Always You
Authors: Missy Johnson
Copyright
© 2013 Missy Johnson
All
rights reserved
No
part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without
permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who
may quote short excerpts in a review.
This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are
products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First
Printing: November 2013
BJJ
Publishing
Seduce (Beautiful Rose #0.5)
Beautiful Rose (#1)
Tease
So Many Reasons Why
Incredible Beauty
Inseparable
Desire
Coming soon:
Promiscuous
Provoke
Captivating (Beautiful Rose #2)
Connect with Missy
Twitter:
@MissycJohnson
Email:
[email protected]
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/MissycJohnson
By Missy Johnson
To my wonderful family
“What are they talking about?”
she asked, screwing up her nose.
I shrugged. "The same
thing they always talk about," I said. "That I'm gonna get sick
someday."
She scratched her head and her
brow furrowed. "Well . . . " She paused. "We're all gonna get
sick someday, right? So why do we need to worry about it now?"
I looked at the little girl.
She couldn't have been more than seven years old with her long dark hair and
sparkling green eyes. She was a child, but she had just spoken to me like no
other person had.
“You wanna see my cubby house?”
she asked suddenly. I nodded. She raced outside, me right behind her. We ran
down the far end of the property, behind the garage, past rows and rows of
homegrown vegetables. Eventually, a tiny shack came into view. We slowed to a
walk as we approached the door.
Inside, everything was pink:
the walls, the thick shaggy carpet—even the two small armchairs that sat
in the middle of the room were a sickly bright pink. She stood smiling proudly,
waiting for my reaction.
“It’s very . . . pink,” I
commented
awkwardly
.
“I like pink,” she said
defensively, grabbing a doll and sitting in one of the armchairs.
I
sniggered
and sat down in the other. I was too tall for it, but
I squished myself into it anyway.
“So, what’s wrong with you?”
she asked.
“I might have the disease my
father has,” I replied quietly.
She looked surprised. “So you
don’t even know if you’re sick?”
I shook my head.
“Then why are you worrying
about something that might not happen?”
I shrugged. I didn’t have an
answer for her. I worried because my parents did. I worried because I saw how
much my father struggled. I worried because every day he was one day closer to
death, and living the life I might be destined to live.
“It’s hard to explain.”
What I meant was it was hard to
explain to a seven-year-old, who couldn’t grasp the concept of life and death.
At twelve, I’d lost my childhood. My life had revolved around this disease that
may or may not one day consume me. The disease that was slowly killing my dad.
“I just don’t get why you would
worry about maybe getting sick, especially when it wouldn’t happen for ages.
You can’t change it, so what good is worrying going to do?” She shrugged and
picked at her doll’s hair.
She said it so simply, like it
was the most natural thing in the world. She'd pointed out something so obvious
that I hadn't ever considered it before. Not really.
With all the years of paranoia,
and grieving the loss of my life that may or may not happen in twenty or even
forty years’ time, my parents had never thought to allow me to actually live.
I’d never had the freedom—or the desire—to explore my life.
The fact that it might be cut
short should have been more reason for me to be living my dreams, not an excuse
to hide away from everything I wanted. In the space of a few short minutes,
this little girl and her simple outlook on life had changed my whole
perspective on living and dying.
I should've known it was her
when I saw her again on that first day of school. It should've been obvious.
But she'd changed, and so had I. The years had changed me.
And I was soon to find out that
they had changed her, too.
This is our story.
One
Wrenn
“What lies behind us and what lies before us
are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” –Henry Stanley
Haskins.
This time last year, I was normal.
I had a great life in
Washington, D.C. We lived in a huge house with a big, sprawling lawn. I went to
a school I loved where I had lots of friends. This time last year I had a mom
and a dad. A brother who, although at times he bugged the shit out of me, I
adored. Then, just like that, they were gone.
Dead. And I was alone.
They say things happen for a
reason, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out the reasoning behind that.
What lesson could have possibly been big enough to require that kind of plan?
To lose one family member is tragic, but to lose all three at one time is
something I’ll never get over. No matter how much time passes, nothing will
fill that gap. That aching in my heart will never dull, as long as I’m alive
and breathing.
My aunt and uncle have been
wonderful. I have no idea how I would’ve gotten through the past year without
their love and support. They took me into their home, no questions asked,
trying their best to make me a part of their family. But I’ll never completely
fit in. As much as I know they love me, nothing can replace my parents and my
brother.
All I can do is try to move
on with my life and be someone my family would have been proud of. Try not to
forget the wonderful things they instilled in me as a person.
I so badly want to make them
proud of me. I can’t bring them back. I can’t erase the past, but I can control
my future.
Two
Wrenn
Gasping for breath, I sat
bolt upright in bed. Another nightmare. This time I’d woken up just as the car
was careering into the tree, the moment of impact broken by my body jolting
awake. The screams of Mom still rang in my ears as I tried to calm my body
down. I shivered, the chill in the air colliding with the layer of sweat that
covered me as I glanced at the clock.
Almost seven. No point going
back to sleep when I had to be up soon anyway.
Wandering downstairs, I
wrapped the tie of my light pink robe tightly around my waist. The accident was
still so real in my mind, even after almost a year. Every little detail was so
vivid, like it’d happened only yesterday. The sound of the tires skidding; the
metallic taste of blood on my tongue.
And the crying. Oh God, the
crying.
I rounded the bottom of the
staircase and entered the kitchen. Layna was already up and making coffee,
which shouldn’t have surprised me. She slept less than I did. She raised her
eyebrows, her brown eyes brimming with concern as she slowly stirred her drink.
“Up early,” she commented,
raising her eyebrows.
I nodded, focusing on her
white robe, with little pink flowers embroidered around the collar. “Yeah. Another
nightmare.” I grabbed a cup and slid it down the black and white speckled
marble counter to her.
She filled it and pushed it
back. “Maybe talking to someone again might help?” she suggested.
I shrugged. Talking didn’t
help me sleep. Most nights I was lucky enough to get four broken hours, and I
could function on that.
“I’ll be fine. So, you’ve
got the whole school in a twist with this new teacher you’ve hired. What’s he
like?” I asked, making the most of being related to the headmistress, and also changing
the subject.
“Is it really that big a
deal? He’s only here for eight weeks. So long as he can control you all, that’s
all I care about,” she joked with a laugh.
“How old is he?” I asked,
raking my fingers through my long dark hair and twirling it into a braid over
my shoulder. Like every other girl in school, I was hoping for young and hot.
“I’m not having this
conversation with you, Wrenn. You girls are ruthless.” She shook her head, her
short blonde hair waving around her shoulders. I giggled and grabbed a granola
bar, taking that and my coffee back upstairs to get ready.
Showered and dressed
in my uniform—complete with black tights, considering it was freaking
freezing outside—I went back downstairs and grabbed my backpack. It was
just after eight thirty. With less than fifteen minutes until my first class, I
made my way across campus. First up was History, and like every other student
in the entire school, I was curious to see the replacement for Ms. Lucas. Rumor
had it he was young and cute, and
that
had me excited. A cute teacher to fantasize over? Um, yes please!
Can you tell I didn’t get
out much?
Kassia was waiting for me outside the classroom when I
arrived. She smiled when she spotted me. She was my best, and only, friend in
this place. We’d started hanging out mainly because we were both social
outcasts. Me, because I was…well,
me,
and her because she was a lesbian. Seriously, who outcasts someone just because
they’re gay? She was the one person in this place who I could actually have fun
with. Without her, this place would have ruined me a long time ago. I’d learned
quickly that personality didn’t matter for shit in this place; all that
mattered was your social standing and how much money you had. I was pretty damn
low on both counts.
“Did you see Paige Warner
today? I swear her skirt is so short I can see her twat,” she mumbled under her
breath.
I snorted.
“Ten bucks says she drops
something in front of ‘Mr. New-and-Apparently-Hot Teacher’ just so she has to
pick it up and give him a show. I wouldn’t put it past her to give him a
freaking lap dance.”
“And you’ll be right there
watching,” I smirked, nudging her in the side.
Paige was the definition of
skank
and the leader of the bitchy group that had taken it upon themselves to make mine
and Kass’s life hell. At least I’d only had to suffer through the past
semester. Poor Kass had been putting up with this shit for five years.
Still, Paige was (as Kass
would say)
Playboy Playmate
kind of
hot, and like I could appreciate how sexy Roger Federer was—or maybe even
this new hot teacher, Kass insisted on doing the same with Paige. She said that
Paige’s nasty personality meant she didn’t have to feel bad about objectifying
her, which always made me giggle.
We walked inside and took
the only two seats available, right down the back. I snorted. Paige turned
around and glared at me, her eyes reducing to narrow slits. I rolled my eyes.
There was a law against me snorting now?
I’m sorry, but it was
freaking hysterical that in the presence of a potentially hot new teacher, the
whole classroom landscape had changed. The cool girls now sat front row center,
chests stuck out, shirts unbuttoned, and legs crossed, ready to launch an
attack on the poor, unsuspecting guy. I was already feeling sorry for him. Kass
glanced at me and shook her head while giving Paige the finger. That made me
snort again.
Sliding into my seat, I
dumped my bag on my desk and began to unpack my books.
Uh-oh Mr. Teacher, you’re three minutes late. Not a good first
impression.
I flicked through my notebook, waiting impatiently for the
class to begin.
Everyone sat anxiously, eyes
on the door, waiting for it to swing open. When it finally did, it was so quiet
I swear you could have heard a pin drop.
Holy mother of
God.
This was our new teacher? My
heart was racing just looking at him. He was fucking adorable.
He had light brown messy
hair cut short enough that all he probably did was run a hand through it in the
morning, and a crooked smile that sent my stomach into a spin. He was tall,
athletic, and oh so sexy.
But what I noticed first
were his eyes.
They were the deepest blue
I’d ever seen. Beautiful long dark lashes framed them, and you couldn’t help
but be drawn in. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was, but there was
something about him: something that made me lose all sense of everything else
around me.
He looked about
mid-twentyish, his tanned skin criminal in the middle of this harsh winter. I
glanced down at my own pasty white skin and silently cursed him.
What the hell were they
thinking, putting this poor guy in here among several hundred teenage girls,
some of whom had been cooped up here so long that the only male specimen they
had seen was the middle-aged science teacher with a beer gut that rivaled the belly
of a heavily pregnant woman?
That was just
asking
for trouble, and trust
me—no one could quite cause trouble like some of these girls.
He smiled again. Was he
nervous? I sure would be. He looked pretty relaxed though, considering what
he’d just walked into. He was like a piece of bloody meat in a tank full of
sharks. I watched as he sat casually on the edge of his desk, hands in pockets,
glancing around the room, apparently not fazed by every set of eyes in the area
focused squarely on him.
“Hey, I’m Mr. Reid. Your
teacher has gone into labor, I hear, so you’re stuck with me for the next eight
weeks.”
God, even his voice was
amazing—low and husky; he could’ve done voiceovers for porn ads. He
smiled again and I nearly fell off my chair. Kass sniggered next to me. I shot
her a look.
“A little bit about me. I’m
fresh out of college, and this is my first teaching assignment. I’m originally
from a small town just north of Los Angeles. I like good music and classic
movies, and teaching is all I’ve ever wanted to do.” He stood up and paced back
and forth along the front of the room.
“How about I get to know
some of you?” There was a low rumble of giggles, from myself included, everyone
thinking just how much they’d like to get to know Mr. Reid. “So I want each of
you to stand up, tell me something about yourself, and then ask me something.
Sound good?”
We went around the room,
girls nervously telling him something about themselves and then asking him a
question, like his favorite color, or food. He pointed at Paige. She stood up,
her eyes narrowing in on him as she smiled.
“I’m Paige, and I love
dancing. I have a very flexible body,” she practically purred. I groaned,
embarrassed for her. Why didn’t she just try and mount him then and there?
“Uh, well that’s good for
your dancing,” he said, flustered. “And you’re question for me, Paige?”
“Your phone number?”
Everyone giggled. Kass caught my attention and rolled her eyes at me.
“Yeah, that’s not going to
happen.” He chuckled, turning to Deena who sat next to Paige.
My heart began to pound as
it neared my turn. What did I tell him? What should I ask? These seemed like
the most important decisions of my life right now. Forget about college, and
things that were actually important, all I wanted to was to stand out from the
rest of these girls.
“And you?” His eyes met mine
and I froze. Kass nudged me with her foot, forcing me back to reality. I stood
up, my chair shooting back into the wall. I was the last person.
“I’m Wrenn. I-I’m originally
from Washington, and I just moved here a few months ago.” He smiled at me, his
mesmerizing eyes making me dizzy.
“What do you want to ask me,
Wrenn?” Hearing him say my name made me begin to sweat. I could feel the
trickle of perspiration running down the back of my neck. I hated being the
center of attention, but being the focus of
his
attention was almost unbearable. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Mornings or evenings?” He
raised his eyebrows at me, a shadow of a smile on his lips. “Are you a morning
person, or a night owl?” I said, feeling the need to explain.
“Definitely not a morning
person. I don’t function very well before midday.”
He grinned as I sank into my
chair, his eyes lingering on me for another moment, before snapping back to
attention.
“Well, let’s get straight
into things, huh? If you could all turn to page forty-six, one of you can run
over what you covered in your last lesson.”
I forced my attention away
from the new teacher and focused on my books. I didn’t need a distraction right
now, no matter how sexy the distraction was.
The last year had been hard,
and the last eight months had been hell. School was something I hated with a
passion. It hadn’t always been that way though. Last year it had been a
complete and utter different story. That’s how much things had changed.
Last year I had friends, a
boyfriend, and a family.
And I wasn’t surrounded by
money-obsessed skanks all day.
Prep school was like my
worst nightmare come true. When the thought ‘I wish I’d died along with the
rest of my family’ crosses your mind on a daily basis, it’s pretty obvious
you’re not in a great place emotionally. This place was hell. No, it was worse
than hell, and I couldn’t wait to leave. I was counting the days until I
graduated.
Next month would mark
exactly one year since I lost my family. It did get easier, but it’s not
something you get over. The nightmares came most nights, and were almost
expected. It was like a constant recount of what I’d lost.
Every dream was the same:
Me, in the back with my brother. I was wearing my new jeans. He had spilled
soda in my lap and I was yelling at him. Mom was yelling at me to stop yelling,
and Dad was trying to calm Mom down. I actually felt the moment the car hit the
tree, the impact nearly splitting the car in half. I’d blacked out, and woken
up in hospital.
I knew before they’d even
told me that my family was gone. I can’t explain it, but there was emptiness
inside that hospital room, and I just knew. Maybe it was just anxiety I was
feeling, but the dread I felt moments before they told me was inconceivable and
unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Unless you’ve lost someone close
to you, understanding the pain of losing someone you love is something you’ll
never quite understand. I’d lost grandparents when I was younger, and though
that was sad I’d moved on, because that’s what you do. Death had always been
something that was scary, but distant. I mean, nobody in my immediate family
was going anywhere anytime soon, right?
You always think it will
never happen to you. I used to watch the news and see these horrific events and
feel bad for the people involved, but never really consider that it was
something that could happen to me.
Until it did. Until that
was
me.
How I survived, I have no
idea. My injuries were minor compared to how bad they could have been: three
broken ribs and a broken pelvis. I was in the hospital for three weeks, and
then in a hotel for another four, with Layna staying with me until I’d
recovered enough to move here. I couldn’t go back home; the idea of facing
years and years of memories was too much.