A Grateful Kind of Love

by Ellie Wade

  Copyright © 2019 by Ellie Wade

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.elliewade.com

  Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

  Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  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.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944495-11-4

  Prologue

  Part One

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Part Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  Other Titles By Ellie Wade

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For Amy, one of the most incredible and kind women in the world. Your love and support, from the very beginning, has been such a blessing. I am more grateful for you than you will ever know.

  I’ve always been a planner. At an early age, my dolls would receive save-the-date reminders for our upcoming tea parties. For me, life has a set order—each deliberate step leads to the next, which leads to the next, until I’ve reached the destination.

  The one I’ve always dreamed about.

  The life.

  Including the ultimate college experience, career, husband, and family.

  I’ve visualized it all for years and the path I need to take to get there.

  Landon Porter has been a constant in the trajectory of my life—the charming, witty, and handsome friend—conveniently a couple of years older so that he can introduce me to new connections and give advice that will help pave the way.

  I’ve always adored Landon, and I thought I always would.

  Yet what I’ve learned is that life is full of choices, and despite making the ones that should yield the desired outcome, some choices have consequences that are out my control.

  Fate can be incredibly cruel and logic unreliable when one’s heart is broken.

  I know that what happened wasn’t my fault. There was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting. Additionally, I realize that I shouldn’t hate him because it wasn’t his fault either.

  Yet the heartache is still there. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I want to let it go. I just can’t. I find myself drowning in the murky waters of uncertainty, desperately searching for the way out so that I can breathe again.

  It’s hard, being so lost. I’m not sure of much anymore, except the one blaring truth—this wasn’t part of the plan.

  Amy

  Sixteen Years Old

  I pull the hot straightener through my thick hair one more time for good measure before calling it good. Studying my reflection in the bedroom mirror, I take extra notice of my sleek auburn locks. I love my hair straight. I have to quiet the voice that reminds me that, the second I step out into the humid June night air, all my straightening efforts will be for naught because these strands are going to frizz up like a clown’s wig.

  Okay, hopefully, not that bad.

  My phone buzzes on my dresser.

  Picking it up, I read the message.

  Landon: Outside.

  He’s here.

  I text back.

  Me: One sec.

  I grab my phone and slide it in the back pocket of my jean shorts. I take one more swift glance in the mirror. Once satisfied, I turn off my light and quietly slip out of my bedroom before closing the door behind me.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jump with a yelp.

  My hand clings to my chest, and I raise my eyes to find my sister, Lily, standing in the bathroom, her long golden locks pressed to the left side of her head from sleep.

  She yawns and asks again, “What are you doing?”

  I raise my finger to my lips. My eyes bulging, I urge her to be quiet as I push her into the bathroom and close the door.

  “You gotta be quiet, Lil. I don’t want Mom and Dad to wake up.”

  Realization flashes across her face as her tired mind wakes up. “Oh, you’re sneaking out,” she whispers before giggling.

  “Yeah, so … shh.” I hold my finger to my lips again.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “Danny Buchanan is having a bonfire party in the field behind his house,” I excitedly tell her. “His parents are out of town.”

  “Oh my gosh! You’re going to Danny’s?” she whisper-shrieks, and I chuckle quietly.

  Lily’s three years younger than me, but despite our age difference, I confide in her often. She’s acutely aware of my obsession with Danny.

  I shake my head.

  “How are you getting there?”

  “Landon’s outside, waiting for me,” I tell her.

  “Is Jax going?” She asks of Landon’s younger brother, her best friend.

  “No.” I shake my head. “If he were, you’d have already known.”

  “True,” she agrees. “Okay, well, be careful.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Don’t forget that creaky floorboard by the door,” she reminds me.

  “Oh, right. Can you flush the toilet when I get to the bottom of the stairs? You know, give a little noise distraction just in case I step on the wrong board.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” I grin widely before tiptoeing out of the bathroom.

  Just as I enter the kitchen and close in on my escape route, I hear the toilet flush, and I smile. Good job, Lily.

  The whole thing is ridiculous, but then again, one can never be too cautious. My mom is a pretty light sleeper.

  I run across the front yard and down the road to where Landon is parked.

  “Hey, Ames,” he greets me as I hop in. “All good?”

  “All good!” I tell him.

  “Remember, if you get caught, do not pin this on me,” he says with a chuckle as he speeds off. “I don’t need to piss my dad off any more this week than I already have.”

  “Oh no. What’d you do?”

  “Just let him in on the fact that I won’t be playing football for Michigan.” He shrugs casually, as if it’s no big deal. But I know that, for Mr. Porter, the fact that his son is not playing football for the University of Michigan is a huge deal, especially after he’s been grooming Landon for greatness since he could hold a football.

  “Uh-oh. That conversation must’ve sucked.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t great. But he’ll live. He has Jax after all.”

  “That’s true,” I agree.

  His younger broth
er, Jax, was born to play football. He’s amazing. I know that, and I barely understand the sport. He’s so good that I’m sure he’ll play for varsity as a freshman in a year.

  “Still, you should’ve waited to tell him until after you were at school. I mean, you’re leaving in less than two months,” I say.

  “I know. I should’ve, but he was being a grade-A prick, and I just wanted to stick it to him.” Landon drives down the deserted road.

  I’ve known the Porters my whole life. Susie, Landon’s mom, is my mom’s best friend. We do everything with the Porters—holidays, vacations, Sunday dinners. Landon’s basically my older brother. He’s two years older than me, and we’ve always been close. We’re not connected at the hip like my sister, Lily, and his brother, Jax, but they’re the same age and in the same grade, so it’s different for them.

  I wipe my palms against my jean shorts as we pull into Danny’s driveway and continue past his house to the field that’s lit up with the light of a huge bonfire. Landon promised that he’d get me to a few parties this summer before leaving for college, yet I’m more anxious than I thought I’d be as we approach my first one.

  “Are we late?” I ask, unfamiliar with bonfire etiquette.

  “Nah, it will be going late into the night or early into the morning—however you want to look at it. We’re good.” He parks his truck behind some hay bales and turns off the ignition.

  Suddenly, I’m incredibly aware that I’m at a party—with alcohol—of mainly graduated seniors who are heading off to their post–high school life soon, and here I am, barely a junior. I feel awkward and out of place, and I haven’t even stepped out of the truck yet.

  What was I thinking?

  I scan the fire-lit faces of the people hanging out, red Solo cups in hand, and it hits me that almost everyone here has graduated. I know them all because we attend a small country school, but I don’t hang out with any of them.

  I grab Landon’s hand. “Landon, I’m nervous. I don’t see anyone from my grade here. Is it weird that I’m here?”

  “No way. It’s totally cool. You’re fine. Just hang with me if you feel uneasy.” He pauses and takes me in for a second. “You wanted to come, right?”

  “Yeah, I did—I do. I just got weirdly nervous.”

  “Don’t be,” he reassures me again. “It’s cool.”

  I nod and weakly press my lips together in a smile before stepping out of his truck. Secret parties are on my high school to-do list. They are a rite of passage, one I’m grateful to have Landon walk me through. The social connections built at gatherings like this one will help me throughout high school. Many resumé builders, such as class president, are voted upon by my peers. My high school in Athens, Michigan, is as small town as they come, and I think in communities like ours, social status is even more important somehow.

  The sky is dark and full of stars. The song of the crickets echoes all around us, my heart races with each step, and my nerves dance with anticipation as we head toward the glowing fire.

  I follow Landon as he makes his way through the people clustered around the area, all talking in their different groups. Landon’s greeted by everyone with cheers. He’s one of those people that everyone loves. He’s class clown meets hot jock, and the combo works well for him.

  “Amy Madison!” a voice slurs my name before I feel a hand on my waist. “When did you get so hot?” Clark asks as he grips my side a little harder than what’s comfortable.

  I immediately regret my outfit decision. I knew this T-shirt and these shorts were too short and tight, but I didn’t care. I wanted Danny to think I looked hot, but now, I just feel exposed and honestly kind of stupid.

  Landon grabs Clark’s wrist and shoves his hand down and away from me. “Don’t fucking touch her again,” he says in a deep voice, a tone I’m not used to hearing from him.

  “Aw, come on, Porter … just having some fun,” Clark says, his words slow.

  Landon takes the plastic cup from Clark and dumps it out before dropping it to the ground. “Stop drinking, Clark,” he says before taking my hand. “Come on, Ames.”

  Landon leads us over to the keg. He fills a cup up with beer and offers it to me.

  I take it. “How many of these before I act like that?” I motion in Clark’s direction.

  Landon chuckles. “A lot more than this one. Though, even drunk, you wouldn’t act like that. Clark’s just a dick.”

  I nod in agreement and take a sip of the beer. OMG … this stuff is so gross.

  My glower toward the liquid in my cup is interrupted by Landon’s laughter. I raise my gaze to meet his.

  “That bad?” he asks.

  I guess the distaste I carry toward the beer is evident. “Um, I’m not going to lie. It’s freaking disgusting.”

  Landon shakes his head; his eyes shine with humor. “It’ll grow on you. It’s an acquired taste.”

  “If you say so.” I grimace before taking another sip, which is just as bad as the first.

  I follow Landon, and we sit on a bale of hay a few feet away from the fire. The warmer my beverage gets, the grosser it becomes, so I chug it down as quickly as possible.

  Landon’s friends come over to chat with him, and he does his best to include me. Honestly, I’m just having fun, taking it all in. Watching people, especially drunk ones, is pretty interesting.

  “I thought you were never going to get here,” Cassie, one of Landon’s previous flings, complains as she walks toward us.

  “Hey, Cass,” Landon greets her. “You know Amy Madison, right?” He introduces me.

  “Sure. Hi, Amy,” Cassie says before turning her attention back to Landon. “Why didn’t you call last night, like you said you would?” she asks him, her voice rising an octave.

  “I don’t know. I got busy, I guess,” he tells her.

  “I missed you,” she whines, straddling his lap now.

  “Cassie.” Landon’s voice carries an air of warning.

  She vigorously shakes her head. “Nope. Don’t want to hear it. Listen, I just want to say one thing.”

  I suppose I’ll never know what that thing is because she presses her lips against his. His hands wrap around her waist, and he kisses her back before pulling away and apologetically looking at me.

  I grin. “It’s okay. I’m just going to go get another beer.”

  Landon nods, and as I walk away, I can see them making out in my peripheral vision.

  I fill my plastic cup up and chug the disgusting liquid down before filling it up again.

  “Slow down there, killer,” Danny freaking Buchanan says, standing in front of me.

  I have to stop myself from melting into the dirt below my feet. I giggle uncomfortably.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “You having a good summer?” he asks.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Not bad. I’ve been working a lot, trying to save as much as possible for school, you know?”

  I nod as I take in his face, which is so gorgeous that it hurts. “Where are you going?”

  “State.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Ah, the enemy.”

  “So, you’re a Michigan fan?” He smirks.

  I shrug. “Of course. The only way to be.”

  No destination is discussed, but we start walking together.

  “You know, state’s a good college. I’d even venture to say, it’s a better school in many subject areas,” he tells me.

  “Well, I’ve been raised to bleed maize and blue my entire life. You’re not going to convince me otherwise,” I tease.

  We stop walking and take a seat on a bale of straw that’s placed away from the main fire and gathering of people.

  “How about this?” Danny says. “You like both schools because, after all, they both represent your home state, except, when we play each other, then you’ll obviously root for Michigan. I mean, when we’re not opposing one another in a sport, what does it matter? Right?”

  I think over what he said, and i
t makes sense. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

  He smiles wide, and it’s perfection. “All right then.”

  “What are you going to school for?” I ask.

  “I want to be a veterinarian.”

  He’s hot, and he wants to save animals. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.

  “I’ve heard State has an amazing vet school,” I tell him.

  “They do,” he agrees.

  I take a long gulp of the beer. I haven’t acquired the taste as Landon suggested, but I’m starting to taste it less as time passes.

  “So, what are your plans for the summer?” Danny asks.

  I think for a moment. “Just this and that. Nothing too exciting.” I plan to spend most of the summer lying next to our pool, sunbathing, but I opt not to tell Danny that. It seems immature somehow.

  “I’m happy you came tonight, Amy. I was hoping you would.” Danny’s voice is low and ridiculously sexy.

  I’m finding it hard to breathe.

  I swallow, my throat dry. “Really?” I attempt to make my question strong, but it comes out a little squeaky.

  “Really,” he states, lifting his hand to my face. He drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful, Amy.”

  There’s a good chance that I’m about to die from lack of air, but as Danny’s face moves closer to mine, I know that, if I have to go, it’s going to be with Danny Buchanan kissing me, and I’m more than good with that.

  I shiver despite the warmth of the night air. Danny’s face is close enough that I can feel his breath against my skin. I stare into his eyes. They’re set on me and determined.

  I shudder, and then I close my eyes in anticipation of the moment that’s going to change my life.

  Danny runs his hand through the hair at the nape of my neck and gently pulls my head even closer to his. The soft skin of his lips reaches mine.

  This is it.

  “Amy!” Landon barks my name from behind me, and I jump.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Danny’s hand falls from my hair, and we both turn to face Landon.

  “Hey, we gotta go,” Landon says abruptly.

  “Right now?” I ask, trying to keep my question from sounding like a petulant five-year-old who’s just been told she can’t have an ice cream cone.