The Storms That Fated Us

by JP Summers

  The Storms That

  Fated Us

  JP Summers

  Copyright © 2013 JP Summers

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1484070631

  ISBN-13: 978-1484070635

  DEDICATION

  In Loving Memory of Melissa Dwyer.

  A vibrant 22 year-old woman who always put others before herself and had a smile that would light up any room she walked into. Melissa, like the 2-3 million who suffer from chronic migraines, tried so many treatments and was seen by several doctors but unable to get any relief. She was in such debilitating pain every day that she took her own life on June 7, 2013. Melissa’s death shook the migraine community and their loved ones to fight even harder to find a cure for everyday migraines.

  As someone who lives with chronic migraines, I proudly advocate for migraines and cluster headaches. Chances are you or someone you know lives with migraines. It is time people become aware of a condition that currently has NO cure and has only one innovated drug designed in the past 50 years to treat it.

  I am fighting so that others will not have to miss out on life or lose a loved one because the serious, prevalent, and often disabling pain that is unfortunately forced upon us while we are being told by society that these are headaches we just have to learn to live with.

  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

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Jessica, who helped me publish another book while I have been trying to overcome a very difficult obstacle in my life. To Ashley Egan, who has been my cheerleader and helpful with all of my projects. To my wonderful proofreaders, Rachelle Kniess and Dawnya Keary, who I am greatly thankful to them for joining my writing team. To my wonderful husband Tony, and three children: Tayelor, Colton and Caleb. I can’t even begin to express how much I appreciate all that you have sacrificed for me this past year. To my mom and dad for all of their encouragement over the years.

  To the talented and brilliant Robert Duncan, for composing some of the most phenomenal scores I have had the pleasure of listening to. Your orchestrated masterpieces captivate my mind; while your music transports my creativity to depths I never knew were possible.

  Finally, to my extended families; the unbelievably, inspirational people in Clusterbusters and the Chronic Migraine Awareness group. I know our advocating efforts to raise migraine and headache disorder awareness will make a huge impact. Our strength is what keeps us fighting every day against a pain we all hope will one day be nonexistent.

  PROLOGUE

  Regrets…

  We all have them. Some are able to easily erase them from their minds while others relive the defining moment that led down a road of destruction. The days leading up to my high school graduation, I was given a prison sentence, but it wasn’t one served behind bars.

  I was to be emotionally confined to my past all because of a choice I naively made as a teenager that not only ruined my life, but also that of the boy I fell hopelessly in love with.

  I knew all of this self-loathing had to come to an end at some point. I had already wasted five years stuck in a moment I wanted desperately to escape. It was time to put the brakes on mourning the loss of a stale, dated friendship before it consumed any more of my life.

  I could do this. I had the ability to set myself free of these distressing restraints and never look back. The only thing left to do was finally come to terms with the mistakes I’ve made and the people I hurt while making them.

  Of course, in my world, it was easier said than done.

  Somehow, Fate found a way of luring me into a realm of Hell. There was no escaping the merciless torment I was about to endure. I was about to spend the next few days with the last person I ever expected.

  I found myself trapped in the quicksand that was my past. I thought I had put it all behind me, but there it was in all its embittered, self-righteous glory... my former life back to bite me in the ass.

  The outside world had blacked out, confining us together. It felt like reality had ceased to exist the moment the vast quantities of snow blanketed the area, wiping out all means of communication. The phone and power lines went completely dead. The weatherman had said this storm would bypass this area. As my dumb luck would have it, this would have to be the one times those damn radars were wrong.

  At this point, I was not sure which storm I was more terrified about. The one outside wreaking havoc through the mountain or the one brewing inside this cottage, stirring up every raw emotion I felt toward the man standing before me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The long-awaited ski trip in honor of my 23rd birthday had finally arrived. I, for one, couldn’t wait to get the hell out of town. I desperately needed to escape work before things got out of hand with my boss. She was constantly belittling my efforts as an employee. I hated always feeling that I was useless after repeatedly working my ass off just to impress her.

  I’d been seriously contemplating leaving but couldn't find it in myself to walk out the door just yet. One day I’d get up the nerve to stand up for myself. Until then, I had to take the constant bullshit she shoved down my throat. But for now, I could just focus on having fun on our mini-vacation.

  My best friend, Mira Harris, is so efficient. She had all of our things packed by the time I showed up from working a half day. She must not have been planning on doing too much skiing, though. There was practically all lingerie in her duffel bag while mine held sweaters, extra thermal underwear, and booze. Since I didn’t have a boyfriend, there would be no mistaking my bag for hers.

  Mira’s high school sweetheart, Cruz Mendoza, had no idea what he was in store for this weekend. I bet he had no idea that seven flavorful varieties of edible panties existed. Hell, I didn’t even know they came out with that many choices, and I always go in those sex stores to search for better do-it-yourself products. I’m not even sure why Mira bothered spending all that money on sex props anyway.

  Those two had a sex marathon every time they went longer than two weeks without seeing each other. It’s amazing how love can make two people grow closer even though they are miles apart. His job transferring him three hours from where we lived might have been the end-of-the-world for Mira, but they somehow made it work. I guess some couples are going to make it through anything and others… well, they are fated to fail.

  As for my relationship status, it is pathetically shameful. I found it easier to date random guys who I don’t care about than risk falling in love again. I was still reeling from the emotional shitstorm that was my teenage years. As much as I tried to hide it, I was weighed down by my emotional baggage. Remaining single was my punishment for the wrong I did to the only man I’d ever loved, Carson.

  My teenage years were memorable because of him. He was the first person I ran to at that time when something went right or wrong in my life. The implosion of our friendship was the one thing I have never been able to get over. I can only hope that someday I’ll be able to stop thinking about him, because I can’t bear the constant heartache.

  GOD! I seriously have to stop doing this to myself. I know I shouldn’t repeatedly upset myself over a person who proved he didn’t give a shit about me or our friendship. But he not only rip
ped out my heart and shredded it to pieces, he followed it up by throwing a thesaurus of hateful words in my face.

  “Tia, let’s go,” Mira yelled.

  I forced myself to put aside the emotional fragments of my tormented teen years so we could leave for the cottage. Our other high school friends —Audrey, John and Logan—would be joining us. Our long weekend would be a mini-reunion before the real one took place in August in our small hometown.

  The weather forecast called for a few scattered snow showers but nothing too severe. Nothing that would keep us from our little vacation.

  Two and a half hours later, Mira and I finally made it to the cabin where Cruz awaited us. Mira almost forgot to put her jeep in park as she leapt out of the car into her beloved’s arms. His 6’4” muscular frame towered above her tiny yet big-busted 5’1”.

  “Can you two lovebirds quit making out long enough to remember I’m standing here with my hands full?” I teased.

  Mira and Cruz pulled apart and he grabbed the bags from me. “Hey, Tia, it’s your birthday, so you get first pick of the rooms.”

  Cruz’s boss had generously offered him full use of the cottage for the weekend. The gorgeous two-story, six-bedroom, three-bathroom log cabin had a deck overlooking the river and nearby ski slopes. Being in a place this extraordinary had me thinking more about sitting by the fireplace drinking my weight in alcohol rather than skiing.

  I walked through the cottage awed by the rustic décor in each room. Cruz’s boss had excellent taste. I chose the bedroom with a huge bay window offering a spectacular view. The cedar canopy bed was so huge you could almost sleep six adults comfortably. The enormous matching dresser was roomy enough to fit all of my clothes from my closet at home. I bet the furniture in that room probably cost more than what I make in a year.

  The cottage was comfortably warm already since Cruz had been there for a while and turned up the thermostat. I shucked off my coat, kicked off my boots, and took off one of the TWO sweaters Mira had insisted I wear.

  I joined Mira and Cruz in the living room, where they were acting strangely suspicious. “Look at the high... um... beams,” Mira said, her eyes turned up toward the ceiling.

  “Yeah, my boss said this wood came from... uh, uh, somewhere far away. I can’t remember now what he said,” Cruz chimed in, also staring dumbly upward.

  “Why are you guys being so weird?” I asked. “Like you give a shit about the ‘high ceilings’ and where the wood came from.”

  “What are you talking about? This stuff is interesting,” Mira squeaked, her voice an octave higher than usual. Then it hit me.

  So help me, if those two have anything stupid planned for me, I’ll take all of their boxes of condoms and hide them.

  “Logan, John, and Audrey won’t be here for another two hours, so we’ve got plenty of time to hang out ‘til they get here,” Cruz said, changing the subject and bustling around the room getting ready to start the fire in the enormous brick fireplace.

  “This is definitely going to be the best weekend I've had in a long time. John called me up last week bragging about his latest alcohol concoction. He claims it’ll knock us off our asses with just a few sips. My only request of him was to make sure I didn’t start taking off my clothes to dance on the table to some pathetic boy band song,” I told Mira and Cruz.

  Ignoring me, Cruz and Mira wandered off to get reacquainted, so to speak. So I went to my happy place—the kitchen. I pulled out pans and a baking dish to prepare my specialty— chicken enchiladas. As I stirred my sour cream sauce, grated the cheese, and heated the oil, my body settled into the rhythm that comes with baking something all your life. I measured everything according to memory.

  My mind drifted as I spooned chicken, sauce, and cheese into the supple tortillas. I thought about happier times—making this dish with my mom on a Friday night, the steam fogging the windows and the spices filling the house with warmth and normalcy. As I rolled the final tortilla and put the dish inside the oven, I clamped down on that memory before the bad ones could creep in.

  With everything under control in the kitchen, I went on a scavenger hunt for a few bottles of alcohol, mainly the 100 proof vodka. I went straight to the bedroom where my duffel bag contained enough booze to entertain us for the night, then brought back whatever I could fit in my arms and hands and sat them on the kitchen counter. Finding a glass, I poured just enough to take away the stress from the hellish week I’d had at work. I stopped myself from filling the damn cup to the brim.

  After twenty minutes of listening to Mira’s not-so-muffled moans, she resurfaced with Cruz—both of them with huge smiles on their glowing faces. Mira saw the open bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter. She scowled at me and then grabbed Cruz.

  “With you drinking already, we have to head back into town for more liquor,” Mira said rolling her eyes.

  “How could we possibly need more booze?” I asked, eyeballing the box full of about fifteen liquor bottles.

  Then it dawned on me. Maybe their trip into town was about a birthday surprise for me. I felt my face flush at the realization. “Go ahead... I’ll be here,” I stuttered, trying to sound normal.

  They put on their heavy coats and boots and tromped to the door. When they opened it to leave, a major gust of wind blew in, sending snowflakes dancing into the hallway. It definitely hadn’t been snowing this hard when we arrived. According to the weather forecast we watched this morning, the storm was moving toward the towns an hour from here. The meteorologist even stated we’d be lucky to get an inch or two in our direction.

  Cruz ran outside to warm up his jeep while Mira stayed inside. She stared pointedly at the open bottle of vodka. Shaking her head, she insisted, “Please don’t get shitfaced before your surprise gets here.”

  “So am I getting something really great for my birthday?”

  “You could say that.”

  “At least give me a hint. You know I hate being kept in the dark.”

  “Ummm... I’m not sure how to give you a hint without giving away the secret.”

  “Fine. I’ll wait. Just know I’m not happy about it.” I felt like a bratty kid, but damn it, she knows how much I hate surprises.

  “Okay, whatever you say.”

  Cruz came back in and threw a snowball at us like he was ten years old. We retaliated by throwing some of the sofa cushions back at him. In the middle of our childish behavior, his phone rang and he yelled for a timeout to answer it. I overheard him giving directions to someone while he walked away into the kitchen, his fingers to his lips telling us to be quiet so he could hear.

  Mira’s ridiculous grin alerted me that it had to be my gift on its way here. I hoped it involved chocolate... or booze... or maybe booze and chocolate!

  As Cruz walked back out of the kitchen, I crossed my arms and in a coy tone asked, “Do I get to open my gift if it gets here before everyone gets back?”

  “What are you talking about? I was just giving directions to the guy who’s delivering the wood for the fireplace. We don't want to risk running out if it’s going to be this cold,” Cruz answered blandly.

  But his ears turned red... Cruz has never been a good liar.

  “We better go so we can get back before it gets much colder,” Mira said as she wrapped her scarf six times around her neck. Once they were gone, I swept the snow drifting inside back onto the deck.

  As the jeep drove off, I happened to notice how the driveway had completely disappeared. I’m no expert, but I am quite aware of what a light dusting looks like. There is no way in hell this was a few scattered snowflakes. The snow seemed to be falling much harder than before and the wind was picking up.

  I went back into the kitchen to check on the enchiladas, then took out the Spanish rice. Everything smelled wonderful baking in the oven as I unpacked the other bottles of alcohol and put a salad together. I couldn’t resist making a cocktail of cranberry juice with a splash or two of vodka. I placed the food on the counter next to the salad I had
made. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to go without taking a nibble or two, the food smelled amazing! Plus, I hadn’t had anything to eat all day.

  An hour had passed since I had been left all alone, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was taking Cruz and Mira so long in town. Maybe they pulled over to the side of the road so they could fool around in the back of his jeep. I decided I would pass the time by drinking a few more cocktails until everyone got here.

  Completely buzzed, I dug out a fork to sample my culinary creation. I finished the last of my drink and thought about how great it felt to be away from the bullshit back home. These past few months at work had become a total living hell. I have one of the meanest, most demanding bosses around. I swear, one of these days someone was going to put that cruel wench into her rightful place.

  I highly doubted it would be me, though. I don’t have the guts. Numerous times I’ve imagined myself telling her to fuck off. Of course, in those dreams I’m swinging a sledgehammer at her car then shredding her seats with a pitchfork and, finally, spray painting some vulgar obscenity on the side of it.

  The howl of the wind startled me half to death. Then the lights flickered a few times. Worried we’d lose power before everyone got here, I called Mira.

  “Do you have any idea when the firewood guy will be here?” I asked Mira when she picked up. “When do you think you’ll be back?”

  I overheard Cruz in the background saying the roads were like ice skating rinks and they’d be at least another thirty minutes. “Mira, I’m afraid the power might go out. Ask Cruz where I can find a damn flashlight,” I said.

  Cruz directed me to a drawer in the kitchen where I found two flashlights. I grabbed one and left the other on the counter so I could find it easily if I needed to. It’s better to be safe and prepared than sorry when it gets pitch black and I can’t find my way around this huge damn place.