Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection

by Gianna Gabriela

  “I love you, Angel,” I say, placing my hand lightly on her back. I’m afraid to move her for fear the damage he caused is too much for her body to take.

  “Riddick.” A firm hand lands on my shoulder. I look up to Ron standing behind me, his eyes glassy.

  “I have her from here. Let us get her in the ambulance. I promise I won’t leave her,” he says understandingly.

  “Thanks,” is my simple reply. “Vivian?” My mind leeches on to the pivotal coherent word of need.

  “She’ll be okay. Now, go get your son. Ethan needs to see you are okay. He needs his dad.”

  EPILOGUE

  CORA - One Week Later…

  “You ready, Dad?” The sweet sound of Ethan’s voice pulls me out of my slumbering thoughts. I’ve been sitting in this godforsaken wheelchair, under this hideous yellow umbrella for over an hour while Ethan and Riddick registered for this competition with a cast on my arm, a hat on my head, and sunglasses over my eyes. Alone.

  No Vivian who would be bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. No parents who should be here watching their grandchild compete. They’re at the hospital, where they should be. With her.

  This entire week has left me concentrating on one person. Vivian. My injuries were minor compared to what Cutter did to the woman who bravely saved my life by sneaking away from Dane, then dashing over to our house with a gun I never knew she owned and shot Cutter in the head at the same time he shot her. Only her aim was perfect. She killed him, while he shot her in the shoulder.

  A sob escapes my throat when I think about the damage he caused her. The movies make being shot in the shoulder or arm look simple; it’s as if they need the character to take that bullet in the one place most people survive from when in reality it may be an easy wound to treat if a person is lucky enough for the bullet to penetrate straight through; in Vivian’s case, it shattered. Tore through her subclavian artery, which feeds the bundle of nerves to a person’s arm. She’s out of action for a long time. There’s even the possibility of another surgery to deal with blood vessel loss, pain, or worst of all for her to be able to use her arm again.

  I don’t care what anyone tries to tell me; it’s all my fault. If only I had stayed and waited for Riddick to get home.

  Even though I may have acted like some kind of hero in thinking I could protect my family and friends from the evil that was lurking in my house, I will never forgive myself for being so out of control, no matter how much Riddick tries to convince me otherwise. In my eyes, it’s Vivian who should be deemed the heroine in this fucked-up story called my life. If it wasn’t for her running out the back door when my mother went to see if the guys wanted a beer, I could be dead right now. So no, I’m no heroine. I’m a selfish individual who thought I could handle this without anyone I love getting hurt.

  “I’m ready, buddy. Let me see about getting your mom a little closer. Why don’t you go wait over by Aaron and his parents? I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Riddick tells him, his voice low and soft.

  “You all right, Mom?” Oh God, this kid has been through hell and back with worry, and here he stands with concern all over his face for me when this is the day he’s been waiting forever for. I want to cry, to cover my still bruised face in my hands and let it all out. I’ve tried, Lord knows I’ve tried to cry; and yet there are no more tears. I feel hollow, so empty inside that now he can sense it. I won’t allow it. Maybe tomorrow, but definitely not today.

  “I’m good, Ethan. Now, would you please quit worrying about me?” I smile and watch him give me one of his amazing smiles back. The one that makes me so damn proud to be his mother. The one that has him chuckling lightly, that he wastes no time harmonizing into a full-on laugh that’s music to my ears.

  “I’ll try,” he repeats my words to me just like I repeated his to him when I was worried he might not be capable of handling everything that was thrown his way when Riddick plowed into our lives unexpectedly.

  “Good luck. And remember, it’s not about the win, it’s about knowing you did your best,” I say. I don’t want him to be disappointed if his loses. He hasn’t practiced at all since the last time he went out with Henley, who we found out was an ex-con from South Carolina. To say that Ethan was upset over hearing about him is an understatement. He looked up to that asshole; and never in a million years did I suspect he was working for my brother. I will never trust another man to take my son into the water again.

  “I know, and you remember that this wave is for you, Mom.” He leans down and kisses me on the cheek. I hold back my sob, the one that wants to belter out from the depths of my broken soul that this boy so freely practically healed me with those words.

  “I love you, kiddo, now go show them what you got.” I watch him run so carelessly with his hair tied back, his board in his hands. He deserves this and so much more that my heart nearly breaks by watching him go.

  “You did a good job lying to him, but don’t you dare lie to me. If you tell me one more time that this is all your fault, I swear to God that the minute you are completely healed, I’ll cuff you to our bed, and my mouth will stay permanently latched onto your pussy until you tell me the truth.” Riddick balances himself on his knees in front of me, pulls off his sunglasses, reaches up and does the same to mine as he lifts my chin to stare deep into my eyes.

  I scoff at his ridiculousness.

  “I still owe you a payback, remember?” I say with a hint of sarcasm.

  “You can have it if you’ll promise to knock this shit off. You get me? Fuck, Cora. I could blame myself for leaving you alone. I could blame Dane, and yet fuck that shit. I don’t and I never will. You are free. No charges were brought against you for killing that fucker in self-defense. Vivian doesn’t blame you, so why the hell are you blaming yourself?” I hate it when he looks at me with those eyes that can see right through me

  “I’m sorry. It can’t be helped. I’m worried about her. I’m worried about you, too.” I sigh and try to turn my head away from him, but he won’t allow it.

  “Cora. I’m going to say this one more time, and you need to listen, goddamnit. I give zero fucks, do you hear me? Zero that they found out who my father was. At the time I thought both him and I needed to keep it on the down low. I needed to keep my identity safe from his enemies as well as keeping his safe. Seems my boss knew who I was the entire time. If he has enemies out there, then let them try to get to me. I’ll take every one of those motherfuckers down. The important thing is, what you did was brave. Was it the smartest thing to do? Fuck, no. We all know it wasn’t, but damn it, the person to blame for all of this is dead. You killed him. You can’t let him ruin this day for you. I simply won’t allow it. He’s gone. Fucking buried. Do you understand what the hell I’m saying? A man who tortured you your entire life, a rotten motherfucker, who can never get to you again, is dead.” I look from Riddick to the spot where Ethan is standing down the beach a ways. His back is to us. Even if he were able to see, I would still lunge my body forward. The heavy wrap all the way up my arm from shooting a gun I had no business shooting gets in the way of me being able to touch him with both of my hands. I wrap them around his waist, nearly toppling him over, and I cry. I cry for the loss of my parents, the loss of a brother I never really had, the years of being without this man, the suffering Vivian is going through, my son. I cry for it all. But most of all, I cry for me.

  “Hey.” He raises my head slightly and wipes his thumb across my tear-stained cheeks.

  “You, my angel, are alive. You, Ethan, me, even Viv, we are alive. I have my heaven on earth. That’s all that matters.”

  THE END

  Jude and Tyson are now available.

  About the Author

  USA Today Best Selling Author and multi top 100 Amazon Bestseller, Kathy Coopmans is a Michigan native where she lives with her husband, Tony. They have two son's Aaron and Shane.

  She is a sports nut. Her favorite sports include NASCAR, Baskeball, and Football.

  She ret
ired from her day job of 25 years to become a full-time writer.

  She has always been an avid reader and at the young age of 50 decided she wanted to write. She claims she can do several things at once and still stay on task. Her favorite quote is "I got this."

  Join my newsletter, reader group, or check out my website for more!

  BACK TO LIFE

  Dani René

  PROLOGUE

  Caleb

  4 years ago

  The shrill ring of my cell phone on the nightstand wakes me. Whenever Sarah drives to the city, I’ll stay up, waiting on her to let me know she’s safe. Or I’ll sit on the sofa and welcome her home. This time I fell asleep.

  “Hello?” I answer, expecting to hear my beautiful wife’s voice coming from the other end of the line.

  What I don’t expect is the response.

  “Mr. Williamson.” The deep rumble of a man’s voice has me on my feet, shoving through my bedroom door to the living room. It’s been undisturbed. They’re not home. “This is Officer Ulrich with the LA Police Department. I’m sorry to have to call you and tell you this, but—”

  “No. No, you’re not calling to tell me anything,” I retort, my voice cracking on every word as I swallow back the bile slowly rising from my gut.

  “Mr. Williamson, there’s been an accident.” The somber tone of his voice tells me that it’s fatal. A sense of unease washes over me. There’s nothing left for me to do but crumble to the floor. I’m on my knees, holding the phone to my ear as if he’s going to tell me something else. As if I’m having a nightmare, and it’s not real.

  “Please tell me she’s okay; they both are,” I whisper into the speaker.

  His sigh is my answer. The cold, numb feeling of losing everything you’ve come to love, your whole life, overtakes me.

  “Please?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Williamson. I wish I had better news.” I hang up because I don’t want to hear him apologize. I don’t want to hear he’s sorry because he can’t be. He shouldn’t be.

  Shaking my head, I grip the carpet, my knuckles turning white as I tug on the woolen strands. I want to smash everything. My body vibrates with rage and sadness. It grips me like a vice, squeezing every bit of air from my lungs.

  I’m crying. I’m curled on the floor of our living room sobbing when I feel a small, tentative hand on my shoulder.

  “Dad?”

  The voice of my youngest daughter breaks through the cloud of agony holding me hostage. When I open my eyes, she’s staring at me. Her face like an angel in the darkness, lit up with confusion.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her innocence about what I’m about to tell her is palpable. I can’t tell her. How the fuck can I? Shaking my head, I scoot up and pull her into a hug. I hold onto her while I allow my pain to drench us both.

  “Daddy, where’s Mommy?” Her question slices through my chest, attacking my heart with violence in a truth I’m meant to give her. I have to tell my daughter her mother and sister are dead.

  “Just shh for a little while,” I whisper huskily. Every word feels like sandpaper in my throat. We sit there for a long while. Nothing more is said, and I bask in the silence because I can’t bring myself to admit what I know.

  Libby is curled in my arms. She fell asleep almost an hour ago, and I don’t want to move. I don’t want to wake her and look into her pretty eyes and tell her. Life is fragile glass that can shatter at any moment.

  When I married Sarah, I never once imagined I’d have to say goodbye to her.

  We were each other’s first love.

  We were inseparable.

  Until her job would send her to LA at times. But she’d always come back.

  Only this time, she’s never returning to our home. She’ll never see Libby or me again. She won’t watch our youngest daughter grow up. And Callie will never go to college. She’ll never get married, have kids. A young life stolen, taken away because of an accident.

  As the sun slowly rises, I focus on the light streaming through the window. I don’t want it to be daylight yet, because I know once it is, I’ll have to face the pain. Growing up, I was never great at working through my emotions. I did stupid shit. Until Sarah.

  Even though I would love to go on a bender right now and drink my pain away, I know I can’t. I have Libby, and I will not be that person again.

  Movement from Libby alerts me she’s awake, and when she lifts her gaze to mine, I wonder if she knows.

  “What’s happened, Daddy?”

  I help Libby up before rising myself, and I hold her hand. Settling on the sofa, I feel the tension in my muscles as I look into my daughter’s eyes.

  “I got a call last night from the police,” I tell her slowly, watching as her gaze shimmers with unshed tears. “There was an accident, and . . .” I swallow past the lump in my throat before I continue. “The officer said that your mom and Callie didn’t make it.”

  “But . . . I don’t understand.”

  “Listen to me, Libs. Accidents are horrible, and I’m not sure on all the details yet, but I’ll find out, okay?” I pull her into my arms once more and allow her to cry. My own pain trickles down my cheeks when I listen to my daughter’s anguish.

  I can’t make this okay.

  I can’t fix this.

  I always promised both Callie and Libby that I’ll always be here, and that I can fix whatever hurts them. Only this time, I have no leg to stand on. I can’t bring her mom and sister back, and that guts me.

  Slowly, my heart turns rigid in my chest. The pain of losing love consumes me, and I only focus on making sure Libby is okay. Because I know I’ll never be. I’m dying with my wife, and I don’t ever want to be brought back.

  1

  Caleb

  The alarm clock echoes through the room, reminding me it’s time to get up. I’ve snoozed the damn thing twice already, but I know if I do it once more, we’ll be late.

  Shoving off the bed, I make my way into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine along with adding two slices of bread into the toaster. The song coming from the second bedroom in our home makes me smile.

  I know it won’t be long till I’ll have to make sure Libby is ready for school, ensuring her lunch is packed, and drop her off before heading into work. It’s been a long time since Sarah and Callie died, and each day has gotten less painful. Don’t get me wrong. I still miss them, but I see them each day through Libby’s eyes. I see how Callie would’ve grown into a strong young woman, and how Sarah is so prominent in our youngest daughter’s expression.

  Callie was the eldest at fifteen, and Libby, who’s now nearing that age, was only ten when her sister and mother died. I know she feels that loss as much as I do. We still have photos on the mantle from our family vacations, and I don’t know how to put them away. I don’t want Libby to forget her mother and sister, but deep down I know I have to move on from the mourning and find some form of happiness again.

  “Dad.” Libby comes strolling into the kitchen, her face the picture of innocence, but I have a feeling I’m about to be asked for something. She presses a kiss to my cheek before continuing. “Lana and I want to go to the movies on Saturday.”

  “Oh? And what movie are you going to see?” I question, setting the plates on the table along with the orange juice.

  “There’s a new vampire movie out, and we’re both dying to see it,” she tells me earnestly. When I face her, I notice the pink glow on her cheeks, which only makes me more wary as to what this is all about.

  “And it will only be you and her?” I ask, but before she answers, I have a feeling I know the answer already. Libby is verging on fifteen, and even though she’s been a good girl, obeying the rules and studying when she has to, I’m not sure her dating is something I can handle right now.

  “Well, it’s a few kids from school,” she tells me slowly, and I now know for sure there’s a boy involved. Her fingers fiddle with the zipper of her hoodie, and her cheeks turn a darker shade of
pink when she lowers her gaze.

  “What’s his name?”

  Sarah didn’t get a chance to talk to Libby about boys. God, she was a child then, and I know soon enough I’m going to have to have the talk. That’s the scariest thing a father can do. At least, for me it is anyway.

  “Dad,” she whines, looking at me again, and I chuckle. She’s a good girl, always has been, and I know she won’t do anything stupid, but it’s not her I’m worried about. It’s boys.

  “You’re a pretty girl, a good girl,” I tell her. “I don’t like teenage boys hanging around you, Libby.”

  “So I can’t go to school?” she sasses, just like her mother used to do. It was one of the reasons I fell so fast and hard for Sarah.

  “Don’t be cocky, Libs. You’re welcome to go in a group, but there will be no pairing off. I’ll pick you up after.” My tone is stern, and she nods.

  “Thanks, Dad!” She leaps into my arms, wrapping hers around my neck, holding on tight as she kisses my cheek. “Ugh, you should shave,” she mutters before releasing me.

  I reach for my chin, rubbing my index finger and thumb across the scratchy surface with a chuckle. “I don’t know, Libs. Maybe I’ll find a date. You know they say men with beards are—”

  “Oh god, Dad. Stop, please.” She pushes her fingers in her ears and begins to sing some pop song to interrupt me. This I can handle, the taunting of my daughter. We haven’t really spoken about me dating, but this is the second time I’ve mentioned it, and she hasn’t gotten angry.

  “Libby,” I call her, pulling her hands away from her ears. “Listen to me. I loved your mother something fierce. She was the only woman I had eyes for, and even now I miss her, but at some point, I may meet someone that I’d perhaps share a coffee with, or—”