hold on. I forgot to pay you.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can pay me next time you work.” She paused. “When is that, again? I know you gave me next week’s schedule … but I didn’t look at it real good. Are you working on Tuesday?”
“Yep. I work seven till close.”
“I’ll come up around six thirty then.”
When she yawned, he realized that she’d been standing there holding a heavy backpack. Where the heck was his head? “Let me walk you up.”
She waved him off. “No need. I’m good.”
“Dan …”
“Please, Jackson. If you don’t mind, I’d rather go on my own. I’ll see you later.”
“See you.” He let her go but stayed in place as he watched her walk down the hall and then take the stairs up to the next flight. Even when she was out of sight, he stayed there. Remembering.
Suddenly overcome with memories of when he walked another woman to her door. Then, years later, walking her to their door.
All after making vows before God and everyone—they all knew that he’d never let her go.
It was too bad Beth’s cancer had had other plans.
CHAPTER 2
From Les Larke’s
You, Too, Can Host
a Poker Tourney:
First off, make sure you have the proper poker supplies on hand. You’re gonna need a deck of cards, chips, and a table to play on. If you have these three things, you’re on your way.
All Danielle Brown cared about was entering her apartment as quietly as possible.
Jeremy was the only fourteen-year-old on earth she’d ever heard of who didn’t sleep like the dead. She’d learned the hard way the dangers of microwaving a snack in the middle of the night or watching a movie on television without headphones. Even slight noises triggered an instant reaction.
When he was little, he would pop right up out of his Star Wars sheets and come find her after the slightest noise. That greeting would be followed by at least another hour of conversation and gentle coaxing before he went back to sleep.
Now he didn’t bother waking her up, which was almost worse,
as far as she was concerned. He stayed in his bed and read or played on his computer or phone for hours, only to be groggy in the morning and running on empty by the time he was halfway through his school day.
Jeremy’s light sleeping habits were the exact opposite of her own. Unless her alarm blared or her boy pushed her shoulder, Dani slept through practically anything.
At least she didn’t have to worry about waking him up tonight. She’d gotten home earlier than expected, and since it was a Saturday night, it wouldn’t have even been a serious issue if she had disturbed him. They could sleep in until nine. Church didn’t start until a quarter after ten. Getting the chance to sleep past six or seven in the morning always felt like a gift.
Just as she opened the refrigerator, contemplating the pros and cons of having a glass of icy chardonnay, her son walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Please don’t tell me that I woke you up.”
He looked insulted by that idea. “I wasn’t asleep. It’s only twelve thirty.”
“It’s a legitimate question. You were yawning around three this afternoon.”
In typical Jeremy fashion, he smirked but didn’t say anything about that. “You wanna watch Ice Road Truckers?”
“Sure. Let me get a glass of wine and I’ll meet you on the couch. And then I want to hear about your night.”
He turned away without replying, sending a shiver of warning through her as the questions started to race in her head. Was he avoiding the question … or just avoiding answering because the answer didn’t matter?
Half the time she never knew. About a year ago, he’d started pulling away from her, which she knew was natural but hard for her heart to accept.
After pouring herself a half-glass of wine, she joined him on the tan suede couch that she hadn’t wanted to spend the money on, but Brian had insisted was worth the investment.
“So, what did you do tonight?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. Just hung out.”
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