Sweethearts Old

by Rachel A Andersen

  Sweethearts Old

  Lucky Sweethearts Book One

  RACHEL A. ANDERSEN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Rachel A. Andersen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of short quotations in a book review. For more information, address: rachelandersen.author@gmail.com.

  First paperback edition June 2020

  Book design by Rachel A. Andersen

  www.amazon.com/author/rachelandersen

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Sweethearts Old (Lucky Sweethearts, #1)

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Sweethearts New

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books in the Lucky Sweethearts Series

  Sweethearts Old - Book One

  Sweethearts New - Book Two

  Sweethearts Borrowed - Book Three

  Sweethearts Blue - Book Four

  Books in the Need a Little Christmas Series

  A Little Christmas Pretense - Book One

  A Little Christmas Conflict - Book Two

  Other Books by Rachel A. Andersen

  Birthdays and Boyfriends (Novelette)

  Backward Blessings (Blessings of Love Book Six)

  For those who still have the courage to love and be loved.

  Sweethearts Old

  Lucky Sweethearts Book One

  Some things are better left in the past, and high school is one of them. But is your high school sweetheart the exception or the rule?

  You are cordially invited to Thomas Jefferson High School in Denver, CO to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of your graduation...

  Marissa Lambert is not the kind of woman to let her circumstances dictate her opportunities. From raising her three siblings after her parents' car accident to adopting a boy from foster care as a single woman to starting her own accounting business so she can work from home, the only thing which continues to elude her is true love. So, why does her sister, Cassie, insist that her twentieth high school reunion is the key to recapturing her lost sense of joy and fulfillment?

  Approaching the one-year anniversary after his wife's death, Declan Pierce is content to let his mother-in-law keep the household running while he loses himself in work, television, and video gaming. That is, until he's on his own for a day, and his kids seem to believe him utterly inept. No longer willing to let his in-laws dictate his parenting and home life, he awakens again just in time for his high school reunion where he reunites with the first woman he ever loved. True to his luck, after one of the nicest evenings he's shared with anyone since his wife died, he makes a mistake that threatens it all.

  Twenty years of broken dreams can change people, and no matter how drawn to one another Marissa and Declan may feel, they can't help but wonder if history will repeat itself or if love is here to stay for the Sweethearts Old.

  If you like stories of emotional growth and sweet romance, like those written by Robyn Carr and Debbie Macomber, check out this sweet second chance romance. A "spectacular new find" with vivid characters, relatable emotion, and a charming voice, Rachel A. Andersen's books will have you coming back for more.

  Inspired by the wedding rhyme, "Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue," the Lucky Sweethearts series follows four couples on their way to the altar. Though each book can be read as a standalone, readers may stumble on spoilers when books are read out of order due to recurring characters.

  Prologue

  Nineteen Years Ago

  Marissa

  “We’re so sorry for your loss.”

  Nineteen-year-old Marissa Lambert just nodded as the Hendersons from down the street came into view, the pity in their eyes unmistakable. “Thank you.”

  Her hand had started going numb sometime in the last five minutes, though she couldn’t tell whether it was from how many hands she’d shaken or if it was just an extension of the emotional listlessness which had settled over her.

  Mrs. Henderson pulled her into a hug as she whispered, “They’re in a better place, sweetie. And they went together. That’s the important thing.”

  If Marissa was her usual self, she might have reacted differently. Instead, she just glared at the woman as her thoughts whirled. My siblings and I are all alone now, and that’s the important thing? That they’re in a better place and that they went together?

  She wanted to scream, but that would be frowned upon in such a solemn time. Instead, she mumbled her thanks they had attended the funeral, and let the Hendersons continue down the receiving line. With a small sigh, she turned to one of the partners in her dad’s accounting firm. The balding, kind-faced man caught her hand in both of his. “If there’s anything we can do, don’t hesitate to call.”

  It wasn’t the place, but she managed a thin smile. “Well, I could use a job.”

  The statement didn’t seem to surprise him, and he nodded. “Call my office in the morning, and we’ll set something up.”

  There was a commotion as someone pushed their way through the crowd up to where she stood, capturing the attention of everyone in the room, including her. Her heart leaped as she saw him emerge directly before her.

  He was here.

  “Riss, I came as soon as I heard.”

  For a moment, it appeared the fog was lifting. She stared at the boy, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt in a sea of black and navy blue suits, his normally clean-shaven chin shadowed with light brown stubble.

  He didn’t hesitate, just pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her as tears stung her eyes.

  She let her eyelids drift closed as she reached up and returned the hug, the comfort of his presence cracking through the shell of her emotional walls. “Declan?”

  He ran one hand from the top of her head to the base of her neck. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

  She trembled in his embrace, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to stand on her own if he let her go. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your roommate told me what happened. I got in my car and drove all night.” He pulled her back so he could look at her. “How are you? Are you okay?”

  She couldn’t speak, just drunk in the fresh mountain scent of his aftershave as he tugged her back to him, whispering gentle, kind words that she wasn’t alone, she’d be okay.

  When she finally let go of him and wiped away her tears, she noticed that the crowd of well-wishers, which only a moment ago had seemed to stretch out of her line of sight, had dissipated. She wasn’t sure who she could thank, but the break from the never-ending stream of platitudes gave her the first breath of relief in almost a week.

  Declan disappeared, returning a few moments later with a plate overfilled with potatoes, pasta, and mixed vegetables. Off to the side were two her favorite double chocolate cookies. “You should eat something. Mom said you might not have much of an appetite, but she said I should at least put something in front of you.”

  She stared at the plate, the stupor crowding back in on h
er. She couldn’t eat this much food even on a normal day, and the thought of eating right now made her physically ill. Still, she mechanically lifted a cherry tomato to her lips.

  Declan sat so close to her that his knees touched hers, his hand on her back. “I think I should stay with you tonight.”

  Marissa shook her head. “Mom and Dad won’t—”

  Emotion grew in her throat and squelched the rest of her sentence.

  He squeezed her arm, recognizing her slip. “I’ll just bunk with one of the boys or I’ll sleep on the couch. I just want to be there if you need me. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  She could hear what he didn’t say. Staying over at her house wouldn’t be a problem with his parents. They wouldn’t worry about him.

  Hers would never worry about her again.

  She must have cried all her tears earlier because she had dry eyes now. Though she wasn’t sure how she felt about his offer, she knew what he expected her to say. “Thank you.”

  THE SOUND OF SOMETHING crackling on the stove caught Marissa’s attention the next morning as she stumbled down the stairs. “I must have overslept. Did everyone get to school on time?”

  Declan nodded, still clad in the same jeans and t-shirt as the day before, his shoes and sweatshirt discarded by the front door. “Cassie didn’t want to go, but I drove her, and she seemed fine by the time she walked in.” He pulled the pan from the stove. “I made breakfast.”

  Food. Again.

  She’d only just emerged from her bedroom, dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, and he thought she was hungry. She hadn’t even showered or put on her makeup yet, choosing instead to throw her chestnut colored hair into a ponytail. What made him think if she didn’t have the energy for either of those things, she would have energy for breakfast?

  Frankly, if she didn’t have an appointment to meet with her parents’ lawyer later today, she would have stayed in bed longer.

  Then, she caught sight of the flowers in the center of the table, all yellow and orange and pink and alive, nestled against dark green foliage. She wanted to throw them across the room. They represented everything she didn’t feel right now.

  She should have been grateful. Even in this strange grief haze, she knew she should have been grateful for everything Declan had done for her family over the last couple of days. He’d been nothing but kind, even carrying little Cassie up to bed last night after the ten-year-old refused to leave Marissa’s side for her usual bedtime.

  Declan plated the French toast with a pad of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup before he put it in front of her. “It’s your favorite.”

  She didn’t even pick up her fork before she looked up at him. “Why are you here?”

  His hazel eyes clouded in confusion. “Remember? The funeral?”

  “I don’t mean why are you in my house, Declan. I’m not an idiot.” She crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “I mean, why are you here? In Denver.”

  He sat beside her, squinting at her as if he was measuring what kind of threat level he was dealing with. “Have I done something wrong?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t invite you to this funeral. So why are you here?”

  He pulled away from her, the hurt in his eyes clear even in her muddled brain. “I thought it was an oversight. You didn’t want me here?”

  “I want you here, but I can’t have you here.”

  She knew the instant the words fell out of her lips that they wouldn’t make sense, but what was she supposed to do? Her brain felt like mush. How could she explain what she was thinking, what she was feeling?

  His lips fell open as he cocked his head in her direction. The amusement tugging at the corner of his lips only angered her further. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She sighed in resignation and picked up her fork. Maybe she wasn’t hungry, but it would be better to pretend to go along than to have this fight now. “Nothing. You’re here now. Let’s just pretend this never happened.”

  She attacked her French toast like it was a steak, her knife and fork clattering against the ceramic of her plate.

  Declan heaved a sigh of relief and unfolded his lanky form from the kitchen chair. He headed to the sink, presumably to start on a load of dishes. “Good, because whether you like it or not, you need me.”

  She dropped her fork and knife, that irrational anger washing over her again. “No, I don’t. Why does everyone think I need help with this? I can do this.”

  Declan’s sandy head bobbed as he loaded the dishwasher. “Eventually, yeah, maybe. You probably can do this. We’ll transfer to UC-Denver. We’ll get jobs, and we’ll handle this. Right now, however, we’ve got to slap something together so you can finish out your semester. I’ve been in touch with the university, and they said—”

  “I’m not going back to the university, Declan.”

  His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and even now she knew it wasn’t because she had interrupted him but because of what she’d interrupted him to say. “You’re not what?”

  She gave up the pretense of eating. “I’m taking an incomplete for the semester and transferring to community college.”

  “Community college? UC-Denver offered you a violin scholarship, same as Northwestern. It’s not the same program, but you can, at least, keep working on your degree.”

  “I’m not studying music anymore, Dec.”

  He stared at her. “What? Why not?”

  She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t have the luxury anymore. I called my dad’s friend and got a job as a receptionist with my dad’s accounting firm. I start on Monday.”

  He took a step toward her. “You hate math. Why on earth would you go into accounting?”

  Pain went through her like a knife at the thought of giving up her dreams, and she wanted to break down and cry in his arms. At the same time, she refused to do so. Music may have been her passion, but this was the real world now. For better or worse, she had to grow up now.

  “Look, it was a nice dream for a while, but I have to face facts. I need to support myself and my siblings. I can’t do that getting twenty dollars here and there to play for weddings.”

  Marissa looked at her hands, which she’d once thought were ugly given how muscular they were from her years of playing the violin. Hands Declan had once claimed he found beautiful because of the emotion they could pull from the instrument. Not that they’d do so anymore, though. No, the days of dreaming of headlining at Carnegie Hall were behind her.

  She managed a thin smile she could tell didn’t reach her eyes, but one look at his expression told her he could see past the veneer. “Besides, it’s a receptionist job. Not accounting. I don’t have to do anything but smile and answer telephones.”

  Declan knelt in front of her, his eyes bright with hope as he took her hands in his. “So, I’ll transfer to UC-Denver, too. We’ll get married, and I’ll work in construction with my dad while I finish my engineering degree. We can do this, Marissa.”

  Married? At nineteen?

  The room spun as the panic set in. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to get married and have babies and grow old—

  She was only just starting to wrap her brain around helping Garrett, Steven, and Cassie get through the rest of their school years. Marissa had eight years ahead of her where she would be both sister and parent to the three of them, and she already didn’t know if she could do that on top of giving up every dream she’d ever had for her life.

  But to do all that and be a new bride as well? It was all too much.

  She pulled her hands out of Declan’s and raced to the nearest bathroom. The nausea was more emotional than physical, but that didn’t stop her stomach from forcibly evicting the few bites of French toast she’d choked down a few minutes earlier.

  Her life was crumbling before her very eyes, and it was everything she could do to keep from falling apart with the strain of it.

  When she was sure that her stomach had finis
hed its rebellion, she got to her feet. In the mirror, she caught Declan’s slumped shoulders as he stood outside the bathroom. His tan skin pale and tinted green with what he’d just witnessed. “I take it you weren’t a fan of the proposal, then? I mean, I’m the first person to admit it could have been more romantic, but I didn’t think the idea of marrying me would sicken to you.”

  She rinsed out her mouth and spit into the sink. When she’d finished, she leaned against the vanity, her heart heavy for what she was about to say. “I think it would best if we pretended that it didn't happen.”

  “The throwing up or the proposal?”

  She didn’t answer, just let her gaze drop to the ceramic sink. She hoped he’d be able to read between the lines.

  “Because you don’t love me?”

  She turned back to face him, her heart aching not just for her loss but for what it was doing to him. To them.

  Declan, however, didn’t seem surprised. His hand was in his pocket as if they were talking about what restaurant to order from. That was until she looked in his eyes. Those hazel eyes which could never lie to her.

  They almost radiated insecurity. Insecurity she’d planted here. Now. Today.

  She swallowed as tears pricked her eyes. “You know I love you.”

  He stepped closer to her again, his long legs bringing him almost exactly to where she stood as the hope in his eyes surged again like a fire stoked back to life from dying embers. “Then, why not marry me? I’ll be a good husband, an able partner. I mean, look at this morning. I helped get Garrett, Steven, and Cassie off to school, so you could sleep in. Made you breakfast. I was going to pick Cassie up while you are with the lawyer this afternoon.”

  She rested her hands on his arms. It was more than anyone else had done. “And I’m very grateful for that.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “You have to know that the pain won’t last forever, Riss. Let me be here for you. At some point, life has to get back to normal.”

  The words jarred something jagged loose inside her, and she pulled out of his soothing, comfortable embrace. “Normal? Declan, I’m in the middle of a seismic shift in my life. Last week, the biggest problem in my life was whether you wanted to watch an action film or a chick flick like I wanted. This week, I have to worry about whether my parents had enough life insurance money for me to pay off the mortgage. The fact that you think this is the right time to propose marriage says a lot about what different lives we lead now.”