Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  “I like that. It gives us at least six months to plan. As long as it’s not late September, I’m fine.”

  “Alright. That’s a good start. We’ll get with the event planner and go from there.”

  “So this morning, we made breakfast together, got engaged, started our wedding planning, and later today, we’re going to shop for an engagement ring. Anything else on the agenda?”

  “How about we call the kids and tell them? Video chat would be best, but we’d need to get ready. I’m not making that call wearing nothing but your undershirt.”

  “Good idea. I think we should share a shower. Conserve water. You know, for the environment.”

  A laugh bursts out of Roxie. “I don’t think that will save any water.” She stands and reaches for my hand. “But it sure as hell sounds like fun.”

  Chapter 12

  Roxie

  Saturday after Thanksgiving

  Groom that makes me feel like a princess? Check.

  Dress that makes me feel like a princess? Check.

  Hair and makeup perfect? Check.

  Wedding pictures done, except for ceremony and reception? Check.

  Everyone run out of the room so I can hear myself think? Check.

  Officially saying goodbye to Philip? Radio silence.

  And that’s where I find myself. As crazy as it sounds, I need to talk to my last husband—yes, the one who has been dead for almost twenty years—and tell him goodbye. Make peace with him before I marry Clint.

  “Philip? I don’t know how else to do this but to talk to you out loud. You died so suddenly, there was no chance to say goodbye. And I could barely function at the funeral. All those feelings? I locked them down—at least until Clint came barreling into my life. He was so brave in facing his own grief. Facing the mistakes he made while trying to survive it. And when he met me? He saw how I was just...frozen. How I hadn’t dealt with any of my grief. How I built walls to protect myself. How lonely I was.”

  I feel tears threaten, so I walk to the window and look at the bright blue skies full of puffy white clouds. Feel the warmth of the sun on my face.

  “He helped me find a way to tear down those walls. Thaw my frozen heart. Hold my hand when letting myself feel again was too painful. With every meltdown, he just loved me and walked me through it. He never laughed at me. Never belittled me. Never gave up on me. I wish you hadn’t left me, Philip. I know you didn’t want to leave me, either. But the reality is, I’m here and you’re not. I’ve been alone for so long. I know being married doesn’t mean you’re not alone—Jason taught me that. But you taught me what a marriage full of love could be. And I’ve got a chance to have that again with Clint. So few people ever find love once, so the fact that he and I have both found it twice? It’s the most beautiful gift.”

  I pat the tissue under my eyes as I look up and pray to stop the tears. “I know you wouldn’t want me to be lonely or unhappy, and I was both. I was miserable, but I didn’t even realize it. So I can’t help but feel like this was somehow a gift from you and Amelia. That you sent us into each other’s paths. Whether you did or not, I owe you such a debt of gratitude. You rescued me time after time. You gave me your love and your name, and you did the same for my son. You were my first love, and you took a piece of me when you left. But the Roxie I am today? You helped make me who I am. And Clint loves all of who I am, including the love I will always have for you.”

  I wave my hands in front of my eyes, hoping futilely to stem the tears.

  “But I need to loosen that tie between our hearts, love. It’s not that I want to leave you, but I can’t join you. I can’t live in this limbo anymore. How can I move forward when we’re still tied together? I need to live again.”

  I bow my head and close my eyes, totally spent. Maybe it’s my imagination, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I feel a faint breeze across my cheek and the strangest unraveling sensation.

  And then I feel...alive.

  Lost in thoughts, I almost missed the soft knock before Alex called, “Mom, can I come in?”

  I walk to the door and let him in, words still difficult.

  He wraps me in a big hug, and I soak in his warmth. His love. He stands there patiently, letting the hug last until I’m ready to let go. He holds me at arm’s length and appraises me. “You look gorgeous, Mom. I’m so happy for you. And I know Dad would want you to be happy, too.”

  I wave him toward the chairs. This seems as good a time as any, since I’ve been clearing the air already. “Funny you should mention your dad. I’ve been thinking about something lately—something that I think you should know about Philip.”

  I reach for one of the bottles of water and struggle to open it. Alex takes it and twists off the lid easily, handing it back to me.

  “Did you know I was married before Philip? It was actually his GI Bill that I used to finish college. It was our divorce settlement.”

  I toy with the lid, avoiding eye contact.

  “When Philip and I met, I had just gotten divorced. As in, I found out I was getting a divorce when I opened the papers telling me it was final, and that was when Philip was inspecting the house for Jason’s PCS.”

  I sneak a peek up at Alex to find him only mildly surprised.

  “I didn’t realize all that happened at the same time.” He pauses. “Or that you didn’t know the divorce was coming. How does that happen exactly?”

  “In the months before it the divorce, you sign papers that are ‘updated forms about dependents’ and ‘necessary for a promotion application’ without reading them because you’re young and naïve.”

  He nods slowly, processing.

  “Philip and I got married pretty quickly. We had just started dating when he got his orders for Germany. We had to make a choice. Take a risk and get married, or take a risk and lose each other forever. We chose door number one.”

  “With you so far.”

  “I was already pregnant when Philip and I got married. That was still pretty scandalous in the south back then, so we didn’t tell many people the timeline. But you know a fresh start isn’t too difficult in the military.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?” I ask tentatively.

  “We’re getting close to time to start, and part of my job is to see you get to the aisle in time.”

  “I know, and we’ll get there. But there’s something you should know. I just don’t want it to change how you think about Philip.”

  Alex cuts me off again. “It won’t.” He gives me a meaningful look. I open my mouth to explain to him, but he continues. “Mom. I know.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “He’s my dad. It doesn’t matter whether he contributed the genetics, he’s my dad.”

  I’m still gaping “But how?”

  “Not long before he died, I had a science project. I had to record blood types of different family members. It was pretty obvious. I talked to my teacher, and she said she would have to do some research. She didn’t make me do a presentation on my results like some of the students had to do. But a day or two later, Dad checked me out at lunchtime. We had a long talk, which included his use of the word ‘douchenozzle’ about your ex. We bonded over root beers and he made me feel like a grownup. He told me I would always be his son. I assumed he told you.”

  “No, he didn’t. We had discussed when to tell you, but it never occurred to me that you would find out. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it to me.” I sigh. “I’ve been tied up in knots over this for years. After he died, I didn’t want to take away your connection to him.”

  He takes me hand. “Our connection was far stronger than DNA. Nothing’s going to change that.” He looks thoughtful. “But now that I think about it, that was right before he died. Maybe the week before? Because I was all hyped about that subject, but I don’t remember anyone’s presentation.”

  We sit for a few moments, and it feel a bit anticlimactic. He stands and holds out his hand to help me up.

  “Ph
ilip Cole loved us, and he was my dad. You gave me the best dad I could ever hope to have. If I ever need to get health history, I know where to go to get it. But there’s nothing else I could possibly want from that man.”

  Tears threaten again, and Alex looks a little panicked. “Don’t ruin your makeup! Then I’ll get in trouble!” He wraps me up in a big hug, then pulls back. “So are you ready to get married?”

  My smile is warm and genuine when I reply. “I am! Lead the way.”

  Minutes later, the doors open and my son—Philip’s son as well—escorts me to stand beside the second love of my life. Our family and friends surround us with their warmth and love as we exchange vows and commit our lives to one another.

  In my mind’s eye, we just made the turn and entered the backstretch.

  There’s a lot of race left to run.

  About Ava Harper Kent

  Real People. Real Life. Real Love.

  Hello, my name is Ava, and I am a book junkie. I love to immerse myself in worlds created by words, whether I am reading or writing them.

  I love books that make me think and feel deeply, stories that crackle to life, and characters that stay with me when I close the book. I enjoy most genres—history, memoirs, mysteries, philosophy, poetry, cookbooks, plays . . . and toe-curling, steamy romance novels. It’s the whole human experience! No one fits into one neat category in real life or in successful fiction. My hope is that my varied interests will lead to characters and plots as well-rounded as my reading list.

  I am currently being entertained by the voices of the Whiskey and Wildfire series, and they are pushing and shoving inside my head to make their way onto paper . . . or the monitor, as the case may be!

  Each of my stories starts with a woman finding her inner strength to blaze her own path. I’m a proponent of real love as a partnership of equals; a supportive relationship that is greater than the sum of its parts. This is the kind of love I’ve shared with my husband for over 20 years, and I know that it is a rare and precious gift. You’ll find life lessons we’ve learned in each story I write, and a little bit of my sexy beast in all of my men.

  Thank you for investing your time in the world I’ve created!

  Connect with Ava

  Ava’s Facebook page

  Ava’s Whiskey Women Facebook group

  Insta-Ava

  Ava’s Amazon Page

  Part Four

  Prince(ish) and the Peace by Carolyn LaRoche

  A Princess and the Pea Retelling

  Chapter 1

  The thumping of the bass exactly matched time with the thumping in his head. For the hundredth time that night, Patrick wondered why he'd agreed to this weekend. His buddy changed girls like most men changed their jeans. The thought that Devin might actually marry someone still felt like a joke to him.

  The bachelor's weekend in Virginia Beach had turned into a get laid quest that Patrick had absolutely no interest in. He'd thought they'd drink beer, eat greasy food and maybe smoke a good cigar or two. Devin had two weeks until his wedding and at the rate this weekend had been going, he probably wouldn't even make it to the altar. Rebecca deserved way better than his childhood friend—he loved Devin like a brother but that didn't change facts. Even in middle school, Devin's charm had gotten him anything he wanted. He'd only gotten better—and more egotistical—with age.

  Patrick glanced around the crowded bar only to find Devin and his twin brother Derek seated at a table with women that definitely weren't theirs perched on their laps. Devin caught him looking as he nibbled at his date's ear lobe and waved him over, pointing to a woman sitting by herself. The pouty brunette wore way too much make up and definitely not enough clothes.

  He shook his head slightly. Uh-uh, no way. There wasn't enough alcohol in the bar that would make him want any part of that adventure. If nothing else, he's always preferred the natural look.

  Digging into his pocket, he pulled his cell phone out and waved it at Devin then pointed to the door. He had no one to call and his phone hadn't rung in hours but Devin would automatically assume a work call had come in since Patrick never really stopped working. He had to get the hell out of that bar before he lost his mind or Devin lost something else and the work angle always played well.

  Without registering his friend's response, Patrick headed to the back hall where the bathrooms were. He'd seen an exit there that the employees used to step out for smoke breaks. If he played his cards right, he could sneak out the back way and return to his hotel room before the other guys even missed him. Not that Patrick was the top thought in their minds anyway. No, he was fairly certain they weren't thinking much with their brains at the moment.

  As soon as he stepped into the hallway, the sound level dropped in half. He followed the dark walkway to the exit sign that glowed from its spot high on the wall and pushed at the cold steel handle. The door slipped open and Patrick stepped outside, breathing in the cool, ocean air. His blood pressure instantly dropped about twenty points. Despite the fall temperatures, he could still smell the saltiness of the sea, something he'd always found cathartic, and the number one reason he'd agreed to this trip. He should have just stayed home in Raleigh and done the big sale with his parents but the whole Prince of Sleep thing had gotten old, fast.

  Patrick leaned against the brightly painted wall of the building and opened the internet browser on his cell phone. Typing in a quick search for local restaurants, he waited while the list loaded. There had to be someplace quiet nearby where he could get a drink and something to eat before heading to his hotel room. He scrolled through the options, settling on a small craft beer establishment a couple blocks past the hotel.

  Sticking his phone in his pocket, Patrick headed toward the front of the building. A man's desperate voice carried over the light breeze, catching his attention, before it disappeared. He stopped walking and turned to look into the dark alley. He couldn't see or hear anything until the sound of a man whimpering broke the silence.

  "I told you! I won't testify! I swear it!"

  A second, gruff voice spoke next. "Loose ends, man. The boss don't like no loose ends."

  Patrick, moving carefully, followed the sound of the conversation that appeared to come from the opposite end of the space.

  "Why do you think I escaped?" Patrick could hear the fear in the man's voice. "Then I found you, remember? Why would I do that if I were a rat?"

  Patrick continued to move slowly, his phone in his hand. He stopped walking so he could dial nine one one.

  "Sorry, man. Boss told me too." There wasn't an ounce of apology in his words.

  Patrick hit send on the call. A gunshot sounded. Then another in close succession. He dropped his phone with a loud clatter.

  "Who's there?" Footsteps pounded against the pavement, stopping when he spotted Patrick. "What the hell you doin' here?"

  Patrick threw his hands in the air as the other man waved his pistol in the space between them. "I—I just came out to make a call."

  "Shit!" The man kicked at Patrick's phone, the emergency number clearly displayed on the screen. "Another damn loose end."

  He stepped back again, until his heel hit the base of a dumpster. "I won’t say anything to anyone."

  The man stepped forward, gun pointed at Patrick and a sneer twisting his lips. "That's not how this works."

  "Please. Just walk away. I didn't see anything and I don't know anything. I just want to go back to my hotel and go to bed." Patrick's pleas sounded pathetic, even to him.

  "I can't leave a loose end. Boss's orders."

  "Don’t tell the boss?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Patrick regretted them.

  A tiny, evil smile turned up the corner of the man's lips as he moved a little closer. "I got a better idea."

  Knowing exactly what the man had in mind, Patrick took another backward step. Not that it mattered, he was now backed up to the brick wall of the building.

  A bright flash lit up the night. White hot pain seared through
him as the bullet struck his shoulder. The force of it jerked his entire body, his head smacking against the corner of the dumpster. The resounding crack of skull on steel nearly drowned out the man's footsteps as he ran out of the alley. Knees buckling, Patrick crumpled to the cold ground, his head hitting a hard surface for the second time.

  "I told you I wouldn't say anything," he murmured as his eyes closed and the world slipped slowly into darkness.

  "Is he dead?"

  Sylvia nudged the body on the ground with the toe of her boot, avoiding the bloody spots. Her boots were too nice to be wearing around a DOA. They were just supposed to take her from Raleigh to New York as she transported a witness in a big time, interstate trafficking case. She hadn’t expected to be chasing down said witness in the middle of the night in Virginia Beach because the ass gave her the slip at a rest stop.

  She leaned down to peer at the motionless body. "Hey, Mack." She waved her partner over. "Looks like the guy took a bullet and a whack to the head."

  Mack pulled the toothpick out of his mouth that he'd been chewing on since dinner and looked around the alley. "Poor son of a bitch. I bet he never knew what hit him."

  Sylvia stood up, smoothing her palms over the front of her jeans. "I kinda feel bad for the guy."

  Something grabbed her ankle. Sylvia screamed, kicking at it. "It's got me! Ewww! Rats! Get it off me!" She danced in a circle, kicking her foot out and hitting the dead guy in the ribs.

  "Ouch! Hey, I'm not dead down here."

  Sylvia stopped jumping and looked down at the man on the ground, his eyes closed and his body still. "Did you hear that?" she asked Mack.