On A Silent Night

by Sterling, S. L.

  On A Silent Night

  S.L. Sterling

  On A Silent Night

  Copyright © 2018 by S.L. Sterling

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved about, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Disclaimer: This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. It involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are consenting adults over the age of 18.

  ISBN: 978-1-7751087-6-4

  Editor: Sandy Ebel of Personal Touch Editing

  Interior Design & Formatting: T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Cover Design: Tiffany Black of T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Cover Image: www.depositphotos.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  A Note From The Author

  About the Author

  Also by S.L. Sterling

  To those who have loved and lost and found love again.

  Prologue

  Cass

  2015

  I got up out of bed and looked out my bedroom window, the dark grey skies that hung overhead threatening another winter storm. It had snowed overnight again, and from the looks of it from the second-story window, it looked like it would be more than my shovel and my back would be able to handle. I watched two young kids across the street in the middle of a full-blown snowball fight, laughing away. I kept watch on them, laughing to myself until I heard a deep moan from the bed.

  I turned and glanced at the clock beside my bed—only seven, Brody was still sound asleep but dreaming. I grabbed my bathrobe from the end of the bed, wrapped it around my body, and went downstairs. The floor was cold on my bare feet. I could feel the chill in the air of the house—if it was going to storm today it was only going to get colder. The old house was drafty as it was, needing a lot of work, work I just couldn't afford to do to keep it up. On my way to the kitchen, I stopped and checked the thermostat in the hall—sixty-nine. I turned it up two degrees, wrapped my thin robe tighter around myself, and went into the kitchen.

  I turned the coffee maker on, always preparing it before I went to bed the night before, a habit I had gotten in when I first married. I headed straight to my laptop while waiting for it to brew. I sat at the kitchen table, a lot of work to do if I was going to meet the deadline I had set with my editor for the end of the month. Truthfully, I was nowhere even close to making it and was considering asking for an extension. My book sales had fallen, and they were suffering. My publisher really wanted me to continue with the series I had started before Jackson had passed away, and even though I was trying, nothing seemed to be coming to me. I was so beyond stressed. I had only released two books this year, a far cry from my usual, and I was now finding it a struggle to find my voice.

  Everything seemed to be very complicated lately—writing, the house, my relationship with Brody—everything! With Brody, trouble hadn't started right away, maybe about a year after Jackson passed. There was no denying it, we were both physically and mentally attracted to one another and had been for a long time. We had flirted back and forth over the past year, dancing around one another like children at a playground. I remembered the first time our eyes had really met, every single touch we shared, and how they would send shock waves through my body. That catch of bare skin, the way his hold on me changed while we cuddled and watched TV, and how one day his touch started to feel more like fire than comfort. I let go of the breath I was holding, got up and grabbed a mug from the cupboard, setting it on the counter.

  Last night had happened—it had really happened.

  We had been laying together cuddling, watching TV. I had fallen asleep curled into his side. He was like a blanket, always making me feel safe and secure. I felt him slip out from underneath me and opened my eyes in time to see him step away from the couch.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, my voice deeply sleep filled. He stopped and turned, tilting his head to look at me.

  “Sweetie, it's late.” He pulled the blanket up around my shoulders, tucking me in. “I'm going to head home, you need to get some rest.”

  “Stay with me?” I begged as I inched my ways toward the back of the couch, making room for him to lie down with me. “Please Brody.”

  I had been having a bad bout of nightmares lately and really didn't want to be alone. I stared up at him, my eyes pleading. As he looked down on me, I could tell from the look in his eyes he really didn't want to leave me, but something was making him hesitate. He stood there, his eyes running over me.

  “Stay, just until I fall back asleep.” He pulled the blankets back and sat back down on the couch. He relaxed back and pulled me into him. I rested my head on his strong shoulder and lay my hand across his chest. Within minutes my right leg rested over his, and I had fully relaxed against him, listening to his beating heart.

  I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him mixed with his cologne and buried my face into his neck. He felt like home, a place lately so unfamiliar to me. I placed a soft kiss on his jawline and whispered, “Thank you,” into his ear.

  He didn't say anything, turning to look at me. Our eyes finally meeting, he leaned in and grazed my lips. At first, I pulled back—it felt awkward kissing my dead husbands’ best friend. I stared into his blue eyes, neither of us saying a word. Without notice, his lips crashed into mine, his hand on my hip, he rolled onto his side, pulling me tighter into him as his tongue forced my lips apart. He pulled me tighter against him yet, his hand on my ass, so this time, I could feel his excitement dig into me. Within minutes, I found myself straddling his waist, grinding down on him. He placed his hands under my ass, picked me up, and carried me upstairs to my bedroom, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. At first, things were awkward between us, but as we slowly peeled away the clothes from our bodies, both of us became filled with want and need, neither of us denying what we felt for one another.

  Sitting here now, thinking back to last night, I could still feel his every kiss and touch. I could still feel him firmly buried inside of me, every deep, forceful thrust that had brought me to orgasm more than once. It had been almost too intense for both of us during some moments.

  I jumped when I heard the stairs creak, and I shook myself out of the memory. I poured a cup of coffee, sat back down at the kitchen
table, and started checking my email in time to hear a sleepy voice behind me, “Morning.” He kissed the top of my head, rubbing my shoulder with his strong hand, and made his way over to the coffee maker, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

  I didn't know what to say, I didn't know how to act, everything felt different to me. His touch even felt different. I could feel fear building inside of me, the fear that things would change so much between us, and our friendship would be over. Instead of saying anything, I sat there quietly, smiled at him, and went back to checking my email, trying to pretend all that happened between us last night wasn't eating me alive.

  He stood there, taking me in, sipping hot coffee, not saying much either. And by the time he left that morning, we’d had our first real fight, and everything was more of a mess between us than it ever had been before.

  Chapter One

  Brody

  November 2018

  Most of the shops were already closed as I drove down Main Street. I had just transferred and was starting work this week with the Coldhaven Fire Department. After dropping the bags I had at the fire station, I decided to start my way back to Greyfield.

  I wanted to see Cass, I had a lot of explaining to do—if she would even let me in the house. Frankly, I wouldn't blame her if she didn't, three years was a long time. I hadn't planned to be gone that long, but the damage had been done. I sent several messages to her over the years via text, primarily because I had been too afraid to call, but they had gone unanswered. I couldn't blame her, I probably wouldn't have answered either if I were her. I wasn't sure if she even had the same cell phone number, but if she did, she was totally ignoring me. Either way, it didn't matter because, in a few hours, I would be face to face with her to say what needed to be said.

  Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I knew no matter what happened, if she took me back or didn't, I would deserve whatever I got, but my feelings would, at least, be laid out.

  I parked my car in front of the little coffee shop that sat on the corner and headed inside. I needed food and a coffee to help keep me awake, it had been a long day of traveling, and it wasn't over yet. As I approached the door, a flyer in the window caught my attention. First Annual Christmas Book Drive & Bake sale at Coldhaven Books, Proceeds to go to Coldhaven's Fallen Firefighters Charity. The Fallen Firefighters charity was near and dear to my heart.

  I looked over my shoulder at the darkened storefront of Coldhaven Books. The store must be new, I didn't recall it being here the last time I had driven through, but that had been a few years ago now. The Christmas tree in the window was lit, but the front display barely looked finished. The other stores on the street were just starting their displays as well, some windows completely empty. I opened the door to the coffee shop and walked inside, the few customers who sat eating turning to look my way. I stepped up to the counter and ordered a large black coffee and a bagel to go. While the girl was preparing my order, I looked at the same flyer that sat on the counter.

  “Can you tell me a little more about this?” I asked pointing to the flyer.

  The girl turned and smiled at me, “Were you wanting to sign up?”

  “What do you mean? Sign up?”

  “To help out, they are looking for volunteers.”

  I needed to get some volunteer hours in, anyway, so this was perfect. I nodded in her direction. “Do I need to stop over at the bookstore?”

  “No, no, I'm helping out the owner, I have a sign-up sheet. I'm not a hundred percent sure what she will need, but she told me to tell people she would be in touch. All I know is she needs help.” She grabbed a form from behind the counter, handing me a pen.

  I scribbled my name down on the sheet.

  “Yeah, the owner, she lost her husband a few years back now, he was a firefighter. This is the first fundraising event she’s done. Sadly, there haven't been too many people interested in volunteering.”

  I knew the feeling of loss all too well. “Well, I'll pass around the word to the guys at the station. Surely, some of them will want to help out.”

  “Oh, are you a firefighter?”

  I nodded taking my coffee from the other girl who worked behind the counter. “Yep, just transferred here.”

  “Well welcome to Coldhaven. I'll pass the message to Cassandra,” she winked at me.

  I near stopped dead in my tracks, my heartbeat accelerating. It had to be a coincidence. “Cassandra?” I swallowed hard.

  “Yeah, the owner of the bookstore,” she smiled and went back to cleaning out the display cooler, getting ready to place fresh product inside.

  I took a deep breath, then started laughing to myself. I needed to calm myself down. After all, it couldn't have been my Cass, she was an author not a bookstore owner.

  “Great, thanks. Have a good night.” I walked out the front door, the cold air slamming into my face. The air felt like it could snow, and I still had a couple hours drive ahead of me. I climbed into my truck and started it up, music blaring as I pulled away from the curb, heading toward the highway, toward the girl I hadn't, wouldn't, and couldn't forget.

  Chapter Two

  Cass

  Jingle Bells was playing over the radio speakers while I was busy putting the finishing touches on the Christmas display, keeping an eye as people walked by the front of the store. It was close to five, and the streets of downtown Coldhaven were still bustling with shoppers. It was almost closing time. I smiled as I placed the last Christmas book I was going to display in the window under the artificial tree. Maybe this Christmas would be different. I felt I was in a pretty good place. I turned my attention to one of my favorite customers, Cathy who needed to pay for her purchase.

  “What do you have today Cathy?” I asked as I went behind the counter.

  “Just a couple books for the girls,” she smiled at me. Cathy was a widow of one of the men who had passed away fighting that fire last summer, leaving behind Cathy to raise their two baby girls.

  “How are the girls?” I asked.

  “They’re doing okay, this time of year is hard on them.”

  I nodded in understanding, I knew all too well how hard this time of year was. I grabbed two Christmas bookmarks from behind the counter and threw one into each of the books. “For the girls,” I smiled.

  “Thank you. Oh, and Cass, I wanted to donate a few trays of baked goods for the fundraiser.”

  “Great, Cathy! I can send you details if you like.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I slid the two books into a bag. “Here you go and thank you.” I handed her the bag, and she smiled as she took it from me and walked out the door. Just as the door shut, I heard Ray's deep voice come from the back.

  “Cass, sweetie, I got a box from the back door.” Ray came walking through the curtain that separated the store from the employee area, carrying a box marked donation.

  “Great! Those are probably for the book drive.” I giggled with excitement. He placed the box on the counter, and I started sifting through it. “There are some awesome titles in here. Oh look, the series May has wanted is here. I'll have to call her tomorrow. Could you put it down on the floor?” I asked, pointing to a spot behind the register.

  “Sure thing! You sure are happy this afternoon,” Ray said, dropping the box of books onto the floor. Together, we slipped into the back of the store, and he leaned in for a kiss, his arms wrapping around my body as he pulled me closer to him and pressed his lips to mine. We pulled apart when the little bell above the door jingled.

  “Hey, Cass!” I heard from the front of the shop. I stepped through the curtain and saw May walking toward the counter.

  “Hey May! Perfect timing. I was going to call you tomorrow, but since you’re here now, I have a little surprise for you. I just received a box of books for the book drive, and the series you've been looking for was inside.”

  “Oh Cass, that’s great!!” she sang as she grabbed two other books from the romance shelf and returned to the counter. “How much
do I owe you for the series?”

  “Those were in a box for the book drive, so whatever you would like to donate. That’s where the money is going. I think I'm going to dedicate a shelf or two in here for the fundraiser. That way if the weather gets bad, the donations will still come in. Plus, the back storage area is almost full,” I giggled.

  “That’s great! I, of course, will drop in a couple donations for you as well. My ladies are knitting up a storm.” May was such a sweet lady, we had become good friends over the last couple of years. She owned the knitting shop down the road. I had wandered into her shop when I first moved here and was desperately looking for a hobby. I took a couple beginners how-to-knit classes with her until I concluded I was better at knotting the yarn as opposed to making those nice knitted designs. She pulled a fifty from her purse and handed it to me. “For the charity love.”

  “Thanks, May, it means so much to me.”

  “I know it does, dear. I know you're going to do very well. Now, how much do I owe you for the other two?” I rang up her purchase and was just finishing bagging her books when Ray came out front.

  “Did you want me to close up tonight, Cass?” he asked, leaning against the doorway, shoving the remainder of a muffin in his mouth. “Let you get out of here a little early tonight?”