by Leanne Davis
She missed the days when they crawled around her feet, and their toys lay scattered all over the house. She missed having her entire day be about taking care of them. Or their big, toothy smiles and the way they watched her like she was the queen of the entire planet, because at age two, three, four, and five… she was to them.
There were a lot of good days before the bad one. There was no chance she would have ever become this new Tracy if not for Micah’s abandonment.
Donny suddenly stopped and spun her towards him. “I want to marry you. I’ve waited three years for the entire world to get over the shock of us being together. And for your kids to be old enough to deal with it, and mine to make sense of it. I’ve divorced your sister and sunk half my living into appeasing everyone’s surprise as well as my own guilt. I have paid the penance for a mistake I rushed into with Vickie. But it’s you I love. It’s you I want to come home to and make a life with. Micah McKinley left you, but I never will. You have me until the day I die. And I want you until the day you do. I know this isn’t the time or place… but before you take that step into your past, I want you to know that I want to be part of your future.”
She closed her eyes. His face was clear and loomed in her mind. She could see Micah’s dark eyes. And Donny’s. She could see herself as a young, excited bride. There wasn’t one thing shameful or doubtful when she stood at the altar to marry Micah. She knew, with complete conviction, she was marrying the right man. She remembered his face the day Ally was born. She remembered his panic the day Kylie fell against the coffee table and cut her head open. She remembered the hopes and dreams of first love and marriage and building a new family. She remembered how it felt to fall off the top of the world when it all ended. She remembered betrayal, and distrust and helplessness. She remembered feeling like a fool.
She also remembered finding love again. New love. Different love. But a love just as hopeful.
“Tracy?”
Donny’s tone was soft and unsure. He was waiting for her and wanted her. He was right there, in front of her. Ready to work for her, with her, and accept whatever she needed. He was more like her kids’ father than the one who abandoned them.
“I would have stuck by him.”
“What?”
“If Micah had just gone to prison, and taken his punishment, I would have waited for him. Through it all. Every single day of it, I would have stayed by his side. I would have visited him in jail and been the first to give him a second chance when he got out. He didn’t have to leave. I could have accepted it. I would have dealt with it. I would have loved him still.”
Donny reached out and put his hands under her arms. She felt like she was about to fall over. “I know you would have.”
He didn’t ask the obvious: what did this have to do with him? Or them? His gaze was apprehensive.
“The thing is: he didn’t want that. He didn’t want my devotion. He didn’t want a second chance. He threw away my love. He broke my heart. And he broke me.”
“I know. And you don’t want to go through that again with another marriage.”
Her eyes filled with tears. He lifted his hands to her face and wiped them with his thumbs. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. Really. I’m with you, Tracy, no matter what.”
She reached up and tucked her hands over his, shaking her head and taking both their hands with her. “I know you are. What I mean is, I know you wouldn’t do that to me. If it had been you in those circumstances, you’d have gone to prison, taken your punishment and returned to me. You would never have done anything to break me. All you’d do is put me back together and then step back and live your life with me. You would never leave me or hurt me if you could help it. I know that as much as I know my own name. And I love you, Donny Lindstrom, so yes, I will marry you.”
He didn’t move. Had he heard her? His face was blank, his eyes huge. “Did you just say yes?”
She nearly started jumping around, despite her heels. Her heart was beating erratically and her head was spinning. “Yes!”
He suddenly dropped his hands to her waist, lifted her up and planted his mouth over hers. “I’ll get you a ring, a huge one.”
“No,” she grabbed his hand. His big, capable, domineering, tender hand and covered it with her own. “I don’t need you or any other man getting me things. Getting me more. Just be with me. Stay with me. Live with me and for me instead of trying to give me things that I can damn well give to myself.”
He finally set her back on her feet. “Are you ready to go in? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this here. It’s just… I don’t know. I didn’t want you going in there to get sucked into all the pain he caused you,” he finished, but appeared in obvious distress.
She shook her head. “It was kind of perfect. Why not in front of the police station? After everything we’ve gone through, how can anything between us go wrong? I don’t need to go in there. For him to… what? Say he’s sorry? That he can’t fix it. Or recriminate me for moving on? I don’t want to hear his excuses or his apologies, or even if he has no apologies. I simply don’t need to hear it. Micah is not my problem, not anymore. He’s my past. He owns a chunk of my life, but not my future. Not even this moment. My girls can decide what they want to do. They are old enough. He is their father. They have an obligation to him. I do not, because he’s not my husband anymore. He’s not even my friend. He’s just part of my history. But you? You are my future.”
He simply took her hand, pulling her away from the police station. He took her home to have dinner with his parents, his daughter, her daughters and they celebrated their engagement with the people who loved and supported them the most.
Her daughters never did go and see their father. Micah McKinley pleaded guilty and was sentenced to prison for seven and a half years. He was released in half that time. When Tracy heard the news, she shook her head, and felt sad for him. Just three years in a minimum security prison and he could have had his children still in his life. He would still have had a life to return to. To Tracy, his biggest punishment was losing his daughters.
Oh, well, his loss, not hers, she figured as she sat down for her older daughter’s high school graduation. She was next to her husband, and so grateful for every day she could be part of her kids’ lives. And now, she felt even more grateful for every day spent with her husband.
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Dear Reader,
I would be so grateful if you took a few moments to leave a review of The Wrong Sister.
If you are interested in seeing what comes next in the Sister Series, read on for Chapter One from The Years After (Sister Series, Book 5)
Otherwise, thank you for reading, and I hope you try another of my novels.
If you would like to keep up on my releases, please go to my website and sign up for my email distribution list or contact me directly at [email protected].
Here is a preview of some of my future and existing novels…
Sincerely,
Leanne Davis
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The Years After- Release Date: April 15, 2015
Eighteen-year-old Olivia Lindstrom is ready to start the rest of her life in a world she sees as wide-open to accomplish her limitless dreams. A gifted musician, she wants nothing more than to study music, improve her skills, and later pursue a dedicated career. Her biggest concerns about starting college are missing her parents and worrying about her grade point average. That is, until she meets Derek Salazar, and becomes drawn into a new world. Derek Salazar’s life has been the opposite of Olivia’s in every way. He is amused by Olivia and enticed by her naive innocence and innate goodness. When she assumes he is just another new college student, and he doesn’t correct her, but secretly decides to take advantage of the strange, beautiful girl, he soon finds out she is like no one he has ever met. Through her total trust and loyalty, she starts to influence him into changing the corrupt way he lives. But Derek’s life contains dark secrets that he realizes, too la
te, could harm Olivia. What started off with careless lies could turn into the greatest love of his life; that is, if he can stop the external forces that threaten to destroy it all.
Sneak peek of
The Years After
Prologue
For Derek Salazar there was a defining line that separated the before, and the after of his life. There was one day that marked what his life would become and who he was to be. Unlike most people he knew down to the minute of the day the entire course of his life would be set upon. He remembered the day always, no matter what was happening or what he was doing. It was the day he killed his father. And after it she completely changed. She started needing her medicine and he had to start getting it for her. And it was the last time he’d ever heard Max speak.
Still knowing what caused all the after didn’t make living it any easier.
Derek heard the thumping. He heard the voices. He heard the scream. He heard the loud cursing. He heard the silence. He huddled closer to the wall, tucking himself between the door and the wall. If anyone entered maybe they’d forget to look behind the door. He nearly sat on his little brother, Max trying to keep him from making noise. But Max kept struggling. Luckily, his brother didn’t talk. Ever. He was mute. A freak. A shadow. Max had not said a word since that day that Derek had heard. And if he hadn’t heard him, then who could have?
No, one had ever bothered to find out why he didn’t talk. She just ridiculed him. Called him names. Hit him out of frustration for him to just talk. Answer her. Say something. But Max merely remained silent. His big dark eyes never betraying what he thought or felt about her words. Her anger. Her violence. Derek was getting big enough he could finally step in and stop her from hitting him.
The room went silent. His breath started up again. His heart finally slowed down. He slowly stood to his thirteen year old feet. He stretched his legs and shook his numb feet. Max had fallen asleep. His eight year old body completely huddled in a knot. At least he was quiet now. He had learned years ago, when he was only a toddler to be quiet. To be unheard. As shadow-like as Max lived his entire life. When he made noise, then one of them might try to figure out what that noise was, and that was when Derek got hurt. He didn’t want to get hurt again. Never again. And he made sure Max didn’t know what hurt was. Not really, anyway. What she did, wasn’t really hurt. It was just kind of stinging. Derek opened the door. Years of practice he could do it without even a movement of air. The trick was to go slow. Really, really slow. He was good at disappearing anywhere. Luckily he was small and lithe and could tie his body up like a contortionist. He was ignored and easily looked over.
He stepped to the hall. He took the three steps to the opening of the living room. He stayed against the wall in case he was wrong and they were still there. But no. No they weren’t. He scanned the room thoroughly, sure now it was just his mother. He rushed to her and dropped to his knees. He felt her neck. There was a faint pulse. He leaned closer.
“Mom?” he asked softly. She didn’t stir. He leaned over her and grabbed the needle she’d dropped to the floor. Her arm was riddled with holes and scars like she’d been attacked with a pencil or something. He knew better. It was her medicine.
She used to tell him it was her medicine and she needed it to survive. He’d believed her. Just as Max still did. Until he got smart. Until he figured out why the men came here. And why they never had any money.
He stood up and walked the needle to the garbage. It was overflowing. He tucked it deep inside the can so Max wouldn’t get into it. He stood over his mother then. He brought a blanket to cover her naked body. She lay prone on her side, her black hair twisted around her dark, tanned skin. Drool fell in a line from her mouth. Other then the drool she looked like a corpse. Like what Derek had seen on those crime shows. Anyway it was kind of freaky to have your mother look dead on the floor so he covered her.
He started for the door and opened it. He did the usual check, every which way for anyone around. He was never loud. He was never obvious. He was never safe. He knew what was next. Mom would wake up. Mom would be hurting again soon. She’d need more of her medicine. He hated her medicine. But when she didn’t have it, she could be so mean. She might hurt Max. So he made sure now, that they had her medicine.
He went down the hall, through three flights of graffiti stairs, all with dust and hair swirling in the corner after he past. He entered the commons and crossed the square to where Quentrell lived. Or worked. He didn’t really know. He just knew what was expected of him. So far, he’d kept his head down, his mouth shut, and out of trouble. He got mom’s medicine in exchange for a few errands Quentrell wanted done.
He knew the streets of Marsale like a rat knows the sewer. He knew where to go at any moment, without anyone, cops or criminal alike knowing where he was. He had started young, Max’s age. Because mom and volunteered him in a desperate need of her medicine one day. And so he started working.
His only goal now, was that Max would not start working.
To do that he had to be the best worker ever so Quentrell respected him enough to respect his wishes to leave Max alone.
He knocked on the door and Quentrell’s guy opened the door. Recognizing Derek he let him enter with a lift of his hand in a complicated handshake. Derek did it. But he never for a second forget they were not his friends. No one was. And he would only survive to remember that. He would never have friends.
He knew how to work. He knew how to be quiet. And he knew where the gun was. Other than Max, that was all he ever needed.
Chapter One
Derek Salazar slapped the packet of pills in the young kids hand as he palmed the cash. He flashed a half smile to the nerdy looking kid, no more than sixteen who had pitted out his shirt in sweat. Poor kid looked like he was going to pass out. Smirking, Derek pocketed the cash and started to turn and head out of the park when a scream brought his head up and his hands out.
A girl on a pedal bike swerved around him and crashed into the tree he’d just stepped out from. The front wheel hit and the bike wobbled before it toppled over with the girl half on it. She landed awkwardly on the park grass with her things spreading around her. Her legs were half bent, and she was leaning on her elbow, as long, dark hair fell all around her, obscuring her face.
Her things included a music case of some kind. Most likely she had just started as a freshman at Peterson Academy for the Arts, the local prestigious college that drew gifted artists and musicians from across the country and particularly the west coast. She had long black hair. It fell to her mid-back in midnight curtail. It was straight as a ruler.
She was probably eighteen or nineteen. But the bike and matching bike helmet kind of made her seem like strawberry shortcake dressed up to play at the park. Kids voices could be heard behind him on the swing sets and play structures. He looked around. His deal had gone down without a hitch. No one else was looking their way. Just this mess before him.
She groaned slightly and unstrapped the bike helmet to yank it off, as she then pushed a hand at her hair, flipping it back off her face. He stepped back when her face lifted towards him. It was stunning. Perfect. A photo-shopped Madonna-like painting, but in the flesh. Porcelain-white skin that set off the palest, biggest most strange blue eyes he’d ever witnessed in person. They were intense, slightly tilted at the ends. Delicate black eyebrows framed her eyes, and big, red lips added a snow-white affect to her looks. She didn’t wear a stitch of make-up.
He dropped down to squat on his feet. “Are you alright?”
“I think so. Did I hurt you?”
“No. The tree. You gave the tree a pretty good scare,” he said with a smile. He didn’t often feel the need to smile at strangers. But one this beautiful? Why not?
She glanced at the tree trunk as a deep blush covered her neck and cheeks. Thick, straight bangs framed her face. She turned fully towards him. She smiled with a soft, shy lift of her lips. They were big, red, puffy lips. Perfect for kissing. Or sucking. He thought
either would be perfect. But instead he put a hand out towards her.
She lifted a thin, elegant hand and set it in his. Her fingers were long with the tips short and tinged in white. He tugged on his arm and she rose up with him, wiping at her pants. She was eye to eye with him. Not a great feat as he was way too short for a guy. He only measured in at five foot five. He’d suffered all the jokes his entire childhood. The thing was: all his short statue did for him was make it way easier to go unnoticed, a distinct advantage in his line of work. He’d never had the time to worry about being short. He was too busy making sure he didn’t get shot or thrown in jail. So not being noticeable? A great thing.
But this girl in her navy blue sneakers stared right into his eyes. She was skinny, bony actually. Her dude-like clothes hung off her. She had on baggy to her jeans and a sloppy sweatshirt. It was navy blue colored and without even an interesting logo on it. Her hair was mostly thrown back in a pony tail that was thick and long, but half it fell forward. Most girls would be smoothing their hair in their embarrassment over nearly running him over and hitting a tree. Not this one. She shook her head and put her hand out.
