Tonight, I have managed to get away for the entire night. I told my mom that Bren invited me to spend the night at her house, and Bren told her mom that she’s spending the night at my house. Ha! Parents are so gullible. You’d think with my brother always in jail, my mom would have figured out when she was being played. Good thing I have always been the angel in the family, the one that until recently could do no wrong.
We actually do go to Bren’s house for a bit after school. Two weeks ago, for Bren’s birthday, her mom and dad surprised her with a brand new, silver Honda Civic. We no longer have to take the bus on our excursions, which means we have a whole new level of freedom at our fingertips.
We get to her house, and while her parents are still at work, we start getting ready for the party tonight. Thankfully, I am not much bigger than Bren, so her clothes tend to fit me, and let me tell you, her choice of clothes is so much better than my wardrobe at home, where my mom still thinks I am a child who is good with the typical Maine look of jeans and a flannel. At least I have some cute shoes, right?
With an hour of Bren’s touches complete, I look like a new girl. My long, dark, frizzy hair is now sleek, and I have sculpted curls that hang perfectly around my shoulders. My face—oh my God, I have never seen my face look this way. Mom says no makeup, except for mascara and gloss, and Bren has made me reconsider my mother's opinion. Let's just hope she can teach me how to use it once I buy some.
I feel beautiful. I feel like a new person, and I think I have gained some confidence just by looking different. We leave her house to grab some dinner and then make our way downtown to where Bren was told the party is at. One of her friends invited us to the party at his apartment just outside the Old Port. Everyone recognizes Bren, and I hear the same thing I heard when I first started hanging out with her.
“Hey, Bren. Who’s your girl?”
We look at each other and laugh. I can’t believe my girl transformed me so much that no one recognizes me! Bren and I walk around, and as I get re-introduced, I get offered hit after hit from everyone’s bowl or joint. I take a hit off some and pass on the others.
After grabbing a drink for the both of us, I follow Bren to the roof deck for some fresh air. It was getting hard to breathe in that small space, the smoke making the air heavy and thick with haze. I could hardly see two feet in front of me. I sure as hell couldn’t hear a thing that Bren was saying over the loud music and people talking and laughing.
We still hear the music when we get outside, but at least we don’t have to yell at each other to be heard. A group of guys—I think their names are Damon, Jon, and Nate—are gathered at a table at the end of the deck. Once we step closer to the table, I realize what I just walked up on: white powder, glass table, and rolled-up bills. This is where I have to decide if I ignore what they are doing or join in. When I glance over to Bren, I realize she is giving me that look again. The unspoken question.
I've had quite a few hits of weed with her since arriving and started drinking when we made our way out here, and now I am faced with this. Well, shit, what the hell. You only live once, and this is a night to remember. I hope.
I take the bill after Bren has made two perfectly-straight lines on the table and snorted hers. Okay, I can do this.
Close one nostril.
Put the bill in the other.
Inhale the white powder—the entire line.
Drop the bill, head back, and keep inhaling it through my nasal passage.
I feel the burn as it is sucked through my nasal passage, and then I taste it in the back of my throat. For the next half hour, I am sniffling like I have a cold and tasting the drip, but honestly, after the first few minutes, I don’t care. I am feeling no pain; I haven’t felt this light and free since …well…ever, and I watch the world go by with my best friend next to me. As I sit on one of the lounge chairs set up on the roof next to Bren, looking into the night, I think of my brother. This is one night. Just one night. I am not an addict like he is. One time won’t kill me.
Later, in the night, things become chill as everyone has had their share of pot, the cocaine effects have worn off and drinks are still flowing. The music is still blaring through the speakers and everyone is yelling to be heard over it. I look around and realize Bren is nowhere to be found—she has left me sitting there on the couch against the wall on the far side of the room. I don’t mind because I am enjoying my buzz. The next thing I know, this really cute guy sits next to me and starts talking. No biggie, right? I have all the confidence in the world. Who cares if a guy has never talked to me before and has never shown any interest in me? My confidence at an all-time high from my new look and the euphoria of the drugs, I sit and talk to him. Finally, I get his name—was it Nick, Trent? God, I can’t get his name right.
The talking has stopped; he is kissing all over my neck, pulling me closer and working his way up to my mouth. God, he’s cute. In a matter of minutes, I am on his lap, the world around me long forgotten. For once, I feel special. And then things start to change. I have lost all control of myself. My head is spinning, and I am starting to realize that the mix of tonight's activities was so not a good idea. I should have stuck to one thing, whether it be the pot, the booze, or the coke. I feel present—I know what is going on—but my body won’t move the way I tell it to. Before I can react, my body is being forced down on the couch, my skirt is flipped up, and my panties are ripped away from my body. My arms are too heavy—I feel like I weigh a million pounds when I try to shove him away from me, which he deflects without a bit of effort.
I yell at him to stop, and I try to kick him away, but I can’t; the drugs have consumed my body, and I feel so weighed down. He doesn’t seem to care that I don’t want this to happen; he is going to do this to me anyway, and that is evident when he shoves his dick inside me. I scream out in pain as tears run down my face, but no one is hearing me over the music. He covers my mouth anyway and keeps going. The pain is blinding. I try to push him away again, but grief and pain and fear leave me almost paralyzed. I have just lost myself.
I am no longer whole.
James Russo
I stand there, where I do every day at this time, but this day is different. She is different—innocent and beautiful. She doesn't belong in this environment, with all the smoking and drugs.
I continue playing a game of hacky sack with my friends. I go about my game but notice she keeps looking in my direction. I try to ignore her, but she is a beautiful girl. Dark, curly hair and a fair complexion. When I get closer, I notice her bright-blue eyes. I'm going to be in trouble.
I finish my game with my friends, and then it’s time to make my way back down the street to The Java. This place has become my baby—the thing I live for. Ever since I was old enough to make my own decisions, I knew I wanted my own life, not one that was dictated by my family. After my parents passed away, I discovered my dad wasn’t really my dad, and my biological father wanted me under his thumb. I did everything I could to separate from him, so I came here and opened up my coffee shop, The Java. I like the life I’m living now, the freedoms I’m allowed.
I walk away but take a second to glance back toward her. She is surrounded by the park kids, and she is too innocent to be around them. God, I want to go grab her up and take her away from that world, but I don't. I feel the need to protect her, like it’s my responsibility, and I don’t know why. I turn around and head in the direction of The Java, back to the world that I have made mine. As I walk down the street, I wonder if she’ll be back. I hope so; I have to see her again even, if it is from a distance. But those eyes, they caught me off guard. I'd do anything to look directly into them, just a moment to see a glimpse of her soul. I keep walking and make it to the door, this mystery girl still on my mind. Damn, when did I become so wrapped up in a girl, especially one who I don't have a name for, one so innocent, so young? I think I just might be screwed.
As I walk into The Java I’m greeted by my staff, the aroma of coffee invading my n
ose. I love that smell.
Jayce, my day manager, takes one look at me and raises his brows. “Dude, what's going on? You all right, man?”
“Yeah, I'm good,” I reply. “Just a bit on my mind.” He hands me my usual latte, and I walk to my office. Yeah, I'm screwed; I've got to meet her.
She is stuck in my head after just a glimpse.
Epilogue
March
Parker
Everything is stressing me out these days, Mandy is about to give birth like any second now, and I still have one more road trip after tonight’s game. We are due to leave tomorrow afternoon. Mandy is no longer actively working, but she is still at every game with my girl Callie, and this season we added a seat, so now we have three and everyone can come to the games.
We are in the last period of the game with five minutes on the clock when Coach calls for a time out. The ref’s stop game play and our backup goalie comes rushing to the net.
“Marsh you have to go, Mandy’s water just broke. Meyers called for an ambulance to get you all to the hospital. Go, I got this.”
“Thanks,” I say as I rush off the ice, throwing my helmet and pads as I rush to the locker room. I need to get these skates off and get to Mandy. Meyers comes walking in.
“Marsh, ambulance is here. Mandy is doing good and her contractions are far enough apart that you have some time. Breath and slow down for one second. She doesn’t need a frazzled husband. Maggie, Callie, and Angie are with her right now so get dressed and we’ll leave as soon as you get out here.”
I do as he says, take a breath, get my skates off and toss on a sweatshirt and shorts. Mandy is getting loaded into the ambulance when I get to her side. I jump in the back, the doors close, and we are off.
Maggie and Angie meet up with us at the hospital. Three hours later I’m holding my baby boy in my arms. Mandy did so well and I’m proud of her. When I go out to the waiting room to tell Maggie, Angie, and a sleeping Callie the news, the entire team is there with them.
“Hey everyone. I wasn’t expecting the entire team to be here. Thank you for coming. Mandy did great and we are the proud parents of an eight pound two ounce baby boy. Mandy wants to be the one to tell what his name is, but I don’t think we will all fit in her room. Maggie and Angie why don’t you go see her. Ask her what she wants to do to announce his name since everyone is here.”
“Will do,” they both say as they rush down the hallway to see my baby boy.
Mandy
Well not the way I wanted to end the game, pulling Parker off the ice but this little boy had different plans. I’m calm as can be, waiting for Parker by the ambulance, talking to Grandma and Angie when Parker comes rushing up, completely frazzled. He should just be grateful he is in the right city for the birth at this point.
We get to the hospital and three hours later Preston Jerimiah Marshall is born.
I send Parker out to go get Angie and Grandma so we can tell them this little guys name, but Parker doesn’t come back with them.
“Where’s Parker?”
“The entire team is here, and he wants to know how you want to tell everyone the name of, oh my God he’s adorable, sorry. This little guy’s name.” Angie says as she comes closer to the side of my bed.
Grandma follows her and I have both of them on either side of the bed both with eyes begging to hold him. I hand his little swaddled body over to grandma first.
“He’s perfect,” she says.
After a few minutes, she hands the baby over to Angie, all while Callie sits by my side wondering who this little person is, “Mama, who dis?” she asks.
“This is your little brother. His name is Preston Jeremiah.”
“Preton,” she questions, and I chuckle a little. We’re still working on a lot of words and sounds. She’s doing well for being almost two. Why don’t you go with Angie and tell the team his name?”
“Kay,” she grabs Angie’s hand and then demands, “Go.” Angie helps her off the bed to the floor and lets Callie guide her out the room and down the hall.
“Preton, Preton, Preton,” I can hear her sing song down the hall. Grandma and I sit laughing. “She’ll get it eventually.”
“Jerimiah, I like it,” Grandma says with a hint of a tear in her eye.
“Me too.”
Parker comes back with Angie and Callie chuckling.
“She tell the team Preston’s name?” I laugh.
“Yeah, I may have had to clarify it just a bit for them, but she was adorable. I showed the guys a couple of pictures and they said they would stop by after the road series to meet him. Coach is already working on getting the press release done and I’m home for the next few games, until we are back on home ice.”
“I’m sorry you have to miss the games I know they are important, but at least they are regular season games and not playoffs.”
“Honestly, it wouldn’t even matter, it doesn’t matter. I’m where I need to be.”
“I love you Parker Marshall.”
“I love you Mandy Marshall.”
Grandma and Angie stay a bit longer but then Callie starts getting cranky. It’s really late so they leave and get Callie in bed. Parker and I sit side by side in the bed both staring at our little Preston.
“I have the best life,” Parker says, then kisses me a sweet gentle kiss.
“I think we both do.” Then I kiss him back before settling in for some rest before we start our new life as a family of four.
THE END
Acknowledgments
I love hockey and decided we needed a woman in the mix, and a strong independent one at that.
My kids, you encourage me, love me and don’t mind feeding yourself every now and then or waiting a bit longer for me to do this or help with that.
My husband, even though we are far apart you always support me, encourage me, and drive me crazy.
Lindee Robinson with Lindee Robinson Photography, thank you for the amazing photo for my cover. It was perfection.
Melissa Gill with Melissa Gill Designs, the cover design was amazing I am so happy with the end result.
Amy Briggs with Briggs Consulting, LLC, who makes my words make more sense after a long night of writing.
Bloggers and reviewers thank you for giving my book a chance and thank you for supporting the self- published community each and every day. If it wasn’t for your support this community wouldn’t be where it is today.
Readers, thank you for taking a chance with my words. I really hope you enjoyed my story as much as I enjoyed writing it for you, the readers.
Bloggers and reviewers, I want to thank you for taking the time to read and review. You are the ones that help grab the attention of readers, and I appreciate your support in the self-publishing community.
And finally, to my readers. I must thank you for giving my story a chance. Because of you, I am a writer who has become an author. I really hope you enjoy reading my words as much as I enjoyed putting them to paper for you.
About the Author
Sarah Stevens is a Contemporary Romance author.
Sarah started writing her first novel The Night He Saved Me in her free time while being a stay-at-home mom. Then one day, it started to flow, and she was writing "The End" in a matter of two months.
When she isn't writing, she is enjoying the southern life with her husband, three kids, a Saint Bernard—who is still adjusting to the southern summers and Bruno a rescue dog. She can't go a day without her coffee in the morning—and a few more cups during the day and her late nights writing.
She enjoys reading Contemporary or New Adult Romance and going to the pool or beach as much as she can. She loves all things Disney and collects Disney mugs to drink her beloved coffee in.
Stay up to date with Sarah’s upcoming releases and promotions by signing up for her newsletter: eepurl.com/dFwRgb
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