by Leah Atwood
Come to Me Alive
Come to Me Book One
Leah Atwood
Copyright © 2014 Leah Atwood
Cover Design © 2014 Covers by Ramona
Cover Image © Alena Kratovich I dreamstime.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
To K’cee— A true-blue friend
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
Epilogue
Come to Me Free Excerpt
Note from the Author
Also Available by Leah
Prologue
One drink. Something—anything—to take away the edge. He lifted the bottle to his mouth, craving the burn the whiskey would bring. Before the amber liquid touched his lips, his door opened and the light steps of young feet caught his attention.
Fear clutched at him and he lowered the bottle. What was he doing? He had no idea.
“What are you doing awake, Sweet Pea?” He propped the bottle between his knees and discreetly replaced the cap before shimmying it down his legs until it was out of sight from his daughter.
“I miss Mommy.” Tears and sobs sprung from his four-year-old and she ran to him.
He collected her in his arms and pulled her into his lap. “It’s going to be all right, baby.” A wet spot formed on his shirt from her tears and he patted her back in comforting motions. He didn’t have much of a clue about being a dad, but he loved this little girl. Her heartache was his.
“Will she ever come back?” She looked up at him with eyelashes clumped from crying.
His own tears formed, and he swallowed hard. He prayed for everyone who’d ever had to tell a child their parent wasn’t coming back. It was difficult, unimaginably so. Unable to speak through the knot of grief in his throat, he shook his head from side to side.
Fresh cries wracked her small body. He held her close, cradling her to him until sheer exhaustion took her into sleep. An hour later, he gently carried her back to her own room and tucked her into bed. For several minutes, he stared at her, wishing for everything he could take the sorrow from her.
On the way to his room, he caught sight of himself in the hall mirror. Red-rimmed eyes with dark circles underneath stared back at him. His chin and jaw sported a week’s worth of facial hair that he hadn’t bothered to trim. A month on the road and he’d used the time to drown his problems, not find a solution.
He glanced to his daughter’s room—guilt grabbed hold. Gracie deserved better than what he had given. Where did he go from here? He only knew where to begin. In his room, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the floor and a second one from his suitcase.
No more.
He carried them downstairs and poured the contents down the kitchen sink. His fist slammed against the counter as he watched the final bit swirl into the drain. He’d made so many mistakes. How did he make them right?
A gnarled hand gripped his shoulder. “There’s a better way, Son. You are not alone.”
Slowly, he turned and saw Gramps eyeing him with wisdom and understanding. He gulped and tried to speak, but no words came out.
“Are you ready to listen?” The old man released his shoulder.
He nodded. “Yes.”
Chapter 1
One Year Later
“Watch out!”
Interrupted from her reading, Sophie Thatcher looked up to see a crazed duck with a bright red beak heading straight toward her. She dropped the latest Gwendolyn Gwen romance novel to the ground, jumped and ran, with no destination in mind except to escape the mad waterfowl. The duck continued after her, relentless in its pursuit. Who knew a duck was able to move with such speed?
The man who’d called out the warning ran up behind her, swinging a clear bag of… bread? The duck retreated, opting to chase food instead of her. She leaned over and tried to catch her breath, her heart beating at an erratic pace. Maybe this was a sign she should exercise on a regular basis. Or it could be that it wasn’t the exertion as much her body’s reaction to the duck’s pursuit.
“Are you okay, miss?” The man with a plastic bag approached her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” she managed to say through short, choppy breaths. Returning to an upright position, she got her first good look at the man who’d called the warning. He was attractive, even if not her type. He looked to be around her age, or possibly a few years older. Short brown hair matched deep chocolate-hued eyes, which were framed with eyelashes long enough to make any girl jealous. Rugged stubble lined his jaw. A slate blue T-shirt covered a muscular upper body, and she thought she saw a tattoo peeking out from under its sleeve. She didn’t stare long enough to be sure.
His chest shook, and he clamped his lips shut. He looked as if he were torn between being horrified or wanting to burst out laughing.
“Actually, it is.” He flashed a smile full of a sheepish charm. “My daughter and I were feeding the ducks and the rogue one got mad when the others took all the food. Next thing I know, he started running straight toward you.”
Her cheeks hurt from holding back her own laughter. She gave up trying and soon the stranger joined in with her as a little girl walked their way.
“What’s so funny, Daddy?” The little girl tugged on the man’s jeans.
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
“Can we finish feeding the ducks now?”
“I think the ducks are full. How about we swing for a little while before going back to Gram’s house.”
“Okay,” agreed the young girl, with a cheerful temperament.
Sophie wiped away a tear from laughing. “Thanks for the rescue.” She began walking back to the tree where she’d discarded her book.
“Least I could do,” he called out, in a deep, melodious voice that set her skin tingling.
Stop it, Sophie. He had a daughter, which meant a good chance existed that he was married, which meant she had no business thinking about the silkiness of his voice, or the cute factor earned by bringing his daughter to the park.
Her phone buzzed and sang Come to Me Alive, the latest hit from country music star, Bryce Landry. A glance at the screen told her it was an unknown number. Probably a telemarketer. She hit “ignore” and replaced the phone into her pocket.
“You’re a Bryce fan?”
Startled, she jumped and looked behind her. The man was following her.
She shoved one hand in a side pocket of her shorts. “This song at least. I’m not too familiar with his other music, but the lyrics are beautiful and came to me when I needed them after a breakup.” Good grief, Soph. A simple yes or no would have sufficed. She never spilled her thoughts to a stranger, especially not to a male.
“Sorry to hear. About the breakup, not the song.” He rocked on his heels but maintained eye contact.
She shrugged, giving off the impression the breakup was no longer a big deal. “It was for the best—I see that now.”
Partially because of the song, Come to Me Alive. When she’d first heard the song on the radio two weeks ago, she’d immediately looked it up, and downloaded it as her ringtone. The lyrics and music combined into a beautiful ballad, touching her in a way that made the breakup with Ryan make sense.
Ryan. They’d dated for three years, since the summer before their senior year of college. Last month, he’d broken off their relationship, just when she had thought they were heading toward an engagement.
“I’ll always love you as a friend,” he’d said, “but I don’t feel any passion between us. Staying together wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
His words still stung, yet they were true. Especially after listening to the lyrics of Come to Me Alive. Was a relationship that didn’t invigorate the right one? With Ryan, she’d been coasting, along for the ride but never looking out the window to enjoy the trip.
“Most of the time, life doesn’t turn out how we plan, does it?” The stranger glanced to his daughter, a peculiar expression crossing his face. “The funny thing is, in hindsight, you can see God’s hand in every moment.”
His words stopped Sophie in her tracks from where she had started back toward the tree again. “You’re a Christian?”
“I’m approaching my one year birthday.”
A smile curled her lips. “Congratulations.” Stranger or not, he was a brother in Christ. She looked at her watch. “Yikes. I’m going to be late for my tutoring session.”
“You tutor?”
“During the summer and as needed throughout the school year.”
“Let me guess— you’re a kindergarten teacher.”
“First grade,” she corrected.
“I was close. Gracie will be in kindergarten this year.”
“I’m five,” the cherubic girl piped up.
She stooped down, putting herself eye-level with Gracie. “Five is a very special age. You’ll love kindergarten.”
“Mommy was a teacher too, but she’s in Heaven now.” The little girl spoke the words with the innocence of a child, but they broke Sophie’s heart.
“Her mom died last year.” Gracie’s still-nameless dad offered the information that she had been wondering, although it wasn’t her business.
“I’m sorry,” she told the man, unsure what the appropriate response was. She glanced at her watch. “I really have to go. Have a good day and stay away from the ducks,” she added before laughing with a nervous edge.
Something about the incident unsettled her in an indescribable way. With a turn of her feet, she hurried to her economic-but-reliable sedan.
“Wait,” the stranger called as she buckled her seatbelt. “You forgot something.”
He ran toward her car, pulling his daughter along with one hand and holding Sophie’s book in the other. Either he was very thoughtful or a psycho. Intuition told her the former was the truth.
“Thanks.” She took the book from him—his hand lingered on the cover.
“Can I have your name?” He gave her a charming grin. “Years from now, when I tell my grandchildren how I saved a beautiful woman from a raving mad duck, I need to have a name for her.”
With his creative plea, how could she deny his request? “Sophie Thatcher.”
She put the car in reverse and backed out of her spot. Once in her client’s driveway, she realized she didn’t get the stranger’s name in return. Her heart thumped harder and an inexplicable sense of loss came over her. The brief interaction with the man affected her in a strange way.
With a dose of reluctance, she admitted he attracted her. He was comfortable in his own skin, something she’d always wished for herself. He had a sense of humor and enjoyed life, despite his wife passing, leaving him alone as a single dad. Most importantly, he was a Christian, unafraid to bring it into the conversation. On the surface, he was nothing she’d ever looked for in a potential boyfriend, but below the surface— well, the pull was undeniable.
Chapter 2
Bryce ran down the court, dribbling a basketball with his right hand. Six feet from the basket, he jumped up from off his left foot, threw the ball against the backboard and swoosh, a perfect layup. The ball rolled, finding its own resting place. He walked to the bench where his towel and sports drink waited. He sat down and wrapped a towel around the back of his neck, bringing the ends up to wipe the sweat from his face.
Louisiana summers were brutal, even at eight in the morning. Humidity made the air sticky and by noon, the outdoors would be a miserable combination of bugs and sultry dampness. A swarm of dragonflies was circling the basketball court, a sure sign, in his experience, that rain would soon be coming. Good thing Gram and Gracie were going berry picking this morning. He’d tried to join them, but Gram had shooed him away, said Gracie needed some girl time with her great-grandmother.
That could be true. Other than sleeping, his daughter had been by his side constantly for two weeks. Who could blame him for keeping her close? He had a month off, then it was back to work. He’d be lucky to see his daughter a few days at a time between shows and obligations.
Caroline, his manager, hadn’t been happy when he’d told her he’d be unavailable for four weeks. She’d become downright angry when he refused to tell her where he’d be spending his vacation. Not even the band knew his whereabouts.
He had to protect Gracie and do what was best for her. His daughter’s well-being was his first priority. Until he could figure out how to be a single dad with his career, he would continue to keep her a secret from everyone in his life except Gram, Gramps and their trusted friends in Oden Bridge. Even his parents hadn’t been told they had a grandchild. Like they would care anyway. Their lives were much too important, in their opinions, to care about anyone beyond themselves. Thank God for Gram and Gramps. He meant it with all his heart. Last year, when his world turned upside down, they’d stepped up. Not only did they save him from himself, they took in Gracie so she wouldn’t be subjected to the press.
The arrangement couldn’t last forever—he didn’t want it to, nor did he try to pretend it was an acceptable long-term solution. His grandparents were outstanding people, but expecting them to take care of his daughter in their advanced years wasn’t fair. More than that, he was the only parent Gracie had left, and she deserved all of him. He couldn’t continue being a part-time dad, but he was still trying to sort out the pieces of his new life.
Faith was new to him, and he was relying, heavily, on it to carry him through this phase of his life.
Clouds shifted, exposing the morning’s sun. On the other side of the ball court, the light bounced off something metallic and sent a beam of light his way. He looked up to find the source. His heart rate picked up speed and the hairs on his neck rose. He squinted his eyes. No, he wasn’t imagining the vision. All week, he’d brought Gracie to the park in hopes of seeing Sophie again, but with no luck. Admittedly, a trifle weird of him, but he couldn’t push aside the jolt he’d experienced that day. She had radiated innocence and purity. Her bright green eyes had glimmered with peacefulness. She was everything he didn’t see in himself.
Now that he had seen her, should he go to her? What would she think? Man, how come he could sing in front of a sold-out arena without a second thought, but approaching Sophie sent him into a panic of deliberation. What’s the worst that could happen? Get shot down? Wouldn’t be the first time. Granted, it had been a few years. Nowadays, girls flocked to him, regardless of the fact that he’d ignored them for the past year.
He made a decision. He was going for it. Twenty feet later, he stopped short, realizing he was wearing an old shirt with the sleeves cut off and a raggedy pair of athletic shorts. Sweat still beaded on his forehead and he probably reeked of it as well. In his present condition, any impress
ion he made wouldn’t be the one he hoped for. But what if this was his only opportunity?
“Hey, duck man, is that you?” Sophie held a hand to her forehead and peered his way.
Too late to escape now—she’d made the decision for him. He put on his best smile, not hard to do since the sight of her brought it out.
“Not sure how I feel about the name, but I’m guessing you’re talking to me, assuming you haven’t had many other encounters with ducks.” He walked toward her, his smile widening.
A soft laugh escaped her perfect pink lips. “There have been no others.”
“I promise— no bread today to make the ducks mad.” He opened his fists, palms facing out. “See, nothing.”
“And here I was, hoping for some excitement today. Guess I better look elsewhere.” A mischievous smiled played against her face.
“If it’s excitement you’re looking for, just say the word.” The shameless flirting lightened his mood.
She shook her head and sucked in a deep breath, a grin on her lips when she exhaled. “I’m not sure. I usually only go for excitement once I know someone’s name.”
“Sure, take all the mystery away.” He’d hoped for a delay in telling her. Sure, he could lie and tell the truth later, but that didn’t sit well. The problem was, he’d seen too many times how someone’s attitude changed toward him once they realized who he was.
“Where’s your daughter today?” she asked, graciously not pushing the issue.
“With Gram, picking berries. Strawberries, I think.”
“Sounds right for this time of year. You’re not a berry-picker?”
“They booted me out, called it a girls’ morning.”
“In that case, I can see how you wouldn’t qualify for the excursion.” She lowered her eyes, using the veil of her eyelashes to disguise her assessing gaze.
He coughed. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she froze and her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, bringing out her freckles. An energy arced between them, their easy banter brought to a pause.
