The Complete If I Break Series

by Portia Moore

  “Pepe!” she says excitedly, taking the penguin and putting it in her mouth.

  He looks up at me in wonder. “She looks so much like my baby pictures.”

  I think he didn’t mean that to be heard. Watching him take in the sight of her gives me a feeling I’ve never had before. The emotions evident on his face as he watches her play with the little stuffed penguin are indescribable.

  “I’m Chris, Caylen,” he says, his voice slightly cracking.

  His eyes glisten, and I think I see tears in them. I walk closer to them and squat as well. I apprehensively touch his shoulder. Caylen touches his face and giggles.

  In this moment, I know for sure the man beside me is not the one I knew. I take a deep breath and prepare myself to say something I didn’t plan on saying. I didn’t know how or when I would say it to her. If there would ever be the right time to say it. But now I know without a doubt. “Caylen, this is your daddy.”

  I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, but it’s impossible not to. I never thought, after all the anger, worry, and fear, that this moment would turn out this way. The anxiety and stress in the pit of my stomach are replaced with something I haven’t felt in so long.

  Peace.

  I wipe away my tears, which are starting to fall, and he stops me, holding my hand gently.

  “Thank you, Lauren.” His voice and eyes are full of sorrow, sincerity, and concern.

  And for the first time in my life, I’m able to read the face looking at me. There’s nothing hiding the emotions there, nothing trying to camouflage them.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he says to her.

  In the briefest second, he turns toward me, his smile familiar, and he winks at me. My breath hitches. And as fast as the moment happened—before I can verify it even did happen—it’s gone.

  “Lauren?” he asks, a look of concern on his face.

  He’s staring at me and… it’s still Chris, but I know for a second it wasn’t. He was here—Cal. I move closer to him. I hesitantly bring my hand to his face, wondering if he’ll even let me touch him. He does.

  I ignore the familiar emotions that pass through me.

  Before this moment, I felt as though I was giving up the only person I’ve ever been in love with and doing it for the only person in the world I love more than him—his daughter. I have to… right?

  “I-is everything okay, Lauren?” He lets out a light laugh, his cheeks turning red.

  I only nod, looking at the ground. Everything will be okay.

  I’ll make sure it stays that way.

  I have to…

  …even if I break.

  Thank you so much for reading If I Break! The next installment reveals what happened when everything exploded from Chris point of view. Dive in deeper and continue reading Before I Break. Book 1.5 in the If I Break Series.

  Part II

  Before I Break

  Chris

  March 7th, 2013

  Silence, dead silence. There’s nothing I hate more in the world. It’s the sound that fills the room when you know the people you’re talking to are searching for something to say. Not just something, the right thing to say. They know if they speak too quickly, or the wrong words are spoken, everything will shift. The wrong response could tilt the world—your world—off its axis. I get why my parents are so careful with their words. Words changed our lives, and not for the better. It all started when I told them, “I don’t remember where I was last week.” The last time was when they told me, “Your mother is sick.”

  In each instance, dead silence followed. Time stopped, and everyone tried to think of what was the right thing to say next. Now I’ve made an announcement that will change our lives forever, for what I hope is the better. That same silence follows, and they stare at me blankly. They're shocked. I expected that. My dad finally cracks a smile, but my mom is still stoic. Her expression is unreadable, and that worries me.

  “Wow. Engaged?” My dad’s the first to break the silence in the room. His eyes are wide, the excitement in his voice apparent.

  “What do you think, Mom?” I ask, rubbing the back of my head. I thought she’d be happy. She and Jenna get along great.

  “I—I don't really know what to say, Chris.” She won’t even look at me as she lets out a long sigh. She gets up from the dining room table and disappears into the kitchen.

  What type of congratulations is that? No smile, no tears of joy, not a single question? In the back of my mind, I knew there was a chance it could be like this, which is why I didn’t bring Jenna. I just told my mom I’m getting married. That I’ve chosen a woman to spend the rest of my life with, who is going to be the daughter she always wanted, and she walks out as if I just told her to grab me a sandwich. My dad looks behind him and sighs before his smile returns.

  “Did you get a good deal on the ring?” he asks, trying to convey enough excitement for both of them. My dad has always been a dealmaker. I would have taken him with me to buy it if I thought he’d be this happy.

  “I think so,” I chuckle.

  “I took Lisa with me to pick it out,” I smile. I’m sort of proud about it. It’s one of the first big decisions I’ve made in my life without their input or influence. Lisa’s been my best friend since kindergarten, and she knows jewelry like nobody’s business. Even though she and Jenna aren’t the best of friends, Jenna loved the ring Lisa picked out. My dad makes his way over to me and pulls me into a bear hug.

  “Well, congratulations, son,” he gives me another pat on the shoulder. It’s like I’m in bizarro world. My dad’s excited and accepting, but my mom looks as if I told her I’ve dropped out of college.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I reply, still a little in shock. My mom is in the kitchen banging pots around.

  “She’ll come around.” He notices my meandering glance towards the kitchen.

  “I don't get it. She likes Jenna, right?" I scratch my head. Now I’m confused. I mean, I thought she liked her, but this reaction is causing me to think she’s a good actress.

  “Of course son, it’s not that she doesn’t like Jenna. I don't think it has anything to do with her, really," he motions his head toward the living room. I follow him there. We sit down across from each other on separate sofas.

  “So what is it? To be honest, I expected you to be the upset one,” I admit with a dry chuckle. My mom runs away from the problem. If it were him, he’d confront it right then and there, head on. They really balance each other out.

  “I’m happy for you, son. You deserve this. You deserve to be in control of the important decisions in your life,” he says, a wide smile on his face. He almost seems more excited than I am.

  “She doesn’t think I’m ready, does she?” That has to be it. “I haven’t had a blackout in two years. I’ve been doing really well,” I say defensively, but the truth is I have to tell myself every morning that I’m ready.

  “I know! This is exactly the thing you need to put the past behind you. To move into the future,” he says encouragingly. “Your future,” he adds with a smile. I don’t know who else’s future it would be, but I’ll take it as long as one parent’s on my side.

  “Jenna and her parents are still coming over for dinner tonight. I’ve got to talk to Mom. Jenna is going to be really hurt if she thinks mom is against this,” I let out a deep breath and stand up.

  “I’m going to grab some champagne for tonight,” my dad grabs his jacket off the coat stand. “I’m proud of you, son.” And at that, he slips out the door. I shake my head in disbelief and head to the kitchen. My dad is actually happy about this? Never would have thought it. Once I’m in the kitchen, I see my mom pulling a bowl of potatoes from the sink and setting them on the counter.

  “Need some help?” I ask, turning on the faucet and washing my hands. She smiles at me.

  “It’s been a while since you helped me in the kitchen,” she says with a laugh and hands me a knife. “I remember when you were a little boy. After you’d finish working on the o
ld engine your dad let you tinker with, you’d come in here, dirt and oil all over you, and ask to help cook,” she jokes, starting to peel a new batch of potatoes. I laugh at the memory. I love both my parents. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of them. When I found out she had cancer, it was like the wind was knocked out of me—a bad joke.

  Before that, my blackouts had been worse than ever. Most of the time, they’d last weeks instead of days, sometimes months. I was losing my mind; the sessions weren't helping. The medication only made me depressed. Then with all of that, my mom gets diagnosed with stage three cancer. I thought that was the worst thing that could happen to us, but somehow it was a blessing in disguise. After that, my blackouts and headaches were practically nonexistent. I met Jenna, who helped me stay sane during a time I thought I would lose my mom, and less than eight months later, my mom was cancer-free.

  “Mom,” I say quietly.

  “Honey, I am happy for you. I am,” she says, her voice perky, but the expression on her face seems forced. I touch her shoulders and turn her towards me. She lets out a small breath and holds both my arms.

  “Tell me the truth?” She’s been so strong through everything. There were days when I asked how she was doing, and I knew they were hell for her, but she kept up her smile and never complained. She never let us know how much pain she was in. Her eyes meet mine briefly before they find the floor.

  “Please,” I ask again, giving her my best puppy dog eyes, and she hugs me.

  “I want you to be happy, Christopher. I want nothing more in this world than for you to be happy,” she says, and her voice breaks. I feel tears wet my shirt, and she walks a few steps away from me.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me now,” I chuckle, but my heart is speeding up... I thought she’d cry because she was happy, not this. My stomach drops when I realize what could be causing this. I put my arm around her, lead her to the kitchen table, and sit beside her. She takes a Kleenex and dabs her eyes.

  “You’re not...you’re not sick again are you, Mom?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Oh no, honey! I’m so sorry to make you even think that,” she shakes her head vehemently. I let out a big sigh of relief as she squeezes my hand.

  “I just—things have been going so well, and I know you care a lot about Jenna,” she says, a small smile appearing, but her eyes avoid mine. “Are you ready? Really ready?” she asks, her eyes finding mine again. Her gaze is so intense I feel like she’s trying to see inside of me.

  “I asked myself this over a thousand times already, Mom,” I reveal with a laugh. “Everything you’re thinking about, I’ve probably thought it five times over. The thing is, I don’t think there is ever going to be a time where I know that I’m cured from this—if I’ll ever be,” I say honestly. Her lips tighten, and she nods her head.

  “If not now, when? I’m tired of being afraid to live my life because of what may happen,” I tell her. “I never know when these blackouts will happen. But for now, things have been good. In a few months it will be almost two years since I had the last one. It was hell, but I’ve finally finished school. I have an amazing woman who knows about my condition, and doesn't think I'm a weirdo, or some sad puppy that needs to be taken care of. And, you’re doing better.” I finally see a genuine smile start to appear on her face even though her eyes are still watery. “I want to get married, maybe get you some grandkids,” I give her a playful nudge. I thought that’d make her laugh, only it doesn’t. Instead, she looks anguished, maybe even a little guilty, but that can’t be right. She won’t even look at me as she gets up from the table and starts to pace the floor.

  “Mom, what is it?” I stand up and walk towards her. Something’s wrong. She finally stops and looks at me.

  “There’s something we haven—”she stops mid-sentence as my dad comes through the door with a bottle of champagne in hand. His smile is wide as he eyes the chilled bottle. When his gaze finds us, his expression turns grim.

  “What’s going on?” I look at my mom and then at him. “You haven’t what, Mom?” I ask her again, glancing at my dad.

  “What haven’t we done?” he asks, his tone is low. My mom glares at him, and that awkward silence has returned, the tension so thick I could choke on it.

  “What?” I ask more firmly, causing their stare-down to end, and they both turn to look at me. My mom’s eyes dart away from me but my dad’s eyes stare straight into mine.

  “Dexter Sr. is here in Madison,” he says abruptly. The grandfather from hell. Whenever he comes here, it’s usually bad news for the town. He’s either shutting something down or opening something that will destroy someone else’s lively hood. Most of the people here tend to forget our family’s association with the Crestfields, but their presence always serves as a reminder. My mom never liked him, but for her to be this upset...

  “Is that it, Mom? Is that what’s been bothering you?” I ask, a little relieved. My gut says it’s something else, especially when I notice her lips tighten.

  “Gwen, today everyone else’s problems aren’t our concern. This day is about Chris. We’re celebrating the step he’s made to marry the woman he loves. Let’s not ruin this day for our son,” my dad says firmly. There’s something off about this.

  “Mom, what is this really about?” I don’t believe Dexter’s visit is causing this type of tension. She looks from me to my Dad, then clears her throat.

  “I heard through the grapevine that your grandfather is eying the property Kreuk Place is on,” she says with a sigh.

  I immediately frown. Kreuk Place is the community center my mom and I have been working at for the past year. It not only helps people in our town but neighboring towns, too. It has a free clinic, gym, and daycare center. Only a monster would even think of displacing it. It’s a landmark. I want to say, “He can’t do that!” But the Crestfields can do almost anything.

  “No. That's bull!”

  “It’s just a rumor, but we all know how those start,” my dad says, a frown on his face.

  “I heard from Ms. Jaber’s daughter, that Dexter Jr.’s in town. She was just hired as one of the groundskeepers. He’s leaving this evening, supposedly,” she mumbles. The community center helped my mom and me through some of the toughest times in our lives. It’s a cornerstone of the community.

  I look at my watch. I have a couple of hours before Jenna and her parents get here for dinner.

  “I’m going to talk to him before he leaves,” I say, grabbing my keys off the counter. “I’ll be back in enough time to change before Jenna and her parents get here,” I say over my shoulder, and rush out of the front door. I climb into my truck and head towards the one person who can stop this before it gets going. Dexter Jr.

  Crestfield. The name alone evokes envy, fear or anger depending on who you’re talking to in Madison. They own almost half the town, and have the biggest everything in the entire county. It wouldn’t be a problem if they were permanent residents, but they’re not. It’s mere extravagance—all for show, adding to their theatrics when they come in town to raise hell.

  I’ve heard the phrase, “It’s nothing personal. Business is business.” But destroying families and ruining lives isn’t business as usual. Messing with people’s livelihoods makes it personal.

  Once I arrive at the Crestfield estate, I have to wait at the gate to be cleared by security. When I’m in, I can’t help but feel repulsed by the decadence of it all. The house and grounds are huge. The house alone is four times bigger than the community center. I’ll never understand how people can be so selfish and greedy.

  I get out of my car and head toward the house when my phone starts to ring. I smile, when I see it’s Jenna. I slide my finger across the faceplate to answer the call.

  “Hey, future hubby,” she giggles.

  “Future wife,” I chuckle, playing along.

  “So ... how’d your parents take the news?” she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

  “Great. They’re r
eally excited,” I say. It’s half true.

  “Really? Even your dad?” she asks in disbelief.

  “He took it even better than my mom did,” I tell her, making my way up to the large French doors. I roll my eyes at the discreet camera above the door before ringing the bell.

  “Better than your mom? What was wrong with your mom?” she asks, her pitch elevating slightly. I immediately regret my choice of words. Jenna picks up on almost everything. She’s like a bloodhound when someone’s hiding something. She’s good at reading people.

  “My mom thinks it’s great,” I say, hoping to throw her off.

  “You said better than your mom did. Meaning, your mom must have not taken it well,” she rattles off. “I thought your mom loved me? She’s against this?” she’s gone from five to ten on her panic scale.

  “No, it wasn’t like that. She was just surprised, that’s all,” I sigh. I had to say “better.” That one little word triggered all this. The large doors have opened, and one of the Crestfields’ maid smiles warmly at me as she gestures for me to come in. I smile back to acknowledge her, and walk in.

  “My parents and I are coming over for dinner tonight and your mom is totally against us getting married. This is terrible!” she says, her panic-o-meter rising with every syllable.

  “Jenna. My mom loves you. She loves your parents. Dinner is going to be fantastic, I promise, but I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back in a few. Love you,” I say as I hang up the phone, despite her protests.

  “Mr. Christopher Scott?” the maid asks, a little hesitant. I’ve known her for years, but she always asks as if she’s unsure of who I am.

  “How are you, Ms. Alma?” I smile as she leads me up the large winding staircase.

  “Wonderful. Would you like something to drink?” she asks right before we reach the door to Dex’s office.

  “No, I’m fine,” I reply.

  “Mr. Scott, Christopher,” she announces as we enter Dexter’s office, even though he can see me.