by Alison Mello
After having her son, Alison started reading again and fell in love with Contemporary Romance. Reading made her happy and gave her something to do when she had downtime. As she started to read more, she started to noticed things she really enjoyed in a book and things she didn’t. She began to have ideas for writing one of her own. One day she literally woke up and started writing. She realized that if there was ever a time for her to write, it was now. She had a part time job to give her something to do. The hours at work were slow and she was bored with what she was doing, so while her son was off enjoying his friends over summer vacation she got started.
Alison finished the first book in two weeks and decided that she really enjoyed writing, so she kept going. She already had ideas in mind for books two and three, so she kept writing. That is how the Learning to Love Series was born. Somewhere along the line, one of my Beta readers convinced me that Michael, a character from Finding Love, needed his own story. That is when Alison added the fourth and final book. Alison hopes you enjoy her books as much as she enjoyed writing them.
She’s so glad she started this writing journey and hopes you will stay with her for the ride.
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FORGOTTEN LOVE
Bound by Love #1
BY J. M, DAVIES
CHAPTER 1
Summer
Laughter filled La Rosa’s, the Italian bistro in the North End of Boston, along with the mouthwatering odors of garlic and tomatoes, making Summer Hamilton’s stomach rumble. Sipping on her ice water, she eyed the menu for the hundredth time. She knew exactly what she wanted because she was a creature of habit and loved chicken parmigiana, but she held off giving her order, waiting for her husband to arrive. Replacing her glass on the small, white, linen-covered table, she twisted her wrist to study her Rolex, which confirmed what she already knew—he was late, very late.
Surveying the various tables, she passed the time creating stories about the people near her at the popular restaurant where glasses clinked in celebration. She picked out a shy couple, perhaps on their first date looking nervous, a young woman rolling her wedding ring with her eyes glued on the man who held her hand, oblivious to their surroundings. Maybe they were celebrating their anniversary. Loud whoops of laughter drew her gaze to the back where a large gathering of people chanted happy birthday—everyone around her was making memories. Studying her wedding band around her finger, she wondered if, a year from now, tonight would be a good memory too.
Organizing this evening was her last attempt to salvage her marriage, yet, again, she sat alone, uncertain if he would arrive. Pulling her phone from her purse, she checked if there were any messages—nothing. Outside, the rain splattered on the steamy glass window and people charged down the sidewalk carrying umbrellas to avoid getting soaked. She picked up a garlic-infused bread roll and tore off a large chunk, eating it to stave off the hunger.
“Signora, may I get you something to drink while you wait?”
The waiter had been attentive since her arrival, hovering at her table, attempting to serve her a drink or an appetizer for the last twenty minutes. Each time, she smiled back, although a sinking feeling grew.
He thinks I’ve been stood up.
She longed for a glass of pinot noir, but she couldn’t—not now or for at least the next seven months, maybe even more. Her unexpected news was the other reason for tonight’s meeting with her estranged husband on this wet Christmas Eve.
Pressing her lips tight, she willed herself not to cry as her eyes skirted the customers once more, all smiling, and sniffed.
He’s not coming. I should’ve known.
Over the last couple of months, they argued all the time. She’d pleaded with him to attend local support groups for ex-military personnel and had even offered to help him get back on track financially after he lost his job, but his stubborn male pride wouldn’t let him. After a blistering row in which hurtful things were said and done that couldn’t be forgotten, he’d stormed out, saying he needed space. That was six weeks ago. Rubbing her temple, she sucked in her breath.
“No, thanks. Just the check, please.” She couldn’t wait any longer. In truth, she didn’t need him, but he deserved and had a right to know he was going to be a father. She would never keep that piece of news from him. But she was a confident businesswoman used to managing on her own, and if need be, she would raise their child alone. Right at that moment, she hugged her belly, shielding the life growing inside her from the world. She’d realized how much she wanted this baby since the two blue lines had appeared on the pregnancy test.
“But, signora, you haven’t eaten.”
Broken out of her reverie, she searched the multitude of faces outside as they trundled by the restaurant. She returned her focus to the pleasant man who stood next to her, pad and pen ready in his starched white shirt and black pants. They had agreed to meet at seven o’ clock. It was now almost eight. She nodded.
“Forgive me, but I don’t feel well. I need to leave.” It was true. Her stomach tensed, and any minute now, she thought she might throw up. She hoped stepping outside, despite the rain, would help.
The Italian leaned forward. “Of course. Here, let me help you.”
She pushed her chair back and stood up. The waiter held her jacket ready as she slipped her arms through the sleeves, nodding at his assistance.
“Thank you.”
“No problema, Buona sera.”
She collected her purse, making her way through the busy restaurant, but slowed as she drew near the exit when angry voices erupted. A man yelled at one of the waiters who blocked his entry and her view of him, but goosebumps skittered up her arms. She only caught glimpses of the man, but his rich honeyed voice she recognized right away. Quickening her pace, she marched right into the fray. There was a shuffle as the two men jostled with each other, barging into tables as customers gasped and stood to move away, fearing a fight.
“That’s my wife over there. Now let me go.”
“Stronzo.”
Hearing the waiter curse at her husband, she stepped around and ducked under his arm to appear right in the center of the argument, facing the man who had kept her waiting.
“You’re making a scene. Please stop,” she said in a quiet voice, taking in his ice blue eyes that seared into hers. She stared at his sopping appearance as droplets of rain dripped from his shoulder-length hair, down his rugged face and dark suit, creating a puddle on the floor. His somber face took a moment to register her presence, and she narrowed her gaze.
Has he been drinking?
She stepped closer, and the alcoholic fumes hummed from his sodden clothes. Her anger detonated, and she couldn’t hold back, as she pressed her palms flat on his chest and pushed him back, not caring what anyone thought.
“You selfish jerk. I booked La Rosa’s, hoping it would remind you of our first proper date and the promises we made to each other. But you couldn’t keep them, could you? God, I’m so stupid, and you’re right. I’m better off without you. I’m tired, so tired. I can’t do this any longer.”
Tears slipped down her face as she pulled off her platinum wedding band and thrust it at his chest. She heard it clatter to the floor as she blindly rushed out the door, tears hazing her vision as she dodged an army of pedestrians who swallowed her. Weaving through, being jostled by people rushing to their destination, she slipped away, determined to escape. Increasing her pace, she disappeared down the side street. Her cell vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it and ran until she located her Mercedes Benz coupe. Unlocking the door, she slid inside, slumping into the leather seat with her heart beating
fast, making her light-headed.
Navigating her way out of Boston on a Friday evening could be tricky. Add into the mix the fact it was Christmas Eve and pouring with rain, she could be stuck in her car for hours. Summer knew the short cuts and back streets to take, having lived in the city for nearly a year, but as she drove, wiping her wet cheeks, she slid her glance to her cell, which buzzed continuously. She expected her husband’s name to flash. Instead, her business partner Claire’s name lit up her mobile. She grabbed her phone and answered the call.
“Hey, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and to say thanks for the great bonus,” Claire said.
Summer sniffed and quickly pulled herself together, not wanting to talk about this evening.
“Not at all. You deserved it. You were always there when I needed you. The success of Hamilton Design is due, in a large way, to you. Look, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’m driving.”
“Actually, I thought this would go through to voicemail as I knew you had dinner plans.”
“I did,” Summer said abruptly.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” she said in a clipped voice that didn’t sound like her at all.
“Okay, only, if you fancy a trip north, there’s something I want to discuss with you. It’s to do with Hamilton’s.”
Summer stopped at the red light. The idea of going home alone right now didn’t appeal to her. Perhaps a drive would help clear her mind, and she could figure out what she needed to do next. Staring at the clock, she estimated how long it would take to drive up the ninety-three to Stoneham.
“Give me an hour. I need to stop for gas first.”
Once out of the city, Summer turned up the volume on the radio. Five minutes down the highway, a sign popped up advertising gas, and she maneuvered lanes to pull off. Summer followed the slip road as it swerved around and took a right turn to drive down the empty and dark road, no other traffic in sight. A song came on, and the hairs stood up along her neck as Jason Mraz belted out, I won’t give up. For a second, time suspended as she lost herself in the lyrics of the melody, and uncontrollable tears fell down her cheeks.
It was their song.
I promised him I would always keep trying, and I ran away.
Tears streamed down her face quicker than she could wipe them away. Summer flicked the windshield wipers, increasing the speed for a better view of the road as the rain fell like a furious waterfall. Peering through the glass into the misty darkness, a bright yellow light flashed, and she stared unblinking as time slowed, knowing what would happen but unable to stop it. An oncoming truck slammed into her, shunting the car backward and spinning it out of control. It catapulted off the main road.
Summer jolted back hard in her seat as the car bounced over the uneven terrain dropping down the embankment crushing everything in its path. She held the wheel, unable to let go. The car lights flashed up and down in the darkness as trees whipped past. Scenes from her life flashed before her eyes—her husband’s pensive stare, taking their vows in Las Vegas, arguing with her parents—as she gripped the steering wheel, fighting for control.
At the last minute, the wheels spun in the dirt but caught traction, allowing her to change direction. A huge tree loomed into view, and the car smashed headlong into it. Metal crunched, and glass shattered. Steamed hissed and rose from the bonnet. The smash thrusted her forward and lifted her as her head slammed into the windshield.
CHAPTER 2
Rafe
The minute Rafe saw Summer’s once-adoring eyes, he knew it was game over. The love that had shined brightly was replaced with open disgust. She twisted her wedding band off, shoving it at him. He stood frozen, unable to come up with the words to make her stay. After everything they had been through, her cold look told him he was too late. He didn’t want to argue or fight. Today was meant to be different. Today, he wanted to celebrate his good news. He wanted to share the secret he had been keeping from Summer that STEPS, his outdoor survival company, which he had founded with his buddies, would become a reality, not some idle fantasy. But she had walked away.
The agony of her leaving held him to the spot. He stared at her straight back as she fled the restaurant. He was a man of action, and yet, his feet wouldn’t move. Realizing her ring, which she had tossed away, dropped to the grubby floor, Rafe scrambled on his hands and knees, searching under tables and chairs. Guests sat down, and voices murmured around him, but he didn’t respond, until the man he had been about to punch had shoved the slim platinum band in his face. Rafe studied the waiter, the look of pity on his face not lost on him, nor the men who helped lift him up. He winced and rubbed his leg.
He pocketed the ring before adjusting his clothes and raked his hands through his hair.
“Mi’ dispiace,” he said, holding his hand out. The man snorted and gave him a short smile as he shook his hand.
“Your wife, she said she wasn’t feeling well. It may have added to her cattivo umore. Go and find her.” The waiter slapped his back. Yes, Summer was in a bad mood, and she had every right to be. He was probably the reason she didn’t feel well, and he shot out the door, determined to find her and fix everything.
A while later, he opened the front door to her well-organized third-floor condo. The familiar scent of her gardenia perfume and silence greeted him.
“Summer, are you here?”
Her car was not outside on Brattle Street, and she had not responded to his texts. Staring around the spacious, modern living room, he wandered to her fireplace and caught hold of the picture he had taken of Summer in a yellow bikini. The hot day in August had been picture perfect. They had driven to Good Harbor Beach on his motorbike and spent the day lazing in the sun and dining on strawberries and fresh air. She loved to snap pictures of him asleep, but he caught this one as she posed joyfully in the turbulent waves. He sensed her loss already taking root inside his heart. His cell buzzed, and he lifted it to take the call.
“Hello, I’m Marie Dickson. I’m a nurse practitioner at Mass General. Are you Mr. Rafe Byrant?”
“Yes.” The horns of cars from outside muted as he listened to the woman on the phone, not taking a breath.
“We found your details in Miss Hamilton’s purse…”
Despite her calm and professional manner, he sensed this wasn’t an easy call. He answered the questions asked of him in an automated and controlled voice. But once the call ended, he raced out of the flat, unsure whether he had locked the door and unable to recall all the details of the conversation. All that kept circling inside his head was the fact Summer had been in a car accident. At this moment, she lay on an operating table at Mass General fighting for her life.
She could be dead already.
Once he arrived at the hospital and gave Summer’s details, he was shown to a waiting area. Now, he paced the hospital corridor waiting for an update. The need for a cigarette screamed at him, despite not having smoked for several years. He called Summer’s parents, after speaking with the nurse, who explained it would be for the best.
What the hell did she know?
But he did it anyway and knew before long they would be here. He should go, but he couldn’t until he saw her and knew she was all right. Nurses dashed past, pulling gurneys, and he rubbed his forehead.
Why hadn’t he just grabbed hold of Summer and kissed her at the restaurant? Told her he loved her more than life itself and that she was everything to him? Why did he have one more beer?
Closing his eyes, standing in the busy hallway, he saw her radiant face as she looked up at him before she stood on tip-toes to kiss him with her mischievous, all-knowing smile. He couldn’t lose her. She was the light in his dark world, although he never believed he was good enough for her and wondered what she saw in him. Now, this accident. Was it his fault? He rubbed his hands over his face.
God, just let her live. I don’t believe in you, but she sure as hell does, and right now, she needs you. Save her, and I will walk a
way if that’s what’s best for her. Just say the word.
Summer was such a contradiction, bright and confident outwardly yet inside a bundle of insecurities she rarely let anyone see. Anyone except him. He wouldn’t accept her hiding anything from him. Although, he was such a hypocrite, keeping so many from her, scared he would lose her.
The hours ticked by, and he spoke with his friends on his cell, each wanting to come to the hospital, but he pushed them away, not wanting anyone here until she woke up. Sitting in the waiting room, he didn’t know how many hours passed, but a gentle shove woke him.
“Mr. Bryant, the doctor wants to speak with you.”
A chill invaded as he prepared himself to hear the words that would stop him dead. He followed right behind the pleasant woman as she led him toward a side room and entered as she closed the door behind him. Standing there was a man in blue scrubs writing in a folder. As he swallowed down the lump in his throat, he stared back at the closed door, wanting to leave.
“Mr. Bryant. Unfortunately, your…”
He pressed his hands over his head. “No, please, she must be all right…”
The doctor stepped closer and gripped his arm. “Mr. Bryant, she’s alive, but unfortunately, she lost the baby.”
Did he say baby?
He didn’t hear anymore; he was reeling from the fact Summer had been pregnant. They hadn’t been living together for the past six weeks. Hell, she had been pregnant and alone. Now, the words the waiter said about Summer not feeling well rang loud in his mind. It wasn’t because of him. She was right. He was a selfish jerk.
“Mr. Bryant, I know this is a lot to take in. Is there someone we can call to be here with you? I understand Summer’s parents are on their way, which is good because you will need their support.”
Why would I need their support?
