by Amanda Perry
Finding Serenity
Silver Lining | Book 2
Amanda Perry
FINDING SERENITY
COVEY PUBLISHING, LLC
Published by Covey Publishing, LLC
PO Box 550219, Gastonia, NC 28055-0219
Copyright © 2018 by Amanda Perry
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design Copyright © 2018 Covey Publishing, LLC
Book Design by Covey Publishing, www.coveypublishing.com
Copy Editing by Covey Publishing, LLC
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN: 978-1-948185-46-2
First Printing, 2018
Also by Amanda Perry
Silver Lining
Fostering Hope
Finding Serenity
* * *
Chosen Storm
Hidden Embers
* * *
Fangers, Furries, and Fruitflies
On the Edge of Forever
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
Note from Publisher
About the Author
Fostering Hope
Her Reasons
Somewhere to Belong
Sweet, Sweet Surprise
1
Taylor
“I’m way too sober for this crap.” With a deep sigh, I rub the bridge of my nose.
On a normal Friday night, a fruity, alcoholic beverage would be in my hand while Evelyn nurses a beer and Michelle sips wine. My two best friends refuse to allow a Friday night to go to waste. Sitting in a dark office instead of laughing and gossiping with them sucks, but Michelle insists I finish the project I spent all week on. Michelle acts like a big sister even though she’s no older than Evelyn and me. She makes sure we remember to buy groceries and pay our electric bills. We like to bitch at her for being a nag, but in truth, we’d be lost without her.
Sometimes, I wish the three of us still shared an apartment. For three years after high school, we lived together until Michelle decided to get married and leave us. If I didn’t love the hell out of her husband, Dylan, I’d hate his guts for taking my friend. Evelyn and I wanted to stay together, but around the time Michelle got married, Evelyn’s mom got sick so she moved back home. Her mom is doing a lot better now, but she still needs a lot of help and support from Evelyn. It’s a good thing Eve went into the medical field; she’s a natural caretaker. It contrasts completely with the crude jokes and cursing, but we wouldn’t change her for anything.
About a month ago, Michelle started her first teaching job at the local elementary school, and she loves it. Over the past few weeks, Michelle quit insisting that the three of us get together every Friday, and the reason brings a smile to my face. She assumes I don’t know, but I’m not stupid. I’ll let her keep her secret for now. Knowing her, she’ll plan a big reveal.
Evelyn couldn’t make it for our usual Friday girls’ night anyway. Her family decided on a small dinner to celebrate the end of her mom’s treatments. They’ll do a large party and announcement when the tests come back clear that she’s cancer free. I say when, never if. According to the numbers on her last lab results, the probability of her being in the clear is high. Evelyn’s dad will likely contact me to arrange the big celebration. When a party needs to happen, everyone comes to me.
Organization has always been my thing. Michelle possesses the patience needed for working with kids, and Evelyn makes the perfect nurse with her hidden sensitive side and no-nonsense attitude. I’m the only one of us who can sit behind a desk for hours at a time and not go insane. It only made sense to go for a degree in accounting. With only a few more years of schooling, I’ll earn my master’s degree and can open my own firm as a CPA.
My cell phone buzzing in the silent office pulls my wandering mind from my friends. The caller ID flashes, and I snort.
Pressing the green button, I place the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Taylor Lewis! Where in the hell ya at? It’s midnight ‘n I know for a damn fact ya ain’t with Michelle ‘n Evelyn ‘cause I called ‘em.” His grouchy, rough twang wraps around me like a warm hug.
“Hello to you, too, Grumpy.”
A long pause on the other end tells me he’s probably taking deep breaths and debating whether he wants to yell at me more or not. Finally, he lets out a heavy breath. “Are ya alright, Tayter-Tot?”
I nod, then remember he can’t see me. “I’m fine, just finishing up some reports at work. I’ll be home soon.”
“Gimme a holler when ya get home safe, ya hear?” The demand in his deep southern tone leaves no room for argument.
I huff but agree. “I will if you stop checking the GPS on my damn cell phone to make sure I’m alive every five seconds.”
He hesitates a beat before grumbling his indignant response, “I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout.”
My eye roll is so heavy he can probably hear it. “You’re a shitty liar, Grumpy.”
“I ain’t talkin’ to ya no more.” Gone is the grouch who called me, a pouting whiner in his place.
I giggle silently and shake my head. “I love you, too.”
The phone clicks off after a few extra grumbles. Leaning back in my desk chair, I glance at the computer screen. Staying late means I got most of the reports finished, and the few I didn’t will keep until Monday morning.
Decision made, I shut the computer down and pack up my bag. On my way to the elevator, I notice another office light still on around the corner. Taking a few extra seconds to investigate, I poke my head around the door and find Tim tapping away on his keyboard.
“Hey, Tim,” I call softly, hoping not to startle him. “Working late again, I see.”
My attempts to not frighten him fail miserably. Poor Tim jumps five feet in his chair, knocking his knee hard on the bottom of the desk. He hisses in pain, but the shock vanishes when he realizes who scared him. “Taylor, you startled me. Why are you here so late?”
“I had some stuff to finish up tonight. I figured if I had no other plans, then why not make Monday morning a little easier for myself, you know?”
“You don’t have plans on a Friday night?” His shock at my admission makes me uncomfortable. Does it surprise him that I’d opt to work late rather than go out? Not that I had anyone to go out with, but he doesn’t know that.
My cheeks darken slightly, and I shrug. “Nope, just some work and st
udying.”
Tim taps his fingers quickly on the surface of his desk and chews on the end of his pen. “Maybe next Friday we could make plans?”
Tim and I have been working together for a while, and he’s a good guy. He’s decent looking, too. He keeps his thick blond hair short and clean cut. His suits are always nicely pressed, and his ties match every time. Nothing gets to me more than watching one of the guys in the office walk around with a bright orange tie and a lime green shirt. It makes me wonder if they close their eyes when they pick their clothes in the morning.
Evelyn and Michelle keep coaxing me to ask Tim out for a drink, but I can’t bring myself to be the asker. Nothing against women who ask men out, but I don’t have the courage or the charm. I’d likely insult them or embarrass myself in the process. I never expected Tim to ask me, though.
“Taylor?” Tim’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and my gaze darts up to meet his. His eyes fill with insecurity and uncertainty, and I can’t bring myself to say no to him. What could a few drinks or dinner hurt?
“Sorry, yeah I’d like that. You have my number, right? Text me, and we can make some plans.”
He smiles wide and nods. “Sounds great. Talk to you later, Taylor.”
Turning on my heel, I wave to Tim and leave his office doorway. “See you later!”
Tim normally wouldn’t be the kind of guy I’d go on a date with. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t have a specific type. I had a few casual boyfriends in high school, but things never became more serious than second base after prom or homecoming. My focus was on my grades and my friends. It was hard to care about guys and serious relationships. During my first few years of college, I met Cody. He and I got along great, and we had fun together. We dated for a few years before I caught him with another girl. He insisted they were only friends, but I can’t say I’d allow my friends to have a naked sleepover in bed with me.
The moment I found Cody and the girl together I realized I didn’t love him. I thought I had for a while, but when I wasn’t hurt or heartbroken after the break up, I realized I was settling. I assumed it was what everyone did. You go to college, meet a guy, date for a while, get married, have kids, along with a white picket fence and a dog named Bingo. I’d always wanted a normal life since mine started out as anything but normal.
I learned soon after Cody that I couldn’t handle normal. I didn’t want to do things the way everyone else did them. I wanted different, but a good different. I have no idea what that means, but I know I can’t stand the idea of settling for some guy I’d call good enough. I want to be wowed. Tim won’t be my wow, but I’m not opposed to fun while I wait for the right person.
My thoughts are still on Tim and my lackluster dating history when I reach my VW beetle—Lady is what I call her. The old car always brings a smile to my face. I bought her when I turned sixteen, after years of babysitting and saving chore money. She’s an old car, but I love her because she’s all mine. When I first got her, the paint was a boring, dull red, but with some love, I brightened the red and added some black dots all over to make her look like a ladybug. The silly design gets me some odd stares, but it’s fun and different.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I stick the key into the ignition and turn. At first, I only hear a clicking sound and panic. I don’t want to call someone for a ride at such a late hour, but if my car doesn't start, I’ll have no choice.
“Come on, Lady. Come on, come on,” I whisper the plea over and over while turning the key again. On the fourth attempt, the engine turns over and roars to life. I breathe a sigh of relief. It might be time to trade in my bug for something more reliable. Lady is overdue for retirement.
Cranking up the radio when Rihanna comes on, I cruise down the road toward my little apartment a few miles away. I make it about four blocks before I hit a red light, and as soon as I stop, the car dies.
“Son of a bitch.”
Resting my head on the steering wheel, I silently weed through my options. I could call Michelle or Evelyn to come pick me up. Either one would be here in a second if I needed them. I could call Mr. Grumpy, but I don’t want the long talk that would undoubtedly accompany the ride home. A tow truck would cost me a pretty penny, and I don’t even have an ugly penny to spare at the moment. If I was willing to live at home instead of my apartment, my pockets would be a lot fuller. But staying in my own apartment trumps extra cash any day.
After making a few last desperate attempts to start the car again, I give up and hit my hand on the steering wheel. “Stupid piece of crap. You couldn’t get me home? Really, Lady? It’s not that far. This is because I thought about trading you in, isn’t it?”
With an overly dramatic growl, I pull the latch to pop the hood and drag myself from the front seat. I lock my doors as I round the car. It may be late with no people around, but with my purse and laptop on the passenger seat, I don’t want to take any chances. I stuff my keys into my pocket and stare down at the engine and other random crap that makes the car go vroom vroom, or at least should.
“Right, Taylor. You know next to nothing about cars, but you think you can fix this thing by staring at it. Good job.”
Slamming the hood down, I pull my keys from my pocket again and fumble for the old-style key. As my finger wraps around it, a high-pitched scream pierces the dead night air, sending shivers down my back and my heart into overdrive. There are times when you hear a person scream and you wonder if they’re really in trouble. Maybe they’re messing around with friends, maybe they saw a spider, or they simply got angry. This was not one of those times. The blood-curdling screams are a clear cry for help. Without hesitation, my feet move in the direction of the now muffled sound, and I come around the corner of a large building in time to witness a man attempt to shove a young girl, maybe sixteen years old, into the back of his car. She puts up a good fight, but she’s much smaller than him.
A smart person would get the license plate number, call 911, and report what they saw. A smart person would hide in the shadows with some form of self-preservation. No one ever accused me of being smart, though.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Rushing up to the psycho, I push him hard from the side. It startles him, and he loses his balance, falling on his ass. Without a word, I grab the scared girl’s arm and pull her from the car, running as fast as I can back the way I came. Unfortunately, the girl and I don’t run fast enough. The man catches us quickly, and the car he was shoving her into speeds up right behind him. I didn’t notice another man in the driver seat before, but I do now, and I know we’re screwed. These guys don’t strike me as the type to take us out to a movie and talk about the weather.
I fight with everything in me to get myself and the other girl free from the man. He grabs fists full of hair from each of us while the driver steps out and helps his accomplice. All hope of escape vanishes. They’re too strong, and I can’t break away. Before I can scream out for help, I’m thrown nearly on top of the other girl in the back seat, and the door slams shut.
“Open the damned door, asshole!” I push, pull, kick, and hit the doors to get them open, but nothing happens.
The two men hop into the front seats, and if it not for the steel cage separating them from us, I’d likely strangle the pair. “Don’t bother trying to get free, bitch. The doors are rigged to not open from the inside.”
Stunned by the driver’s words, I pause in my escape attempts for a moment. “What kind of sick fucks would plan this shit? Are you kidding me? Let us go!”
The men laugh and share a dark look. “Yeah, we’ll pull over at the next stop and let the two of you head home. We’re nice guys like that.”
“Fuck you.” I hit the cage hard with my palm. It rattles and startles them.
The passenger, the one who originally pushed the young girl into the back seat, spins around and glares. “That’s not up to me, but if it were, I’d say hell yes let’s go at it right here, right now.”
A small gasp of surpri
se escapes me. “You’re disgusting. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole,” I sneer at him.
He turns red and opens his mouth to reply, but a cell phone rings which stops him. He fumbles around in his pocket for a second before pulling a phone out and answering it. “Hey, boss.”
Without hesitation, I start to scream for help, hoping and praying whoever called will hear and save us. “They’re completely insane! Call the police!”
“Shut up, you idiot,” the driver growls, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. “The boss won’t save you. If anything, he’ll be the one to get rid of your stupid ass.”
I glare back at him, full of hatred and anger. A small sniffle to my right draws my attention, and I turn away from the pricks. The girl’s light blonde hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her clothes have seen better days. I wonder if this girl lives on the streets. Her eyes dart from the driver to the passenger and back again, pure fear showing in the form of tears as they stream down her cheeks.
“Hey,” I whisper, setting my hand on top of hers in the middle seat. She startles but doesn’t pull away. Her focus turns to me, and I do my best to give her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine. Don’t be scared, I’ll get us out of here.”
She nods, though it’s clear in her eyes she doesn’t believe me. I try again to distract her and keep her calm. “What’s your name? I’m Taylor.”