by S. K. Kelley
Sidetracked
Part I
S.K. Kelley
Sidetracked Part I
Copyright © 2021 by S.K. Kelley
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This book is a work of fiction.
All names, locations, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead) or events (past or future) is purely coincidental.
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All Rights Reserved
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without the author’s express permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you wish to obtain permission to use material from this book for any reason besides review purposes, please email the author at [email protected].
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Cover design © 2021 by S.K. Kelley
Grunge texture © by D. Sharon Pruitt
Foglihten font family © by Gluk Fonts
Arimo font © by Steve Matteson
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First Edition: July 2021
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-955240-00-0
Published by Bleeding Heart Books
skkelleyauthor.square.site
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Sidetracked
Books by S.K. Kelley
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
fifteen
sixteen
seventeen
eighteen
nineteen
twenty
twenty-one
twenty-two
twenty-three
twenty-four
twenty-five
twenty-six
twenty-seven
twenty-eight
twenty-nine
thirty
thirty-one
thirty-two
thirty-three
thirty-four
thirty-five
thirty-six
thirty-seven
thirty-eight
thirty-nine
forty
forty-one
forty-two
forty-three
forty-four
forty-five
forty-six
forty-seven
forty-eight
forty-nine
fifty
fifty-one
fifty-two
fifty-three
fifty-four
fifty-five
Thanks for reading my book!
~ ∞ ~
for my high school self
and all who supported me despite the fact
I almost certainly ignored them while writing it
~ ∞ ~
Books by S.K. Kelley
Sidetracked
(Part I)
COMING SOON
Borderline
(Part II)
Afterglow
(Part III)
Resignation
(Part IV)
Follow S.K. Kelley on Twitter (@SKKelleyWrites)
or visit (skkelleyauthor.square.site) for updates!
Sidetracked is a four-part new adult
urban fantasy psychological drama series
with slice of life, romance, and thriller elements
***CONTENT WARNING***
As a series, Sidetracked explores various sensitive topics and themes—including references to suicide, toxic relationships, abusive behaviors, emotional/physical trauma, physical violence and injury, and hospitalization.
(This series contains NO sexual violence.)
A MORE DETAILED CONTENT WARNING IS AVAILABLE AT THE AUTHOR’S WEBSITE:
skkelleyauthor.square.site/content-warning
one
ROSE YAWNS, THE SOUND loud and exaggerated. I look up from my notebook as she stretches in her oversized beanbag chair and raises her textbook far above her head.
“Jayde,” she groans as her hands return to her lap. “I seriously can’t take this anymore. Why did we leave the party, again?”
“I already told you. Finals are next week, and I’m pretty sure you still have a C in pharmacology.”
Her eyes narrow. “Oh, come on. I need to stretch my legs for a minute. Let’s go downstairs and order pizza or something. Also, Netflix just got the new season of Night Hospital, and I am dying to watch it.”
I can’t imagine we’ll get any work done, but—
I sigh. “Fine. We can move downstairs.”
Books in hand, I follow her to the living room. She drops her textbook on the couch and takes her phone from her pocket while I organize my things and set them on the other side.
Taking a break doesn’t sound too bad. At least I don’t have to feel guilty about it since I’m not in danger of failing.
My eyes wander to the window beside the door. Rose’s dark coupe is parked out front, and the parking lot stretches beyond. The sky is a clear blue. This morning’s Memorial Day barbecue wore me out, but it is a lovely day.
She said something similar this morning—about what a perfect day it is and how we shouldn’t waste it inside—before suggesting we attend a classmate’s house party.
The party was fine.
I enjoyed eating copious amounts of watermelon and listening to music, but the party was hosted in a stranger’s backyard in a questionable part of town, and I only knew a few people there. Plus, I watched Rose break up with her...boyfriend? Friend with benefits? Both his name and previous label elude me. Either way, it was awkward, and I do not regret making a deal to leave early.
Stepping closer to the window, I draw the blinds the rest of the way open. Warmth pours into the room through the glass. The pizza won’t be here for a while, but it’s still early. I can finish my assignment later.
“I think I’ll head out for a minute. For a walk.”
“A minute?” Rose asks. “If you’re not back when the pizza shows up, I’m not waiting for you.”
“Uh-huh...” I laugh as I search the bookcase for the hair tie I’m certain I left there a couple days ago.
“I’m serious this time,” she says, not sounding very serious.
Found it.
While I comb my fingers through my hair, Rose asks if I’m okay with pepperoni and sausage. She knows I am, but she always asks. Then I pull my long hair into a bun and step out onto the concrete landing. The sun shines directly into my eyes. I shield my face with one hand.
“I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”
She calls back agreeably, so I close the door and make my way down the steps. I circle behind the house and through the expanse of short grass between the crescent-shaped complex of small, angular cottages and Windsor Park Natural Area until I reach a split in the trees—the start of a trail I’ve walked dozens of times before.
The shade is comfortable, a respite from the heat. The shadows of the leafy canopy mottle the trail with an ever-changing pattern as the branches shift in the slight breeze. Civilization isn’t far away, but bird songs and rustling leaves mask the sound of the city beyond the trees.
I savor the earthy scent of nature. The packed dirt trail beneath my feet. The still-green grass, dotted with spring flowers. The cedars among the oaks and willows. A light rain might improve the experience, but we shouldn’t see rain for months. Spring ends in a few weeks, and summers in Riverview are near bone-dry.
Plus, California is in the middle of a drought.
This is nice, though. I needed some time alone after spending half the d
ay at that party.
When I reach the nature pond in the center of the park, I stop beside a bench and watch the ducks swim. Someone on the far side tosses breadcrumbs into the green water, sending the ducks into a frenzy as they rush to be the first to eat.
They’re so cute. I should have brought bread.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Rose.
Pizza is otw! Hurry back.
Okay, heading back now!
I start down a second trail that loops back to the cottages. I keep a decent pace, but I took my time on the walk in, and this trail is longer than the first. The sky slowly darkens overhead. The shadows grow long. The air cools several degrees.
Half-jogging, I manage to make it home before dark.
Rose greets me, standing in the doorway. “You’re late,” she says. “Pizza showed up ten minutes ago.”
I stop to catch my breath at the bottom of the stairs. When I look up again, her hands are planted on her hips, but she’s grinning.
“I thought you weren’t gonna wait for me.”
“And I thought you were only gonna take twenty minutes.”
“Sorry. I got distracted by the ducks.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course you did.”
With a laugh, I join her on the landing, and she tells me about a private conversation she overheard at the party. She’s halfway through a sentence when she glances aside and points past me.
“Hey, behind you.”
I glance over my shoulder.
Oh. The sky.
The horizon is awash with color. Vivid, painterly pinks and oranges melt into the deep violet and navy of the sky far above my head. The color shifts, darkening as the sun dips further behind the hills in the distance. Something about watching the sunset always makes me feel more grounded.
“Neat,” Rose says, enunciating the t.
We watch the horizon a moment longer. Then I mention the pizza, and we turn toward the door. My hand touches the doorknob when I hear a soft rustling off to my right. It’s not uncommon for small animals to hang around in the evening, considering the nature park a hundred feet away, but I drop my hand and turn to look out of curiosity.
“Did you hear that?” I ask.
A flowering shrub along the wall of the neighboring cottage shifts as something moves within. A pair of round eyes sit near the ground, the owner of which is hidden deep inside the bush. They vanish for a moment. Then flash green in the low evening light.
The reflective eyes of a cat.
Weird. I’ve never seen a cat around here before.
“Do the neighbors have a secret cat or something?” I ask.
“Not that I know of,” Rose says. “A girl a few doors down the other side has an ESA, but they’re not allowed outside, and the landlord is strict as hell about the pet policy.” After a pause, she laughs. “Whoever owns it isn’t doing a great job of keeping it a secret, though.”
I frown. “Do you think it’s a stray?”
“It’s a cat, Jayde. Come on, let’s go inside.”
She walks past me and into the house. The eyes in the bush blink again, but I leave it alone and follow Rose inside.
two
MAYBE IF I BOTHERED to make friends in class, I’d have study buddies too. I could have asked to tag along with Rose and her friend—they would have happily agreed, I’m sure—but they’re studying for a nursing class. We’d only distract each other. But it’s fine.
That’s another chapter done.
Even if studying alone is boring, I’m more productive this way.
I close my laptop and glance out the window behind the desk. Yet again, it’s a perfect, warm, blue sky day. Finals are important, but I’ve done enough for now. I need to do something else.
My birthday is tomorrow, so maybe...
Well, I still don’t know what I’m doing about that either.
As my gaze falls from the clear sky, a white cat slinks out of the trees behind the neighboring cottage. It paces further out into the short grass, sits in the sun, and curls a fluffy tail over its paws.
If this is the same cat we saw the other day, I don’t think it’s a stray. The cat’s long, white fur is smooth and immaculate, free from any dirt or mats. Rose was right, though—if a neighbor is trying to hide it, they’re doing an awful job.
The cat stares up in my general direction with unblinking eyes, like it can see me through the window.
Are white cats good omens? Does seeing one mean I’ll have a decent birthday? I can hope, right?
The cat looks away.
I lose interest and head downstairs, where I eat a cold toaster pastry and peek around the cupboards. It seems we’re running low on snacks. And bread.
We’ll need snacks—and bread—to survive finals week.
I guess that’s something to do. Grocery shopping isn’t the most exciting, but Computer Science is even less fun. A quick trip to Bargain Shop is an excuse to take a break and get out of the house, anyway.
After a stop in the half-bath washroom to put on mascara, I stuff a cloth grocery bag into my purse and head out.
The cat is still here.
Only, now, it sits on the curb halfway between my cottage and the one it first crawled out from behind. The cat’s ears twitch, and it glances over to watch me with shockingly blue eyes as I walk down the concrete steps.
I don’t see a collar.
Does it not belong to my neighbor? Did it escape from somewhere else? Is it lost? Should I help, or do...something?
I look around to ensure I’m alone. Then I crouch low to the ground and smile at the cat, which continues watching me with some reservation. I hold out a hand and call it over.
The cat regards me with classic feline indifference and does not move.
“Here, kitty kitty,” I say with a more exaggerated sweet lilt.
The cat stares at me. It acknowledges my presence with a slow blink of sapphire eyes but remains sitting a couple feet away.
If I stay too long, I risk missing the bus, but I really want to pet this cat. I try again, this time clicking my tongue and rubbing my fingers together to coax it toward me.
I wait a few seconds. Twenty seconds.
The cat is clearly not enticed by my attempts to gain its trust.
“No?” I ask, withdrawing my hand. “Nothing?”
The cat’s whiskers twitch, and it turns to look at the trees.
Yeah, I think that’s a no.
Our eyes meet again, but the cat stands and saunters away, dipping into the hedge bordering my neighbor’s cottage.
With a sigh, I pick myself up off the ground and hurry toward the bus stop. I beat the bus there, but I find myself second-guessing if the white cat was a good omen.
OF COURSE, THE COOKIES I want are out of stock.
I spot a few packages at the top of the shelving unit with the rest of the overstock, but I can’t quite reach them. I’m too short. Stepping onto the bottom shelf might give me the boost I need. With my luck, though, I’d get caught and embarrass myself. Or fall and die.
Ugh... I want those cookies.
I’m about to step up onto the edge when my thoughts are interrupted by a smooth, masculine voice.
“Excuse me,” it says. “Do you need any help?”
My hand freezes, still outstretched toward the overstock shelf. Then I drop my arm and turn to acknowledge the person who addressed me, only to freeze a second time.
The voice belongs to the most attractive man I have ever met.
He’s tall. Wavy, straw-blond hair falls over the tops of his ears, framing a chiseled, clean-shaven face. Casual, well-fitted clothing compliments his lean, athletic build, and he holds himself with a certain confidence most could only dream of achieving. He is beautiful in all regards, like a flawless, marble statue or a male model from a fashion magazine, but his eyes are the most striking. A vibrant blue, bright and dazzling.
Now that I’ve looked into them, I can’t seem to look away.
He smiles, and the soft, pleasant expression leaves me speechless for some god-awful reason. I manage to force a smile in return, confident only that I look like an idiot.
This guy is hot—lightyears out of my league. Lightyears. Hell, he’s probably out of Rose’s league. So why is he talking to me?
He studies me for a few seconds. Then he clears his throat and, with a graceful sweep of his hand, redirects my attention aside.
“What were you after?” he asks.
What was I doing?
I tear my eyes from his face. Various brands of packaged snack cookies fill the metal shelving from top to bottom—save for the empty space where the cookies I want should be.
Ah. Right.
“The M&M cookies,” I mumble. “The soft ones. Um... I think I saw a few near the top.”
“Just one?”
I nod, but this might be more embarrassing than trying to scale the grocery store shelving would have been.
The man retrieves a package, easily reaching the overstock shelf, and offers it to me. I stare at the bright red plastic in his hand—which is also beautiful in a way.
Jayde. Stop thinking this instant.
I fake a cough and accept the cookies, careful to avoid any and all physical contact with him. I escape unscathed and drop the box into my shopping basket.
Then, in a desperate attempt to be less awkward, I glance up from my hands and make eye contact again. It doesn’t help. He’s just as gorgeous as he was thirty seconds ago. And I’m just as hopeless.
“Thank you,” I say, dragging out the last syllable.
What am I doing? Trying to prolong the conversation? Why? What do I hope to gain from any of this?
But he smiles, and it’s worth it.
“You’re welcome,” he says. “The name’s Ice. Ice Monroe.”
“Ice? Seriously?”
Oh, no!
The words slipped out before I could stop them. I sound like a total ass. I wouldn’t blame him if he hated me, but he laughs.
“Yes, seriously,” he says, still smiling. “My name is rather unusual, but I’ve learned to live with it. I suppose it fits me well enough.”