A Last Kiss Goodbye

by Kate Ashton



  A LAST KISS GOODBYE

  Prequel to

  ALL THAT WE HAVE LOST

  Kate Ashton

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  All That We Have Lost

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by Kate

  Every Little Piece

  Every Little Secret

  Every Little Dream

  All That We Have Lost

  Find out more at kateashtonbooks.com

  Sign up for Kate’s Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  The kiss is long and sensual.

  The night hovers about Lucy, and her fiancé, Alexander. The stars and moon offer their services with a soft, romantic glow. The citronella candles and the flickering lights do the rest. A warm breeze plays with the ends of her hair. The evening has brought light dew on the grass. It’s wet on their feet, a tickling sensation.

  Lucy doesn’t care. She’s lost in a kiss. A passionate one.

  Alexander kisses her neck and mumbles. His voice sends goosebumps vibrating across her skin. Everything about him has Lucy lost in their world together. Just the two of them. The stress with her mom forgotten. The fact that her brother is gone on a top-secret mission and the worry and fear that accompanies that fades momentarily.

  “Your mother is busy doing the dishes,” he murmurs, his voice husky, his desire evident.

  Over his shoulder, Lucy glances at the back of her house. The lights are on in the kitchen window, creating the dark silhouette of her mother at the sink. “Yes, she is.” She giggles softly. “And you know how clean my mother likes them to be.”

  “She could be at it for at least another thirty minutes. Drying. Putting them away.”

  “We really should go help her.” Lucy nips at his earlobe.

  “We should.” With his arms around her, he picks her up, shushing her squeal, and moves into the shadows toward the edge of the yard.

  Her desire is heightened by her rebellion. That she’s making out with Alexander when her mother disapproves of too much hanky panky. When her mother is so close. All she has to do is peer out through the window and she’d see their darkened forms, entwined, inseparable.

  His hands skim the bare skin at her waist as he deepens their kiss. She can’t get enough of him. They can’t get enough of each other. Her hunger can’t be filled or sated. She slides her hands up his chest, tantalizing him with her light touch. Suddenly, she’s off the ground again, but he swallows her gasp with another kiss. He lowers her to the ground, her back against the dew. The sensual experience adds to the moment.

  Fresh goosebumps spread down her legs and across the back of her arms. But this is different. She hesitates, stops kissing.

  “What’s wrong?” Alexander asks, his fingers wandering to the button of her shorts.

  “Nothing,” she murmurs and goes back to kissing. But this time her kiss is automatic, her body stunned. It couldn’t be happening now. She hasn’t had a vision in months. Her mother’s presence and watchful eye has successfully suppressed her gift. Her so called gift or curse, depending on the person. The feeling builds in her mind and spirit, a blooming flower that will open no matter how hard she fights it.

  She’s tried. It never works.

  Her mother is the only person who knows. If Lucy could go back in time to her childhood, she’d whisper in her younger self’s ear to keep the visions to herself. Not mention death or the future to her mother.

  At first, her mother shrugged off Lucy’s comments as childish fantasies, but when some of them came true, her mother couldn’t ignore them anymore. Lucy visited psychiatrists, doctors, counselors. Lucy swallowed pills for anxiety and depression. Lucy faked it the best she could. Nothing helped. The visions came anyway, and her mother could spot the effects, the shivers, the off-focus gaze, the fear etched onto her face. The visions were rarely positive or uplifting. Then she’d hiss at Lucy to not say a word.

  Alexander lifts off her, an immediate chill filling the warmth his body brought on top of hers. “Something is wrong. You were into this...and now you aren’t.”

  Lucy forces a laugh. “Well, my mother is right at the window.” She prays he buys her lame excuse.

  He growls. “That makes it all the more exciting.”

  She pulls him back down, touching her lips to his, refusing to give in to the ruined moment. Maybe she’s imagining it. They grab at each other’s clothes, hungry and driven. They touch softly, each caress an expression of love. They go from tender to passionate within the span of minutes.

  “Lucille?” Her mother calls from the window.

  “Crap.” Alexander exhales, frustrated. “There’s still got to be specks of food on those plates.”

  Lucy puts a finger to his lips. “Our gardens are huge. She’ll assume we’re walking in them, too far away to hear.”

  Her mother calls again. Then they hear the window shut. Seconds later, the door opens.

  That’s when it hits Lucy. It overwhelms, it consumes. It steals across her mind, pulling her away from the present. If they weren’t in a mad scramble to tug down their clothes and appear presentable, Alexander would freak out. If they weren’t under the cover of night, he’d see that Lucy is lost, her mind elsewhere.

  She sees a young man, shaggy dark hair, dimples, green eyes. He’s her age, young twenties. He carries a certain presence with him. Anyone who meets him smiles. Lucy’s smiling. His joy and peace filling her for the moment. They’re in a room, though she can’t tell where. It’s busy. Many people come and go, rushing past each other. It’s not a party because they don’t know each other. The chatter fills her mind, white noise. She can’t pick out any words. The man is talking to someone. She can’t see who. He seems extremely happy.

  Then, the mood changes, the difference sweeping through her. She stiffens, her body a rigid line. Her shirt is bunched beneath her, the dew soaking her clothes.

  She hears Alexander talking, but she can’t respond.

  A sense of death shocks her, the image of the man fading, the edges turning black as if his life is about to be snuffed out, erased.

  The vision ends, leaving Lucy bereft and depressed. She’s once again in the garden, even though she never left. Alexander looks at her, his face blank, but she can see his thoughts churning, questioning.

  How did they manage to get this far in their relationship—dating for over a year, engaged to be married—without her telling him about her visions? It’s not that she didn’t trust him. She hoped the visions were gone, left behind with her teenage years.

  “Lucy?”

  She has to tell him something. Something believable.

  Chapter 2

  She giggles. A fake, sugary laugh in hopes that Alexander will forget her dazed look and lack of response when he tried to talk to her. She starts and stops talking a few times, but his face remains stony, suspicious. How can she possibly tell him about her visions? Her mother has told her over and over that she’s crazy, a crackpot, and if any potential husbands found out, they’d leave her like she had the plague or contagious warts.

  Would Alexander leave her?

  She reaches up and traces her finger down the side of his cheek, rough with stubble, to his mouth. His hard expression softens, and he sucks her finger into his mouth.

  “Lucille!” Her mother’s voice has turned from questioning to stern and reprimanding. Like Lucy is a small child running around at night without supervision. She’s an adult now, yet, she deals with an overbea
ring mother.

  “Shall we?” Alexander offers his arm. “Let’s face her together. I’ll work my charm. No mother has yet to not believe me.”

  Relief floods her. Hopefully, his charm will distract her mother from noticing her daughter’s pale face and shakiness.

  They walk out from the outlying shadows together, a united front.

  “Sorry, we didn’t mean to frighten you. Lucy and I”—he looks down adoringly and squeezes Lucy—“have been out for a stroll on this beautiful night. Just trying to enjoy a few moments to ourselves.”

  Lucy’s mother stiffens as if she’s not fully convinced yet.

  He continues, “Living far apart is hard. And even though I’ve been here, we’ve been seeing friends and out to dinner, barely a moment to breathe.”

  “Well...” Lucy’s mother stares, studying her daughter. Lucy cringes and steps back to hide behind Alexander. “Would you both like some cocoa? I’m sure Jacques could whip you up some. And then it’s getting rather late.”

  Alexander nudges Lucy and whispers, “Victory.” He speaks louder. “That’s a wonderful idea, but I’ll leave Lucy to spend some time with her mother. I realize I’ve stolen her away from you these past few days.”

  They climb the porch. Lucy’s now under the bright back porch lights. She wants to forget about the vision, shrug it off. Maybe then, her hands would stop shaking and her knees wouldn’t feel like they were about to buckle. Her heart aches for the young man in her vision with his dark eyes that now haunt her memories even though she’s never met him.

  Lucy escorts Alexander out to his car out in front.

  “Do you think it worked?” he asks, pulling her into a hug.

  Lucy lets him and absorbs his warmth. “Definitely.” She lies.

  She watches him drive away. Their engagement party is in a few days. Most of his family is driving or flying in. Her mother spared no expense. With a sigh and with no other excuse she heads back inside. Cocoa does sound rather nice, something to calm her nerves before bed.

  Just inside the front door, her mother waits, ready to pounce. Lucy feels her mother’s rage, her fear.

  “Please explain yourself. The state of your dress.”

  Lucy feels the back of her dress, still damp and ruffled from the dew. “Alexander explained.”

  “Oh, yes, I heard his explanation.” She stepped closer with a jerky movement. “I also know what most boys like to do on evening strolls with their girlfriends.”

  Lucy sighs. The last thing she wants is to fight with her mother this week of all weeks. Her mother’s gaze, cold and hard, casts doubt. At some point her mother had to have been young with dreams and desires. “Don’t you remember being young?”

  Silence wedges between them. Lucy expects an onslaught of scoldings, a lecture to beat all lectures.

  Her mother clears her throat. “Of course I do.” She reaches out and grabs Lucy’s hand, which is still cold and trembling. Whatever she was going to say is forgotten. The way her face softened for a moment, Lucy thought she was about to apologize. She strokes Lucy’s hand and studies her face, probably still ghostly pale. “It happened again, didn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?” Lucy’s chest feels tight and strangled.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Did Alexander notice? Did he say anything? Did you say anything?” Her mother gasps. “You didn’t tell him about...”

  “About the visions?” Her mother can never say the word. “No, I haven’t, but I’m wondering if I should. That’s not something you spring on your husband the night of your honeymoon.”

  Her mother pulls her hands away, as if Lucy is contagious. “Go on up to bed. I’ll schedule an appointment with your therapist.” She pauses, letting that sink in. “Don’t mess this up, Lucille.”

  Her therapist. Somehow, her therapist is convinced Lucy has blocked some horrible event from her past and now suffers from anxiety resulting in the hallucinations. He’ll just put her on more drugs. She climbs the stairs, and then from her bedroom, climbs down the back stairway that leads into the kitchen.

  Jacques awaits. A mug of hot cocoa on the kitchen table. “I heard almost everything.” He tsks. “There is nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. Don’t you listen to a word she says.”

  Lucy sits in the chair, the weight of the vision, the stress, the lies, weighing her down. She sips her cocoa. She hoped her visions were gone, but clearly she fooled herself. She has to tell him. She has to.

  Jacques sits next to her, quiet and supportive, waiting for her to talk. Finally, it spills out.

  “What if he agrees with my mother? What if he finds me repulsive because of it?”

  Jacques’s eyes well with tears. He pulls his seat next to her and hugs her like he has been doing since she was a little girl. “If he does? Then he doesn’t deserve you. Plain and simple. Better to know now then later, after you’ve married.”

  That’s what Lucy fears. Of course, she wants a guy who accepts all of her, even the visions. She also knows that is asking a lot. Of anyone.

  She knows this could be their last week together.

  Chapter 3

  The sun is shining, bright streams of warmth that hits the side of her face and body. She closes her eyes, soaking it in, trying to forget that she’s on a shopping trip. With her mother.

  Early this morning, her mother bustled into her room, already dressed, and placed a breakfast tray in front of Lucy. “Eat up,” she said. “We’re buying a new dress for the party.”

  At the time, Lucy didn’t argue. Some battles aren’t worth fighting. She has learned over the years to pick the right ones. Now, her mother sits rigid in the driver’s seat, focused, determined. Lucy doubts this is about the dress but rather her visions. Her mother probably hopes that a day of distraction will keep them at bay, save her upcoming marriage and her mother’s pride.

  That’s what it’s really about. Her mother’s standing within her community of gossipy, snobby friends.

  They park. Lucy sighs and follows her mother inside. It’s a weekday so the store isn’t too crowded. A few moms with their strollers. A few older women fast walking. The chatter of friends and family. Yet, she and her mother are silent. A longing tugs at Lucy. More than anything she wants a close relationship with her family.

  “Shall we try a nice blue color? Blue has always brought out the color in your eyes.” Her mother offers a smile as genuine as she can make it.

  “Definitely. I trust your judgment.” It’s not what Lucy wants to say. She wants to ask her mother why she can’t just accept her daughter. She wants to ask why the visions bother her so much. She wants to ask for a chance to be loved for who she is, and not the curse she bears.

  They enter the department store.

  Lucy’s mother snatches several blue evening gowns from the racks. “And keep them coming,” she says to the nearest seller.

  Inside the dressing room, Lucy accepts the first dress. It’s a nice periwinkle blue, A-line, simple. It reminds her of little girls and fields of long grass and wild flowers. Not exactly a sexy dress.

  Her mother grabs it back, laughing. “I can see it in your eyes. Fine. Try this one.” She hands Lucy a satin, strapless royal blue gown, floor length, a bit longer in the back. “Better?”

  “Better.” Lucy enters the dressing room and slips out of her clothes.

  Standing in her bra and underwear in front of the mirror, it hits her again. No, she cries silently. She presses a hand against the wall to steady herself. Spots dance on the edge of her vision.

  “Lucy?” Her mother sounds impatient.

  “Almost,” she croaks.

  The vision starts slow. Once again, she sees the man, shaggy black hair, good looking. He seems lost. He walks through a fine mist, hands outstretched, calling for someone. She knows this because his mouth is moving, but she can’t hear any sound.

  Her skin is clammy. She has a foot in both worlds. “Just having trouble with the zipper.” She’s not
sure if she said that or if it’s in her imagination. Her heart speeds up. Tingles race down her spin. Her stomach churns. A sweat breaks out. She sees him again. He’s in the mist still; it clouds his face so she can’t see clearly. When he steps closer, the mist parts. Tears stream down his face. An overwhelming sadness burdens Lucy. Tears prick her eyes.

  Then, she falls against the wall and lands hard on the bench.

  “Lucy?” Her mother sounds alarmed. She knocks on the door. “Open up. Are you okay?”

  “No,” Lucy whispers. She speaks louder. “I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.”

  Silence on the other side of the door. Tension crackles. Then her mother speaks. “I’ll put these dresses back. Meet me in the car.”

  Her mother leaves. Her mother left. Instead of helping, because that would mean she had to accept her daughter, she left her. Alone.

  Lucy pulls her knees up to her chest, shivering. She sits there, her head resting on her knees. A hot flush floods her body. She should change and go after her mother, but she needs a moment. To think on this man. Who could he possibly be? And what is Lucy supposed to do? Sometimes she only sees these visions once the people are already dead. Sometimes, it’s a warning. That thought pierces her heart. Sometimes, she could prevent tragedy, but she’s not allowed to pursue the visions. Ask her friends or family about the people she sees.

  And even though she doesn’t know this man, she feels for him deeply. He is loved and will be missed. She thinks of her brother, away, serving in the military, serving his country. After another chill, she changes into her clothes and pulls out her phone.

  Are you there? She texts her brother, Andrew.

  Minutes pass. Yes.

  I miss you.

  Is Mother giving you a hard time? Want me to call her when I get the chance?

  No. Nothing will help. But thanks.

  More visions? he asks. Her brother is one of the only ones, outside of Jacques and the rest of the staff, who know, understand, and accept. He never once made fun, but instead, supported and tried to hide her episodes from their parents.

  Yes.

  About who?

  Not sure.

  Isn’t your engagement party soon?