by Ellie Wade
Kindred Souls
Ellie Wade
Also by Ellie Wade
The Flawed Hearts Series
Finding London
Keeping London
Loving London
Eternally London
Taming Georgia
The Choices Series
A Beautiful Kind of Love
A Forever Kind of Love
A Grateful Kind of Love
The Soulmate Collection
Bared Souls
Kindred Souls
Captivated Souls
Stand-alones
Fragment
Chasing Memories
Forever Baby
A Hundred Ways to Love
Boxed Sets
The Flawed Heart Series
The Beauty in the Journey Collection
The Choices Series
Please visit Ellie’s website for more information on her other books.
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Copyright © 2021 by Ellie Wade
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.elliewade.com
Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs
Editor: Jenny Sims, www.editing4indies.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: 978-1-944495-26-8
Contents
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
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Dear Readers
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To all of you that loved Bared Souls, and requested that I write Alma’s HEA—this is for you.
Prologue
Alma
I used to wonder if soul mates existed. Is it really possible for one person to be destined for another? I know now that it’s possible, and soul mates are real. I found mine, or perhaps we found each other. Our love was true, raw, and deep—our connection, magical.
He was my everything, and I was his.
Our souls connected, entwining together to form an inseparable bond. There aren’t words to adequately describe what this type of love feels like. It’s everything I imagined and so much more.
His love permeated every cell of my being, filling me up until I was whole. A simple look from him would leave me breathless. A smile would make my knees weak. A touch would ignite a flame so powerful within that I was sure I’d crumble to ashes.
Every day with Leo was a gift, and I knew it.
He was my forever, yet our forever wasn’t long enough.
I heard somewhere that the best of us get their angel wings early, and in Leo’s case, this was true. He was so good, and where it mattered the most, he was the best. His heart was pure, and his love was endless. He left me way too soon, but even now, with my heart shattered and my soul crushed, I wouldn’t change a minute of our life together. I wouldn’t take any of it back to save myself from this pain. Having Leo’s love for any amount of time makes all of this worth it.
Each second that passes without him hurts, and maybe it always will. I hope it doesn’t because Leo left me a gift, a perfect little Love, and she needs me.
She deserves all of me.
She should have a mother who’s whole and present. And I’m trying. They say that time heals all, and I hope they’re right. Somedays, I don’t know how I’ll go on, but then she circles my finger with her tiny little hand, and I know I will. I have to. Perhaps, time will heal me, but I think Love will.
One way or another love will save me. It has to.
1
Alma
Carrots washed, I shake off the excess water and put them onto the veggie tray. Grabbing a dish towel, I dry my hands and stare out the window above the sink toward the backyard. My daughter, Love, in all of her three-year-old adorableness shoots down the slide of her play structure. Her poufy princess Belle dress flies up as she descends. I can’t help but smile, a genuine happy grin.
I may be biased, but my little girl is beautiful beyond words. She reminds me so much of Leo with her dark hair, bright blue eyes, and radiant smile. Her soul is a hundred percent kind, good, and brave—just like her daddy’s. The past three years and nine months have been the worst years of my life but also the best. Every day is a true power struggle of opposing emotions. Grief fights to pull me down, but joy always seems to win, filling my heart with gratitude. And, how could it not? I have my little Love.
My mother, Lee-Anne, meets Love at the base of the slide and swoops her up into her arms, spinning her in a circle. Love giggles, and her yellow dress flutters in the warm breeze. My smile widens and I shake my head. Sometimes, I can’t believe that this woman before me is my mother. She bears no resemblance to the woman who raised me, and I use that word loosely. She’s present and sober, two things she never was when I was growing up. She’s also widowed.
Two years ago, she showed up on my doorstep a shell of a woman. At that time, I hadn’t seen or heard from her since Leo’s funeral. She’d never even met Love. She was clinging to a black box, which turned out to hold the ashes of my father, who I then learned had passed of a heart attack. The decades of partying and drugs had been too much for his body.
It’s strange, but I feel like at that moment, on my doorstep, was the first time my mother actually saw me. She had lost the love of her life as I had lost mine. We had something in common. We both belonged to a club that neither of us had wanted access to.
I took her in and sent her to a six-month rehab facility, where she finally became clean for the first time since my birth. It wasn’t easy for either of us. My mother is as stubborn as they come, so she fought the process. Yet after months of rehab, therapy, tears, and long conversations, we made it here. I bought her a condo a few blocks from this house so she has her own space, but she’s here almost all of the time. She loves being a grandma, or Gigi, as she prefers to be called. I guess Love saved her, too.
It’s surreal seeing my mother sober, caring, and all the things she wasn’t for me, but I love it nonetheless. I’m so glad my daughter has her.
A pinky finger wraps around mine, pulling me from my thoughts. “Hey, you,” I say, turning toward my best friend Amos.
&n
bsp; He pulls me into a hug. “Everything looks great—the decorations, the books, the cake.”
“Thanks.” I step back from him and look around at the explosion of yellow balloons and everything from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, Love’s current favorite movie. “It turned out pretty good.”
“It turned out perfectly. You’re super woman, Mutt.” The nickname he’s held for me since our childhood makes me smile as he leans in and kisses my forehead. “Has Love seen it?”
“Yes, she was a ball of giggles this morning,” I nod toward the window. “She’s out there in the fanciest Belle dress I could find in all her princess glory.”
“And the weather is perfect.” He raises an eyebrow. “So, all of that worrying for nothing.”
In Michigan, it’s a toss-up whether May second is sunny and eighty degrees or snowy and cold. The weatherman had predicted cold and sleet, but I learned long ago never to rely on the news weather forecasters. They don’t seem to be able to predict Michigan weather any better than I could.
I release a sigh. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
Amos faces me and takes my smallest fingers on each hand in his. “You are an amazing mother, Alma. Truly. Love is so lucky to have you. You’ve been through so much, and every step you take is with strength and grace. I’m so proud of you. Relax and enjoy today. Your baby is three.” He purses his lips together in a smile, swinging our joined hands between us.
I bite the interior of my cheek and exhale. “Yeah, she is. I can’t believe it. She’s three!” I chuckle. “Where has the time gone?” My smile falters, and unshed tears come to my eyes. “I wish he was here for this.” My words are a sad whisper.
“He is,” Amos reassures me. “You know he is.”
I nod.
“You’re doing so great.” He squeezes my hands before calling out, “Alexa, play ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by the Beatles.”
The first few notes of one of my favorite songs sound out through the speakers, and I smile.
Amos takes a step back before bending and offering me his hand. “Can I have this dance?”
“Sure.” I grin, placing my hand in his. I release a soft gasp when he pulls me to him.
We dance around the kitchen, and I laugh as Amos spins and dips me. Dance therapy at its best. By the time the song is over, all of the pent-up stress and emotions have fallen away, and I’m simply here—present in the moment. As always, my best friend knew just what I needed.
The doorbell rings, indicating the arrival of a party guest.
“Alexa, play the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack,” I call out. Pulling my hands from Amos’s grasp, I plop a spoon into the veggie dip.
“Really?” Amos scrunches his face in a mock protest.
“All day long, baby.” I smirk. “Don’t worry, by the end of the day, you’ll be singing along with the enchanted silverware. Can you get the door? I’m going to go outside and get Lee-Anne and Love.”
As I pull open the sliding glass door to the backyard, Amos says, “Alexa, turn the volume down,” and it causes me to laugh.
Love lies asleep against my chest, her sweaty cheek touching my skin. I swipe a lock of her dark hair away from her face.
All of our neighborhood friends with young children left the party a while ago. Just our family—for all intents and purposes—is left.
Leo’s mother stands and faces me. “Thanks for the invitation, Alma. I truly appreciate being able to see my granddaughter.”
“Your welcome,” I say with a forced smile.
It’s hard for me to welcome Leo’s mom into my home. She wasn’t technically Leo’s abuser, but she definitely holds a lot of the blame. Even before I was a mother myself, I couldn’t wrap my head around how any parent could harm their child. Now that I have Love, it makes me even sicker to think about it, which I try not to do. A part of me will always hold hatred in my heart for Mrs. Harding. I can’t help it.
She’s tried so hard to be in my daughter’s life, and I have empathy for her because I know she means well. She loved Leo in her own way, and maybe she was just weak, but what she did—or better yet, didn’t do—when it came to protecting Leo is unforgivable. She’ll never have the type of relationship that she wants with Love. She won’t be able to take her for sleepovers or have unsupervised visits. Where my little girl is concerned, I’ll never leave her safety up to chance. I’ll always protect her.
Cat gets up from the couch. “Boo. I guess that means I have to go, too.” Bending down, she kisses my cheek and softly kisses Love’s head. “Let’s get together this week. Lunch or dinner, okay? I hardly got to see you today.” She smiles.
“Sounds good. Love you.”
Cat has become one of my favorite people. She is like a sister to me and an amazing aunt to Love. Her husband, Leo’s brother Stephen, doesn’t come around, and I’m perfectly fine with that. Of course, Mr. Harding has never met Love, and he never will.
“I should probably go, too.” Ollie, my dear friend and Leo’s old NA sponsor, stands to leave.
“Aw, man,” I protest.
“I’m sorry. I’m meeting up with someone tonight. But I’ll swing by again, soon,” Ollie says.
“Promise?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I promise.” He winks to me, says goodbye to the others, then follows Mrs. Harding and Cat out the door.
“And then there were three,” I say to Quinn and Amos. “Oh, I mean four. Sorry, Lee-Anne,” I say to my mom.
Lee-Anne gets up from the couch, “Almalee Hannelda,” her voice chastising. “I told you to call me Mom.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, but a twenty-seven-year habit isn’t easy to break.”
“More like twenty-five.” She turns to address Quinn and Amos. “She didn’t say her first word until she was at least two. She was a little slow.”
“I was not.” I scoff.
Quinn and Amos exchange amused looks.
“Anyway”—she holds out her arms toward Love—“let me go lay her down, and you kids can hang out.”
I press my lips against Love’s head, giving her a kiss, and I breathe her in. She smells of sugar, vanilla, and sweat—all evidence of a day well spent. “I love you, my little love,” I whisper to her before my mom lifts her from me.
Quinn pops up from the lounge chair. “I’ll go get us some wine.”
“There’s some Riesling in the fridge,” I tell her.
“Oh, perfect. My favorite. Does that work for you?” she asks Amos.
“Yeah, anything is fine,” he says.
Quinn hurries off to the kitchen.
Amos looks around. “It’s so strange to see Lee-Anne like this.”
“I know.” I nod, eyes wide.
“Like who is this woman? Call me Mom? She would’ve whipped your butt if you had dared to call her mom when you were a kid. She’s like a real human now, you know? A completely different person.” He shakes his head.
“Tell me about it,” I chuckle under my breath. “It’s like I’m learning who she is for the first time. And you’re right. She never resembled a real human when we were growing up. She and my dad lived in their own world that only had room for the two of them. And please,” I grumble. “Like she remembers when my first word was. I wasn’t slow.”
Amos laughs. “Come on, Mutt. You were valedictorian of our high school and graduated from college with honors. No one thinks you’re lacking intelligence.”
Quinn returns with three glasses of wine and hands them out. She plops down beside me, pulling her legs up onto the sofa. “Oh my gosh. When is the last time the three of us have hung out like this alone together?” she asks. “It’s been way too long. Tell me. What’s going on in your dating life, Amos?”
“It’s pretty boring, I’m afraid. No news to report.” He takes a sip of wine.
Quinn scrunches her face in disappointment. “Bummer.” She looks at me. “What about you?”
“Me?” I half shriek, almost inhaling wine into my lungs. “You know I’m not dating
anyone.”
She sighs. “It will be four years this August, Alma. You’re only twenty-seven. Leo would want you to be happy, you know that.”
My eyes fill with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I want to yell at my friend and tell her that she’s being insensitive, but I know she means well, and she’s right. Leo told me that he wanted me to find love again in the letter he left. Of course he would want me to be happy. I simply don’t know how to move on from him.
I swallow down the pain. “It’s not that easy, Quinn,” I manage to say.
She places her hand on my knee and squeezes gently. “Okay.” She nods.
“I promise I’ll come to you when and if anything happens with my love life. Deal?”
Her smile widens. “Deal!”
“What’s going on with you and Beau? I meant to ask you earlier why he didn’t come, but with the chaos of three-year-olds running around, I forgot,” I inquire, swirling the white wine in my glass.
“Well, Beau and I are old news.” She twirls a strand of her long blond hair around her fingers and shrugs.
“You broke up?”
She nods. “We broke up.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“He just wasn’t the one, you know? I don’t want to settle. I want to ache when I’m away from my man. I want storybook love. I want the happily ever after.” She looks around at all the party decorations in the room. A yellow balloon floats near her, and she smacks it. “I want a freaking beast to turn into a prince and buy me a library but with shoes instead of books. Is that too much to ask?”
Amos and I laugh. “No, that’s not too much to ask,” I say with a grin.
She hits another balloon bobbing toward her. “When did you get these balloons? They’re all falling already.”
“This morning.” I scan the room, taking in all the balloons coming off from their helium high. “The guy at the store offered to put this gel in them that would make them stay on the ceiling for up to three days, but it was another fifty cents per balloon, so I said no.”
