by J. L. Mac
Accept Me
Copyright © 2014 J.L. Mac
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.
Cover design by:
Robin Harper-Wicked By Design
https://www.facebook.com/WickedByDesignRobinHarper
Edited by:
Erin Roth-Wise Owl Editing
https://www.facebook.com/erinrotheditor
Formatted by:
Angela McLaurin-Fictional Formats
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
Images copyright
Used under license from Shutterstock-www.shutterstock.com
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
Epilogue
About the Author
For Jo and Damon.
For what they represent.
For what we all dream of.
Where to begin? It’s difficult to believe that over a year ago, while driving in holiday traffic, the story of Jo and Damon was born. In the span of a year, I became a bestseller, I made friends and lost a few, I was divorced and found love all over again, I moved, I laughed, I cried (a lot) but I was never alone through it all.
So many family, friends, bloggers, and readers have been on this crazy ride with me and I can’t thank you all enough for your support, honestly, enthusiasm, and occasional bullying (I needed it).
First and foremost, I must thank my editor, Erin Roth. She has been the voice of reason when I was unreasonable. Thank you for working so hard, for seeing things through, for being pushy, for not accepting anything less than my best and for your brilliant editing ability. You are an invaluable asset to my books. I’d be lost without you.
https://www.facebook.com/erinrotheditor
I must sing the praises of my ultra-talented graphic designer and friend, Robin Harper. Your skill, insight, and taste with the covers of my books are unparalleled. I can’t thank you enough for your hard work and kind words. I still have a lady crush on you.
https://www.facebook.com/WickedByDesignRobinHarper
To Christine Estevez, the queen of blog tours and cover reveals. You are the master of efficiency. I envy you. Thank you for working so hard and being so ready to take the reins every time it’s cover reveal or touring time. I’ll always put my books in your trust worthy hands to spread the word and promote. On behalf of all the authors you work with, thank you for everything.
https://www.facebook.com/ShhMomsReading
http://shhmomsreading.com/
Heather Halloran! My dear friend/blogger who teaches me a little more about resiliency every day. You have an exceptional eye for a good story and the guts to call out total shit. Thank you for being you and for the regular insults that make me smile even when I don’t feel up to it. I love you, lady.
Angela McLaurin, my sweet southern friend and skilled formatter! Thank you for your exquisite talent for making my books pretty! You are the only formatter that I could ever trust my work to. You are the formatting fairy. I know I’m in good hands with you in my arsenal of book production pros.
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
I must thank my agent, Marisa Corvisiero for her killer instincts and for having faith in my work. You have drive and ambition that most would envy. Thank you for working hard to make sure that the world may have the opportunity to stumble across my books.
http://www.corvisieroagency.com/
As odd as it may seem, I must thank life for being so unpredictable and perfectly screwed up. It’s only through failure that I learn to savor how sweet success truly is. Many thanks to my children, family and husband. You put up with my daily nonsense. There is no excuse for that except that you love me.
Finally, I want to thank my readers for reading the stories that I dream up. My characters come to life only through you.
I tried. I tried so hard. I thought he would be enough to distract me from my life and I thought I would be enough for him, but I was wrong. I was naïve. I guess I’m still naïve.
My parents would kill me if they had any idea what has become of me here in Las Vegas. When I told them that I dreamed of being a showgirl, they scolded me and said they wouldn’t hear of it. To a working class Christian family, my aspirations were unthinkable—all those years of dance lessons and I wanted to become a showgirl when I could settle down and teach dance to five year olds in Podunk, Kansas? Ridiculous. It just wasn’t what I wanted. In those showgirls, in that dancing, I saw nothing but glamour; I saw impressive-looking women with a real sense of confidence. And I wanted to be one of them. I craved their expertise, their life. Staying on the farm would be the quickest way for me to end up leading an extraordinarily boring life as some farmer’s wife. I’d likely have a few kids and end up not having a story to tell. I’d have no adventures to relive. I’d be sitting on my porch at eighty years old wondering why I didn’t just go for it. I don’t want to regret my life. I knew I had to go after my dream even if failure awaited me.
I never expected any of this. I had goals. I never expected Edward and I definitely never expected Damon. I never expected to be faced with this kind of decision.
I love him despite my circumstance. I loved him from the moment the nurse handed me my beautiful baby boy, but the darkness that he reminds me of is unbearable. I’m so very thankful for that he looks like my father, because if he looked anything like Edward I’m afraid I would despise him. I hate myself for even thinking it, but I’m not prepared to face what has happened. I’m not ready for this kind of responsibility. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It’s one of the reasons that I know I have to do this. I have to give him a chance.
Edward’s mother seems like a really nice woman. Beatrice. Even though I know very little about her, she’s been so supportive of me in all of this. She made sure I had money in my pocket, food in my stomach, and a doctor to care for my unborn child. I never felt like she was judging me. She never asked questions and I never explained. She’s been so willing to take care of me; I’m sure she’ll take care of my son. I know she will love my child. There’s no need for her to know how or why all of this has happened. I just need her to watch over him, protect him from the world, and watch him grow into what I hope will be a good man. A caring man. A man like my dad. I hope he won’t hate me for letting him go. He doesn’t have a chance in hell if I keep him. I’m just a stupid, ruined girl from Kansas. I’m damaged goods. I have nothing to offer my baby. Damon needs more than me. It will break my heart, but I happily accept whatever regret awaits me if it means he has the things that I can’t provide.
I look down at the dark-haired angel in my arms and watch my tears splash down onto his blue cotton outfit. His tiny hand tightens around my finger and it’s almost like he’s consoling me. It only makes me sob even harder. “I’m so sorry,” I whimper and lift him to place a kiss on his forehead. He may never understand, but I hope and pray that he can accept what I have to do.
Maybe someday I’ll accept all of this too.
Months ago, on June 8th, I stared at my reflection in my tiny bathroom mirror, thinking about how shitty that day was going to be. The anniversary of my parents’ death was like doomsday every year. If I had known that was the day I would meet the love of my life…
again… I would have gone to work early and maybe taken more time doing my hair and makeup.
He poured into my life like the sunshine that followed him into the store that morning and I’ve been his ever since. I’ve been his the entire time, really, almost as if it was by design… like I was never even my own to give.
There was no falling in love with Damon. I was not swept off my feet and convinced to be his love. He came into my life, took my hand, and I breathed him. Loving him so completely is just a side effect of being so fiercely connected. It’s involuntary. I didn’t have to try to love him or imagine myself with him for the rest of my life. The moment he took my hand, it was clear; with just one look in those amber eyes, I knew I was where I was meant to be. At that very moment, I was his. Being Damon’s didn’t feel like a new adventure or some task. It was like coming home to a place I never knew was waiting for me. It was coming to grips with our connection that made my life change.
I’m not the type to believe in bullshit fairytales, but I do believe in what’s tangible. I believe in what I can see and touch, and what I have with my Big Man is real. It’s raw and so damn powerful that it took my miserable ass and shook me down to the frame, leaving me stripped and ready to rebuild. Four months ago, he came walking into my life and I had no idea what was ahead of me. Before Damon, I was alone in every sense of the word. We both went out on a limb to give our relationship a shot. Relationships were an unexplored frontier for me, but I was ready to map it out with Damon. Damaged or not, he was worth the risk. Given our respective histories filled with loss and disappointment, making a go of it was more difficult than I could have imagined.
My Big Man endured so much at the hands of a father who made his disdain for his own child no secret. Edward went out of his way to punish Damon at every turn. He drilled so many insults into Damon’s head that he began to believe that he was responsible for a mother who gave him up, a car accident that wasn’t really his fault, and my formative years spent homeless and struggling. My love has a way of focusing on all the negative parts of our past, whereas I just wish he could understand how much he’s meant to me, how much he saved me.
It was Damon who recognized how important the bookstore was to me and Damon who saved the store that spared me from homelessness over seven years ago. He was there when I found Captain on his living room floor. He was there in the hospital when I said goodbye to the man who was like a father to me. Captain was a crotchety old bastard but he was mine and watching him slip away in that hospital bed destroyed the heart I didn’t think I had. Damon stood watch as I mourned. While the initial burn of heartache has waned, I still ache for Captain, and Damon sees me through it. He always has.
Finding out that Damon has carried the burden of guilt all these years has only made my heart of stone a little softer. I don’t believe that a man who has done so much for me and for Grams could possibly be responsible for the car accident that ruined four lives. The way he loves me and soothes the ache inside me, the way he thinks carefully about what’s best for me and my future—all proof that he isn’t capable of hurting me. I nearly lost him to a web of lies and blame, but I refuse to let him be the only one doing all the saving. He pulled me from that car but I pulled him from his own tangled wreckage of guilt. Edward was wrong. He never should have shifted the blame to Damon. I was wrong. I never should have walked away from him when I realized that my familiarity to him was because of our interlaced history. I should have allowed him to explain. I didn’t and nearly losing him was the punishment I deserved. Enduring weeks upon weeks with Zombie Damon as my companion was difficult. I wanted to give up so many times but I just couldn’t. I clung hard to the life preserver that was my stubborn will and it paid off. I brought him back from the prison of guilt that he locked himself in.
We’ve come a long way in a disarmingly short amount of time, but nothing has felt more right. I’ve never been happier than the day, three weeks ago, that he walked me through the house he intends on sharing with me. He stood there, in our new home, and asked me to be his wife. His wife! Forever! Seeing the inscription on the engagement ring drove it all home for me. My heart resides with you. Papa’s inscription to Maman is elegantly scrawled inside the band of a ring that symbolizes so much promise for our future together. Damon knew how much that inscription would mean to me. He accepts me as I am. Flaws, painful reminders, and all, Damon accepts me for who and what I am. Merely his presence makes me want to be a better person. I’ve never wanted to be better so much. I’ve never wanted to fight my past, his past, and our fucked up connected past more than I do now. My motivation is tall, handsome, wounded, and he occupies my heart. A few minor things stand in the way of our perfect-screwed-up-life, but I readily accept whatever challenges lie ahead, because for me, there is no other option. Damon is it.
I walk with initiative into Grams’ soon-to-be former residence with my cell phone pressed to my ear. Today is moving day and I’m not sure which one of us is more excited. I needed a few days to break Grams out of the old folks’ home and get her settled in her private apartment at the new house Damon bought when he proposed (something I’m still kind of in shock about), so I delegated all responsibilities at the store to Noni. She seems to be eager to dive into the mountain of work waiting for her, but I’m still feeling a little anxious about it.
“Are you sure you’ve got this thing with the contractor taken care of?” I ask Noni as I hurry into the building.
“Yep. I’ve got it handled, honey. I’ll take down notes for you,” Noni promises.
“Okay, Noni, thanks for covering for me.”
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow. And Noni?” I wave to Linda at the Welcome Desk while I wait a moment for Noni to respond. She knows what I’m going to say.
“Yes?”
“We can talk then if you want to,” I say, doing my best to encourage her to get through the talk that awaits us. I’m not thrilled with it, so I know she definitely isn’t chomping at the bit to sit down and have the not-so-lovely chat about her past.
“Okay, Jo,” Noni murmurs weakly.
It’s obvious that this is tough for her and I’ll admit that can’t even imagine just how difficult it was to give up her child, but we still need to talk. Reliving the whole thing is going to take a lot of courage. She’s obviously scared and she has every right to be. Shit got real in a hurry for all of us. Though I should be used to it—everything with me and Damon is a quick slap in the face from reality.
I swipe my thumb across the screen of my phone to end the call and then drop the beast into my bag, where it hits bottom probably somewhere between my lip gloss and Hemingway’s leash.
As I speed walk down the corridor to her room, I glance at the new hardware on my finger. I’ve done it a thousand times a day since he proposed a week ago. It never gets old. My eye catches the glitter that the single gargantuan diamond puts off and it’s as if I’m seeing it for the first time. A smile spreads across my face and my heart speeds with uninhibited delight. It’s a welcome distraction from the other new development in my life.
Noni and I haven’t had the opportunity to talk about the phone call that changed everything, even though we’re both painfully aware that we need to. It’s still difficult for me to believe that she—my Noni, my friend—is the woman who brought my Big Man into the world. Conveniently for both of us, work and moving have taken priority over that uncomfortable conversation. I’m dreading it. I think part of me feels like if I ignore this revelation well enough, it will just magically undo itself. Call it denial or ignorance or whatever you like, but the truth is, I’m afraid to learn anymore about Damon’s sordid past. I’m afraid that knowing more will make me feel even guiltier for being dishonest with him and that’s something that carries serious risk. My Big Man is on his way to emotional and mental healing after the disaster that our breakup precipitated. As crazy as it sounds, he’s delicate at best right now. I won’t risk his
heart any further. The thought of him hating me for meddling is enough to make my stomach recoil. Silence is my oath. For now. Versan is going to have a fucking field day with this one. I’m not looking forward to that session. At all.
I’m walking so fast, my one track mind on my crazy life, that I nearly miss the familiar face standing a ways down the wide hall. Edward. He’s the last person that I want to deal with today. The sight of him makes me sick and angry all at once. The pissed off part of me wants to run at him full speed with some type of medieval weapon, ready to pummel his head. A maul, maybe. Or a battle axe. It’s a gruesome daydream, but it’s the truth.
My pace slows as another familiar face comes into view. Handy Andy? And he’s talking to Edward? Against my better judgment, I direct myself straight to them. Andy’s eyes peer easily over Jackass McFuckstick’s shoulder straight to me and he smiles that flirtatious grin that I’ve come to expect… and ignore. Edward goes on to finish what he’s been saying to Andy without even acknowledging my presence. Damon made it clear to his father that he wasn’t to interact with me in the least. As far as I can tell, he isn’t testing Damon. It’s a wise choice. I wouldn’t want the full wrath of my Big Man raining down on me, either. It’s yet another reason I’m beginning to regret knowing what I know.
“I’ve already taken care of it, Mr. Cole,” Andy says.
Edward nods at Andy and turns to walk away. Just when I think he’s going to heed Damon’s warning to leave me be, he makes brief eye contact. “Josephine,” he says calmly. His disposition seems indifferent, but something in that man’s eyes makes my skin crawl.
I know I should refrain, but my mace-wielding inner self charges ahead. “McFuckstick,” I greet him just as curtly as he greeted me. I can’t help but rejoice a little on the inside. It’s a small insult, but it feels good nonetheless. The very least he deserves is an insult or two. Asshole. I turn to Handy Andy, who is staring at me with a look of part amusement and part shock. “Trust me, he deserves it.” I shrug and move the conversation into less irritating territory. “Looks like you won’t have to make any more repairs to Grams’ room after today.”