A Missing Heart

© 2016 Shari J. Ryan. All rights reserved.

Website:
www.sharijryan.com

Email:
[email protected]

Mail: P.O. BOX 365, Northbridge, MA 01534

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.

Editor: Lisa Brown, Looking Glass Revisions

Proofreader: Katie Shapcott

ISBN-13: 978-1535319041

ISBN-10: 1535319046

In dedication to my mom.

You love me unconditionally, you fight for me when I need protection, you guard me from the bad, and urge me toward the good—these have been the most complex lessons I’ve watched and learned from you throughout my life. In return, the sacrifices and distance you have endured have enabled me to become a mother just like you.

By the time I’m polishing my manuscript, I realize how many amazing people I have on my team, and I’m so grateful.

Lisa, you have been my glue for the last couple of years and I can’t imagine completing a book without you. Thank you for always knowing how to finish my sentences.

Katie, I’m very grateful to have added you to my team throughout the last several books. Your eye for detail is unmatchable and it offers me comfort to know I have you on my side.

Stephanie and Renee—my go-to ladies, thank you for always being there for me, always boosting me up, and always trying to help me succeed. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.

Linda, if we each had a drink for every time I had a silly question or forgot something, we’d both be one big party all day, every day. Thank you for constantly being there for me and running my books like a tight ship.

Barb, I’m so grateful for our friendship, our daily conversation, and always having someone to ping ideas off. Our friendship means the world to me.

My beta readers, you all have literally taken part in assisting me with this book. Your feedback and criticism has been beyond constructive and I hope with the help you offered, I have made this book the best it can be. Thank you for your time and support, Annelle, Heather, Jocelyn, Alissa, Erin K., Tammy, Michele, Belinda, Barb, Renee, Erin D., Kelly and Tanya. LOVE YOU, LADIES!

I’ve worked with many bloggers over the years and I’ve come to know some of the owners/co-owners personally and now call you my friends. Thank you for your continuous support and love for my books. I wish I could give you all hugs in person! Just to name a few: Mila from Kubbies, Crystal from Bookalicious, Emily from Southern Vixens, and Tatiana from TB Cooper.

A special thanks to Albert Marano Jr. from the Warwick Police Department for answering my dispatcher questions and helping with a couple of my scenes.

My family and friends, thank you for accepting my weirdness and obsession with words and your undying support for what I love to do. You motivate me in ways I can never verbally explain, but I’m grateful for the immense amount of love I have in my life.

Mom, Dad, Mark, and Ev, I feel like I run out of ways to say thank you sometimes, but there’s never a day that goes by when I don’t feel eternally grateful to know how much you all believe in me.

Lori, my number one reader, sister, and best friend, thank you for always picking up my pieces, and your understanding when I disappear off the face of the earth.

Boys, thank you for always being so proud of me and telling the world I’m an author. You’re both so young to understand how much I love what I do, but when you tell me you want to be authors someday, it makes my heart feel overjoyed to know I’ve taught you what it looks like to be passionate about something.

Josh, thank you for putting up with my constant stress, frustration, panic attacks, and the outbursts I offer loudly on a daily basis while writing. I love you more than ever for still smiling at me with adoration while I’m acting like a child whose dolls won’t play nicely together. You may think I’m crazy, but you keep that to yourself and…I’m pretty sure that’s what true love is.

PROLOGUE

“IT’S JUST DOWN
this road,” I tell Cammy, bracing my hands tightly on the steering wheel to maneuver around the many bumps and rocks this road has accumulated over the years.

She scoots in closer across the flat bench of my pick-up truck and rests her head on my shoulder. “We probably shouldn’t be driving down here. I think this is a private road, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yeah, but I don’t think anyone lives down here,” I reply.

Through the corner of my eye, I see her staring at the side of my face with her perfect smile. “You’re always looking for trouble, AJ,” she says with a laugh, sounding unsettled.

“Only when I’m with you,” I tease, peeking over at her briefly.

We pull up to a large country house, old and run-down, buttery yellow with a faded white wraparound porch. “You brought me to a house?” Cammy asks with confusion.

“It’s not the house that’s important, it’s what’s behind the house,” I tell her. “I’ve been down here before.” Hunter and I used to ride bikes down here when we were younger, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve never seen anyone go in or out of this house. If someone does live here, they never cared much about me sneaking into their backyard.

“This is making me kind of nervous,” Cammy says, clenching her hand tightly around mine.

“Trust me, okay?” I say to calm her while squeezing her small, soft hand in return.

“Famous last words, AJ Cole.” We walk around the house and into the backyard. “Wow, this place is enormous. It’s big enough for a farm. I didn’t realize we had land this big in our little town.” Cammy circles around, taking in the majesty of it all—the cottony blue sky against the wide landscape of wild, mismatched greens peppered with small colorful flowers encases a canvas of perfection. I may not know the true definition of beauty yet, but I can’t get enough of this place, so it must be something special. “It’s so peaceful and pretty.”

“I know, right? I like the meadow grass, and these oaks have to be hundreds of years old. They’ve probably seen more history than we could ever imagine. Actually, I think the house was built in 1840. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wow,” she says, amazed, clearly feeling the way I do every time I come back here. “I wonder how many families lived here?”

“I don’t know, but I want to be one of them,” I say, pulling her faster toward the old climbing tree, the one with a wooden swing hanging from its largest branch. “Ever seen one of these?”

“In the movies,” she giggles.

“Everyone has those fancy pre-fab swing sets these days. You never really see one of the old wooden ones, and it’s way more fun than a kid’s swing,” I tell her.

Cammy looks toward the house, likely noticing the boarded up windows and the overgrown ivy cascading off of the decaying roof. Yet, she still appears nervous. “It’s beautiful back here.”

“Hop on,” I tell her, lifting her up and placing her on the long wooden plank. I walk up behind her and push her gently, watching as she closes her eyes and tips her head back. The wind breezes through her sun-kissed hair and I may only be sixteen and stupid, but there’s not much that would convince me I’m not in love with her.

“Do you think we’ll make it through the rest of high school and then college? I mean, together,” she asks.

I don’t need to think through this answer. I know it. I’m sure of it. “I do. I don’t see what could get in the way of us being together.” I grab the ropes from the swing, stopping and twisting her around mid-air so I can kiss her. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I’m pretty sure I love you, Cammy.”

Her eyes open and the sun beams right through the caramel color of her eyes, making them appear yellow. “I’m pretty sure I love you too, AJ.”

I release the swing, watching her bask in the sun, floating along with the wind. After a minute, she drags her feet on the ground and stops the swing. “And I really love it here.”

“I’m telling you, I’m going to live here someday,” I say. “I’ve wanted to live here ever since I first saw it.”

“It must be pretty expensive, so you better do well in college and get a good job to afford this place.” It’s just a dream. I’ll probably never be able to live in a place this nice, but that won’t stop me from coming back here to pretend I do.

“So if we stay together, that means I can live here with you too,” she says, smiling warmly.

“It’s a good plan,” I tell her, pushing against her back again.

“We’re dumb teenagers aren’t we?” she asks through laughter.

“Yeah, no sixteen-year-old knows what they want for the rest of their lives,” I agree with her, smirking to get a reaction. “Except us, of course.”

CHAPTER ONE

I’VE HAD SEVEN
long months to figure out a way to break the news to the two people who brought me into this world. Part of me would like to think they won’t be surprised, considering this sort of thing is expected from me since I’m not their all-star, perfect son. I’ve accepted it…in fact, I’ve run with it…until now. However, now I have to stop running and start thinking, really quickly.

Cammy leans across the row between our desks and hands me a note, interrupting my thoughts. I quickly take it and unfold it, reading:

I’m a little scared about this. Actually, I’m freaking out.

I wish she would relax and try not to worry. I want to tell her everything will be okay, but we’re sitting in the middle of history class. Mrs. Halifax hates me as it is, so if I start talking, she’ll ship me right down to the principal's office again, so I mouth, “It’s going to be okay,” to Cammy, hoping it holds her over until the end of class.

Cammy closes her eyes and leans back against her metal chair. Her auburn hair falls over the back side of the seat and she swallows loud enough for me to hear. “I can’t do this,” she says abruptly, out loud.

Every kid in the class looks over at her curiously—everyone including Mrs. Halifax.