Sweet Dandelion
Micalea Smeltzer
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
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
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Epilogue
Epilogue
Bring Me Back
Also by Micalea Smeltzer
Follow Micalea
Acknowledgments
© Copyright 2020 Micalea Smeltzer
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design © Emily Wittig Designs
Editing: KBM Editing
Formatting: Micalea Smeltzer
Blurb
Dandelion Meadows is cursed.
Horrible name.
Horrible luck.
At eighteen she should be headed off to college, all smiles and naivety.
Instead, a victim of a school shooting, she’s starting her senior year in a new city and living with her brother.
Nightmares of that terrible day haunt her, affecting her daily life and the relationships around her.
Forced to meet with the school counselor, Dani finds him chipping away at the walls she’s built around herself, and even her heart.
Lachlan Taylor doesn’t know what to make at first of the broken student he’s tasked with helping. She’s survived a trauma he’s not sure he can save her from, but he knows he has to try.
The more time they spend together, the more they learn about what it really means to live.
Some things are forbidden.
Some things are necessary for survival.
Their love is both.
Prologue
“My sweet, Dandelion. May you always be as free as the birds, as wild as the flowers, and untamed as the sea.”
I close my eyes, feeling my mother’s fingers glide through the strands of my hair.
It’s a familiar sensation.
“I love you,” she whispers, pressing her lips gently to my forehead.
Her tears fall onto my skin.
I love you too.
Shots ring out again.
A thump.
And then nothing.
Chapter One
I pick at the chipped yellow nail polish left on the edge of my fingernail.
I can’t even remember when I painted them. There’s barely any left.
Across from me there’s one window in the room. It should open easy enough, and if not I can throw the chair against it, hopefully shattering it quickly.
There’s a door at my back, but the window … that’s where I would escape.
“Are you listening?” My brother’s tone is nothing if not exasperated with me.
I feel bad for him.
He’s only twenty-five.
And now he’s my guardian.
“S-Sorry,” I stutter, forcing my eyes away from the window.
Clearing his throat, the principal leans forward. “This is your schedule.” He slides the paper to me and I rub my finger against the smooth surface. He’s an older man, his face lined with wrinkles like he’s laughed and smiled a lot in his lifetime. His hair is speckled heavily with gray, but with the underlying hint of brown still there. He laces his fingers together, laying them on the wooden table in front of him. The gesture disturbs the perfect straight line a stack of folders was in. I itch to perfect it once more. “We’re aware of your situation, so we’ve made provisions for you to spend your fifty minute daily period with our school counselor, Mr. Taylor.”
I look at the wall, at the thick-framed college diploma, then the icky dull colored painted vase of flowers hung beside it. What a bland room to have to work in. I would lose my mind.
“Dani,” my brother prompts, desperation in his tone. “Is that okay with you?”
It’s not, but in the last nine months I’ve learned to do what makes everyone else feel better. I don’t think anything can heal me, but if it’ll make Sage happy I’ll do it. Even if all the therapists and counselors I spoke to in the hospital couldn’t help at all. They tried, but they didn’t know how to get through to me, and I didn’t know how to tell them it was impossible.
I nod, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair.
“That’s fine.” My voice is soft, deeper than it used to be. There’s something missing from it and I haven’t been able to figure out what it is.
Perhaps it’s innocence.
The principal, Mr. Gordon according to the plaque sitting dangerously close to the edge of his desk, starts going over more things but I’m not listening.
It’s not that I mean to ignore him, but I find myself retreating more and more into my head. It feels safer here, but it’s not. It’s not safe anywhere. My brain is full of terrible memories, while the world is full of terrible people who do horrible things, every single day.
Principal Gordon finishes his speech and holds out a stack of papers to me.
I don’t lift my hand to take them.
Sage grabs them instead, shaking the principal’s hand. He stands and I follow suit.
“We hope you’ll enjoy your time here at Aspen Lake High.”
I don’t respond. I don’t even force myself to give a tiny smile. Frankly, I don
’t have the energy to.
Out in the empty hall Sage shuffles through the papers, reading them over. His light brown hair is longer than normal. He hasn’t had time to get it cut because of me.
I’ve often wondered what he thought when he got the call I was in the hospital and our mom had been killed.
She died protecting me and other students, doing what she could to save lives. She was a teacher and in her final moments she went above and beyond what a teacher is supposed to do.
We lost our father when we were young to pancreatic cancer. I don’t remember him much, but Sage is older than me so I’m sure he does.
In less than eighteen years four has become two.
I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Sage too.
“Looks like your locker is this way.”
“I probably won’t use it.” I toe the dirtied white edge of my yellow Vans against the tile floor.
His exhale echoes through the hall. “Do you want to see where your classes are?”
“I can figure it out on Monday.”
His hazel eyes are tired when they meet mine—nearly the color of his, though mine are more green and his more gold.
“Dani, I’m trying here.”
I know he is. He’s trying hard. The problem is I hate him trying so much when I know he has a life.
He moved to Salt Lake City, Utah for college, stayed for a job and a girl. The girl didn’t work out, but he says he likes the job. I don’t believe him, not when he comes home looking weary and older than his years. We grew up in Portland, Oregon and I had plans to stay there, until someone else with a gun decided my fate for me.
Now I’m the girl who survived a school shooting. Who walks with a limp. Who barely speaks.
“I know you are, but you’re missing work.” I barely give breath to the words, my eyes reluctantly meeting his.
He softens, grasping a piece of my long light brown hair and giving it a playful tug. I used to get mad at him for pulling on my hair when we were little, but now I relish in the familiar gesture.
“I’m right where I want to be. Come on.”
As much as I want to protest, I know he wants to help in any small way he can.
My fingers twist in the bottom of my shirt as I follow Sage. He looks intently at the schedule, then the map, before heading off in whatever direction he thinks we need to go like some bloodhound.
I think this helps him feel in control.
While I was in the hospital there wasn’t much he could do to help me other than to encourage me not to give up.
God, I wanted to.
I often got angry, wondering why God took my mother but not me. Why did I have to endure the pain of getting shot and nearly being paralyzed?
I wasn’t sure I’d ever walk again.
The doctors, too, were doubtful.
But Sage … he was determined to see me walk again.
But running?
I think running is out of the question for me.
Once upon a time it had been my life. I thought I’d go to college with a scholarship. But things change and now I walk with a limp. I try not to let it bother me, after all I’m very lucky to be on my own two feet, but sometimes I feel like a bird with a broken wing, destined to never fly and it hurts all over again.
It takes the better part of an hour for Sage to locate every classroom and point out the quickest routes there.
Back at our starting area at the front of the school next to the administration section, Sage clears his throat. “Do you remember where everything is?”
I don’t. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
And I will be.
I always am.
Fine seems to be my permanent state of being anymore. I’m growing quite comfortable with its dullness.
Sage blows out a breath, rubbing his fingers over the golden stubble on his jaw. His brown locks have always had that caramel-golden tint and his facial hair matches. My brown hair on the other hand has always been lighter, a little duller compared to his.
“I want this to go well for you.” His voice lowers, shoulders drooping. “You … God, Dani … you’ve been through a lot.” His hazel eyes glisten with unshed tears. My big brother has had to keep his shit together, to be the rock to protect me against the storm, and the wear of it is beginning to show.
I take a step forward, wrapping my arms around his middle. “We both have.”
I might’ve had to heal physically, but we both had to deal with the grief of losing our mother in such a tragic way.
He hugs me back, his arms warm and strong. I don’t think he’ll ever know how grateful I am for him coming to my aid. He stayed with me in the hospital, able to work remotely in order to be there, before I healed enough to come to Salt Lake City.
“You could’ve died, Dani.” His gruff whisper tears at my heart, especially when my thoughts spear through me.
Sometimes I still wish I had.
Chapter Two
The four walls around me are bare white.
They’re not the sunshine yellow of my childhood bedroom. There are no photos of me and my friends taped to the walls, no posters, just nothingness. The sounds of the city can be heard through the window beside my bed. They say Manhattan is the city that never sleeps, but so is Salt Lake.
I sit up in bed, swinging my legs around. I pause before standing up, applying pressure slowly to my feet. Sometimes, when I’ve been lying down for a while I’ll have trouble standing, like my body has forgotten all over again how to stay upright. When I feel certain my feet and legs won’t give out on me I get up.
It’s a strange thing to be thankful for something as simple as standing or walking, but I know how lucky I am to have made this progress.
I take careful, slow steps out of the tiny bedroom and down the hall to the equally small kitchen.
My brother’s condo is a sleek modern masterpiece. It’s nothing like the chaotic, eclectic home we grew up in. He offered to sell the condo and buy a home in the suburbs but I refused. This was his home and while I might hate the blank white walls, I wasn’t going to have my brother uproot his whole life and move to another place because he got saddled with me.
Opening the refrigerator door, I pour a glass of milk and grab two chocolate chip cookies from the box he picked up at the grocery store.
Carrying them over to the living area I place everything on the coffee table so I can sit down. Grabbing the soft blue blanket from the back of the couch I wrap it around my shoulders before turning on the TV, careful to keep the volume low. I browse through the movies on Netflix, putting on Wedding Crashers. Picking up the glass of milk and cookies I settle in, letting my body sink into the comfy couch. Hopefully, I’ll drift off to sleep out here.
I don’t sleep a lot these days. I find it annoying lying in bed for hours on end staring up at a blank white ceiling. Back home, on the rare occasions I couldn’t sleep I’d go out and run—probably not the safest thing and my mom is probably rolling in her grave—until I was utterly exhausted.
I startle when I hear a noise and look up to find Sage in the doorway to the hall, stifling a massive yawn. His hair sticks up wildly in the back like he lost a fight with his pillow.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I shake my head, taking a sip of milk and then a bite of cookie.
“Me either.” He lets out an exaggerated breath, padding into the kitchen.
I fight a smile as he pours a glass of milk and grabs two cookies.
He joins me on the couch, plopping down with a groan.
“Wedding Crashers? I haven’t watched this in ages,” he sighs, stretching his legs up onto the coffee table.
Mom used to yell at him for doing that at home, but this is his place and he can do what he wants.
As if he senses my thoughts he slowly, one leg at a time, lowers his feet to the floor.
“Cheers.” He clinks our glasses together.
I wonder what he thinks about the fact that I don’t talk much an
ymore.
I used to be a chatterbox and he was always telling me to shut up—to which our mom would tell him those weren’t nice words and to say be quiet instead.
Sometimes, I miss that girl. I think I’ll always miss her. I might still be here, alive in the literal sense, where oxygen still circulates in and out of my lungs and my heart still beats, but who I was died on that bloodstained tile floor in the cafeteria.
I dip my half-eaten cookie into the milk, leaving it there for a moment before popping the last of it in my mouth.
Beside me Sage is doing the exact same thing. It makes me smile seeing the little similarities between us. He’s seven years older than me, which is kind of a lot of space in between kids if you ask me. Still, we grew up fairly close. He was always looking out for me even if I was his annoying little sister.
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