by L A Cotton
Table of Contents
title page
titles by L. A. Cotton
copyright
quote
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
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
chapter twenty-eight
chapter twenty-nine
chapter thirty
chapter thirty-one
epilogue
lucky penny playlist
about the author
acknowledgements
Sneak Peeks
Since You’ve Been Gone
The Portal Opener: Discovery
Titles by L. A. Cotton
Fate’s Love Series
Fate’s Love
Love’s Spark
Love Collides
Chastity Falls Series
Loyalty and Lies
Salvation and Secrets
Tribulation and Truths
Standalone Novels
Lucky Penny
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Published by Delesty Books
First eBook Edition
Copyright © L. A. Cotton 2015
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
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Edited by Jenny Carlsrud Sims of Editing4Indies
Cover designed by Daniela Conde Padrón of DCP Designs
Image and Model: Mandy Hollis at MHPhotography
Interior Design and Formatting: Champagne Formats
“Do you think about life after this place, Blake? About what will happen?” Penny gazed over at me as if I was her world, causing my stomach to knot tightly.
I wanted to be—her world. I wanted to give her the moon and the stars and everything between. She deserved it and so much more. She deserved life; one better than the shit we put up living with Derek and Marie.
“All the time. Come here.” I looped my arm around her neck, not caring if anyone spotted us, and drew her in tighter as we lay beyond the yard staring up at the night sky. Tiny lights sparkled like diamonds on a smooth black canvas. It was beautiful. A little slice of heaven in our own fucked-up version of hell. “Eighteen more months, Penny, and then we’re free and it’ll be just you and me.”
Penny sighed beside me. It was full of hope. I felt it in the way her hand lightly squeezed mine, and how her body relaxed into the ground as the breath left her lungs. We both wanted more. More than the shit hand we had been dealt. We had dreams and hopes for the future, just like any other sixteen-year-old kid. Except we weren’t like most other kids. We had already lost so much… lived so much.
It was what brought us together in the first place, but now… now, things were different between us. Sometime in the last two years, my best friend had become my reason for breathing.
My everything.
“Eighteen months. We can make that, right?” Her voice was unsure, and I hated them for taking away the last shred of fight she’d had when she arrived at the Freeman group home with just one bag and a shitload of nightmares.
I rolled slightly to face Penny, my eyes taking in her delicate features. Chocolate brown eyes set against pale skin with a peppering of freckles that covered her perfectly shaped nose framed by loose dark waves rolling over her slim shoulders.
Trying to push down all of my anger for the things she’d faced in this place, I choked out, “You’re my lucky Penny. With you by my side, we can survive anything.”
“It’s not you, Pen. It’s me.”
I winced at Cal’s words, but not for the reasons most girls would. Most people experienced being dumped in their lifetime, usually more than once. As a rite of passage, relationships began and they ended. Friends turned to lovers and fizzled back into the friend zone. Personalities clashed and partners decided the grass was greener. Or sometimes, the spark that was once burning so brightly simply flickered out into the darkness. Sure, they all lived to tell the tale, but that was usually after weeks of drowning their sorrows in a bottle of whatever liquor burned away the hurt or at the bottom of a carton of the sweetest ice cream.
Anything to forget.
Just for a little while.
But I didn’t wince because Cal had finally decided to cut me loose. My eyes weren’t pooling with tears for the loss of our love. No, it wasn’t that his words didn’t cut deep.
The truth cut deep.
And the truth was that it wasn’t Cal, it was me.
It would always be me.
After hugging me awkwardly, Cal held me at arm’s length as if he no longer recognized me. He offered me a weak smile and left. I watched him disappear into the distance before I strolled back through Tuttle Park. My arms held me together as I watched the world go by. It was a warm evening, which usually brought out a crowd. People walked their dogs, couples in love walked hand in hand making plans for their futures, and families played tag with their children. And here I was again.
Alone.
Despite the sliver of regret stabbing at my heart, I knew it was for the best. I’d tried—really tried—to make things work. Cal was my third attempt at a normal relationship in the last four years. A year older than me, he had a steady job, a nice apartment in Indian Springs, and he was motivated. If Mom were around, she would have called him the perfect guy.
I knew there was something different about him when I had let him touch me. It had taken four months, a lot of persuasion, and two panic attacks, but we had finally managed to be intimate in ways I hadn’t been with anyone else. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. Cal had wanted more—something I couldn’t give. And although I’d seen the signs long before today, when Cal started to pull away, I let him. I couldn’t blame him. What twenty-four-year-old guy wanted a girlfriend who struggled with simple touch, let alone intimacy? And besides, I wasn’t planning to stay in Clintonville forever. Really, our relationship was doomed from the beginning.
Just like your life.
By the time The Oriental Garden came into view, daylight was disappearing on the horizon and taking with it the last shreds of my deteriorating mood. I’d lived above the takeout restaurant for almost two years, but it still didn’t feel like home. Nowhere ever did. When I’d viewed the supposedly renovated one-bedroom apartment in Clintonville, the owner had failed to mention the hand-me-down kitchen and touched-up damp walls. Add to that the lingering smell of fried egg rolls and the window that overlooked the back alley of the local student bar, dumpsters and all, and I wouldn’t call it homey. But it was all my meager
wage from Vrai Beauté could afford, and it was better than the last place I'd lived—and the one before that.
I nudged open the stiff door with my knee and stumbled into the apartment, immediately assaulted by the scent of grease and lavender. The walls seemed to absorb it from downstairs. I’d tried everything I could find to mask the grotesque smell. Lavender was the only thing that seemed to make it almost bearable, but I still spent as little time here as possible. If I hung around for too long, I ended up smelling like Chinese takeout on legs.
After collecting the pile of mail on the doormat, I heated some leftover lasagna, turned on the small television in the corner of the room, and made myself comfortable on the threadbare couch. My fork poked and prodded at the congealed pasta and meat, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. Between seeing Cal and having to face my boss, Tiffany, tomorrow, I had no appetite.
At the thought of work, my eyes drifted to the calendar pinned to the wall by the refrigerator. Sixteen black crosses stared back at me, which meant fourteen more days and then I was out of here for the whole summer.
No more egg rolls.
No more damp, flaky walls.
No more being kept up all night by drunk students.
I was trading my less-than-comfortable surroundings for even fewer home comforts. But I had been looking for this chance. My fresh start. An opportunity to do something with my life. It was only one summer, but one summer could change everything. I knew that better than anyone did.
Only this time, I hoped it would change my life for the better.
“Penny, there are rails to organize,” Tiffany, the owner-manager of Vrai Beauté, barked disapprovingly. “You’ve been very distracted this week.”
I moved toward the rack of dresses and started reordering them with trembling hands, scanning the shop to make sure it was empty. Tiffany didn’t like chitchat when there were customers. The nerves somersaulted in my stomach again, but I inhaled deeply and recited my mantra. You can do this.
“Actually… there’s, hmm, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”
She glanced up from the counter and arched her eyebrow with a look that said ‘what could you possibly have to discuss with me.’ “Yes?”
I opened my mouth and spluttered my words. Irritated, Tiffany said, “Well, don’t just stand there. Out with it, Penny.”
“Well, I applied to work at a camp for the summer. Camp Chance out in Hocking Hills. They offered me a position, and I’ll be gone for eleven weeks.”
When I’d spotted the ad for summer work at Camp Chance, a camp for fostered teenagers situated in Hocking Hills State Park, I had applied with no expectations. With no experience working with kids and only a couple of childhood camping trips on my resume, I didn’t expect to make it past the paper application. But in less than two weeks, I would be packing my bags and leaving for the summer.
“Aren’t you a little old for camp?” Tiffany replied running her eyes up and down my body as if she was mentally assessing my age. “And eleven weeks? I’m not sure I can hold your job here for that long, Penny, if that’s what you’re asking.”
My shoulders sagged slightly. Of course, she couldn’t just congratulate me or show any interest in my news. It was exactly the reason I’d put off telling her until now.
“If you can’t hold it, I understand.” I gulped down the disappointment swimming in my stomach.
Tiffany pursed her lips into a thin line and looked like she might say something else, but obviously thought better of it as she dropped her eyes and continued checking over price tags.
It was silly really. Tiffany wasn’t someone I’d developed a friendship with—I didn’t develop friendships with anyone—and she only spoke to me when the job required it. I think she only hired me because she had felt sorry for me the day I interviewed for the job. I’d missed the bus and had to walk five blocks in the heavy rain. By the time I arrived, water was running off me like a river, but I’d insisted on continuing with the interview. I needed a job, and I didn’t like to rely on second chances.
The doorbell chimed, and I glanced up to watch a group of girls enter the store. They were laughing about something, and I immediately busied myself with the rail trying to ignore them. Over the last year, it had gotten easier. My job at Vrai Beauté was my first customer service position, all part of the heal Penny plan. You need to be around people more, you need to learn to live again, the therapist had repeatedly told me. He didn’t count my previous job at the university’s library working in the storeroom or the job before that where I worked in the kitchen of a busy hotel. I guess he had a point. I liked to stay hidden in the background. The spotlight was a place for perfectly primped girls like the ones currently cooing over the lingerie section at the back of the store.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
I inhaled deeply and turned around, plastering on my best fake smile. “How can I help you?”
“Do you have this in a four? There’s only sixes and eights on the rack.” She smiled back, and it seemed genuine. Not like some of the customers who came from all over the Columbus area to get their hands on the latest fashion trends stocked by Vrai Beauté.
I snatched the silky material out the girl’s hands and answered a little too abruptly. “I’ll go check for you.”
Tiffany shot me a questioning look as I hurried past the counter and into the back. I was restless about going to Camp Chance next month. Excitement laced with terror, and my head was an exhausting place to be. It would mean living in close quarters with the other counselors and getting to know them. People like the ones in the front right now. The last time I’d been around a group of people was five years ago in foster care. The day I walked out of the Freeman group home in Lancaster was the day I became truly alone. With the exception of Bryan, Michael, and most recently, Cal, I’d been alone ever since. I rarely made friends, not ones that stuck anyway. But my therapist was right. It was time to move forward and to let myself heal.
It was time to step out of the shadows and live.
On my last shift at Vrai Beauté, Tiffany barely managed to wish me luck, but much to my surprise, her parting words were that she would try to hold my job open. Kylie, one of the part-timers, was willing to pick up my shifts over the summer until she started back at school in the fall. It was better than nothing. I couldn’t find it in me to be relieved I still had a job, not with how preoccupied my mind was. An endless stream of questions plagued my thoughts. What would the other counselors be like? Would I survive the five days of intense training? Or would I be packing my bags before I had them unpacked?
The bus out to Hocking Hills was quiet, just me and a handful of campers taking the sixty-mile journey out of town. When we passed through Lancaster, my blood ran cold. Five years later and my fresh start had led me right past the one place I wanted to erase from my mind. I closed my eyes, turned up the volume on my iPod, and let the music force out the unwanted thoughts.
It wasn’t until the bus came to a halt that I dared to open my eyes again. The campers exited the vehicle with their laden rucksacks and headed toward the visitor’s center.
“Next stop is yours, little lady,” a gruff voice sounded from the driver’s chair.
I nodded up at the rearview mirror but didn’t reply as the engine rumbled to life, and we started moving further within the thick forest. The road cut through the dense green wall as trees swayed gently in the breeze. It was peaceful. Calm. Somewhere I could imagine spending time, despite having never visited this part of Ohio before.
After ten minutes, a crooked hand-painted sign welcomed us to Camp Chance, and the woods expanded into a clearing. A large wooden cabin stood proudly in the center with smaller cabins arranged off to the side. The driver parked in a dirt parking lot and opened the door. “This is you.”
“Thanks,” I murmured as he offered his hand to help me off the bus.
Clutching my bag tighter, I made no attempt to accept his courtesy... or touch. I silently scolded
myself. Shrinks had been telling me for the last four years to face my fears. Baby steps, they’d all said. A graze or two of a pinky, shaking hands, holding hands, hugging, kissing. The cognitive behavioral therapist I spent six months visiting last year told me to focus on the person I was with at that moment, to hold onto the reality that their touch was not his. Easy for them to say sitting in the confines of their sterile offices. In practice, it wasn’t that easy, and while I didn’t intend to let the driver pucker up to me, I knew I should have accepted his offer of help. But my past had conditioned me to fear touch. To abhor being touched.
If the driver was offended, he didn’t show it as he retrieved my other bag from the luggage hold and placed it on the sidewalk.
“I’ll be seeing you.”
“Bye.”
He climbed back into the bus and pulled out of the lot, and I was once again alone.
My feet wouldn’t move. I don’t know how long I stood there glued to the sidewalk. A few people came and went from the central cabin, but no one noticed me. I was relieved. I needed more time to psych myself. The rational part of me knew this wasn't the Freeman group home. There were no Dereks or Maries here. This place helped and nurtured teenagers who lived in foster care. To give them the kind of chance I never had.
Nothing will happen here.
But the little voice of doubt that kept me shackled to my past refused to stay quiet.
“Hey, are you here for the staff training?” A tall, slim girl joined me dropping her rucksack down at her feet. “I'm Marissa.”
I turned slightly to face her, stepping back instinctively to put a little more space between us. “Hi, I'm Penny, and yes, I'm here for the summer.”
“Me too. Counselor or activity instructor?”
“Counselor.”
Marissa smiled at me knowingly. “Nice. First year, I take it?”
I glanced around. Was it that obvious? Of course, it was. I nodded, and she laughed. “Don't look so worried. You're in for one hell of a summer. I hope you brought insect repellent. The bugs out here take no prisoners.”