I cover my mouth with my hand to try and stifle the sobs.
“I don’t want her, or you, going through life having to be my eyes if this thing sticks. Please, Mila. Take her.”
His jaw trembles as he squeezes my hands, pleading with his entire body.
I push my chair back and stand up, yanking my hands from his grasp.
How dare he ask me such an impossible favor? How dare he both give me all I’ve ever wanted and take it away at the same time?
I walk to the railing and grab it, staring out at the frozen world in front of me. I don’t even feel the wind biting at my skin. I just feel the heat of the anger I feel, toward cancer, toward the damn tumor. Toward life in general, for being so unfair. For not giving us enough time.
But then I lift my eyes to him, sitting with his face in his hands. This beautiful mess of a man who has led me to such a wild, uncertain life. And yet, even like this, even unsure how much time we have, I wouldn’t trade it for a slow, easy, steady life. I’d keep the pain, the trenches we dug ourselves out of, the complete and utter despair I feel about the idea of possibly losing him. I’d keep it all for the moments where he touches me or brushes my hair back. For the moments he watches me cook or smiles at me while Annabelle and I dance in the living room. I’d keep it all.
I walk to him and wiggle in between his legs. I take his hands from his face and kneel down in front of him. I put them on my face, and then I put my own on his.
“Listen to me,” I say. He keeps his eyes closed, but I know I have his attention. “I will never, ever leave that little girl. I will always be here for her, no matter what that means. No matter where...no matter where you are. But you are more than your eyes, Ryder Casey.”
He lifts his head a bit, his expression pained and unsure about where I’m going.
“All those years ago, when I felt like I was stuck, a sitting duck in a big old lake, you were the one who got me back to shore. Who told me not to be scared. That my parents would make it. That we would make it.”
“Yeah. Right before I destroyed it all,” he says.
“But look where I am now. Six months ago, I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. I was drowning again. And then I came to you. And I’m back on land. Now, maybe it’s your time to let me pull you in.”
He leans back in his chair, not buying what I’m saying.
“Ryder, you’re her father. You are her everything. Do you think she wouldn’t want you just because you can’t see?”
He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face.
“How will I––”
“We.”
He cocks his head and shoots me a look. For a moment, it feels like he knows exactly where I’m standing.
“It’s we from now on. Eventually, you will figure things out. Even if...even if your sight never comes back. You will learn how to walk; you will learn how to read; there’s therapy and resources and people who are pros at this. Your vision doesn’t make you. And it certainly doesn’t get to take you from us. And neither do you. You don’t get to make that decision for us. Got it?”
I lean in closer to his face.
“You’re stuck with me,” I whisper. “You sure you’re ready for that?”
He smiles and leans forward, his hands finding my face again. He pulls my head to his so that our noses touch.
“Born ready,” he whispers before kissing me like I’ve never been kissed in my life.
A kiss that says nothing is certain, except for how we feel right here in this moment.
He pulls to his feet and wraps his arms around my back, letting his tongue explore mine. My head drops back, and he kisses my neck, leaving a trail down to my nape. I feel this surge of energy flowing through him, one he hasn’t had in a few weeks since the treatment kicked in.
We pull apart for a moment, and he leans into me.
“Lead me inside,” he whispers, his voice grizzly and hurried. A spark of excitement flows through me, pooling in my most delicate area.
“Ryder, are you sure?”
“Let’s go,” he says, reaching his hand out to me. I help him into the living room, and he feels for the furniture. He gets around fairly easily in his own home, and when he gets to the couch, he turns to me and turns a hand up to me. I take it, and he pulls me into him. His hands slide down my body and tug at the hem of my shirt. I take a breath and lift my arms over my head. He pulls the sweater up over it, my undershirt going with it. He unclasps my bra, and chills ripple across my skin.
He leans back onto the couch and holds his arms out. I sink down on top of him, relishing in the way his hands feel on my bare skin. He takes me into his mouth, and I gasp at how well he can love my body. And his hands find every inch of me that needs him. I smile to myself. He doesn’t need to see my body; his body remembers every corner of mine, like they were made for each other. It’s not that we’re pieces that fit together perfectly. It’s that we were two uneven, jagged pieces that have ground together, sanding each other until we became a perfect fit.
29
Six Months Later
“What about this one?” my mom asks, holding out a little denim dress with a pink bow on the neckline.
I shake my head.
“Not her style,” I tell her, rifling through another one of the racks in front of me.
“This one?” she asks me. This one is green with bows on the sleeves. I shake my head again.
“No bows, Ma,” I laugh. “She’s not really a bow kinda girl.”
Mom smiles.
“She might not have your blood in her veins,” she says, “but that girl has so much of you in her it’s scary.”
I look down the aisle of clothes at Annabelle who is happily humming while she slides one piece of clothing after the other around the rack. She’s very particular. I love that about her. She’s a girl that knows what she likes. I smile as I watch her, perfectly content in her own little world. She has no idea right now that she’s mine.
Just as I’m about to walk over to her, I hear my name.
“Mila?” he asks, and I swallow.
I turn slowly toward him. It’s been so long since I’ve seen his face. He looks a little bit older, more wrinkles around his eyes. As he shifts the things in his hands, I notice the twinkle of a wedding band on his finger.
“Luke,” I say, breathless. He smiles at me and walks toward me. Without thinking, I pull him in for a hug.
“You look great,” he says. Then my mom appears in the aisle, and he pulls her in for a hug, too. He turns back to me. “How are you? I was so sorry to hear about––” He pauses to clear his throat. “I was so sorry to hear about Ryder.”
I nod and give the same sad smile I’ve been giving people for the past eight months or so. I’m really over the pity party that’s been thrown for us by every person we know––and even those we don’t––over the last year.
Just then, Annabelle stumbles out from the racks of clothes and runs to me.
“I like this one, Mama!” she says, holding up a red jumpsuit. I’m still not quite used to her calling me that, and I still feel a pang of guilt whenever she does. But I’m determined not to let the memory of Maura fade. After all, Annabelle is truly the spitting image of her—at least, what I’ve gathered from pictures. Absolutely stunning. I keep a picture of Maura framed in our living room, and we talk about her a lot. She will know who her mother is. I only hope I’m doing her proud, raising her how Maura would have wanted.
I feel Luke’s eyes on me. I turn back to him.
“And who is this?” he asks, his lips turning up into a smile.
“This,” I say, pulling Annabelle into me, “is my daughter, Annabelle.” I feel my chest puffing as I say it. I love calling her that. He looks at me again, a curious smile on his face. He knows she’s not really mine––I was still married to him when she would have been born. But nevertheless, he smiles then kneels down to her.
“Hi, Annabelle,” he says.
�
�Hi. Who are you?” she asks. We both laugh.
“My name is Luke,” he says. “I’m an old friend of your…of your mom’s. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiles and nods, clinging to my hand. He stands back up, and his eyes meet mine.
“It was so good to see you, Mila,” he says. I smile and nod. As he turns to walk away, he calls my name again. I turn back.
“I’m so glad he gave you what you wanted most,” he says to me. Then, he turns and walks out of the store. I sigh and turn back to the little girl in front of me still holding up the jumpsuit.
I’m a little surprised by the choice; it’s...loud. It’s bright red with black polka dots all over. On the front is a heart made from gold sequins.
“Wow,” I say, “it’s so bright and colorful! Are you sure this is the one?” I ask her. You only get your first day of kindergarten outfit once, after all.
She nods enthusiastically.
“I like it because then Daddy can see it, too,” she says. My mother and I look at each other then back to her.
“What...what do you mean, baby?” I ask. She walks toward me and pulls the jumpsuit down. She takes my fingers and looks up at me.
“Close your eyes,” she tells me. I do. Then, she takes my fingers in hers and runs them across the sequins, trailing the border of the heart.
“See,” she says. “Daddy can see it, too.”
I open my eyes, now filled with tears as I stare back at her.
“Yeah, sweet girl,” I say, my voice cracking. “And he will love it.”
Later that afternoon, I’m looking out the window while she runs across the lawn in her bathing suit. My mom and dad are in the kitchen, grabbing plates and baskets of food and bringing them out to the deck. Derrick is chasing Annabelle across the grass, ducking from the streams of her squirt gun. May and Alma are under the deck, chatting away, and the breeze is making everything feel hazy and perfect in that Meade Lake way.
I look out to the water, and on our dock sits the most perfect man in the world, letting his feet dangle in the water. I smile and slip out the back door. I walk down the dock, letting my shoes scrape across the wood a little bit so he knows I’m coming. I drag my hand across the railings that Derrick installed on either side so that Ryder can come down here on his own.
After the surgery, most of the tumor was gone. Treatment worked on the last of the cancer, and he’s officially been in remission for a month and a half.
He can make out some shapes, but he says it’s like being in a dark room before your eyes adjust––shadows everywhere.
But we’re figuring it out.
We’ve changed the forms at the shop so that different ones are printed in different stock so he can tell them apart. He’s learning Braille, and we’ve made some improvements to both the house and the store so it’s easier for him to get around. In our house, he barely uses his cane anymore. He knows his way around so well. We got rid of unnecessary furniture and decor that could trip him up.
We’re figuring it out. It’s hard. But he’s still here. And he’s still mine.
“Hey, you,” he says before I even get all the way to him.
“Hi,” I say, sitting down next to him. He slips an arm around my back and pulls me into him for a long kiss.
“How was shopping?” he asks.
“Great. We found a lovely jumpsuit,” I tell him. I pause for a moment. “I, uh, ran into Luke.”
He tilts his head and turns to me.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He said he was sorry about what happened to you. And, uh, that he was glad you gave me what I always wanted.”
He smiles curiously.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, after all this time, you’re not the one who took everything away. You’re the one who gave me everything.”
He pulls me in for another kiss, and I snuggle back against him as we stare out over the water.
“Mostly orange, with some streaks of magenta,” I whisper just as I do every night so that we can share the sunset together. “It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Can’t be. I’m looking at her right now,” he says. I kiss his cheek.
The waves from the wakes of boats flying by lap up against our feet and the dock. I breathe in the moment, soaking in the peace of having all I could ever need. I look back at him, still with the same boyish charm he’s had since I was sixteen.
He’s a rope, and he might have some fray to him. There might be some knots along the way, but if I follow him, if I hang on, I know I’ll get back to shore.
PROLOGUE
Stones Unturned, Meade Lake, Book 2
“Mama?” I call as I walk into her house, flipping through her mail that I grabbed on my way in. I moved out almost a decade ago now, and somehow, stuff still comes here for me. In my other hand is a single wildflower I plucked from the side of the road before making my way over here today. The wildflowers in Meade Lake are like no other, especially this time of year. And Lord knows, Mama needs some cheering up right now.
“In here, Derrick” she says, and immediately, something in the air shifts. There’s no pep in her voice, there’s no glimmer of happiness or joy. There’s darkness, something that’s rare for Mama. Something I haven’t heard in her voice in a long, long time.
I walk through the house and into the living room, where I see her standing in the back, slowly sipping from a mug and staring out the sliding glass doors.
“Mama?” I ask again as I walk closer to her. I look down at the flower. “I found this for ya today. It reminded me of you.” I feel like a damn child, bringing my mommy a flower that I found while playing outside. As I look at her face, worn and tired, facing the heartbreak that she’s heading for, I wish I could throw it outside. She turns to me slowly, and a quick, sad smile dances across her lips.
“That’s beautiful, baby,” she says, reaching a limp hand out to take it. I walk toward her and put my hands on her shoulders, leaning down to rest my chin on one. She sighs as she reaches up to cover one of my hands with her tiny one.
“What are they saying, Mama?”
She sighs again, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see her bottom lip trembling.
“They’re saying she doesn’t have much time at all, D,” she manages to get out, her voice
barely above a whisper. “They’re saying I don’t have much time left with my very best friend. I’m not sure how to do this life without her, D.” She turns into me, her face colliding with my chest, her arms reaching around me. I hold her tight, cradling her head. For most of my life––the good part of it, anyways––May has been a constant. She brings out the best in Mama, she brings out the best in us. But her time is limited.
Complications of emphysema and COPD. A horrible way to die. Her treatments haven’t been working. And two weeks ago, May opted to stop it all. She told Mama she didn’t want to fight it anymore. She just wanted to live.
Except, living for May these past few weeks has looked a lot like dying.
I lie in bed that night, tossing and turning. Worried for my mom, heartbroken for May’s granddaughter, Haven. Heartbroken for myself, and the bond I share with May. She saved us, that woman. Saved us all.
I wish there was a way I could repay her. A way I could let her know, before it’s too late, that all she did for me and my family will never be forgotten. That I’ll never take the life she helped us live for granted.
And then I remember the photo.
I pop up in my bed and lean over to my nightstand, pulling the drawer out. I lift up the framed picture of me, Mama, and Teddy, and pull out the folded, faded picture.
It was a few months ago, right after May’s diagnosis. I had gone to her house to check in on her, when she sat me down on her deck. She’d sat with my hand in hers for a few minutes, like she was trying to get her bearings. Then she turned to me and handed me this photo. An old faded photograph of May, two decades before, here in Meade Lake. She’s sitting on the same dock w
e’re looking at now, only, she was just here for vacation, then. And in the photo, she’s got her arms wrapped around a little girl who definitely shares May’s DNA.
“This is my other girl,” she’d told me, and I remember how shocked I was. We’d always known about May’s other granddaughter, the one she left back in Georgia. But we hadn’t talked much about her. She had looked down at the photo, stroking it with her finger as her eyes welled with tears. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. She’s all grown up, now. A few years younger than you. I never knew her. And now, I guess I never will.”
She turned to me and put the photo in my hand before patting it and walking back inside the house. On the back of the photo, were the words “Kaylee and me at the lake,” written in perfect cursive.
I look at May, then Kaylee, then back to May again.
Maybe May and Kaylee can be at the lake together, just one more time.
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COMING SOON - THE MEADE LAKE SERIES
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Stones Unturned
Coming soon…
In Winters Past
Moving Mountains
Acknowledgments
I have been sitting on pieces of this series for over ten years now, and I am so excited for the world to meet the Meade Lake crew. I want to thank my fellow indie friends who are constantly letting me bounce ideas off of them, giving me advice, letting me vent, and cheering me on. I love the tribe we have, and I am so thankful for you ladies!
SJ and KG - I cannot thank you enough for being there. OKVGT.
I want to thank my Gram and Pop for giving us the place where I made so many memories and the place where this series was born from––the lake house. Some of the best times of my life were made there, and without all those lake trips and mountain air, this series would never have seen the light of day.
Back to Shore (Meade Lake Series Book 1) Page 18
