Finding You Read online

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  ‘The only thing standing in the way of your own success,

  is you.’

  —Nigel Lindley.

  ‘Expect the unexpected,

  because the unexpected is expecting you.’

  —Nigel Lindley

  ‘You were put here for a reason,

  and the reason is here.

  You just have to find it.’

  —Nigel Lindley

  We could be light years apart,

  but you influence me every single day.

  I miss you. I love you.

  Always.

  I was sitting on my bed doing homework when mom got the call. The call that would shatter my world and everything in it.

  It was just a regular Saturday. My brother, Tate, his best friend, Logan, and I had been fighting over what we wanted to watch on the TV. Mom had become frustrated with our bickering, so she had sent us to our rooms to do our homework while she prepared dinner. It was mac and cheese, my favorite.

  Dad had gone out to the store to pick up some last minute things that mom had forgotten, he had asked me if I wanted to go with him. Normally, I would go everywhere with my dad, being ten-years-old, I was still a daddy’s girl. But, it was a cold night and my favorite TV show had just started when he had asked me; I said no. Little did I know I would regret not going with him for the rest of my life.

  I remember running down the stairs into the hallway, finding mom screaming on the floor, her hand clutching at her chest as though her heart had just been ripped from her body. Tears fell from her beautiful blue eyes as the phone was ripped from the wall, lying next to her in a tangled mess.

  She was trying to say something, but her voice was barely audible from the harsh rise and fall from her chest, heaving from the devastating words that were trying to escape her mouth.

  Logan’s mom, Mrs. White, had heard my mother’s screams from next door. The howling that poured from my mother’s lips were drowning out the regular noise of everyday life, life that was carrying on without us, while we stood frozen in time. Mrs. White came rushing into the house to see what was going on, finding mom and I on the floor. I was gently holding and rocking her trying to sooth her, while Tate and Logan stood there wide-eyed, not knowing what to do.

  The next thing I knew, I was in a cold, white room filled with the smell of anesthetic and cleanliness. The four walls felt as though they were caving in on me, I couldn’t breathe. Mom was crying hysterically into Mrs. White’s neck, as she tried to comfort her, stealing glances at us kids. Ensuring we were okay. But I was far from it. Apart from my mom’s heartbreaking sobs, the rest of the room was silent, making my ever-increasing heartbeat violently pound in my ears.

  My eyes seemed to focus on a mass of small white daisies that adorned the walls of the room. Ten white petals, one yellow center. I started counting in my head, trying to soothe my rapid heartbeat. One, two, three …

  Sitting on a worn blue sofa, I noticed scratches and pieces missing. The history of broken families waiting for news or comfort was unmistakable, as I felt it seep into my bones. Perched on the edge of the cushion I was still counting the faded white daises. Four, five, six …

  My attention was suddenly drawn to a man in a white coat as he walked through the door with the most pained expression on his face I had ever seen. I was frozen on the spot, as words I didn’t understand poured from him.

  Car crash.

  Drunk driver.

  Revived at the scene.

  The words replayed over and over in my mind, trying to understand what the man was saying, but my mind was in a haze of confusion. The only thing that made any sense to me was to be with my daddy, so I ran.

  I ran until my lungs burned and my eyes stung with unshed tears, trying desperately to find the only man who ever truly held my heart. The man who would kiss the scrapes and cuts better, the man who taught me how to ride a bike or tell me that Sleeping Beauty was just plain lazy. My Daddy.

  “Daddy!” I screamed, hoping I would hear his voice and this nightmare would end. I was frantic, suddenly in a corridor filled with endless rooms and adjoining corridors, not knowing which direction I should take. Daddy had always said, “If you’re lost, walk north. You will always find your way if you walk north.” So I did. I started walking, ignoring the curious looks from other people as I looked in every room down the long, narrow corridor that housed endless patient rooms.

  Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks when one of the patients caught my eye. I don’t know what it was, but when I stepped into the doorway, I found that I couldn’t take my eyes off the man in front of me. His eyes were so many shades of blue; I could get lost trying to count them. Tiny flecks of gold entwined around the deeper shades, making his eyes pop with so much more intensity. But it was the haunted look that grasped my attention. The intense look made it appear as though he had been through plenty of distress and trauma and I couldn’t look away. But, he turned his face away from me, and it was enough for me to snap back into the present and find my daddy.

  With my fear escalating, I started running, frantically checking every room and wondering if I was ever going to find him. I made it to the last door in the long, narrow corridor, I finally found him.

  It was the eerie silence I noticed first, it was hauntingly unsettling, rocketing my fear to its peak. Swallowing hard, I tried to suppress the ungodly urge to vomit when I walked into the room, my eyes quickly landing on my father. The man who had shielded me since I was first placed in his arms as an innocent child. I gasped, he didn’t look like the man I had seen hundreds of times before; he looked broken and damaged.

  His eyes were swollen shut, showing off the darkest of bruises I had ever seen, dried blood stuck to his now matted hair, as a bandage hid the worst of his injuries. I made my way towards him, wanting so desperately to hold his hand. The potent smell of car fumes penetrated my nostrils as my eyes took in the hellish nightmare before me.

  “Daddy” I whimpered, I was convinced he was fast asleep. But he didn’t answer. Now closer, I could see more apparent injuries. Part of his ear was torn and deep scratches adorned his once-beautiful face, but it was the unseen injuries that had caused the most damage. I would later find out that the force of the impact had caused irreversible damage and that he wouldn’t ever wake up.

  I was frozen with fear that I may never get to see my daddy again. It was enough to encourage me to move to his bedside to attempt to hold his hand.

  With my whole body trembling, I tentatively placed my tiny hand in his, my tear-filled eyes watching and waiting for any sign of movement. It was something I would always remember; realizing his once warm, welcoming hands were cold and pale.

  There were tubes and wires everywhere, machines beeped and flashed numbers while a screen above my father’s head flickered with different colored lines and more numbers th
at I didn’t understand.

  Why is this happening?

  Why isn’t he waking up?

  Why … why?

  Fear, devastation and pain crashed through me like a tsunami, each and every crash of the waves caused my lungs to burn and my heart to pound viciously. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe with every passing second. With my throat restricting and burning, I screamed out in emotional and physical pain of what lay before me.

  “Daddy! Wake up, you have to wake up. Please don’t leave me. “ I said in a hoarse whisper, but he didn’t move to try and comfort me, he just lay there, still and lifeless. “Daddy please, I promise to do my homework and stop arguing with Tate and, and I will … I will. Please, I need you, daddy!” I pleaded but he still didn’t move.

  Scrambling, I tried to climb onto the bed where he lay, wanting to place my head on his chest like I always did when he comforted me. I want him to kiss the top of my head and tell me everything was going to be okay, but he didn’t. I was suddenly aware of voices. People were screaming and crying, drowning out the machines that were carefully positioned around my daddy. Arms swiftly wrapped around me, pulling me away from my daddy.

  “No!” I screamed in protest trying to hold on for dear life to my father’s lifeless hand. “Let me go!” I shouted between sobs.

  But they didn’t let go. Instead, they tore me away from my father, telling me it was okay. It wasn’t okay. I wanted my daddy!

  People were crying and talking all around me, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying, it was all white noise. All I could hear was my thundering heartbeat, beating heavily as if it was ready to leap out from my chest. Suddenly, I heard a voice it was so clear, so brutal that it splintered through my pain, shutting everybody else out.

  “Turn off the life support,” was all I heard, all I needed to hear. My daddy was never coming back. They were going to let him go.

  Warm arms suddenly embraced me, pulling me into a hug that took my breath away. The next thing I remember, I was back at home, asleep on our sofa. Logan was crouched down on the floor next to me, wearing a pained expression, stroking lazy circles in my skin on my arm.

  “I will always protect you Nev.”

  10 years later …

  Ten white petals …

  Thud.

  One yellow center …

  Thud.

  One … thud. Two … thud. Three … thud.

  I can feel hands around my throat, my breathing becoming shallow as I try to scream on the inside, not knowing if my own nightmare filled with the demons of my past will kill me while I sleep. My heartbeat roars as it pounds relentlessly, leaving a ringing sensation in my ears. The smell of antiseptic suddenly hits me, so potent against my nostrils. It is so strong that I can taste it in the back of my throat. The pressure around my neck loosened enough for me to get my bearings. I am back on the bridge again, pinned to the wooden slabs by someone or something I can’t see, nor describe. There is nowhere to go, I am trapped on the bridge that leads to nowhere, keeping me forever in the darkness, never to see the light again.

  I can taste the fear in my throat drowning out the antiseptic, I can feel my fear pouring into my gut as my body absorbed it. It is in my bones, in my soul. Gripped with fear, my eyes transfix on the demon above me, a black and smoky silhouette figure towering over my tiny frame, I can never make out who or what the demon is.

  The grip around my neck tightens once more, my hands trying to reach for anything to help free me; but there is nothing, there is always nothing. I can see the bridge clearly, but I can never feel it against my skin, just the subconscious pressure of it against my back, a mixture of pressure and the feeling of floating.

  “Stop, please. No!” I want to scream, but my vision is becoming blurry as my head swims with weightlessness. Images project against the dark shadow of the demon above me, a car severely damaged, flashing blue lights and screaming, the chaos.

  I thought I am going to die, I am ready to just let go, but I never die in my nightmares. I just hang on the edge, the demon forcing me to remember.

  Suddenly, the nightmare slowly starts to release me, the twisted dark depths of my past slowly fade into a painful reminder of what was cruelly taken, what I will never get back.

  Thud … my heart slamming against my chest.

  Thud … my throat constricting tightly.

  Thud … my lungs burning with every breath.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  My lids are heavy, so heavy that I don’t think I can open my eyes.

  “Come back to me.” A familiar soothing voice wraps around my mind, trying to release me of my own painful imprisonment.

  I try desperately to speak to the voice, wanting him to pull me out from the torture that holds me captive within my own mind, my tongue heavy and my mouth dry. My skin becomes saturated with sweat, my toes curl as if in pain, my heart is heavy with unrelenting sadness.

  The light is almost too much to bear as I finally manage to open my eyes, squinting as the light penetrate them, burning right through me. There is a figure above me once more, but it isn’t dark and twisted like the demons in my nightmares, it is home. I’m home.

  “You haven’t had a nightmare in a really long time.” I squint my eyes painfully as I try to adjust to the light, the darkness of my nightmares had concealed me for too long, keeping me under and not letting go. The voice soothed my soul and punctured through the dark depths of my mind, clearing the haze of dark clouds that rested like an imprint in front of my eyes.

  “Logan?” I croaked, my voice hoarse and shaky as if the hands that had pinned me down had caused physical harm. Some people would say nightmares couldn’t physically hurt you, but mine do. You just couldn’t see the bruises, they were deep within my body. My heart and soul, they were bruised, broken and shattered; my mind tumbling back to places I wouldn’t even want an enemy to experience.

  “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re safe.” He whispered, placing a glass of water in my shaking hands. I licked my painfully dry lips before quickly forcing the water down my throat. It relieved the dryness but not the taste, I could still taste my fear laced with antiseptic.

  “More,” I croaked. I needed to get rid of the taste, otherwise I was going to vomit, my stomach already turning from the fear that was still penetrated deep inside me. Before I could blink, my empty glass was replaced by another, he had been prepared. He was always prepared.

  “Thank you.” My voice becoming clearer as the water coated my throat. “I’m sorry.” I apologized, trying to hide the shame within my voice. I hated him seeing me like this, seeing the broken me.

  “Don’t be sorry for something you have no control over,” He said gently, the pad of his thumb wiping tears from my eyes that must have escaped while I was in the depths of hell. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”

  I tentatively threw back my now wet sheets, slowly swinging my legs off the bed while Logan placed my arm around his neck, ready to support my weight. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to settle my still pounding heartbeat before finally pushing through my legs to stand on my feet. On shaky legs I moved my right foot forward. My legs felt so heavy from sheer exhaustion, melting into Logan’s side as he all but carried me to the en-suite bathroom in my dorm.

  My oversized shirt clung to my body as Logan placed me in the shower, the water warming my skin, but I knew no matter how hot the water may be, it would never warm my aching heart.

  “I’ll just be right outside the door if you need me, okay?” I could only nod, my throat constricting as the sobs threatened to escape. Pushing away my unshed tears, I mulled over what had happened. The demons were back, my past melting into my present. It was the ten year anniversary of my father’s death, the event had triggered my nightmare, triggered my fears. My stomach churned violently, making me nauseous. Breathing slowly, I tried to push away the sickening feeling, knowing all too well that it would come back sooner or later.

&
nbsp; After a longer shower than normal, I quickly dried myself, then brushed my teeth. Pulling on another oversized shirt that was hung on the back of the bathroom door, I threw on some boy shorts from my emergency stash of clean underwear in the hamper before opening the door.

  Leaning against the door frame was 6 foot 2 inches of pure male. Long lashes framed the clearest of brown eyes. If you looked close enough, you could make out small scattered flecks of green. His chocolate brown hair was styled into that mussed up and sexy look, sitting at the perfect length to run your fingertips through it, while his smooth, defined lips wore a sexy smirk. Yeah, he actually looks like this every morning.

  He wore low-slung jeans designed to show off his toned body, coupled with a white t-shirt, tight enough to count each and every one of his muscles on his sculptured torso. He was my brother’s best friend, but even I couldn’t deny the hotness that seeped out of his every pore. I suddenly forgot what I was doing, all appropriate thoughts had flown out of the window.

  “You okay?” He asked. My mind drew a blank, wasn’t I supposed to do something with my brain and my mouth here? Focus Neva!

  “I’m fine.” My mouth finally engaged with my brain, an involuntary shiver rolled down my spine as Logan eyed my bare legs.

  “Hey, so that’s where my favorite shirt went!” Logan said, shaking his head as if trying to remove thoughts from his mind.

  I had borrowed his shirt a couple of days ago. It was deep green in color, matching the flecks in his eyes. I had been over at my brother’s dorm watching a movie when I had spilt soda onto my camisole. My brother had thrown Logan’s shirt at me and told me to wear it. It smelt like Logan, a perfect balance of spiced apple and musky cinnamon, reminding me of Christmas. It was now my favorite shirt.

  “You can’t have it, it’s mine.” I smiled. But the smile faded when my stomach churned once again, as if my body was reminding me of why Logan was here in the first place, I shouldn’t be smiling.

  “Do you know how many women would kill for my shirt?” Logan asked cockily as he followed me from the bathroom into my room, standing at the edge of my bed.