Redemption (Forgiven Series)

by Brooke, Rebecca

  Redemption

  Copyright © 2014 by Rebecca Brooke

  Cover Design by Regina Wamba of Mae I Design

  www.maeidesign.com

  Editing by Ryn Hughes of Delphi Rose

  https://www.facebook.com/DelphiRose‎

  Interior Design by Angela McLaurin of Fictional Formats

  https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats‎

  All rights reserved. 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 permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To Josh and Danielle, the sky is never the limit. Why stop at the clouds when you can reach for the stars.

  FORGIVENESS is the first step on the road to REDEMPTION.

  —Unknown

  “You can’t keep doing this to us!” Mom screamed from the living room.

  Mom and Dad were fighting again, so I was hiding out in my room. I hated to see Mom upset, but that’s what happened every time he came to stay with us.

  “I can do anything I fucking want, you dumb bitch,” Dad shouted back.

  “How am I supposed to pay the bills and put food on the table, Alan?”

  “Not my problem. You wanted to have his sorry ass, you deal with it. Now my back’s feeling better I don’t need to stay here anymore,” he barked. Why didn’t my dad want me? Things used to be different. Before the accident… before the pills.

  “Your back only feels better because you’re taking the pills again.”

  “So what? You need to get off my back and realize I’ll never be happy with you.”

  The front door slammed shut. After a few minutes I decided to be brave and go find Mom. This wasn’t the first time he’d walked out on us. Mom had tried to tell me once that Dad loved us but he was sick, and that’s why he would say mean things. I saw him taking the pills one time. When I’d asked him what they were, he’d just yelled at me and sent me to my room until Mom came home.

  In the kitchen, Mom sat at the table with her head in her hands. I walked over to her and placed my hand on her shoulder. “Mom, are you okay?”

  She lifted her head slowly, like it took all of her strength just to look me in the eye. Shiny trails left by newly-shed tears marked her face and her eyes were red and bloodshot. Once again, he’d made her cry. Someday I would be big enough to make him stop. She reached out her hand to touch my cheek. “Yeah, baby boy, but it’s going to be just me and you again.”

  “I like when it is just the two of us,” I said, and I really did. Even though Mom was sad when Dad left, things got better. We were happier without him.

  She pulled me into her arms. “Oh, baby, you should be able to grow up with both of your parents. Those stupid pills took your father away from us.”

  I wasn’t sure what those stupid pills were, but I’d seen him take them ever since he’d fallen at work. From that day on things had never been the same. Before that day, my dad and I were close. He was the one who taught me how to catch a football, and on Sunday afternoons we’d go fishing. Then everything changed. At first it was hard to get used to the way things were and I missed who my dad used to be, but I liked what they had eventually become. I didn’t miss my father when he was gone. Most of the time, I hoped that this time would be that last. That next time he showed up on our doorstep, my mother would slam the door in his face.

  But he always came back, and she never slammed the door in his face.

  I really, really wish she had.

  “Shit, man, I can’t believe graduation is only a few months away,” Tyler said looking at me out of the corner of his eye, a huge smile on his face.

  “Thank God. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take,” I said, shaking my head.

  He started laughing. “You do realize that by accepting a scholarship you’re going have to actually study?”

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “I know, but it’ll be different in college. I’ll be able to take classes I actually like, not this stupid crap they make us take.”

  We continued the drive back from school, joking about graduation. Tyler always picked me up and dropped me off when my car wasn’t running. We pulled up outside my house and I reached into the back to grab my bag.

  “Dude, whose car is that?” Tyler asked.

  I looked at the car in the driveway. I’d never seen it before but I knew exactly who owned it. We hadn’t seen him in five years and I’d hoped we would never have to see him again.

  “SHIT! I don’t feel like dealing with that asshole,” I fumed.

  “Are you telling me that’s your dad’s car? When was the last time you saw him?” Tyler turned to face me. His eyebrows arched and his hands relaxed on the steering wheel so I knew he was curious. Tyler was one of the few friends who knew about my dad’s issues with the drugs. He was actually there the last time my father walked out on us—back when I was a scrawny twelve year old. That time I’d told him if he ever came back, I’d throw him out myself. Mom had promised after he’d left that she was never letting him come back again. He’d practically wiped out Mom’s bank account and we’d struggled for a while after that. No way I was doing that again. A month shy of my eighteenth birthday, this time I was going to kick that fucker out of my house, and out of our lives, for good.

  I scrambled from the car without answering Tyler’s question, but heard his footsteps as he followed me toward the house. I threw open the front door and saw the son of a bitch standing in the living room. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mother sitting on the couch, her head in her hands as she choked back the sobs.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I yelled.

  “Don’t you dare talk to me that way, I’m your father,” he bellowed. The sound of knuckles cracking filled the air as his fists clenched at his sides. It’d been five years, but he still wore the same sneer on his face. He took a step toward me and I knew he expected me to back down, but what he failed to realize was that I wasn’t intimidated by him anymore. Back when I was twelve he seemed like a giant. Now, at six foot two, I had a good four inches on him and, thanks to Coach busting our asses at the gym, I had an extra twenty pounds of muscle.

  “You’re not my father.” I shot him a look of disgust. “You gave up the right to call yourself that when you decided to walk
out on us for the pills,” I snapped.

  He stalked towards me but before he got there Mom looked up from her hands. “Stop it!” she said, sounding so tired. “Alan, I told you to leave. I will not allow you back into our lives just so you clean out our bank accounts again.” I took a closer look at her face and noticed a red welt on her cheek.

  He’d hit her.

  He’d never been physically abusive before. Emotionally, definitely, but he’d never laid a hand on her in anger. Until now.

  Rage poured through my veins like acid. I moved toward him and he was so focused on her that he never saw my fist coming. With the full force of my weight behind it, my fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head sideways.

  His hand clutched his jaw and I saw the fury on his face, but I wasn’t a scrawny twelve-year-old anymore. I heard my mom screaming as I tackled my father to the ground. Tyler tried to grab me, but I continued to land punches, not caring where I hit, just as long as they connected. My arms were suddenly wrenched behind me—my mother had one, and Tyler had the other—and I was dragged off him.

  Hearing him moaning in pain, I tried to free myself from their grasp so I could beat his ass some more. When I couldn’t get free I snarled at him, “You will NEVER lay another fucking hand on her again, you sorry son of a bitch.”

  He slowly rolled to his feet, clenching his side with one hand and his nose with the other. “You’ll pay for this, you little bastard.”

  When he took a step toward us, Tyler and Mom let me go. Tyler stepped up next to me and pulled my mother behind him. I laughed without humor. “I haven’t been ‘little’ in a long time, you piece of shit. Now you better turn around and walk your sorry ass out that door!”

  His eyes raked over me. “Don’t worry. I’ll walk my sorry ass out the door, and straight to the police station!”

  I clenched my fists at my sides, while Tyler shrugged. How was he so calm when it was taking everything I had to just stand there? “Be my guest. But when they come to question us, it’ll be our word against yours. Just remember, you hit her first,” Tyler said casually. His tone suggested he was bored, but his eyes told a different story. It was all a façade, and even though it wasn’t his mom who’d been hurt, he was as pissed as I was.

  “This is not the end of this,” he snarled.

  I took a step towards him. “This is the end of this, because I promise, if I ever see you here again, you will not walk out that door.”

  We all stood rooted to our spots for what seemed like forever before my father finally turned and walked out of our lives.

  Hopefully for good.

  I was packing my equipment up for practice when I heard yelling coming from the kitchen. I grabbed my bag and walked into the living room to find Mom on the phone, looking like she was ready to throw something. I rolled my eyes.

  Here we go again.

  Mom and Dad were fighting, that was nothing new. Ever since they’d gotten divorced four years ago, the conversations were always the same. Mom would call my dad to make arrangements for his visitation, but he always had an excuse. They’d argue for a good half an hour before Dad would either give in and come to pick me up as scheduled—which happened very rarely—or he’d send an expensive present, as if that made up for not being around.

  What it really came down to was that he was more interested in his business than me, and he always had been. I knew he made a lot of money, but that didn’t mean anything to me. What I needed was a dad who wanted to spend time with me, not all the expensive things he bought me because society expected him to.

  The clock in the hall chimed. Practice would be starting soon and I needed a ride to the field. Softball was about the only thing that kept me sane these days. It was the one place I found refuge from all of the crap my dad had dumped on us the day he’d decided he liked his secretary better than Mom. Even my mom struggled as she tried to find someone to love, but no matter what she still loved me and showed me as much as possible. She tried to make up for my dad but she didn’t need to because I didn’t really want to see him anyway. My father was past the point of redemption in my eyes.

  Suddenly, she started pacing. Crap. That usually meant it was going to be a long fight. I walked up to her and whispered, “Mom, practice starts soon and I need a ride to the field.”

  She covered the phone with her hand, mouthed to me to hold on before continuing her pointless conversation. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her. That earned me “the look” and I stopped in my tracks. When I got “the look” I knew I’d taken it too far. I sat down on the couch with my bag at my feet, and waited patiently until finally, a few minutes later, she hung up the phone.

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered before putting on her overly bright, happy face. That always meant that I wasn’t seeing Dad. “Honey—” she started to say, but I put my hand up to cut her off.

  “Mom, I already know what you’re going to say.” I used a comedic voice to try and mimic her and lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. “Dad has to work this weekend and can’t see you, but he’ll make it up to you.” I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest. “Which basically means he’ll buy me some expensive thing that I don’t even want in the first place, and pretend like that makes up for not being around and missing my game this weekend.”

  She walked over to put her arm around my shoulder. “Honey, your father loves you.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her that he had a funny way of showing it, but shut it again when I realized that it would only cause a fight. Grabbing my bag I asked, “Mom, can we talk about this later?”

  She watched my face, like she was waiting for an outburst at any moment, but I’d given up on those once I realized there was no point. My dad wasn’t interested in me, so why should I care about him? Playing the game I loved was more important to me than my father ever could be at this point. When I was on the field, all of my other problems melted away, and the only thing that mattered to me was pitching a strike. I didn’t have to worry about my dad, or question why he didn’t want to spend time with me.

  My mom had been so lonely since he left. Not that I wanted them to get back together—I just wanted my mom to be happy. She was so focused on me that she never took anytime for herself. The only time she did that was when I was with my dad, which wasn’t all that often. Just another reason not to like the man.

  Plus, I had enough to focus on with this weekend’s game. It would decide if we were going to the playoffs and I was the starting pitcher.

  Seemingly happy to let the issue drop, Mom grabbed her purse and her keys. “Sure, let’s go.”

  We walked out the door and immediately I felt lighter because I was that much closer to having a few hours of peace.

  I was sitting on the couch waiting for Emily. Emily Halliday and I met freshman year. Never one to mince words, I appreciated her honesty and temper, as long as it wasn’t directed at me. Emily was one of the few girls that I actually called “friend.” We needed to be at the hotel before the guests started to arrive and I didn’t want Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs to have to figure out who everyone was on their own. Plus, Caleb was a nervous wreck and driving me nuts.

  Caleb Jacobs was my best friend. We met at football practice during our first year on campus. At the time, my roommate was a pain, and Caleb offered to let me live with him off campus. We’d been friends ever since. I couldn’t blame him for being nervous. I’d be freaking out too if I was asking the girl of my dreams to marry me. Then again, I was never going to find myself in the marriage trap. I liked being single. Although lately, Angie seemed determined to set me up with someone. Angie Powers was Caleb’s soon-to-be fiancée—well, hopefully. I met her and Emily at the same time, but while Emily was the spitfire, Angie was sweet and more like a little sister. What Angie didn’t realize was that I enjoyed the freedom that came with having one-night stands. I never felt obligated to the girls after that night which suited me fine. People always found something they cared about more in the long run any
way.

  I looked over at Caleb. His skin was ashen, with beads of sweat forming on his brow. His appearance, along with the fact that he kept swallowing and checking his watch, made it pretty obvious that he was nervous. “Dude, you better get it together or she’s going to figure out something’s up,” I whispered.

  “I know, I’m trying,” he whispered back.

  Just then my cell beeped.

  Emily: Here

  Me: Be down in a sec

  “Em’s here. I gotta go.”

  Caleb looked up, taking deep breaths. “Okay, the bags are behind the couch.”

  “Got it, I’ll see you when you get there.” I got up and started to move to the door, stopping in front of him. “Remember… calm the fuck down.”

  Caleb nodded once. I was worried about how he was handling the pressure. Grabbing the bags, I walked out to Emily’s waiting car.

  Emily was beautiful. With long brown hair and blues eyes she was most guys’ wet dream, at least until she opened her mouth. She was awesome and we’d been friends since freshman year, but she also scared the shit out of me when she was pissed off. That kind of volatile personality in a girl is uncommon and consequently most people did whatever they could to make her happy. She knew this and used it to her advantage.

  “Hey, Em, you have everything for tonight?” I asked, watching her practically bounce around in her seat she was so excited.

  “Yes! I can’t wait for Angie to get there. I know she’s never had a birthday like this before. Dr. and Mrs. Jacobs are awesome for doing this.” Caleb’s parents, Dr. and Mrs. Jacobs, loved Angie as much as one of their own kids. Knowing that her mother had left when she was little and that her father was a drunk, the Jacobs’ decided that Angie deserved a birthday party for her twenty-first birthday.