Half of Me

by J. M. Paul

  OTHER CONTEMPORARY NOVELS BY J.M. PAUL

  Freeing Liberty

  THE LAST SERIES

  Last Summer

  Last Chance

  Copyright © 2017 by J.M. Paul

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.jmpaulauthor.com

  Cover Designer: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, www.okaycreations.com

  Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9971512-5-1

  For every woman who wants to be a mother and can’t.

  No one understands our pain like we do. May we forever be mommies in our hearts.

  And for Kim Bennett and Amy Ballard.

  Thank you for allowing me to be such an involved part of your pregnancies.

  I love you, I appreciate you, and I will never be able to repay you.

  CONTENTS

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  My Story

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  * * *

  BEGINNING OF THE END

  Two weeks ago, my identity as a woman was stolen. My only dream was ripped from me—literally cut out, scrutinized, and then thrown in the trash like it had no meaning. The pieces of me that were coveted, loved, and brought so much hope were suddenly gone, and now, I’m stuck in limbo, trying to figure out who I am and who I will become.

  Tears tumble down my cheeks as I sit on the park bench and look out over the lake before me. Earlier this morning, my doctor gave me the all-clear to drive, but it doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been driving for the last week. It’s not in me to rely on other people, and quite frankly, there really isn’t anyone for me to depend on anyway. My mom died of an aneurysm two years ago, and three months later, my father died from what I claim to be a broken heart. And I’m an only child.

  My mom and dad loved me, but I was a mistake. They would never have called me unwanted—I saw and felt glimpses of their adoration—but a normal couple wouldn’t have planned to have a child in their fifties. My mother’s name is documented in medical journals as one of the few women over the age of fifty to conceive naturally and give birth to a healthy baby.

  It makes me feel like there is a blinking neon sign above my head that says, Mistake.

  I have surrounded myself with a large group of great friends, but they’re busy starting their lives—as they should be. Most of us graduated college with our bachelor’s degrees last spring, and many are beginning their professional careers, moving around the country, planning weddings, or preparing to have children.

  I’m not doing any of those.

  “Jagger, slow down, buddy. I don’t want you to fall in,” a deep male voice says behind me.

  When I lift my head and blink away the moisture blurring my vision, a toddler runs past me, toward the water. Stopping abruptly, he picks up a rock and throws it in the lake. It makes a splash, and he turns—jubilation and pride pushing up his chubby cheeks—and seeks the adult who called out to him.

  The boy’s attention is averted to me, and his eyes sparkle before his brows furrow. Without hesitation, he darts to stand before me.

  “Why are you crying?” he asks.

  Brushing my hands over my tearstained face, I wipe away the evidence. I release a sigh, feeling much older than my twenty-three years.

  “Because I’m sad.” I try to smile, but it’s been so long since I’ve used those muscles that it feels like they don’t remember how to work.

  “Angels aren’t supposed to be sad.” The toddler tips his head that’s full of light-brown curls. His blue eyes study me with such intensity that I feel like he can see the weight of my existence pressing against my shoulders.

  Angels?

  “Jagger, what have I told you about talking to strangers?” the guy scolds the toddler when he catches up to the escape artist.

  The adult grabs the boy’s hand and then turns to me.

  “Sorry,” he apologizes for the interruption. “He loves to talk to people.” The man kneels down to Jagger’s level. “And we’re working on that, aren’t we, son?” He taps the boy’s nose with his finger.

  Jagger dips his head and digs his toe into the grass.

  When my gaze collides with the dad’s, my stomach squeezes, and my heart feels like it has grown dove’s wings and is learning how to fly. Instant heat zings throughout my body as I’m struck by his handsomeness. He’s tall and muscular, and his too-long dark hair flops onto his forehead. The unruliness of his locks seems out of place when I take in his expensive dress shoes, pressed black slacks, the white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his loose tie. Those threads aren’t from a local retail store; they are designer and tailored to fit his perfect physique.

  Hottie McDaddy’s attire screams serious businessman, so I wonder what has brought him to the park with a happy, active, and very curious toddler on a Tuesday afternoon.

  Jagger lifts his head and points at me. “She’s sad, Daddy, like us.”

  Hottie McDaddy’s searing blue eyes study me, and they seem to hold a deep misery that is almost as profound as mine. Maybe it’s possible that the weight on his shoulders is quite heavier than my load.

  To break the intense moment between the handsome stranger and me, I rub my eyes again, trying to uselessly hide any indication of my earlier breakdown.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Hottie McDaddy stands from his crouched position, and my vision follows his movement. He gives me a glum grin before he sticks his hand out toward me. “Jacob Ancroft. Jake.”

  I reach up to place my palm in his. The warmth from our contact radiates up my arm until it starts to circle and take over my chest. I swallow deeply and will myself to pull it together.

  It’s just a handshake with a stranger.

  “Joslyn Stone,” I say.

  “Nice to meet you, Joslyn.” Jacob pulls his hand from mine and rumples the little boy’s hair. “This curious monster is Jagger.”

  Jagger beams at me, and I discover it’s much easier to smile this time.

  “Hi, Jagger. I’m Joslyn. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I offer my hand for him to shake, and he does, just like a little grown-up. It makes me wonder if he’s too old for his age or if he’s used to formal introductions.

  Not that this is formal.

  When Jagger releases me, he lifts his atte
ntion to Jacob. “Can I throw rocks now?”

  “Sure, buddy, but not for long. We have to go see someone very special after this, so don’t get wet or dirty.” Jacob lifts his eyebrows at his mini-me with light-brown hair.

  Jagger spins and sprints toward the water. “Okay, Daddy!”

  Shaking his head and chuckling at his son, Jacob stands and watches Jagger toss a couple of stones in the lake. When Jacob turns toward me again, his probing eyes assess me.

  I wonder what he sees besides a pathetic girl sitting on a bench by herself in a park. Next to the flashing Mistake sign above me, there should be another that says, Loser.

  “I’m sorry for the disruption. We’ll leave you alone,” Jacob murmurs.

  Before he starts to turn, I say, “That’s okay. It was welcomed.”

  Anything that distracts me from thinking about my problems is appreciated. Too many weeks, months—almost a year—have been wasted, as I wallowed in the sorrow of my doomed future.

  Jacob twists to check on Jagger and then focuses on me again. “Mind if I sit?” He gestures to the bench.

  “Sure.” I scoot over even though there’s plenty of space for two strangers to share this bench in the park.

  He sits on one end, and I sit on the other, but it’s close enough for the anguish and exhaustion to roll off of him and over me.

  When I peek at him through my lashes, he’s watching Jagger talking to himself and throwing rocks in the water. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t noticeable to me before—or maybe because I wasn’t paying attention—but they’re apparent now.

  We’re silent for a short time as we observe the active little boy playing by the large lake. A few kayakers float by, and Jagger waves enthusiastically. Then, he turns to his father to make sure it’s acceptable behavior. It’s obvious he’s trying to learn the appropriate stranger-danger conduct. Jacob nods, and the pride on his face is immediate, but then it falters.

  I wonder what makes him sad.

  We sit in comfortable silence for several minutes, lost in our own thoughts.

  “I know I’m a stranger, but if you need to talk, I’ll listen.” Jacob shifts toward me on the bench. “Sometimes, it’s easier to unload your problems on someone you don’t know. I won’t pass judgment, but it wouldn’t matter if I did because it’s likely we’ll never see each other again.”

  The thought of this being the only time I’ll ever see Jacob makes me unhappy, and I’m not certain why. He’s right; we’re strangers. And how can I miss a person I don’t even know? This man and his adorable little boy stumbled into my life only ten minutes ago, but it has been the most powerful short period of time in quite a while.

  “Thanks,” I answer awkwardly.

  Jacob raises his brows, and I study his blue irises so closely, I get lost in their depths. The air seems to thicken, and my cheeks begin to heat, so I turn my attention back to the little boy, who is finding joy in playing by himself and hunting for the perfect-sized stone.

  Where do I even begin?

  “My boyfriend of three years broke up with me.” That’s the easy answer, the true yet typical answer.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Jacob studies me. “And why would someone break up with such a beautiful young woman?”

  Woman? I’m not sure that’s a true statement any longer.

  I shrug, unsure of how much I want to reveal to this handsome yet unfamiliar person sitting next to me. Although Jacob has made an impact in his short time with me, I’m still struggling with the stark truth of my reality.

  “Our…situation changed. So, instead of staying and trying to figure things out between us, I guess he thought it was easier for him to leave.” My voice sounds detached—almost as if I didn’t care, but that’s untrue.

  The anguish of having the man I’d thought I would spend the rest of my life with walk away without so much as a glance back ripped apart my already-shredded heart.

  “That’s a shame because, without knowing you, I can say with confidence that he was an idiot and didn’t deserve you.” Jacob leans to the side and covers my hand with his.

  The tension in my neck loosens, and the pressure in my chest lessons at the contact.

  “He had a reason for leaving,” I whisper as I entwine my fingers through his.

  It has been so long since someone has comforted me, and I revel in the companionship and solidity his touch brings.

  “And why was that?”

  Jacob lightly squeezes my hand, and I feel it in my stomach.

  I exhale loudly, trying to decide if I should tell him my dark and dirty secrets. He’s technically a stranger, but it still doesn’t make revealing my flaws easier. Once the skeletons in my closet are spoken out loud, they’ll have a way of twisting, multiplying, and gaining even more strength to strangle me.

  Jacob will get a part of me but not all of me.

  “I couldn’t offer Brett what he wanted anymore”—I shrug—“so he dumped me.” As I exhale, my shoulders sag, and then word vomit spews from my mouth. “After three years together, he left without hesitation. I don’t know what his actions say about me, our relationship, or how useless I am now.” A tear slips down my cheek, and I brush it away with my free hand. “I thought he was the man I would marry and start the rest of my life with, and eventually, we’d create a family together.” The last word comes out on a sob.

  “Shh, Joslyn, it’s okay.” Jacob tries to console me, but now that I’ve released the dam, I’m drowning in emotions.

  I vigorously shake my head. “No, it’s not okay. It’ll never be okay.”

  I’m not saddened over the fact that Brett left me—although that wounds me deeply—but it’s more the reason he couldn’t stay. Every guy I become involved with in the future will have to know the truth about me before things can progress between us. And most men will examine me, my situation, and my limitations and leave—the same as Brett.

  “Then, make me understand, Joslyn.” Jacob scoots closer. Gently squeezing my hand, he pulls it onto his lap and wraps his other hand around ours.

  “I’m not ready to talk about it. Talking about it will make it real, and I just…can’t handle it yet.” I exhale loudly. “For today, I just want to be a sad girl crying on a park bench with a thoughtful stranger because some stupid boy broke my heart. I can handle being that person.”

  “Then, that’s who you’ll be today. You can only be who you are, and you can be anything when you sit next to me.” When I remain silent, Jacob leans over, so he can see me better. “Okay?”

  Studying him for a moment, I wonder what I’ve done in the last several days to allow this wonderful man to enter my life just when I needed someone like him. I’m not sure how long he’ll stay, but I’m thankful that he seems to lighten the darkness in me for the time being.

  “Okay,” comes out as a breathless whisper.

  The edge of his mouth lifts, but the tightness around the corners of his eyes doesn’t ease.

  “And what makes you sad, Jacob?”

  He stiffens, his attention flashing over to Jagger and remaining there. “What makes you think I’m unhappy?”

  “Well, for one, I can read body language, and yours is just as somber as mine. And, two, Jagger said you two were sad.” I shrug with one shoulder. “I’m not a genius, but…”

  When he sits, unmoving and unwilling to speak, I grip his fingers tighter. “Sometimes, it’s easier to unload your problems on someone you don’t know. I won’t pass judgment, but it wouldn’t matter if I did because it’s likely we’ll never see each other again,” I repeat his earlier words to him verbatim.

  Jacob shifts and clears his throat. “Well, that might be true, but I’m not used to laying my burdens on other people’s shoulders.”

  “I shared mine. It’s only fair you do the same.” I send him a small grin, but his eyes are focused on his son, and it goes unnoticed. “And, sometimes, it’s okay to let someone else help you carry the weight, if only for a short while.”
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  He lowers his head, studying our conjoined hands, and plays with my fingers. “This is nice.”

  “What?” My brows pinch together.

  “Sitting here, talking, and holding hands in support of each other. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone—” He clears his throat again, cutting himself off.

  I’m not sure what to say, so I remain quiet, hoping he’ll continue. After several long minutes, my patience is rewarded.

  Jacob releases his breath on a weighted sigh. “I won’t go into details, but several months ago, my life took a turn I never saw coming. Everything was planned out and going accordingly, and then, suddenly, one day, it…wasn’t.” He glances over toward me. “I don’t know what’s worse—having everything you want and then having it stripped away or never having it at all.”

  “I’ve asked myself that same question for the last two weeks.” I stare out over the sparkling lake and let the fresh breeze whisper across my face and blow my long blonde hair over my shoulders.

  It’s a gorgeous warm and sunny day in Michigan.

  “It seems we have more in common than we thought.” His sea-blue eyes penetrate me when I focus back on him.

  Jagger makes a noise, and I drag my attention from Jacob to the little boy. His beautiful imagination entertains him as he pretends a stone is a plane and runs around with it before sending it flying into the water.

  “Not as much as you might think.” I swallow, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to release again.

  “Two strangers with broken hearts is more than you might think.” He squeezes my hand.

  Turning my head toward Jacob, I see his features soften and watch as something resembling fervor settles in his expressive eyes. I wish I knew him well enough to know what it means because whatever it is seems significant.

  “What do you say—” Jacob’s thought is cut off when his son starts howling like a wolf, doing some sort of dog dance.

  Laughter bubbles inside my chest and out of my mouth. As I shake in amusement, a sharp pain shoots through my abdomen. Unable to control my convulsions, I press against my stomach with my free hand, hoping it will relieve some of my discomfort.