Table of Contents
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Epilogue
Unexpected Love
Thanks for reading Impossible Love!
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Visions
IMPOSSIBLE LOVE
KIMBERLY READNOUR
RAE-ALLEN publishing
Copyright©2016 by Kimberly Readnour
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, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference.
ASIN: B01GDIAXTU
Cover Art by: SwoonWorthy Book Covers
Copy Edited by: Patrick Hodges
To my wonderful husband. Without your hard work and dedication, this book would have never been brought to life. Love you always.
Chapter One
The people surrounding me are neither comforting nor reassuring. I’m all alone despite the preacher’s spiritual words. My lips press tight, and my hand clenches the long-stemmed rose. A thorn pricks my skin, but I don’t flinch—the pain doesn’t match the ache inside my chest.
I lift the petals to my nose and inhale. The sickening sweet scent churns my stomach. I suddenly hate this scent and never want to smell it again.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, and I stare at the gray, dismal sky that’s on the verge of erupting. My leg twitches and reinforces the urgency to leave. My best friend, Staci Benson, places a reassuring hand on my forearm, but every muscle tightens, forcing her withdrawal.
The preacher quits talking and looks directly at me. My cue. Bile threatens to rise as I stand and take a step forward. I lay the rose on the slick, shiny surface and pause, studying its placement. The first innocent rose lying on top, soon to be followed by many. I squeeze my eyes tightly, and a tear trickles along the side of my face before I turn to walk away. Stay strong, Kayla. Now isn’t the time to fall apart.
I walk along the flattened grass path and watch the tips of my black shoes leave behind the only life I had ever known. Why did this day come so soon? Each day passes without a thought of tomorrow’s sorrow. But does it matter? Even when knowing these dark days lay ahead, we still try to deny their existence.
A shiver rifles through me, and I clutch my stomach. This pain is too much. I block the murmuring sounds behind me. The whispers I’ve heard the last two days. The same people who question whether I’ll be okay. I cannot take any pity right now, genuine or not.
My gaze wanders to the tree line ahead and lands on a silhouette stepping from the shadows. My heart stops before pumping the first beats of life I’ve had in weeks. The image cannot be real. It has to be a sick, twisted mind-game my subconscious is playing.
I stay quiet, not moving a muscle as the figure nears—confusion lacing every facet of my mind. The guy approaches, and our gaze connects. He’s here; he’s really here. My lips part, and I’m barely breathing until he’s mere inches away. His arms reach for me, and my body releases weeks of built-up tension as I collapse into his strong embrace. He presses me against his chest, and I weep, no longer holding back.
Chapter Two
Five Months Earlier
Kayla~
Something’s wrong. Mom’s way too excited for our unconventional Thanksgiving meal of homemade spaghetti and meatballs. She’s more animated than usual as if there’s an ulterior motive. My eyes narrow at her inability to sit still.
“Okay, Mom. What gives?” I slurp the remaining noodles on the plate and wait for an explanation.
“What?” she says, innocently. Her fingers spread against her breastbone as if she’s shocked. “I can’t be excited that my number one daughter is home with her momma?”
I shake my head and hide my chuckle behind the napkin. Wiping the remaining marinara sauce away, I raise an eyebrow.
“You know, as your only child, I love being home. But something’s up. You’re acting weird.”
Mom lets out a laugh and then winks at me. “I’ll get the dessert.”
I sigh, all too familiar with Mom’s stubbornness. I’ll have to wait. She won’t budge until she’s ready. I lean back against the chair and wait for her famous tiramisu. A nontraditional dessert she insists on serving, stating it correlates with the Italian theme. Whatever. It’s good, so I never complain.
As soon as the last piece of heavenly creaminess melts on my tongue, Mom springs from her chair. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at Mom’s receding backside. Not having any clue what she’s up to, I hold in a laugh when she bounces back into the room with a huge smile plastered across her face.
Mom hands over a manila envelope and then returns to her seat. I glance at her and notice the gleam in her eyes, which further heightens my curiosity. With the envelope secured in my hands, I hesitate before opening. Whatever is inside must be amazing. Mom yelps and bounces again as I slide the contents out.
I’m speechless, completely shocked to the point where my voice is unable to utter a sound. An itinerary, along with airplane tickets, lay within my grasp. I blink twice to see if I’m reading it right. Puzzled, I look at Mom for clarification.
“Merry Christmas,” Mom screams, jumping off her chair. She stands next to me, adding, “I thought we could use a break, maybe escape reality for a while. What do you think?”
Baffled, I stand there. A three-week stay in Kauai?
“Really?” I say at last.
Kauai? I’ve never even heard
of the place. I mean, sure I know about Hawaii, but never focused on the individual islands. Most people picture Oahu or Maui when referencing Hawaii. At least, that’s what I do.
“We’ll have so much fun.”
“Thanks, Mom. This trip looks awesome.”
I glance at her, and she smiles appreciatively, but there’s a distance to her stare. The faraway look only lasts a moment before she bats her eyelids a few times and refocuses.
“Let’s get these dishes cleaned up.” Mom steps to the table, and she lets out a slow breath as she stacks the plates together. “They won’t take long.”
“I’ve got this.” I swipe the plates from underneath her and turn toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you lie down? You look tired.”
“No, that’s silly. I’m fine. Just stayed up too late last night. Didn’t you hear Mrs. Jones’s dog howling?”
“Peaches at it again?” I laugh. “Seriously though, there aren’t that many dishes. Go rest. You’ve been cooking the entire morning.”
With a reluctant nod, Mom exits to the front room. I fill the sink with warm soapy water and load the dishwasher. After placing the last pan in the bottom cupboard, I head straight to the computer to research the possibilities this trip offers.
I pass by Mom sleeping on the couch. Thirty minutes ago, she was vibrant and full of life. I shake my head and giggle at her tiny snore. As cute as Peaches is, the yipping does get annoying at times.
Five minutes into the Internet search, I learn Kauai is arguably the most exquisite island out of the main four. With the annual rainfall the island receives and tropical temperatures, the greenery appears lush and vivid. Excitement bubbles inside me. Since I am somewhat of a naturalist, this trip is perfect.
There are breathtaking trails I hope to hike, and rivers—like the Wailua River—to kayak. God, I can’t wait to go. I lean back in my chair and smile. Bring on winter break!
***
I toss a pair of jeans into my duffle bag and zip it shut. I’ll get by with a small bag for now. Winter clothes are not a necessity where I’m going. My gaze strays to the alarm clock, and the corners of my mouth lift. Eleven-thirty. If I leave by noon, I’ll be back home by two-thirty. That will give me plenty of time to finish packing the summer clothes stored at home. The last final for the semester ended a half-hour ago, and I’m ready for a much-needed break.
“So, when are you leaving?” Staci asks.
I turn to look at her as she waltzes into our dorm room and plops on her bed.
“Soon,” I say.
I meander to the pathetic excuse of a closet and grab my favorite Boilermaker sweatshirt. I spin around and catch sight of Staci propped up on her elbows. Her head tilts to the side, and she eyes me expectantly. Leaving. Hmm, she must not be asking about my trip home.
“You mean for the vacation?” I break eye contact and toss the sweatshirt by the duffle bag.
“Of course I mean your vacation.”
I smile at the annoyance in her tone, but my mind resorts to sunny beaches and flowing greenery. But then the thirteen-hour flight, along with my fear of flying, creeps into my thoughts.
“Friday. We fly out early in the morning,” I answer in a whiney tone.
“Don’t you dare complain,” Staci says. “You’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like every semester break you get to relax in paradise.”
“I know. I know.” I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Flying scares me, though.”
“Please, it’s safer than driving. If my mom gave me an early Christmas present to Kauai, I’d be jumping all around shouting ‘Yo, Bitches. I’m out of here.’ Instead, I get to go home to my bratty brother and listen to him drone on about this zombie blowing up that zombie. Blah, blah, blah.”
I roll my eyes and grin. “Yuck.”
“I know. He’s a real treat. At least you’ll be able to be on a beach looking at naturally-tanned surfer guys. Ooh, maybe even a hot tour guide to show you around.” She smiles coyly and adds, “Who knows, you may finally get lucky.”
“Seriously? I’ll be there with my mom.”
“What? She’s cool. She’ll let you wander on your own. You could shack up with a local, have a little hana’ma’i,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Oh my God, I can only guess what that means.” I laugh, despite the fact I want to die of embarrassment.
“What? I Googled it. You need to know what the term means if you’re going to be getting-it-on with a local hottie. You know, speak the same language and all.”
“Whatever. They speak English, and that is so not happening.”
I ignore her and unzip my tote bag to add my curling iron. Honestly, I don’t foresee any “hana’ma’i” happening in my near future. Staci means well, and she’s just joking around, but she doesn’t realize how her words affect me. It isn’t like I enjoy being a senior in college, still hanging on to my V-card. And it’s not like I have some deep spiritual meaning to use as an excuse. The right guy hasn’t shown up yet. It’s that simple. Unlike Staci, I can’t have meaningless sex. To me, sex is something intimate shared between two people who care deeply about each other. My view won’t change, no matter how old I am.
“Oh come on, Kayla,” Staci says. “Don’t overthink and put way too much meaning into it. For the hundredth time, it’s just sex.”
I zip my bag, again, and give her my “don’t start this conversation” look. We’ve been down this road multiple times. She has a crazy idea I should pick some random dude and get it over with.
“Sex isn’t a task to be completed and checked off a list. You know I can’t separate my feelings like that. I want to at least like the guy first.”
“Nah, you’re just too picky,” Staci says.
“No, I’m not. There’s no harm in waiting for a guy you connect with.”
She huffs and shakes her head. “You and your unrealistic expectations.”
I press my lips tight. She doesn’t get it. And I’m not overly picky.
“It’s not my fault the guys I run into are only wanting a quick hook-up. Or the guys that are great boyfriend material emit the friendship vibe.” I waltz to my dresser and pull out my bikini.
“What’s wrong with quick hook-ups?”
I twirl around, exasperated. “Have you not been listening to me?”
“Yeah, but I keep hoping to change ya.”
“Quit trying.” I laugh and throw the swimsuit into my backpack, not admitting what I really want to Staci. She’ll yell at me for sure if she knows I want the fairytale—sonnets and fireworks. That gaze in his eyes that ignites the burn deep inside. Ugh. Maybe Staci’s right; I just need to get laid, and not overthink it. Sonnets and fireworks never happen in real life, right?
“Besides, I’m not going to hook-up with anyone while on vacation with my mom.”
“Okay, but promise me you’ll have some fun. Drink at least one Mai Tai for me, okay? I won’t be there forcing you to go out.”
I laugh, but nod. She’s right in the sense that her prodding is the only reason I socialize. With my goals set high, I’ve been concentrating more on school rather than finding an unnecessary romance.
“I’ve done some things without your constant pushing, like volleyball.” I used to play back in high school. And I miss it. Purdue has nets set up, which have allowed me to play a few games for fun.
“Yes, but a few games doesn’t compensate for your nightlife.”
I nod in agreement. She’s right on that account, too. Instead of the party scene, I’d rather stay home and do something productive, like knitting.
“Oh my God, you’re thinking about knitting aren’t you?” Staci says as she sits up quickly. “Just, stop. You’re not going to a beautiful island to knit.”
“What? I wouldn’t mind cranking out a sweater over break.” I swear she’s a freaking mind reader.
“Lame. You’re not bringing your knitting needles to the beach. Besides, sand will get woven in your string.”
<
br /> “Yarn,” I correct.
“Whatever. It’ll just be a mess. Have some real fun.” Staci throws her hands up and laughs. She pauses, and then her face slackens and shoulders slump forward. “You know I’ll miss you, right?”
I plop into a round Papasan chair next to the head of my bed and look at her. “I’ll miss you, too. And I promise I won’t spend the entire day with my knitting needles. When are you returning to campus?”
“You know me,” Staci says with a cheeky smile. “The last possible day I can, Sunday, the Twelfth.”
Letting out a breath, I scan the tiny dorm room that we’ve shared for almost four years. The cream-colored walls scream for some brightness, but at least, my now semi-empty closet appears less messy.
“I can’t believe this may be our last winter break,” I say, glancing back at Staci.
Her eyes glisten as she nods. “Hopefully, we’ll both get into the same Grad program.”
“I hope. Nothing to do now, though, but wait.” I break eye contact before my emotions get the better of me.
We’re both enrolled in the nursing program at Purdue University and will be full-fledged Registered Nurses this spring. We share the same goal of becoming a Primary Care Family Nurse Practitioner. Purdue has an excellent program we’re both hoping to be accepted into.
“Hey,” a male voice says.
My head snaps to a sandy-blond haired guy walking through the doorway. A warm smile erupts when my gaze connects with my other best friend, Brian Thames. We met my freshman year in Calculus II. Brian’s a pre-med major with plans of becoming a pediatrician. He’s super smart and has helped me through some difficult formulations. Since then, we’ve become tight.
“Hey, you made it in time,” I say, straightening in my chair.
“I wouldn’t miss the big send off.” Brian ignores Staci as he breezes by her. Without hesitation, he settles on my bed and positions himself so his knee rubs against mine.
“When are you heading out?” he asks.
My gaze cuts to Staci. She turns her head, but not before I notice her slipped smile. I suppress a sigh and try to retain a neutral expression. Those guys have never gotten along in the past three and half years of knowing each other. I’m not sure why. Staci’s never said anything against Brian, but the tension between them is unmistakable.
Impossible Love: An Unforeseen Destiny Novel Book One Page 1