by Susan Soares
It’s Never Enough
by Susan Soares
Copyright 2016 Susan Soares
All rights reserved.
Kindle Edition
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. Any trademarks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Cover design by Jamie of Melgraphics.
Photo by Joshua Resnick | fotolia.com
Table of Contents
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
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO AVAILABLE BY SUSAN SOARES
CHAPTER ONE
Don’t freak out, I told myself when I arrived at the front of the line. My hands wrapped and rewrapped the strap of my purse around my fingers. “Hi,” I said—an audible catch in my throat—to the new girl behind the counter.
My heart rate quickened, and I immediately sensed we were going to have issues. She looked at me with her head cocked to the side and one of her pencil thin eyebrows raised up high. Her demeanor was defensive, and I wasn’t in the mood for this so early in the morning.
“Could I get a non-fat caramel latte iced please?” I cleared my throat. The familiar feeling of anxiety started to creep up my legs like ivy to a chain link fence.
“Anything else?” She was curt, and she set my drink down hard on the counter so caffeinated liquid particles splashed up into the air.
“Yes,” I said after clearing my throat for the third time. “I’d like one of the brownie cheesecake bars please.”
She punched some numbers into the register and went to grab my sweet treat.
Where is Eliza? I thought. She knows me, and she always worked the morning shift.
“That’ll be seven forty-five.”
I twisted the money tightly in my hand. “One more thing.” I damned my voice for shaking so much. “For the cheesecake brownie, I just want a large spoonful of it.” Relax, relax, relax.
“You what?” The clerk spat at me. Her eyebrows reached Mount Everest heights.
From the noise of feet shuffling behind me, I knew there was at least one person waiting in line, maybe more. The heat of their eyes on my back caused tiny beads of perspiration to form at my brow.
The familiar taste of blood entered my mouth from where I bit my lip. “Yeah, see I don’t want the whole thing. I just need a large spoonful of it, so if you could do that for me and just get rid of the rest, I’d appreciate it.” The words exited my mouth at lightning speed. I looked down and away as heat rushed my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t do that. Look, I’ve got a line.” She motioned for me to step aside.
Then, like a food angel, Eliza came blowing in from the back room.
“Is there a problem here?” she asked the clerk.
The girl made an annoyed face. “Yeah, she wants me to—”
“Give her a spoonful of the dessert she ordered?” Eliza turned her head slightly and winked at me.
“Yeah and I told her—”
Eliza moved herself in front of the girl. “I’ll take it from here. Why don’t you see if they need some help in the back?”
The girl stood looking dazed for a moment before she shrugged and walked away.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, and I was sure my face was glowing brighter than a red-nosed reindeer.
Eliza nonchalantly waved a hand at me. “Mallory, don’t worry about it.” I watched her grab a spoon and take a large scoop out of the dessert. “Sorry I wasn’t up front. The boss wanted a word with me.” She leaned in closer to me. “Meaning he wanted to grab my ass before he went to take a conference call.” She winked. Her eyelids were shadowed in a collection of purple-jeweled tones, and her lipstick was a deep burgundy. The colors accentuated the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. Her makeup always looked like she’d just stepped off of a movie set. Blended and perfect.
I wiped my finger under my eyes, hoping to remove any traces of smudged mascara. My wavy, waist-length, mousey, brown hair was tied up into a topknot. I hadn’t even washed my face yet.
“Anyway, here you go.” She slid the brown bag holding the spoonful of dessert to me along with my coffee.
Slowly, I exhaled as I watched her throw the rest of the sweet treat into the garbage below the register. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
With my shoulders hunched, I clutched my items and worked my way over to the right hand corner of the shop. For a Thursday, Perked was busier than usual. Granted, Perked was a small coffee shop so it didn’t take a lot of people inside to make it looked mobbed. Was a local event going on or something? No, I’d checked the message board just yesterday to be sure I knew what was happening and there wasn’t anything special about today. But here I was scanning tables that were normally empty that now had couples sipping their espressos together. No worries. I had my book in my bag and would tune them all out once I settled into my corner booth in the far right hand of the shop.
Then my gut twisted in on itself when I saw someone sitting in my spot. Every day for three months, I’d been coming to Perked to get my coffee, a sweet treat—spoonful of a sweet treat, rather—and sit in my self-designated spot. It was sort of situated off all by itself. Which gave me lots of breathing room. It also set me with my back against the wall and facing outward so I had a clear view of door. That way no one could ever sneak up on me.
“Did you forget how to blink?” the guy said. The guy who’d had the nerve to steel my spot.
My eyelids fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. “What?”
He moved from leaning over the table to opening his chest up wide as he pressed his back against the booth. “Well, it’s just that you’ve been standing there for a good two minutes staring in my general direction, and I don’t think I saw you blink once.” He stretched one arm along the back of the booth. The sleeve of his t-shirt pulled up slightly and revealed a tribal tattoo that wrapped around the thickest part of his bicep a bicep that was larger than most guys I knew. The lines of his pectoral muscles strained against the shirt. He wasn’t a huge body-builder type, but this guy was certainly built. I imagined him and his buddies talking about how much they benched at the gym. “Again, you’ve been quiet for a least a minute. Do you want to ask me something?”
My hand wrapped tighter around my iced caramel latte. Drips of condensation slid down my fingers. “It’s just that…well, that’s my seat.” Relax, relax, relax.
“What’s your name?”
“What?”
“What’s your name?”
As he grinned, crinkles of skin near the corners of his eyes made adorable little lines that made me lose any concentration I had.
“Mallory,” I blurted out. Oh great! I just told my name to a complete stranger!
“Well, Mallory this was the one seat available in here today.” Still grinning, he shifted himself so he was looking at the back of the booth. “Wait one second. You’re right.” He mockingly pointed to the back of the booth. “It says Mallory’s booth right here. I’m so sorry.” He grabbed his large coffee cup and what was left of his muffin—blueberry, I think—and stood up. “What can I say? I didn’t know.”
He stood before me, maybe a foot away from me. He was tall. At least six feet, towering over my five-foot-four-inch frame, and he smelled like the beach. A day’s worth of stubble stuck to his face. His dark hair looked newly buzzed. His lips were plump and pigmented like fresh strawberries. I matched his gaze and was struck by his eyes. They were a lush green like the sprawling hills of Ireland.
“That’s…that’s fine,” I stammered. Look away, look away. My coffee cup was dangerously close to slipping out of my hand.
There was a rustling sound behind him, and someone scooted into my booth. The green-eyed hunk turned around and said in a velvety voice, “Oh sorry, that’s her seat.”
The man waved a hand and politely left my booth.
“There you go,” Green-eyes said with a hand outstretched to direct me to my seat.
“Thanks.” My skin was electrified when my shoulder brushed slightly against his chest as I moved past him to sit down.
“Thanks, Devin,” he said.
“What?”
“My name is Devin.”
Heat blasted my cheeks and there was no way to hide it. “Thanks…Devin.” His name sounded comfortable, like an old blanket, as it wrapped around my tongue.
He leaned down to me, and the crinkles near his eyes creased tightly. “Have a good day, Mallory.”
My whole body tightened as I watched him walk away.
Eliza was at my side the moment he walked out the front door. “Who was that?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I took a long sip of my drink, hoping it would cool me down.
Eliza let out a little sigh. “Well, I’m going to find out because damn, if you don’t want him, I sure as hell do.” She winked at me and then went back to the front counter.
The brown paper bag made crunching sounds as I pulled the spoonful of brownie cheesecake from it. I chuckled to myself as I slid the end of the spoon into my mouth. I don’t want him, I thought. I don’t want anyone. But as the last of the cheesecake dissolved on my tongue, I wondered if I did want more—more of everything.
I pulled my book out of my bag and turned to a new chapter when I heard his voice again.
“Sorry to bother you,” the velvet voice said.
The book went limp in my hand as I looked up and locked eyes with green-eyed Devin. “Um, hi?” I said.
He leaned closer to me. “Could you stand up for a minute?” A sly smirk lifted the corners of his lips.
I wasn’t sure why, but I did as he asked. Then he moved closer to me and bent down behind me. Was he was looking at my ass? Who the hell was this guy? “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked as sternly as I could.
“Wallet,” he said holding up a black billfold. “You were kind of sitting on it.”
A familiar, prickling heat climbed into my cheeks and ears. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, sitting back down and wishing I could crawl under the table.
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
He slid the wallet into his back pocket, and I wondered what it would be like if I slid my hand in the same spot. Oh my God, stop it!
“You don’t happen to know of a good bookstore, do you?” he asked.
His eyes traveled from my collarbone to my chin, to my nose, to my brown eyes. Once locked with mine, I somehow lost the ability to speak. It must have been a long beat since he asked again, “Bookstore recommendations?”
“What? Oh yeah, sorry. I really like Been There Read That. It’s on Main Street.” I could tell by his smile that he’d obviously had orthodontic work as a kid. I wondered if he had worn headgear like I had. “They’re small, but they have a really great selection.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” He stood there for another moment with his eyes dancing across my face. “I guess I’ll see ya.”
“Yeah, I’ll see ya.” As he walked away, I had to fight the urge to go after him. I was also fighting the urge for more cheesecake. And I wasn’t sure which urge was going to win.
CHAPTER TWO
When I walked into my apartment, I saw Fiona standing by the sink and eating a bowl of cereal. Her dirty blonde hair was bobby-pinned up every which way. She’d recently chopped ten inches off her hair and now sported a cute chin-length bob. She was still in her pajamas—a leopard-print tee and short set—along with her fuzzy pink slippers.
“Hey,” I said while tossing my bag onto the kitchen counter.
Her blue eyes sparkled at me. “Hey.” Milk dripped down her chin, and she wiped it with the back of her hand.
“Marshmallow Puffs or Fruity O’s today?” I asked. Fiona had a big obsession with cereal, and those were her two favorites.
She grinned at me as she chewed. “I decided to be wild today, so I mixed them.” She shoved another large spoonful into her mouth.
“And?”
She shrugged. “Not my best decision. The milk absorbs too quickly into the Puffs and not quickly enough into the O’s for the combination to be successful.” She took one more large scoop and then tipped her bowl over the sink. The remaining contents dripped out like a colorful waterfall.
“Live and learn.” I took my hair down from its topknot and let it fall down my back. Its ragged ends were in desperate need of a trim. Had I even brushed it yet? Wow, I really needed a shower. I slid the large French vanilla coffee I’d gotten for Fiona across the counter to her. “This is for you.”
Fiona wrapped her hands around the cardboard container and gleamed her white teeth at me. “You’re the best,” she said before taking a slow, satisfying sip. “So while you were out getting your morning coffee, Jack called.”
“Ugh.” With sluggish feet, I meandered over to the couch and tossed my body down. “Please tell me he didn’t call about coming over for dinner?” Dinner at my dad’s house was just a mess. Like mud wrestling in a corset and heels. If I had to hear him badger me about college one more time, I was going to explode into an unscholarly mess all over his dining room walls.
“Even better. It’s not just that he wants you to come over for dinner. He also informed me that my mom was going to be at dinner too, so therefore I’m supposed to show up as well to make it a happy foursome.” Fiona sat on the coffee table next to my feet.
“What? They’re going to eat together? Does this mean no more cold war?”
Fiona shrugged. “With them, who the hell knows?” She took another sip of her coffee. “Maybe they want to tell us we’re going to be sisters again!” Her voice sounded like a teenybopper who was just about to get her budding breasts autographed by her favorite boy band. “I gotta change real quick,” she said before bopping back to her bedroom.
Fiona and I were stepsisters. Well, technically, we were ex-stepsisters. My dad and her mom married when I was sixteen and Fiona was seventeen. It was a fourth marriage for my dad and a third marriage for her mom. We’d both been through a backlog of bad marriages and step-siblings. Somehow, even though our parent’s marriage to each other didn’t stick, we still did. She felt like the sister I was always meant to have. What was more messed up with our parents was the fact that even though they’d been divorced for the past year, they still shared the same house. Apparently, after paying for so many divorces plus the rising cost of living alone, neither of them could afford to move. So Fiona’s mom took the upstairs portion of the house. My dad took over the renovated basement. and they both shared the common rooms on the main floor. One big dysfunctional family!
“Either way, I know we’re most likely not going to get out of it,” Fiona said as she took the last bobby pin out of her hair. Somehow, even without her brushing through her hair,
it still looked cute. She was wearing a short-sleeved, navy blue button-down shirt with a white denim skirt.
“Why do you say that?” I stood and walked back over to the kitchen to meet Fiona, who was washing out her cereal bowl. My stomach growled, so I pulled a prepacked plastic baggie filled with five grapes and six almonds out of the refrigerator.
“Because he called like four times,” Fiona said.
“You’re kidding? This morning?” I opened up the bag and took out one grape. Slowly, I bit it in half and let the juice fill my mouth before I began to chew.
“Yup. Something must be up.”
“Why’d he call the house phone? He could have just called my cell.” I placed the other grape half in my mouth. It wasn’t as juicy so I began to chew right away.
Fiona grabbed her small pink purse—how she walked around with just her ID and car keys, I never understood—and slung it over her shoulder. “He said he did, but it went straight to voicemail, and then he got cut off.” She jabbed me in the side as she passed by me. “Eat all that.” She pointed to the baggie of food in my hand. “And empty your voicemail.”
“Good luck on the job hunt,” I called out as she opened the front door.
When I heard the door click shut behind her, I reached inside my purse—which was four times the size of Fiona’s micro purse—and grabbed my phone. My hands shook as I navigated through the screens to my voicemail messages. Voice mailbox full. Twenty messages. All of them were from Haley. They were all I had left of her. I didn’t think I could ever erase them. How could I? Then I’d have nothing. Well, nothing except our sickness. And without her to share it with, it just wasn’t the same.
My stomach muscles tensed, and my guts twisted like tree limbs. A familiar itch of anxiety crept all over my skin like tiny ants. I zipped up the bag of grapes and almonds and tossed them back into the refrigerator. Then I went to the cupboard and pulled out supplies. I’d been saving the ingredients to make the recipe I’d found for homemade peanut caramel bars for a while and right now I needed to make them. Badly.
