Morrow’s Horizon
Book One in the Morrow Women Series
Sierra Kummings
Edited by
Daryl Banner
Covery Design by
Rene Folsom
Contents
Foreword
To Honor my Father
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Morrow’s Horizon
Sierra Kummings
* * *
Copyright © 2017 Sierra Kummings.
All rights reserved.
* * *
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
This is a Work of Fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
* * *
Edited by Daryl Banner
* * *
Cover design and interior formatting by Rene Folsom
To the two most important females in my life: My beautiful mother and baby girl. Without you both none of this would have been possible.
Foreword
This book looks closely at the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder, specifically in how it relates to veterans after they return home. If you suffer from this diagnosis, first and foremost know that help is out there. You do not need to walk this walk alone. There are crisis lines, and many organizations willing to listen to you. The rudimentary techniques listed in this book are not designed to be used as therapy options. This link here gives a great overview of therapies that have proven to be effective in treating PTSD, and provides links to help you find the resources in your area.
Please don’t give up. Don’t suffer alone. You are worth the time and effort it will take to heal.
However, if the topic of PTSD is too emotionally wrought for you, I recommend not reading this book. Instead, I have placed for you below a list of crisis hotlines and various organizations that treat not only PTSD but are available for suicide prevention as well.
Stay healthy. Stay alive. And know that you are loved.
* * *
Suicide Prevention Lifeline:
1-800-273-8255
* * *
Veteran Combat Call Center:
1-800-WAR-VETS or 1-877-927-8387
* * *
Military OneSource:
1-800-342-9647
* * *
Veteran Crisis Line:
1-800-273-8255 (select option 1 for a VA staffer)
* * *
Veteran Crisis Line:
text 838255 or visit VeteransCrisisLine.net
* * *
In the UK: 08457 90 90 90
* * *
In Australia: 13 11 14
Other informative links:
Make the Connection: About PTSD
National Center for PTSD: Finding a Therapist
Real Warriors: Support PTSD Treatment
Warriors Heart: PTSD Treatment Center
Military.com: Help for Caretakers
To Honor my Father
It’s the dream of each parent
their children leave the nest
find success –
not just to survive,
but to thrive
on their own.
* * *
Though dread fills their heart,
hope brings them peace,
that the world
will delight
in their
magnificent sons.
* * *
But that’s not how it happened
for you on that day,
the fateful day you,
my future father,
were sent away.
* * *
That day our country claimed you,
trained you,
armed you,
dropped you on a battlefield
only to come what may.
* * *
Yet you fought, oh how you fought,
this war you never chose.
For months?
For years?
I wouldn’t know.
* * *
Though I long to find out
these things you hold close
to your chest
are the very things
you’ll never disclose.
* * *
I lived with you for years,
yet that’s a time you didn’t speak of –
never once shedding tears
in public.
* * *
Your medals
you tossed,
your memories
you guard,
shame
your own dirty little secret.
* * *
You survived, others died
so this day I remember,
humility humming your truth on my tongue –
* * *
So many brave,
so many fallen,
freedom’s price paid by blood –
hero’s songs
still waiting to be sung.
* * *
(c) Sierra Kummings 2015
1
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Good morning, my ass. Sara’s Friday had only started thirty minutes ago, and already her bed looked the better option than facing the day.
If only she didn’t need to work.
Humph.
She stuck her tongue out at the comfy California king she’d saved up for and bought on clearance.
But, hey, things could’ve been worse. Dan could’ve called instead of the sister whose voice when animated rose louder than an angel’s choir.
“Hellooooo! Earth to Sara! YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE, MY ONLY…” Sage belted out the song Sara had come to hate thanks to the childhood nickname bestowed on her by said sister.
“For the love of God, woman, quiet down.” Sara’s hangover rivaled the one she’d had the night after her twenty-first birthday tha
nks to a now half-empty bottle of whiskey.
Why couldn’t Riley have been the one to call? Or even Abby or Maddie? At least their calmer voices would’ve brought a semblance of peace to the morning. Only Sage could deliver a screech reminiscent of nails against a chalkboard. “Can we skip the lecture? Please? I have to make an early coffee stop before work. I’m about to be in my car.” What was a small lie between family? Sara would be in her car soon enough once she finished getting ready. “Besides, I already know what you’re going to say. When will I learn? Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Blah, blah, blah. How did that help her current situation?
Sara hadn’t meant for Dan to catch her taking a few shots of whiskey before they’d had sex. She’d only hoped to loosen her body up a bit since the man didn’t understand foreplay. Yet instead of seeing that as an opportunity to figure out what she needed to get herself there naturally, he’d taken it as a direct assault against his manliness. He hadn’t listened to anything she’d said, merely stormed out and asked her to never call him again. And for what? She hadn’t expected him to know her individual preferences without assistance—she could guide any man toward satisfying her—but every time she’d brought the issue up in the five weeks they’d dated, he acted put off that she’d dared to suggest he needed help. And the guys she’d gone out with before him hadn’t been any better, as her sister seemed all too happy to point out whenever presented with the opportunity. “Seriously, I’m hungover and cranky. It’d be really great if we could do this another time—”
“Sorry, babe. You’re stuck with me. The only way to get me off your back is for you to stop picking losers. Do you think I enjoy waking my ass up early to check on you? You’re twenty-six years old and still choose dates who can’t find your clit with a compass and a roadmap. Aren’t you tired of boring sex?”
“Of course I am.” But Sara was tired of a lot of things, yet she still did them because they just made sense. Her love life and her job were two areas where she couldn’t afford to do what felt right. She had to be practical.
She finished pulling on the boots that she loved and did what she could with her makeup to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She may not find much fulfillment in what she did for a living, but it paid her bills, and that was the exact attitude she needed to take when it came to relationships.
Sage disagreed. “You aren’t our parents, you know.”
“I know that. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be cautious when choosing who to date. No offense, but I’m not after one-night stands like you. I don’t want the kind of wild nights that you have.” Or at least Sara wouldn’t admit to that out loud. What Sage looked for was the same type of stupidity-inducing passion that had derailed their parents’ marriage and broken their mother’s heart. Once the lust had died between Kas and Fritz Morrow, he’d moved on and found it with someone else, and it’d changed their family forever.
As a witness to that, Sara had promised herself long ago she’d never fall for the meaningless sweet lines and sexy smiles that their mother had claimed had first won her over with their father. Those things offered little comfort now that the woman spent her middle-aged years alone, and no way would Sara ever allow that to be her, even if it meant going through life dating men like Dan. She had a drawer full of vibrators to satisfy her if need be. That would have to be enough.
“Sunshine…”
Sara tuned Sage out and went on the hunt for her keys. Ah, there. She rushed to the table beside the couch.
She wanted—no, needed—a love she felt safe in, and that safety didn’t come from someone who only wanted to get in her pants. Relationships built on stable things like mutual interests were the ones that stood the test of time. Her craving kick-ass, panty-ripping sex didn’t change those facts.
Yet somehow settling in her work life was a hell of a lot easier to swallow than making sacrifices when it came to love. Because you’re more your father’s child than you’d like to admit.
Sara paused at the front door of her apartment while Sage lectured on without any need for feedback from her.
Why did earth-shattering revelations have to come while she was too ill-equipped to deal with them? She was not like her father. She wasn’t.
She didn’t expect her partner to swing from a chandelier or anything. Hell, at this point she’d settle for someone who realized there was way more to a woman’s enjoyment than simply inserting his cock in her vagina and repeating like Dan. The guy was super sweet, but man, three quarters of an hour of thrusting with no attempt to stimulate her clit—or anywhere else for that matter—only left Sara’s insides chafed and her staring at the ceiling in boredom.
Sage broke from her typical rant and asked, “When are you going to take a risk?”
“I’m risking things right now talking to you. Sage, I really do need to leave.” And she also needed coffee. Desperately.
“You still haven’t replaced the Bluetooth earpiece you lost the other night?”
“I’m not about to buy another when I’m sure the old one is around here someplace.” Who had money to throw away like that?
Sara pulled her hair up into a messy topknot, then stepped outside, despite the tug at her conscience telling her she’d forgotten something important. With the busyness at work thanks to the holidays, she’d forgotten several important things the past week, like her lunch the day before, her purse on Monday, and of course where she’d put her missing Bluetooth.
“Oh, and another thing…”
Sara tuned Sage out again while frigid air and the accompanying goosebumps along her skin convinced her that whatever she’d forgotten this time could wait. She hated the cold. The week before last, temperatures had reached a record high of eighty-nine degrees before plummeting into the low fifties. Fifty degrees might not bother most, but it was fifteen below the comfort level of her southern California blood. And her freaking knee-high boots didn’t help her either. Instead of hustling to the eventual warmth of her car, she had to take a more leisurely stroll due to their slick soles.
But, man, were they sexy as hell. And Lord knew her self-esteem could use the extra boost after the fiasco of last night. Shivering, Sara situated herself in her car and cranked the heater on high, then punched the gas and merged onto Voltaire Street amidst the other speeding motorists. “The last thing I need is a ticket I can’t afford, so if you’ve got something else to say to me, say it now.” She put her phone on speaker and placed it in her car’s cup holder. Though why Sara should have to listen to the sister who hadn’t had a serious relationship in the last six years was beyond her.
“Oh, all right already! I’ll let you go as long as you admit it. You dated Dan even knowing he wouldn’t have turned you on if he did the hula naked with his dong swinging in front of your face.”
Sara shuddered. She liked a sexy naked man as much as the next woman, but that image was a bit much for seven-thirty in the morning. “For the record? That wouldn’t appeal to me with anyone.”
“You might be able to sell that lie to the rest of the family, but not to me, chickadee. If Mr. Ramírez did that move in front of you, you’d be on your knees in an instant.”
Hell yeah she would.
Sara’s smile dimmed at Sage’s cackle. Damn me and my runaway mouth. Perhaps she should rethink her affinity for whiskey. For four years, she’d been perfectly content with her private fantasies, until the Morrow sisters went on their last girls’ night where, after a few shots of the dangerous liquor, she’d thought it a great idea to play truth or dare. Sage had taken full advantage. Of course the woman had set the wager for Sara’s turn to either reveal her biggest fantasy or do amateur night at the strip club her middle sister frequented.
Not a hard choice then.
Two months and a million unsolicited opinions later, Sara wished desperately she’d taken the second option. “Can’t you please just forget I said anything about Jacob?”
“Not a chance in hell. Not until you stop settling for ‘
good enough’ and go after the spark you deserve. You intentionally pick men with low sex drives.”
“I do not—”
“Stop lying. You totally do. When we go out to bars, you don’t even look at the men drooling into your cleavage.”
“Well, yeah. They’re skeeves.”
“And the men sitting at the back of the bar playing games on their cell phones are any better? Come on, sis. Why do you want to date someone who doesn’t want to be with you like that? Can you honestly say that you’ve been happy with your past boyfriends? Any of them?”
Though a lie would have been easier, Sara pushed the truth past reluctant lips. “No.” Not even a little. She did want passion. And didn’t that just suck.
The further she ran from her father’s mistakes, the closer she came to acting like the one person she’d sworn to never forgive.
Loud music blared through the phone and Sara jumped. Really, Sage? Blasting the radio now? Dear God, her head beat with the vengeance of a rejected drummer boy.
The shriek of curse words Sage let loose didn’t help either. But it did cause a half-smile to make its way to her lips. A response of that magnitude could only mean that Sage’s downstairs neighbor had struck again. The two’s feud had started right after he’d moved in, and each did their best to annoy the other. One day they’d figure out their attitudes made them perfect for one another, but until then, Sara would take it as a blessing that with as mad as Sage sounded, it’d be awhile before she focused in on her again. And hopefully by then, I’ll be at work.
“HEY, DON’T THINK I’M DONE WITH YOU, SUNSHINE—”
Morrow's Horizon (The Morrow Women Series Book 1) Page 1