Never Too Late

by Ana Balen

  Never Too Late

  Ana Balen

  Contents

  Also by Ana Balen

  Prologue

  1. Sophie

  2. Sophie

  3. Past

  4. Dylan

  5. Sophie

  6. Sophie

  7. Dylan

  8. Sophie

  9. Sophie

  10. Sophie

  11. Dylan

  12. Sophie

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Self-Published by: Ana Balen

  Edited by: Ellie McLove with My Brothers Editor

  MyBrothersEditor.net

  Cover Design by: Raven Designs

  Formatted by: Raven Designs

  Zagreb, 2020

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are strictly the product of the author or used fictitiously. Any similarities between actual persons, living or dead, events, settings, or locations are entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Also by Ana Balen

  Ryan Family Series:

  Jason

  Max

  Good Intentions Trilogy:

  Good Intentions Volume One

  Good Intentions Volume Two

  Good Intentions Volume Three

  Good Intentions Trilogy Box Set

  Wishing For A Star

  Prologue

  Sophie

  I hated every inch of Hopeful.

  It was nowhere near as awesome as Denver was. And none of my friends were here.

  I didn’t even want to think about why I was stuck living in Hopeful.

  Even in my twelve-year-old mind, I knew without a doubt, if I did, I would crumble and nothing and no one would ever be able to put me back together.

  “Come on, Sophie,” my grandmother whispered. Even she had trouble speaking at a normal volume for the last ten days. “Let’s get you settled.”

  I stood still by the door. I didn’t want to get settled. I didn’t want to even be here.

  I wanted to go home. To my friends. To them.

  My grandmother ignored the fact I stayed where I was, silent and not coming inside, and moved farther into the house, pulling her coat off her shoulders.

  She didn’t look back at me, but she stopped by the wall, looked to her right and froze.

  I knew why that was, and just a fleeting thought closed my throat and started to burn.

  At the sight of my grandmother bringing her fingers to her lips, kissing them lightly, and then those fingers moving to the frame that hung on that wall only to touch it for a second opened the floodgate and tears started gliding down my cold cheeks.

  “Gran?” I croaked. At the sound of my broken whisper, Evelyn Moore did something I never saw her do. She bowed her head and her shoulders started shaking uncontrollably.

  I’ve never seen her cry before.

  I took a step toward her but didn’t get any farther.

  That was because she curled into herself, her arms still trapped by her coat that was hanging loosely off her shoulders and down her back, wrapping around her.

  And then. God, then, a wail that resembled a wounded animal tore from her chest.

  “Granny,” I called, but she didn’t respond.

  Her back to me, I could see she pushed her arms out and in front of her, and in the next second her fists slammed into the lower part of her abdomen.

  I watched stunned as she repeatedly punched her stomach.

  “God,” she wailed, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I ran to her, threw my arms around her middle, and buried my face in her back.

  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, standing in the middle of the hallway, crying.

  After a while, she pulled me gently around her, bent over, and took my face into her hands.

  “No more,” she whispered, whipping the wet from my cheeks. “No more of this, my Sophie.” I watched as the tears clung to her wet eyelashes. “There will be a time when you will feel like you can’t breathe from how much you miss them. And it’s okay to cry if you need to.” I focused on her eyes that were shining with the love she felt for them. “But we will never again let the grief cripple us like this. We had our moment of complete desperation, we gave in to the overwhelming pain just for a second. But we also put them to rest, we said our goodbyes. And they deserve for us to live the best lives we can, carrying them with us every step of the way. We owe them that. I promise you, my girl, I will help you out of this darkness that you’re in now.”

  I turned my head and looked at the picture that pulled such a visceral reaction from my grandmother just minutes ago.

  In it, they were smiling.

  It was a random photo of my parents.

  They were sitting together on the couch in my grandmother’s living room.

  It was a normal day, full of laughter as it always was with them.

  And it will never again be.

  Because they were gone.

  “And I promise you, my girl,” she went on, pulling my attention away from the picture. “I will do anything in my power to make your life bright again.”

  I didn’t believe her vow, and she knew it.

  The only thing she could do was prove it to me.

  And that, she did.

  Until he destroyed everything and once again, I had to leave home.

  1

  Sophie

  I thought I hated this town.

  At one point in my life, I did. With every fiber of my being.

  Then for a brief period of time, it became my everything.

  Until he took that away from me.

  Like he did everything else.

  Then I went back to hating it.

  I hated it so much, even a passing mention of its name used to make me flinch.

  That was because he used to live here.

  Even when I learned that he was long gone, I didn’t want to come back.

  Not even for a visit.

  God, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Even standing where I was, the occasion was so far off joyous it wasn’t even funny, I couldn’t be blind to the beauty that was Hopeful.

  Everywhere you looked, you could see either the mountains, the pines, or grass. And it was all green. That was until the snow covered everything and it became all white.

  You could even see how clean the air was.

  I knew it sounded stupid, no one could actually see air.

  But go down the mountain and into Denver and then come back here, and the difference was evident.

  And it held a tranquillity you couldn’t find anywhere in the world. I knew because I did my best at trying to find it. I also failed.

  Established in the nineteenth century, at the beginning of the Pikes Peak Gold Rush, it was a mining camp.

  As the years went by, the mine stopped operating, but people loved it, so they stayed and adapted. And it grew to what it was now. A town that was put on the map as a place to have a good time, relax, ski, and just enjoy. It was most popular in the Christmas season because the whole town became something right out of a fairy tale.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” a woman I didn’t know who wore a somber look on her face like it was her who lost everything three days ago, muttered.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, barely meeting her eyes, my hand limp in hers, before my eyes went back t
o stare at the wood. When she didn’t get whatever she expected from me, I sensed her leave. Like everyone did. They all left.

  I couldn’t look away from the casket that was in front of me. The wood gleaming in the winter sun.

  “Sophie,” a voice I knew whispered.

  Mrs. McConnell.

  I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t.

  She was her best friend. She helped her raise me. And I knew if I looked at Mrs. McConnell even for a second, I wouldn’t be able to stay strong. I would give in. And I would lose myself in grief.

  “I’m so sorry, dear.” She repeated the words she said to me over the phone.

  When I still didn’t look her way, she grabbed me by my elbow and squeezed, trying to get my attention.

  Not looking away from the box that held my last remaining relative in its clutches, I said in a flat tone, “Not to be rude, Mrs. McConnell, but I can’t right now.”

  “What can’t you?” She was still holding on to me.

  I knew this was painful for her too.

  Maybe even more so than it was for me. I just didn’t have it in me to consider the fact. Just hearing her speak was as if someone was clawing at my heart. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault actually, but she was the one who told me. And she was the only other person who knew her. The real her.

  “Whatever you want to say, whatever you need of me, or from me, I just can’t.”

  “I understand, but I have something to tell you. Something you need to know. Something she told me, you don’t,” she pushed. Still, I ignored her. The only thing I did was cover her hand on my arm and for a second held it before my arm lost the strength and my hand slid away. “Whenever you’re ready, I would like to talk to you,” she said before she walked away.

  I stayed quiet.

  The words she said over the phone three days ago, on a constant loop in my mind.

  “I’m sorry, my dear. It pains me to tell you this, but this morning we lost our Evelyn.”

  Evelyn.

  My grandmother.

  I could still see her in my mind. The way she would look at me while I was telling her about my day at work. Her eyes full of pride she felt because I did what I said I would. The way she held me as if she was afraid I would splinter into pieces when he left. The way she checked up on me for years after, because she knew I still didn’t get over losing him. The way she was careful of not bringing him up other than to tell me he was definitely gone. The way she made me smile whenever she pulled out a piece of candy from her pocket to give to me. The sound of her laughter. The way she sang along while listening to music. The way she would dance around the kitchen while she cooked. I could feel the warmth of her skin when she would cup my cheek, which was usually right before she would tell me I worked too much and needed to start living my life.

  She was the kind of woman that found a way to enjoy her life no matter what it dealt her.

  Even after my parents’ deaths, when most people would break, she went on. And in the process, showed me it was possible to live through something like that.

  She never complained that she had to come to Boston and later Seattle when I refused to come back to visit her in Hopeful. She knew why that was. She knew I gave all my heart to him and he not only broke it, but he destroyed it.

  I also knew she didn’t like Nathaniel, but she stayed quiet about it.

  Logically, I knew this day would come. I just never thought it would happen this soon.

  I wasn’t prepared to be left alone. I wasn’t prepared to become an orphan again.

  With an image of her smiling at me dancing before my eyes, I walked to the casket and leaned down to it. With my lips on the cold wood, I whispered, “I love you forever.” Then with one final goodbye to the woman who took me in and raised me, I turned around and walked away.

  Alone.

  “‘Ello,” I muttered into my phone.

  It was two days after the funeral.

  Two days that I spent lying in bed either staring at the ceiling or sleeping.

  After the funeral, I didn’t have the energy to go to the restaurant where the wake was. As she promised she would, Mrs. McConnell took care of everything and she decided that the wake would be held in my grandmother’s favorite restaurant. I knew people expected me to come, to hear how sorry they were, how they loved Evelyn, and how she was almost a mother to all of them, but all I wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for three days.

  Which was exactly what I did.

  Well, two days.

  “She’s alive,” Michelle, my colleague and best friend, softly said.

  “I’m alive,” I confirmed.

  I knew she was still angry with me.

  When I got the call from Mrs. McConnell, she was with me and she witnessed me shutting down after hanging up and telling her what happened with no reaction other than going to my suitcase and packing for my trip.

  She wanted to come with me but I wouldn’t let her, instead I told her I needed her to take over my patients. I knew it was the only thing that would keep her in Seattle.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. I couldn’t stand for her to be mad at me.

  “I’m sorry too, honey,” she answered, and I knew she let it go. “How are you?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” I said truthfully because I didn’t. I still didn’t let the fact that I lost the woman who took care of me for most of my life. Even when I became an adult, she was there whenever I needed her. “I don’t think I’m aware of it yet.”

  “That’s understandable,” Michelle replied. “Do you know when you are coming home? Dr. Ames has been asking about you. And also, you need to know that Maggie is back. She’s fine for now, but I think you need to consider that the meds aren’t working anymore and you should start preparing her for a transplant.”

  I sat up, my mind whirling about Maggie, my patient for the last four years. We have been postponing her lung transplant for the last two years, hoping we could come up with some miracle drug or treatment, but as ever, the fibrosis was unbeatable.

  Before I had a chance to say anything, Michelle went on. “And Nathaniel’s been asking for you. He said you needed to talk.”

  Nathaniel Reaves.

  Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, and a body that most women drooled over. And that’s including our female doctors and nurses. I thought he was beautiful. I still wouldn’t give him a chance in the beginning.

  He was an orthopedic surgeon who was at the top of his field, and he wasn’t shy about letting you know. Or the fact that he treated the best athletes in the world. It’s just a sad fact that he slept with their cheerleaders too.

  It was unfortunate that I came to surprise him in Denver and found him in bed with one of them.

  He ran out after me and came to my door repeatedly, begging me to open it. He was still trying to get me to forgive him. I couldn’t.

  Seeing him in bed with another woman hurt more than I could ever imagine.

  Setting aside that a man that I gave my heart to, slept with another woman. A man I shared my body with, not to mention planned a future with. The betrayal of all of that, of me, was what hurt the most.

  He knew he was the first person I let come into my life after what happened in Hopeful. He said he was honored.

  He said he would treasure that until the day he died.

  And then he turned around and broke his promise.

  I was reluctant from the start. But I made a mistake and told my grandmother after she heard him calling me out on a date, that he had been doing it for the last four months. She said I should say yes. That was before she got to know him and realized she didn’t like him. I still didn’t say yes.

  Then.

  I did two days later. After years of pining for the man who I thought would be my everything until the day I died, my grandma had enough and she shared that with me. As always, she demanded I start living my life. Not just existing.

  “What did I tell you about grief, da
rling?” I knew she meant business because her hand was at my cheek and if I even thought about not listening and paying attention, that hand would slap me. She had done it before. She didn’t do it hard, but a light tap on your cheek made sure you damned pay attention. “You give it a moment. It’s okay to feel sadness, it’s okay to cry, it’s even okay to scream. But grief, sweetheart? If you let it consume you, if you don’t fight it, it will take over.”

  “There are five stages of it,” I said in my defense.

  “Yes, true.” She nodded. “But, tell me, did you go through bargaining? Huh? Because I know for a fact you did while you stood in front of him.”

  “Don’t!” I whispered, trying to pull away.

  “Did you go through anger? Huh?” When I didn’t say anything, she broke the brief silence. “I know you did that too. You broke all the frames in my house when you threw the pictures of him and pulled the ones from the walls.”

  The tears that gathered in my eyes made the image of her blurry.

  “Darling, you’re so lost to grieving, you’re not even aware that you went through all the stages and it’s time to get out.”

  As the room came into focus, I forgot all about Maggie and her treatment or Nathaniel and his demand of talking to him. That was because I saw the room I was in, the one that used to be mine, hadn’t changed at all. Everything was as I left it.

  It was decorated in pink and white. The white curtains touched the log that my grandmother and I dragged back to the house and carved it to be a table on which I could put knick-knacks. It stood right next to the arch floor mirror that was leaning on the wall in the corner.

  I could still see her rumbling when I asked her to give it to me one day I found it in the garage. But she grumbled while wearing a smile.