The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart

by Katie McGarry

  Rachel and Abby say Haley’s happy, and she looks happy. Through the window, I watch as Haley releases a beautiful smile as she hugs Noah and then Isaiah.

  Her hair is long, like I remember, but the brown has more of a chestnut hue. I remember the way her dark eyes flashed with fire the first time we met. She’s just as beautiful as she was back then. Today she wears blue. Blue always looked good on her, and that dress she wears fits her in every perfect way.

  A snap of fingers in front of my face, and I’m drawn back to the reason I’m here: Abby.

  “Young,” Abby says. “Where’s my something blue?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her, and I’m tempted to point at Haley, but I don’t. Instead I pull a jewelry box from the pocket of my tuxedo and hand it to her. In a slim-fitting white wedding gown, Abby tilts her head at me. “What’s that?”

  “Your something new and blue. I don’t do borrowed, so you’re going to have to live with the disappointment.” That’s what happens when she asks me to be her best man. She could have done the whole maid or matron of honor thing, but she didn’t go that route. It’s Abby so I roll with it.

  Her expression softens. “I was kidding. I wasn’t expecting you to get me anything. The whole present thing isn’t why I’m getting married.”

  Why she would think I wouldn’t buy her anything, I don’t know. She’s not just like a sister to me, she is my sister. My entire family is here because years ago, during her senior year, my parents adopted her. Abby, the former drug dealer, officially became a Young before her eighteenth birthday and also became a member of one of the richest families in Kentucky.

  Since then, she took on the role of a Young better than any of us born into the title. She is even one of my father’s top salespeople.

  Is the top salesperson, or was—not sure of that yet. Medically, it’s been a rough two years for her. She’s better now, and her spot at Dad’s company will be there if and when she ever wants to return. For now, she’s doing what Abby does best—living life her way.

  No rules, no regrets.

  Abby accepts the box from me, and the soft smile on her face is the reaction I had been hoping for. It’s a bracelet. Tiffany, of course, because my mom would be appalled if I bought anything else for her daughter. There’s four colored stones in silver settings. Three of the stones have names engraved in the silver—Abby’s name, the Youngs’ and Logan’s. The blue stone doesn’t have a name because the person who gave me the stone didn’t want the name on it. He told me Abby would know who it was from, and from the tears she’s batting away, she does.

  “When did you see him?” she asks.

  “A month ago,” I say. “He told me to tell you he loved you, and congratulations.”

  Abby’s father—the man who raised her for the first portion of her life—is serving life in prison. He only allows her to visit him once a year, and she does, faithfully. I took a chance to see if he wanted me to do anything on his behalf for his daughter’s wedding day. He gave me explicit instructions, and I followed them to the letter.

  “He told me that you’d know what it is.”

  She nods as she holds the bracelet out for me to put it on her. I do and then she touches the blue stone. “This belonged to my gran.”

  That’s what I thought.

  Abby clears her throat, smooths back her short chestnut hair and gives me her best Abby-rules-the-world stare. “Haley’s single.”

  That causes both of my eyebrows to raise, but I turn and check my bowtie in the mirror. “I thought she was dating some guy who thought he was as smart as a brain surgeon.”

  “He is a brain surgeon, and she broke up with him—about two months ago.”

  I’m dying to know why, but Abby’s baiting me, and I’m not going to give. Not even on her wedding day. If I do, they’ll be no reining her in. Abby, if anything, is incorrigible.

  “She asks about you,” Abby continues as she slips off the socks she had been wearing.

  Sure she does. “Probably wondering what’s wrong with the world that they allow me to be a high school guidance counselor.”

  “What if I told you she broke up with him because you are a high school guidance counselor?”

  I need to be done with this conversation. My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Rachel, the actual brains of this wedding, telling me that everything is ready to go. I show Abby the text. “Are we doing this wedding thing or not?”

  “Whatever, Young. Play it off as much as you want, but you still love Haley.”

  I do. “We grew apart.” It’s the truth, yet not. Haley grew, and I didn’t—at least not until it was too late.

  “Maybe you can grow back. Logan and I did.”

  Abby and Logan broke up after graduation. She went to college on the West Coast. He went to college on the East Coast, and they decided not to torture each other with a long-distance relationship but swore to remain friends. They did.

  She graduated and started working for our father. Logan graduated, went to medical school and ended up spending half his time in some practice and the other half in some laboratory looking through a microscope. That is until Abby was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. It hit her hard, hit her fast, and there were a few days at the beginning when the doctors prepared us for the worse. She defied death, but it was touch and go for two years, especially during the several rounds of chemo and the bone marrow transplant.

  Her disorder is something she’ll always have to deal with, but right now, she’s healthy.

  The moment Logan heard Abby was sick, he took the first flight from New York City to Louisville, and he’s never looked back. After the wedding, they’re taking a year and traveling the world. After all she’s been through, she deserves the break.

  Abby checks herself out in the mirror beside me and then takes a deep breath. “I’m ready now.”

  My eyes flicker to her bare feet. “Forgetting something?”

  “Nope. Now, lead me to my wedding.”

  I learned in high school never to argue with Abby. It’s safer for everyone that way. I offer Abby my arm, she accepts, and we head for the rest of her life.

  The vows have been said, most of the fanfare over and now the gathering only made up of close friends and family has entered a relaxed and celebratory mood. Logan and Abby are in the middle of the makeshift dance floor under the tent put up at the winery. He holds her close as they dance. They whisper and laugh with one another in a way that’s so intimate it feels like I should look away.

  Today has been one of the best in a long time. While we all stay in touch, our lives are busy. To have everyone in one place is a rare occurrence. Today feels good and right.

  Rachel and Echo are gathered around Beth, carrying on about triplets. Congrats are deserved, but I can’t figure out how you feed three at once.

  Isaiah, Noah, Ryan, Logan and Ryan’s high school friends Chris and Lacey and I are catching up while we watch their children have a dance-off on the corner of the dance floor. Everyone’s deep in conversation they believe I’m listening to, but Haley has my attention. She’s across the tent chatting with my mother and father. Both of them adored her, and I’m not surprised that they cornered her. My entire family grieved when we ended.

  Haley politely laughs with my mom, and I don’t miss how Haley’s gaze flickers toward me. It makes me think of my birthday in high school when my mother hijacked Haley to show her baby pictures of me. Back then, Haley was equal parts fascinated by Mom and ready for an escape. She wears the same expression now. I guess some things never change.

  Tonight, I’m still bad boy enough to have a few smooth moves remaining. I stand, button my tux coat and take the long walk toward the girl I loved more than my own life.

  Mom’s telling Haley about the tedious preparations leading to the wedding, and I go old school rude and don’t even bother to wait for Mom to take a breath. I slip in between them and offer my open palm to Haley. “Would you like to dance?”

  Haley and
I haven’t said hi, haven’t spoken a word tonight or in years. Short of each us catching the other looking from afar during the wedding, we’ve had no contact. Asking her to dance is bold, but if she remembers, bold is who I am.

  Mom falls silent, and Haley studies me. My hand remains still, unwavering, and she finally places her fingers in mine. I breathe out without meaning to. It’s been too long since I’ve experienced her touch.

  I lead Haley to the dance floor, and the sensation of her in my arms again is a heady one. Her scent sweet, her skin soft, her body warm. I wonder if she thinks of those nights where we’d spend hours in bed kissing, laughing, and talking, because I do. Almost every day. “Hello, Haley.”

  “Hello, West,” she says with a soft smile, but one that edges toward polite.

  “Run into the path of any cars lately?”

  She laughs, and this time the smile is real. “That was all you, Young.”

  It was, yet I fake insult and disappointment. “All these years and you’re still trying to blame me for your poor crossing-the-street choices. I’m shocked. Heads up, I’m spinning you now.”

  I turn Haley with the music, then half enact a dip that brings on applause from the peanut gallery of our friends near the mosh pit of toddlers.

  The spark in Haley’s eyes appears, and I wish I could go back and throat punch the stupid guy who was more concerned with being free in his twenties than loving this beautiful creature who is currently in my arms.

  “I hear you’re a high school guidance counselor,” she says.

  “Yeah, I woke up one morning and thought, ‘how can I roll around in the big bucks?’ You should see the bonus I get for coaching girls’ lacrosse. Five hundred dollars. I’m thinking I have enough to retire next year and live in the Caiman Islands.”

  Even though she’s aware I have a trust fund that could feed a small country for the next fifty years, my words have the effect I’m looking for—she laughs. I haven’t touched my trust fund, and don’t have plans to in the near future. I want to make it on my own, even on a guidance counselor’s pay.

  “Abby said you were a guidance counselor in Japan for a few years.”

  I taught English there as well. “I couldn’t resist the perks— free flight to another country.”

  Haley doesn’t laugh this time, but instead scans my face. “The boy I knew all those years ago was so determined to be a fighter.”

  Being a fighter didn’t bother Haley. It was my attitude that pushed her away. The boy she knew all those years ago was determined to never settle down. “I changed.”

  “Why?”

  Because I woke up and realized the worst mistake I ever made was letting her walk away. “I figured the best person to help a kid making all the wrong choices is an adult who made all the wrong choices when he was a kid. I think my Masters courses called this empathy.”

  I spin us, and there are a few more claps.

  “I forgot how good a dancer you are,” she says.

  “Did you?”

  I expect her to tease me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she says in a soft way as if recalling a good dream, “I remember.”

  I meet her eyes, and I try to say everything I should have said to her years ago, “So do I.”

  A flash of hurt in her eyes, and instinct causes me to pull her closer. Haley doesn’t resist; in fact, she places both of her arms around my shoulders like we’re eighteen and at prom all over again.

  “I was wrong,” I whisper in her ear. “All those years ago, I was wrong.”

  Haley grips me tighter, and I’d give anything if she would never let go. The two of us rock back and forth, and when she places her head on my shoulder, I silently wish that the song would never end, but it does. We stop moving, and we stand on the dance floor just holding one another. Haley eventually pulls back. “Thank you for the dance.”

  “Does it have to end?” I ask.

  The music has switched to a faster song, so she knows I’m not referring to the dance. I want another chance at fixing us. She glances around, and I follow her gaze. We have an entire group of friends watching our every movement. Won’t lie, most of them with smiles on their faces.

  That’s not helping.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask. “I can pull some strings and find us some of those crab cakes from earlier, as I happen to know the people putting on this gig.”

  Haley smiles again, and when I offer my hand for the second time tonight, she accepts once more.

  Chapter 34

  Abby

  My godson is the most amazing child in the world, and the world’s best dancer. Seth’s dress shoes are perched on my bare feet, and the two of us are rocking back and forth. In our combined hands is the white stuffed bunny he just gave to me for my wedding. Besides my bracelet and Logan saying I do, there isn’t a better gift anyone could have given me.

  Our own personal paparazzi are taking a million pictures of the two of us. The music ends, and everyone claps, causing Seth to let go of me and clap, too. I crouch down, and he gives me the most enthusiastic hug before running into Echo’s open arms.

  When my immune system had some fight to it, Echo would bring over her children to help bring some joy into my home. While Macie was fun, it was Seth who would cuddle with me and watch cartoons for hours on end. His warm and baby fat-padded hugs got me through many dark times.

  Arms circle my waist from behind, and I incline back into Logan. He kisses the side of my neck, and pleasing tingles run along my skin. This day has been amazing, like a dream made into reality, and I’m sleepy. My muscles melt at his touch, and I relax further into him, leaning on his strength as mine is starting to fade.

  “Come sit with me,” he whispers in my ear. Logan takes my hand, and we weave through our guests. We smile at them, accept congratulations, but no one stops us. Maybe it’s because Logan is determined to get me alone, and wears the face of a man who does what he wants when he wants to. I have a feeling, though, it’s because I have yet to sit since dinner, and my exhaustion shows.

  One of the awful parts of the past year? There were times I was so physically weak that there was no way to hide it. I lived a good portion of my life believing that showing any type of weakness was the equivalent of a death sentence.

  The past two years were one tough lesson after another on how pride doesn’t win me as many battles as I thought it would.

  I’m better now, though I’m not one hundred percent. This battle is one I’ll be fighting on some level for the rest of my life, but lucky for me, I’m a fighter, and the man I’m married is a warrior. Between the two of us, we can beat the impossible.

  A few feet away from the tent is a fire pit and a couch. The temperature of the fall evening has dropped as stars twinkle in the sky. I sit, and Logan slips off his tux coat and drapes it over my arms before joining me. I draw my feet up and recline into Logan as he wraps an arm around me.

  One of the many things I love about Logan: he doesn’t ask if I’m okay or if I’m tired or how I’m doing. He doesn’t make me feel weak, even when I am. He makes me feel as if it’s winning a battle when I take the moment to regain my strength.

  Logan lifts my wrist and rubs his finger over the blue stone. “West told me about it. Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” I say. “Thank you for today, and for my wedding present.”

  Logan has bought ten acres next to Isaiah and Rachel’s place, and on that land will be a house we will design together—with Noah’s help. It will also contain a play yard for my bunny army. Along with the deed for the land was a copy of an email I had sent to Logan when I was in juvenile detention as a teen. The email laid out my plan to take over the world with nothing but rabbits.

  “I had to talk Seth out of giving you a real rabbit,” Logan says. “He doesn’t understand why we can’t take it on a plane with us.”

  I tilt my head. “He does have a good argument. I mean bunnies are small, and—”

  “No,” Logan rejects any part of my s
tatement. “No bunnies on the trip. Nonnegotiable.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “I’m plenty of fun.”

  He is. Since I’ve known Logan, he has been a free spirit. Living life on his terms, never anyone else’s. Logan went to college, went to medical school, and then became a scientist determined to find a cure for diabetes. He works in a practice, he works in a lab, but mostly Logan lives life by traveling to places no one else will go. Doctors without Borders, personal voyages to places where he could help, trips to places where he could be alone.

  No rules, just Logan redefining the world.

  Living a life without rules cost me dearly as a teen. So, I did what any other young person who was determined to change would do—I ran in the opposite direction.

  College, a sales job in a reputable firm, black dress-suits with designer shoes, dinners, lunches, racing up the corporate ladder at a sprint. Responsible, determined, successful, resourceful, independent…and oddly enough I still felt as empty as I did selling drugs on the street.

  Then Logan reentered my life….

  In the tent, on a table, is a board of pictures taken over the past two years. Pictures of Logan and me as we took a journey. A journey where, when I had enough strength, he took me on every adventure possible. Often against doctors’ wishes. Often in the face of brutal arguments with our well-meaning friends. But he understood what I needed to defeat this attack on my body—he knew I needed to live.

  To live.

  I’ve seen eagles fly over snowcapped mountains. I’ve watched the sun rise and set in Key West. I’ve stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon and realized how small I am in the world. Logan has taken me all around this country, and now we are ready to spread our wings and fly.

  “We can bring a small bunny. One that fits in my purse. No one will notice.”

  “TSA will love that.”