by Gen Ryan
Table of Contents
Title Page
When We Were Young (Hopelessly Devoted, #1)
Dedication
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
More from Gen
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
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When she fell in love with her high school sweetheart, Rainey Matthews thought it’d be forever. But life has a habit of sneaking up and throwing a sucker punch when you least expect it.
Parker’s military career has become his top priority, leaving Rainey behind while he pursues his dreams. A combination of Parker’s PTSD and his actions threaten to tear Rainey’s heart right open, and she can no longer keep it together.
Then an unexpected lifeline appears and shows Rainey what it’s like to be cared for and loved. She finds herself happy for the first time in a while, but those sneaky sucker punches aren’t done, and keeping happiness will be an uphill battle.
When We Were Young contains a cliff-hanger ending. Book 2, Out of Goodbyes, releases January 2018.
When We Were Young © 2017 by Gen Ryan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
When We Were Young is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.
www.hottreepublishing.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: Claire Smith
ISBN-10: 1-925655-26-1
ISBN-13: 978-1-925655-26-1
Dedication
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
More from Gen
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Dedication
To anyone, man or woman, who has loved someone so much that you lost parts of yourself. Remember, you have to love yourself first, the rest just falls into place. Know your worth, always. Never let someone tear you apart to the point of losing bits of what makes you who you are. You’re worthy of love and kindness, quirks and all.
Prologue
I heard the bell above the door jingle and continued wiping down the table. The diner where I worked was located at a truck stop, so I got decent tips, but this also meant there were tons of creepy men who hadn’t seen a woman for God knows how long. That’s why I didn’t even bother looking up. I figured it was probably a regular who’d sit in their normal spot and holler when they wanted me.
Damn, was I wrong.
“Can I just sit anywhere?” My hand stopped going in mindless circles, and I glanced up—and up and up—before finally landing on two big hazel eyes. He was breathtakingly broken. His face and body were slender, not in an athletic way but almost like he hadn’t eaten in a while. He had to be well over six feet tall. I wasn’t short, but I had to crane my neck to look him in the eyes. He looked at me, a smile curving at the edge of his lips, but it went away just as quick as it appeared. Like a phantom, a hint of what could be.
Happiness.
His face was etched with pain and concern. Furrowed brows and a smile that went away before it took its full shape. I should have run in the other direction, but I was captivated by him.
“Oh, yeah sure! Anywhere’s fine,” I said a bit too loudly. I watched him walk over to the corner table and pull out the chair, the metal legs scraping against the scarred, damaged floor. He sat down, stretching out his long legs in front of him. I snatched up a menu, pulled down my black apron that did absolutely nothing for my figure, and walked over.
“Here you go.” I placed the menu in front of him, and he continued looking down at the table. I wanted his eyes on mine again so I could see the colors of brown that seemed to mirror everything about him.
My mother always said I was a thoughtful child, always looking and analyzing everything. This man intrigued me. Part of me wanted to pull up a chair and ask him questions about why he looked like he had lived his entire life. I knew he couldn’t be much older than me, yet he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was in the way he hunched over, in his eyes that held so much but never focused on anything. Except mine, albeit briefly. There was something there. The lines on his face that I wanted to trace. Something in me knew that they weren’t from old age, but life. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t kind to him. While my life wasn’t perfect, his seemed to be far worse, by just the way he carried himself and the clothes that hung off his body. I was intrigued.
“What would you like to drink?” I tapped my foot and tried to shift back to my job and remain professional. This place wasn’t professional in the least, but I prided myself on my maturity, so acting like a ditzy teen wasn’t in my wheelhouse.
“I’ll have a beer and the fish and chips.” He picked at his nails and placed his entire order while staring at the table in front of him.
“Wait, you’re old enough to have beer?” I leaned in and whispered. Maybe those lines at the corner of his eyes were his age. He let out a laugh that rumbled from his belly and lingered in his throat. I blushed and crossed my arms across my chest, realizing he was joking.
“Kidding. A Coke.” Finally, a full smile spread across his face. Gone was the troubled look. The smile made him look like a teenage boy. I let my own smile spread across my lips.
I’d love to make him smile like that every day.
“But I will take the fish and chips,” he added.
“Coming right up.” I tried to steady myself on my feet when he finally looked at me. Golden speckles swirled in his eyes. At the base of his nose and tops of his cheeks were freckles that brought out his youth even more. He wasn’t just breathtakingly broken, he was simply breathtaking. I took a deep breath as I turned on my heels and walked away.
“An order of fish and chips, Jim.” I tore the slip out of my pad and hung it where Jim, the cook, could see it.
“You all right?” He raised an eyebrow and motioned to the man sitting in the corner. “You know him?”
“Nope.” I pulled down a glass and filled it with
ice and Coke.
“You looked at him like you knew him.” I pulled a straw out of my apron and tore all of the protective paper off but the top. I jammed it in the glass and looked at Jim. He was old enough to be my father, and when I was here, he always looked out for me.
“Sometimes people just have that impact on you.” I shrugged. “It’s his eyes,” I muttered.
Jim laughed. “Okay there, with your romantic mumbo jumbo.” I looked up at him just as he leaned close to me and bulged his eyes. “What about mine. What do you see?”
I giggled and swatted his arm. “A cook who needs to make some fish and chips!” I wiggled my finger at him.
“Right away, ma’am!” He saluted me and headed back further into the kitchen.
Knowing that I had to bring over the drink, I gave myself a little pep talk.
“You can do this. It’s just a boy who just happens to make you all mushy inside. You’re a teenager. It’s natural.” Sometimes I had to remind myself that I was a teenage girl and crushing on someone was okay. I didn’t typically do normal teenage stuff. I was so focused on my grades and saving my money for college that I didn’t party or anything like that. With a nod, I took the soda and made my way back into the seating area. My feet stuck to the floor, and I cursed whoever worked before me and didn’t mop. The suctioning sound was like nails on a chalkboard as I walked.
Finally making it to his table, I placed the drink down in front of him.
“Thanks.” He ripped off the top of the paper covering the straw and took a long sip. I watched his lips wrap around the straw. His large hands gripped the cup. Was there anything about him that didn’t make me want to bat my eyes, twirl my hair, and giggle?
“Everything okay?” He raised his eyebrow, a slight glint in his eye.
And shit, I’ve been standing here and staring.
“Sorry.” I turned to walk away.
Run. Save whatever bit of pride you have left.
“Wait.”
I sucked in a breath and turned around.
Ask me my name. My phone number. My astrological sign. Anything.
“Can I get that order to go?” He shuffled in the chair, averting his gaze.
And I scared him away with my creepy staring.
“Absolutely.” I put on my best smile and marched to the kitchen, the sound of my shoes sticking to the floor filling the silence.
“Make that fish and chips to go, Jim.” I ripped down a container.
“Easy there, killer.” Jim took the container from me, and I glared at him. Jim backed away from me with his hands up in the air. “Just give him your number.”
“Why would I do that?” I scrunched up my nose. He was intriguing, sure, but I hadn’t ever really dated. I tried it a few times at Ava’s—my best friend—push, but no one kept my interest. I was trying to fly through my senior year and go off to college, hoping that somewhere along the way I’d just stumble upon someone who would be it for me. Dating and making small talk? Staying up all night to text, and waiting for phone calls? That wasn’t my scene. I stayed up late to read and do homework, not wait on a boy to call me.
“Because.” He batted his eyelashes. “His eyes,” he said dramatically.
“Oh, shut it!” I finished packing the bag for the order.
I walked over, my feet dragging. I didn’t want this stranger to leave. I wasn’t accustomed to this, the feeling I had when he spoke to me for the first time. Maybe Jim was right and I should give him my number. Yet I wasn’t the type to hand out my number to anyone, or even tell someone I liked them. That was left for Ava. I wasn’t shy in the conventional sense; I just hated putting myself out there because that opened the door for rejection.
As I made my way to his table, he stood up, reaching his hand out for the bag.
“Here you go. Enjoy,” I said with a perfect smile. He handed me a twenty-dollar bill.
“Keep the change. Thanks again.” He turned to walk away.
Don’t let him go.
“Wait!” I called out and rummaged through my apron pockets for my pad of paper. Quickly, I scribbled down my name and cell phone number.
“Here. In case you wanted to hang out sometime.” I handed him my number, my heart beating erratically in my chest. I was glad I had the apron on, because if not, I was pretty sure he’d be able to see it. He looked down at the paper.
“Rainey,” he said. “That name suits you.” He didn’t say anything else. No promises of calling, or “thanks, here’s my name and number too.” He left, the door jingling, then slamming behind him.
I looked back at Jim, who shrugged.
With a sigh, I grabbed the mop and pail and started on the floors. I was proud of myself for doing something out of my element. It would likely lead to nothing, but that was okay. I’d stepped out of my comfort zone, and I was proud of myself for that.
Chapter One
I paced the kitchen floor, each step of my foot heavier than the last. He’d promised me there’d be no more deployments, that he was getting out of the army and we could focus on starting a family and building our life together, which had been in limbo for almost a decade—since that fateful day I laid eyes on him in the diner. I was an idiot to believe him.
He lied. Again. Just like the past four deployments that he volunteered for, he was leaving me behind. The first one I understood, as much as it was difficult to say goodbye. I watched him go with pride as he served his country. Then, he changed. The man I married changed into a stranger, wandering the halls of our home we worked so hard to build, his eyes glossed over, his fists clenched at his sides. I remembered the first time I realized something was slightly off and tried to help him. That was years ago, and things had just gotten worse.
I’d waited a year for Parker. To touch him. To kiss his lips, and I was just moments away from what I’d been dreaming about for months. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror one last time before heading to the gate.
My palms got sweaty and my mouth went dry. I could feel Parker even before I saw him. It was always that way between us. We were connected on a level that puzzled many people. That’s why it was so painful when he left. It was like a part of me was missing.
The door opened and soldiers poured out. People squealed and ran toward them, women and children swept up in a sea of emotions. I stood on my tiptoes to see better over the line of people in front of me. It was always difficult to tell them all apart, but Parker usually stood inches above everyone else. Today was no different.
Our eyes met as soon as he exited the door, and he smiled, the same smile I remembered from the diner, the one that made him look like a young boy. His face was clean-shaven, his hair in a fresh high and tight. Before I could blink, he was in front of me, the emotions of the year causing tears to stream down my face.
“Hey, baby. I missed you.” He held my face in his hands, his eyes lingering over my body, the heat swirling around us. When his lips touched mine, everything disappeared. It was just us, no one else. Gone were the noises of other families reuniting.
“I’ve been waiting a year to do that,” I whispered against his mouth.
“I’ve been waiting to do a lot more than that.” Parker’s eyes danced with excitement as his licked his lips. “Let’s get out of here. All I can think about is getting you out of that dress.” Hand in hand, we made our way out of the airport.
I was on cloud nine. Nothing could taint the way I felt. When we got home, we barely made it into the house before his hands were up my dress. Kneeling in front of me, he slowly lifted the skirt.
“Fuck, Rainey, you aren’t wearing any underwear.” He looked up at me, and I winked.
“Easy access. I didn’t want you to have to work for it today.”
Parker stood up and looked me straight in the eyes. Whenever he did this, it was so intense, because he’d had trouble making eye contact since I met him. The emotion that was inside of him, the struggles and pain, all stayed in his eyes.
“I’
ll always work for you. I’ll always fight for you. Without you, there’s nothing worth fighting for.” There was a loud knock at the door, and Parker rolled on the ground, pulling me down with him. My entire body jerked, then slammed against the hardwood floor.
“Stay down!” he yelled, shielding my head with his body. I looked up at my husband; his eyes were dark and filled with such fear, hate, and rage that I gasped.
“Parker, baby.” I reached out and touched his cheek, just as another knock came at the door. “You’re home. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
After a few blinks, Parker stood up and stormed off, leaving me alone on the cool, bare floor. I stayed there for a minute, trying to gather my bearings. What just happened? Then reality hit me. My husband may have come back from the war, but parts of him had been left behind. Parts that I may never get back.
I knew the signs of PTSD. It was something I had become familiar with, especially after doing a rotation at the VA during my clinicals at nursing school. Parker didn’t want to hear it though. He knew he needed help, but refused. So instead, he signed up to deploy as often as he could. It was easier to be in the shit than at home.
I promised to stick by him through sickness and in health, but it got harder as each day trudged along and he chose death and destruction, his mind slowly becoming deeper and deeper entrenched in war. Sometimes I felt like he was choosing those things over me. Over a life that held so much happiness and promise. Kids. A home. Stability. How was that supposed to make anyone feel? Not loved or cared for. After eight years of marriage, I felt like a burden, and that maybe the man I loved was too far gone.
I heard his truck pull into the driveway, and sat at the kitchen table and waited. I couldn’t keep my feelings bottled up anymore. If there was any hope for our marriage, we needed to communicate. Something that had fallen by the wayside years before. We were more like friends passing in the breeze. He needed something, I got it, often before he even asked.
“Hey,” Parker mumbled as he threw his things on the counter and typed out a quick text. He’d been spending more time on his phone lately, wrapped up in something that I couldn’t figure out. He had received a promotion at work, so I assumed that the excessive phone use was because of his new position. All I knew was that it took him forever to text me back, yet his phone was always in his hand. Walking right past without so much as a kiss or a hug, he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer.
