Delivered Through the Storm

by Nicole Garcia

  Delivered Through the Storm

  by

  Nicole Garcia

  Copyright © 2017

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  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 from the author.

  Chapter One

  Madison

  "Mommy, can I have my breakfast now?"

  "I'm making it Aiden. See?" I point to the open box of pancake mix on the kitchen counter, the white powder scattered all over the granite countertop and on the floor.

  "No, mom. I don't want pancakes. I want toast with peach jelly."

  Already feeling frustrated before the day has even begun, I drop the spoon I’m holding into the metal sink, making it clang loudly. "Aiden, that's not what you said ten minutes ago."

  "I know, but I changed my mind."

  "Fine, I'll make you toast. Now go put your shoes on, you're already an hour late for school."

  I inhale deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. It’s mornings like this that drive me to the brink of madness. My morning had not started off well. The alarm on my phone never went off and I had to call my best friend and co-worker Tyler to bail me out, yet again. He is the most loyal person in my life and the greatest friend anyone could ever ask for. He was there throughout my divorce proceedings and always covers for me at work if the boys are sick or have appointments to go to.

  I walk over to Caleb who is playing on the floor with his collection of cars. I smile as I watched him roll them back and forth over the carpet. He makes beeping and crashing sounds as he bumps the small metal cars together before throwing one clear across the room. I pick him up from the floor and place him in his booster seat at the kitchen table. "You want pancakes right Caleb?" I pinch his chubby little cheek and comb the platinum blond curls out of his face with my fingers.

  "Yay, cakes!" His light blue eyes sparkle with excitement and anticipation. Pancakes are one of his favorite foods. He could eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if I allowed him to. He bangs his fork on the worn wooden table over and over until I take the utensil from him and set it next to his plate.

  "Mommy?"

  I pour two perfect circles of batter into the hot buttered pan before turning to my seven-year-old son, who is still shoeless. "Aiden, I thought I told you to go put your shoes on. We need to get ready to leave soon. You're late for school."

  "I can't find my shoes."

  "Cakes!" Caleb yells, banging his fork on the table again.

  I walk over to Caleb, taking the fork out of his hand again and place it at the other end of the table so he can’t reach it. I flip the pancakes that are now starting to burn and put two pieces of bread into the toaster. "Aiden, I told you to put your shoes in the bin beside your bed. Didn't we have this discussion about putting things where they belong so it's easier to find them later?"

  The bread pops out of the toaster and I grab a knife to spread the peach jelly over it. I hand the plate to Aiden. "I'll go find them. Sit with Caleb and eat your breakfast. Hurry, because we have to go." I remove the pancakes from pan, cutting them into small pieces for Caleb. I place the dish in front of Caleb, give him his fork, then rush to Aiden's room to find his missing shoes.

  When I get to the doorway of his room the first thing I see are his sneakers in the blue plastic bin beside his bed. I sigh heavily. Sometimes I really feel like I’m going insane. My stress level is through roof and all I want to do is give up and go back to bed. But unfortunately, I’m nowhere near being able to rest my head on a pillow to sleep. My kids depend on me. I’m all they have. Their father is too full of himself to care about his children, so the burden is left on my shoulders alone.

  Since Aiden’s evaluation with the developmental specialist two years ago I’ve learned to take everything in stride and try not to stress over the minor mishaps throughout the day. I’ve become accustomed to the repetitiveness each day brings because it makes Aiden’s daily routine go smoother. When Aiden was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder my heart broke for him. I knew from the research I’d done that he would not only find schoolwork difficult, but friendships with his peers could also be affected.

  I don’t want him to feel different from the other kids. I also don’t want him to be made fun of because he’s slower at reading and has difficulty focusing in class. He’s been made fun of for fidgeting in his seat because the teacher always has to redirect him. I don’t want him to grow up not having any friends over something he has no control over. It would only contribute to the low self-esteem his father has already instilled in him. I hate that Mitch makes our son feel the same way he made feel all the years we were together. Instead of loving his child and wanting to do anything he could to help Aiden, he quit on him. He quit on me and he quit on his family.

  Well, I won’t be making that kind of mistake ever again. No way will I allow a man treat me the way my ex-husband did. Though he never abused me physically, he might as well have. He always undermined my decisions with the kids and nothing was ever good enough for him; the way I cooked, the way I cleaned, and even the way I dressed was never to his satisfaction. He never made me feel like I was appreciated or desired.

  I was so desperate for love that I even forgave him for cheating on me; all three times. The last straw had been when I was in labor at the hospital giving birth to Caleb. I’d been alone with no support to help me through childbirth, why, because Mitch was too busy screwing his secretary to care.

  I couldn’t even depend on my mother. I’d left home right after I graduated high school because my mother was no better than Mitch. There were many times I thought they’d been cut out of the same cloth. My mother was furious that I didn’t want to be a well-renowned cardiac surgeon as she was. I had no choice but to get a job and pay for college myself because my mother refused to fund my education.

  I didn’t want to become a surgeon, a doctor, or even a nurse for that matter. That field never interested me. What moves me is art. As far back as I could remember the colors of certain paintings gave me a warm feeling inside that I was lacking as a child. My father fed my interest by buying me books upon books about different artists, their work, and different time periods. He told me he was proud to have such an amazing daughter who could see beauty in everything. I wished I could have lived with my father after my parent’s divorce, but since he was unemployed at the time, my mother gained full custody. Of course my father was awarded visitation, but there was only so much verbal abuse a man could take from my mother. She drove everyone away by making them feel inferior. So, in a way I couldn’t blame my father for hardly ever coming to see me.

  Years later when I began dating Mitch, my mother was head over heels with the idea of us being a couple. I thought I had finally done something right in my life. That was until I introduced Mitch to my father. He was unimpressed and hated Mitch from the very beginning. Instead of taking advice from someone who always supported me, I
sided with my mother because all I wanted was to be accepted for a decision I’d made. I was furious that my father didn’t accept Mitch and stopped talking to him altogether.

  After Mitch and I got married, I began to see his true colors. I wanted to reach out to my father, but was too embarrassed. I suffered in silence throughout the whole marriage. Every time I tried to talk to my mother about it, she would brush me off saying it was probably something I had done.

  It’s days like today that remind me of how alone, unappreciated, and incompetent I really am. Each day I feel like I’m not doing enough to be a good mother to my sons. Maybe I should have stuck it out with Mitch just so Aiden could have a man around, even if he is an asshole, he’s still the kid’s father.

  I sit on Aiden’s bed, bury my head in my hands and just…sob. What I need right now is a good old-fashioned cry. I need to relieve some of the stress from the morning so I can get through the rest of day.

  Soft footsteps enter the room and I turn my head to see Aiden standing in the doorway. “Mommy? Why are you crying?”

  I quickly wipe my face with the back of my hand. He shouldn’t have to see me crying and I refuse to contribute to his own stress-filled day. “I’m not crying honey.”

  He walks over to me and picks up his pajama t-shirt that he’d left at the foot of the bed. He lifts it to my cheek and wipes my tear soaked face. “It’s okay to cry Mommy. Remember you told me that when I couldn’t do my math homework last week and you helped me? I can help you Mommy.”

  I hug my sweet boy. How could anyone not want him in their life? His father was not only a jerk, but he was missing out on a relationship with a pretty great kid. With all the things going on and stress that overwhelms me at times, I forget to take a breath and enjoy my time with the boys, even if it’s during a chaotic morning. “Thank you baby, but I’m okay, really.” I plaster on the best smile I can muster. “And I found your shoes.”

  Aiden grabs his shoes and races to the living room to put them on. I collect myself and wipe the remaining tears from my flushed cheeks. Caleb already finished his breakfast and comes barreling down the hallway jumping into my arms. I lift him up and tickle his full belly. He giggles as I settle him on my hip, making my way to the kitchen to put the dirty breakfast dishes in the sink.

  The doorbell rings, reminding me that I was supposed to have a package delivered today. I grab my cell phone from the counter and check the time. I am so damn late. I consider not going into work today, but Aiden has to go to school and Tyler has covered for me so many times this week already.

  I run to the front door and swing it open. I don’t ask who it is or give the man in the doorway a second glance because I hear the water running in the kitchen sink and I don’t want the water to overflow all over the floor. We’re already behind schedule and what I don’t need is another mess to clean up.

  Chapter Two

  Ryder

  I set the electronic signature pad on the box I’m holding under my arm and knock on the door. There’s no answer, but I can hear the sound of people shuffling around and a child giggling, so I knock again. The door opens and right when I’m about speak, I’m quickly cut off and whipped in the face by a mountain of long blonde curls. I rub my eye, ensuring that I haven’t gone blind from the impact of the woman’s hair. Gently pushing the door wider, I step inside and scan the foyer, looking down the hall for the woman who opened the door and crazily ran back inside. The only thing I caught a glimpse of was her hair as she rounded the corner with a baby in her arms. But now she’s nowhere in sight.

  I take a few more steps into the hallway and stop in the entryway to the living room, catching sight of a little dark-haired boy sprinting around the room and jumping over toys as if he’s in the four-hundred-meter hurdle at the Olympic Games. I smile. He reminds me so much of myself when I was his age. I was never one to sit still either.

  The sound of running water coming from the kitchen stops and the loud clang of metal clashing against metal echoes in the house. A woman screams from behind the wall at the boy who is running around. Apparently, the boy’s name is Aiden since she’s yelled it at least a hundred times in the last forty-five seconds that I’ve been standing here.

  I take one more step and crane my neck to look into the kitchen. Long blonde locks fall to the woman’s lower back, shifting from side to side as she moves around the kitchen holding a baby in her arms. She turns her face to the side, looking more than a bit stressed out. Even from this angle I can tell she’s carrying the weight of the world on those small shoulders of hers. Her face is forlorn and appears exhausted. What could possibly be going on in her life to make her look so defeated?

  “Look Mom!”

  My head automatically snaps to the direction of the boy standing on the arm of the sofa ready to jump. Without thinking I drop the box I’m holding and race to the kid as he leaps from the edge. Time seems to stand still as I watch the boy fly through the air. It feels like I’m not even moving; as if my shoes are filled with cement preventing me from going anywhere. By some force of nature, I get to the boy in time, catching him just as he’s about to hit the edge of the glass coffee table. I fall onto my back, taking the kid with me. My heart has never beat so fast in my life. I’ve never been this scared before. Ever. This is why I don’t have kids. I’m perfectly happy being the cool uncle to my nieces and nephews and not have to deal with things like this on a daily basis.

  Out of breath, I finally get to have a look at the boy who is now resting across my chest. His blue eyes gleam from excitement, clearly not phased a bit about what happened. I blow out a relieved breath and lean my head back onto the carpet. I’m tapped on the chest a few times by small fingers and I lift my head again to meet the boy’s welcoming gaze.

  He looks down at me with an infectious smile splayed across his face. “Hi.”

  I can’t help but to laugh. “Hi.”

  “My name’s Aiden. What’s yours?”

  Before I have a chance to answer, Aiden is ripped out of my arms by his frantic mother. “Aiden are you okay?! How many times have I told you not to climb on the furniture?”

  “I’m fine Mom.”

  I sit up and watch her guide Aiden over to the couch. Her long blond curls cascade over her back as she leans forward, putting the baby down next to his brother. She turns to face me and damn, she’s fucking beautiful. I have never seen a more beautiful woman in my life. Granted, she looks like a complete mess right now, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Her hair is in disarray and her white button-down blouse is half hanging out of her tight in all the right places short tan skirt. Yet, all that doesn’t deter me from thinking about how much I’d like to kiss those full lips of hers.

  She rushes over to me. “Are you okay? I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.”

  I stand and brush off my pants. “No problem.”

  “Oh my God! Your head is bleeding. Let me see.” She drags me over to the stool next to the kitchen island. She turns my head to the side inspecting the damage. “It looks really bad; you may need stitches. I can take you to the hospital. I’ll pay the bill. I’m so sorry.”

  The minor injury I sustained is nothing compared to the countless times I’ve gotten hurt growing up with my two older brothers; bruises, sprains, and broken bones were normal occurrences in the Storm household. I take her hand away from my head to try and get her to calm down. She’s so panicked. Her skin is flushed and her breathing is coming in short bursts. If I don’t get her to relax soon, she’s going to start hyperventilating. I speak to her in a soft voice. “Hey, I’m fine. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”

  She finally stops fussing over me long enough to peer up at me and I do not like what I see. Tears brim her pale blue eyes and are ready to fall. I’ve seen many women cry, hell, I was the cause of most of it, but for some unknown reason, watching her struggle is killing me inside. I hold both her hands in mine and shake them gently in front of her. “I w
ant you to take a deep breath.” I expect her to tell me to fuck off, but she doesn’t, instead she slowly inhales a healthy lungful of air. “Better?”

  She nods. “Yes.”

  “Good.” I smile and she returns the gesture, sending a surge of heat straight to my groin. Fuck, she’s even more stunning when she smiles. She lights up the whole damn room. I shift in the chair and adjust myself. I have a feeling if she saw the erection she’s giving me, she would be completely embarrassed and this woman is having a hard-enough day as it is.

  “Let me at least clean the wound up for you. I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” She returns with a white plastic case filled with bandages and antiseptic spray. She lays everything out on the counter and begins to clean the blood that’s starting to dry in my hair. “I can’t put a bandage on it and there’s a bump. Let me get some ice.” She hurries over to freezer and grabs some ice cubes, placing them in a clean dish rag. “Here hold this.”

  “Mommy, we’re late!” Aiden yells from the living room.

  “Damn it!” She runs into the other room and scoops the baby up. “Aiden get your backpack.” She picks up her phone and gives it a quick glance before shoving it into her oversized purse along with a water bottle, a small box of cookies, and a package of baby wipes. “I am so late for work.” She turns to me as she put the baby’s shoes on. “I really have to go. Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at the hospital?”

  “It’s not necessary, but you might want to change before you leave the house.” I point to her stained skirt. She looks down and touches the damp spot, then brings her fingers to her nose to inspect what it is. God I really hope that mess was made by some sort of food product.

  She groans. “Peach jelly.”

  I stifle a laugh, eyeing her hair. Dangling from one of her messy curls is a wad of green gum. “You might want to take care of that too.” I say, pointing to the viscous material.