Where Love Lives

by Street, K.

  www.kstreetauthor.com

  Reader Group: The Street Squad

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  Also by K. Street

  Maplewood Falls Series

  Where Forever Ends

  Where Love Lives

  A Different Beginning (2020)

  Where There’s Smoke (2021)

  The Jaxson Cove Duet

  Everything I Never Wanted

  Everything Worth Fighting For

  Stand-alone novels

  The Fall of Cinderella

  Healing the Broken

  Preview of Where Forever Ends

  Keep reading for a preview of Where Forever Ends

  Chapter One

  Saylor - Fall 2018

  I pulled my sweater tighter, attempting to shield myself from the slight nip in the air. Tree branches swayed in the wind, gently shaking their autumn coats. Shades of amber and gold swirled and dipped around me before drifting to the ground in a tangle of tiny heaps.

  I rocked back and forth on the swing, watching my feet as they leisurely pushed through the pile of mulch scattered under them. The small wood chips shifted to reveal the dirt beneath. With my phone clutched in my palm and open to the baby monitor app, I rested my head against the chain attaching the swing to the massive wooden playset.

  A lone tear escaped the corner of my eye, and I let it fall. There was nobody watching. No one waiting to pass judgment on how well I was … or wasn’t holding it together.

  It was hard to comprehend how radically things had changed in the last several months. Some days, it felt like I walked in the shadow of someone else’s life.

  More than once, I’d been tempted to raise my fists to the heavens and shout, Why me?

  Then again …

  Why not me?

  When I was a little girl, my mama used to take my older brother, Easton, and me to church every Sunday. Daddy wasn’t a churchgoer, but he hadn’t stopped my mother from taking us. One Sunday in particular, for whatever reason, I stayed with Mom instead of going to my Sunday school class. That day, the preacher’s message had been about Job—the trials he bore and all that he’d suffered through. About how he had come out stronger in the end.

  Job and I weren’t cut from the same cloth.

  I wasn’t any stronger for all I had been through.

  Job had held on.

  But me?

  I’d tried, and now, I was done.

  For months, I’d clung to the edge of a cliff. My white-knuckled grip so taut that my fingertips were permanently pink. And I was letting go. Waving my white flag in surrender.

  A crow called out from somewhere amid the treetops. Seconds passed as I tracked its movements before my gaze dropped to take in my surroundings.

  Just beyond the backyard, pine trees stretched toward the overcast sky. There wasn’t another house in sight from my vantage point. It was one of the reasons I loved it here.

  Colin and I had bought our dream home on seven acres of land just outside of Charlotte, North Carolina. Close to the city but far enough out to have some wide-open space. In another life, it had been our own little bit of paradise.

  My gaze shifted to the house. To the huge deck where the covered barbeque grill sat, waiting in vain for its grill master. From there, my eyes traveled to the French doors that led into my gourmet kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances, cherry hardwood floor, and quartz countertops. I saw the entire floor plan in my mind.

  Beyond the kitchen was the family room with a giant picture window, one of the many features that had sold me on this house. That window was the perfect spot for our Christmas tree. From the outside looking in, it seemed like a modern-day Norman Rockwell painting.

  I tipped my head until my eyes fixed on the pitched roof.

  Two stories with five bedrooms and three and a half baths. All that space, and we had intended to fill every square inch with love, laughter, and babies. So many babies.

  Another tear fell, and this time, I swiped it away.

  We made plans, damn it!

  Being a widowed single mother at twenty-eight hadn’t been part of those plans. But here I was.

  “Mom-mee,” Knox’s voice singsonged through the speaker on my phone.

  I tapped on the little microphone icon. “Hey, little man. I’ll be right there,” I promised my son.

  “A bear is in my belly.”

  The corners of my mouth almost tipped into a smile. I mentally went through the inventory in the pantry. “How about some Goldfish crackers?”

  “And milk?” he asked.

  “Yes, you can have milk.” I watched the screen while he shimmied to the foot of his twin bed, the stuffed dragon he’d named Rex clutched in his grasp.

  When Knox was almost two, we’d skipped the toddler bed, opting instead for a twin. To keep him safe, we placed one side of the bed against the wall and bought a mesh safety rail for the other side, and he’d been crawling out of bed the same way since. It was comical to watch, and seeing him now made me realize it was probably time to ditch the safety rail. He was almost four.

  Knox had grown accustomed to getting a snack when he woke up from his nap. Those naps were few and far between these days. Today, by some miracle, he’d been sleepy, and I had been grateful for that.

  Functioning in a perpetual state of exhaustion had become part of my new normal. Sleep brought vivid dreams of my former life. A life that had been filled with memories of love and happiness. A place where Colin was alive and real. So tangible that I could feel the graze of his five-o’clock shadow against my skin.

  Then, I’d wake, reaching for him, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. His scent, which had pervaded my nostrils seconds ago, completely gone.

  The only serenity I had existed in the ten seconds between the foggy haze of sleep and awareness.

  An infinitesimal blip of time before reality crashed over me.

  Ten precious seconds.

  I pursued them the way a sinner searched for salvation on his deathbed.

  Peace lived in those seconds.

  For a moment, I watched the screen as Knox played with his clunky plastic toy car.

  “Vroom-vroom.” He ran it over the roads on the area play rug.

  On a sigh, I stood, slid my phone into my jeans, and then picked the mulch from my sneakers before starting toward the house.

  The tap of my Chucks sounded as I crossed the deck to the French doors. I sucked in a breath, holding the air captive in my lungs. Tension wound around every cell as though I were bracing for impact. My fingers grasped the brushed nickel doorknob. A shiver ran through me when the cold metal met my bare palm.

  I turned slightly, facing back to the yard again, and lifted my eyes toward the heavens.

  “I’m sorry.” The words came out sticky, like remnants of pancake syrup on fine china.

  Wherever my husband was, I hoped he could hear me. That, somehow, I’d be forgiven.

  Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.

  It had been nearly ten months since I lost Colin.

  Almost ten months since I got the phone call that my seemingly healthy husband had collapsed at work.

  So many agonizing months since an undiagnosed heart condition stole him from me.

  Colin was gone.

  And I was here.

  God, I miss him.

  The hearty sound of his laughter. His knack for reading me the way some people read a newspaper.

  I missed our inside jokes. The scent of his cologne. The press of his body against mine.

  I ached so completely, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  I expelled the air from my lungs, squared my shoulders, and pushed away my sadness.

  With a twist of the knob, I opened the door and stepped inside the prison that had once been my sanctuary.

  I walked through the kitchen and then the living room before rounding the corner and trudging upstairs to Knox’s room and opening the door.

  “He
y, little man.” I inflected happiness I didn’t feel into my tone. Crossing the carpet, I sat beside the miniature version of my husband.

  Knox scrambled to his feet and wrapped his arms around my neck from behind. He climbed on my back and planted a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

  Leaning down, I reached around and pulled him across my lap. I dug deep into my core, extracting traces of strength from a well that had run dry. My eyes went wide, and I drew in a quick breath.

  “I’m the tickle monster.” My tone was playful as I formed my hand into a claw.

  Sweet giggles filled the air before my fingers even landed on his belly.

  I tickled his ribs, and Knox threw his head back in a fit of laughter. I stopped long enough to let him catch his breath before repeating our game one more time.

  His sweet laugh was magical and infectious.

  A genuine smile pulled my mouth into a bow. “Do you still have a bear in your tummy?”

  “Yes.” He cackled, hands protectively covering his stomach as he grinned up at me.

  “Up you go then.” I helped him to his feet, grabbed my phone, and stood. “Let’s get you a snack.”

  We walked together, hand in hand, down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  ***

  Later that night, long after I had tucked Knox in, I stood in the doorway of my son’s bedroom, watching him sleep. The glow of the hall light illuminated the space enough for me to make out his features.

  Knox was Colin’s mini me. From his olive skin to his espresso-colored hair. Hiding behind his closed eyelids were warm brown irises with tiny flecks of gold. His cheeks, which had once been so round that I swore he’d stored food in them, had started to thin. He’d gone from toddler to little boy in the blink of an eye.

  And Colin isn’t around to see any of it.

  Sadness washed over me as I closed the door to Knox’s bedroom and crept down the stairs. I sat on the couch for several long minutes, staring at my phone on the coffee table.

  I can’t do this. Not anymore.

  For months, I had been strong. I stayed in this house and tried to adjust to a new normal. Attempting to live a life nothing like the one I’d envisioned.

  Instead of being a wife, I was a widow. No longer part of a team.

  I hadn’t signed up for any of this.

  I reached for my phone, unlocked the screen, and dialed one of the few people I could always count on. My big brother, Easton.

  He was five years older than me. He had never let me down, and I needed him more than ever.

  “Hey, sis.” The groggy sound to his voice told me I had woken him up. “Everything okay?”

  “E-Easton.” My voice cracked, revealing the emotion I was struggling to hold back. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I didn’t even realize the time.”

  “You can call me anytime; you know that. Talk to me.” His gentle command was laced with concern, and I wished so badly that my big brother were here instead of being over two hundred miles away.

  “I can’t be here anymore.”

  “What?” he asked. The tone of his voice much more alert. “What do you mean, you can’t be here?”

  I realized what he thought and immediately regretted my choice of words. “No. I c-can’t be h-here. In th-this house. C-can we come stay—”

  “Yes,” he cut me off before I could even get the question out.

  “A-are you sure? I …” I drew in a breath before continuing, “I want to sell the house.”

  “Saylor…”

  “I tried, Easton. God knows, I tried. It’s too hard, being here without him.” I shook my head as though he could see me. “I miss him so much. It hurts to breathe.”

  He was quiet for several beats, and he didn’t have to say anything for me to know how helpless he felt.

  “I’m sorry. I just …” I trailed off.

  “Shh. It’s all right. You and Knox can stay with me for as long as you’d like. It’s going to be okay; I promise.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “What are big brothers for?”

  I heard shuffling in the background.

  “Try to get some sleep, and we’ll figure out the game plan tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” I sniffled. “East …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, kid.”

  We said good night, and I hung up the phone.

  For the first time in months, it felt like I could breathe without my lungs burning.