Finding you, p.1
Finding You, page 1
Finding You
A Swenson Sweethearts Novel
Kelsie Rae
Finding You
Cover Art by Cover My Wagon Dragon Art
Editing by Wickedcoolflight Editing Services
Proofreading by Stephanie Taylor
Published by Twisty Pines Publishing, LLC
May 2020 Edition
Published in the United States of America
Copyright © 2021 by Kelsie Farmer
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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To Lilo from Lilo and Stitch
Everyone deserves their Ohana. :)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Also by Kelsie Rae
Dear Reader
About the Author
Prologue
Sway
"I'm so sorry, Sway––"
I raise my hand to cut him off. "It's fine. Seriously. Not a big deal at all." The lie leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I keep my face masked with indifference.
Speaking of mouths, Dr. Thompson’s is currently pulled into a thin line as he crosses his arms. I don't know what he's so pissed about. It's not like the results are going to affect him the way they're gutting me right now. I read somewhere that doctors are trained to turn off their humanity in order to make their jobs a little easier. It makes sense. I mean, who would want to live their lives doling out bad news of epic proportions? I know I wouldn't.
"You're allowed to mourn, Sway. You're allowed to be sad. I just wish––"
"I know what you wish," I state matter-of-factly. "But there's not a whole lot that wishing gets us now is there?"
With a sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "No. I guess there isn't." When he looks back up at me, I can't help but squirm in my chair. There's pity in his gaze. I hate pity. "Can I get you a grief counselor or something? I think it would be very beneficial for your mental well-being if you spoke with someone."
Like that's going to help.
I want to laugh.
Instead, I mutter the same thing for what feels like the thousandth time, "I'm fine."
I'm not fine. I'm numb. That's what I am. And what's that saying from Italian Job? Fine stands for freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.
I change my mind. I'm definitely fine. And I doubt that'll change anytime soon. Hell, I'm pretty sure I could get it tattooed on my forehead without any remorse down the road.
I'm juuust fine.
Dr. Thompson tries again. "Sway…"
Now I can hear it in his voice. The pity. And it makes me want to break. I feel like I’ve lost something, but I can't really put my finger on what it is. I mean, I know what I lost, but it's more than that. So much freaking more that I want to cry. I dig my teeth into my lower lip, knowing that if I give in and allow the emotions to break free, I’ll never be able to get the tears to stop.
Nope.
I shake my head and focus on the white button on Dr. Thompson's soft blue button-up shirt. It pulls a little over his round stomach making it apparent to anyone who’s looking that he should’ve probably purchased a larger size. Maybe it was the last one, and he noticed that it brought the color out in his eyes? I mean, he does have kind eyes. I look up and take in the crows feet that frame them. He’s usually such a happy guy. So nice. So optimistic. That’s why I’ve stuck with him in the first place. Now, those kind eyes are almost glassy as if he’s about to cry. I grit my teeth and drop my gaze back to the stupid button. Besides, aren't doctors supposed to wear scrubs and stuff?
"Sway…" he repeats, resting his elbows on the paperwork in front of him.
Sucking my lips into my mouth, I dig my teeth into them a second time before pushing myself up from the chair across from him. "Thank you for your help with everything. I know that you did all you could, and I'm so grateful for all the late nights, the surgeries, the consultations,"––I swallow thickly––"Everything. But I need to get going. Have a good day, okay?"
I don't wait for his response. I rush out of his office like my butt is on fire.
And I never look back.
Chapter One
Anthony
“Do you understand the severity of your actions, Mr. Wright?”
With my gaze glued to the gavel, I nod. “Yes, Your Honor.”
I’ve never been inside a courtroom. It’s different than I expected. Smaller maybe. Probably because they leave the giant courtrooms that I see on television open for cases that have something to do with murder and money laundering, instead of for a DUI with property damage.
“What were you thinking?” Judge Jeffers interrupts my thoughts. His tone demands my attention, so I give it to him with a look of indifference. “Your records before the incident are squeaky clean. You were even a Boy Scout. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I pull my gaze away from the center of his forehead and look Judge Jeffers in the eyes. When I’m greeted with his all-too-familiar look of disappointment, my shoulders hunch.
“I screwed up, Your Honor. As you can see from my records, this is very uncharacteristic of me…but still unacceptable. I deserve every punishment this court finds necessary, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”
“So you plead guilty for driving under the influence and damaging the property of Ms. Swenson?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
I watch as his jaw clenches in frustration over my stupidity before he continues. “Do you understand I could have you thrown in jail for this misdemeanor? That the state of New Hampshire does not take these charges lightly? You could’ve killed someone, son––”
“I understand, Your Honor,” I grit out. Cutting him off isn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done, but then again, I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff in my life.
Clearing his throat, he fumbles with the sleeves of his long black robe then says, “That anger won’t do you any good, son. May I ask what brought you here? To Riverside?”
Flashes of my previous life filter through me, and I shake my head in hopes of scattering them. There were so many times I did the wrong thing, made the wrong choice.
Like Indie. The girl who broke my heart after a thirteen-year relationship. If that isn’t hard to swallow, I don’t know what is.
I thought I was fine when she ended things between us. When she found the love of her life and left me in the dust to pick up the pieces of my measly existence. I want to laugh when I remember that I even stepped in and cleared up a misunderstanding between her and her new boyfriend. Then reality set in, and I realized I was alone, and the only person I had to blame for my shitty circumstances was myself.
“Mr. Wright?” Judge Jeffers prods.
I look up to find him staring at me. “I wanted a fresh start.”
“And do you think this is the right way to get it? By ending up in a courtroom after losing your previous job?”
My fists clench at my sides before I take a deep breath and release it through my mouth while counting to ten. “Probably not, Your Honor.”
A heavy silence hangs over the room as I watch Judge Jeffers debate what he’s going to do with me. I’m surprised my palms aren’t sweaty, and that my heart isn’t beating in a frantic rhythm. Then I remember I don’t care anymore. About anything. So why should I care where I end up? If I go to prison? If I fork out my life savings for this mistake? Nothing matters anymore. Because everything that did matter vanished into thin air when I screwed it up. Over and over again.
Karma’s a bitch.
Chapter Two
Sway
“Well that went well,” I say sarcastically, sliding my arms into my oversized coat to keep some heat in. It’s freezing outside, and the clouds look like they’re ready to burst with fresh flakes of snow just in time for the weekend.
“Oh, come on, Sway. You should be happy. Now you’ll finally have some help for a few months. That’s a good thing, right?”
I sigh and give my sister, Skye, the side-eye. “You’re just trying to get out of cleaning kitty litter for the next few months and are happy to pawn it off on the guy who rammed into the sign in my front yard.”
Skye doesn’t even have the decency to hide her mischievous smile. “Hell yes, I am. I dunno how you deal with it, Sway. There are so many cats! What number are you up to?”
With a shrug, I do the math in my head before replying. “I think we’re at twenty-nine right now, but I found a home for two of them, s o I think we’ll be down to twenty-seven by Monday. If the snow decides to let the owners come pick Tiny and Macho up, anyway.”
With a shake of her head, my other sister, Saylor, pipes in. “Sway, you know you’re going straight to heaven, right? Opening up your home as a sanctuary for cats who overstay their welcome at the local shelter?” She nudges me playfully. “Definitely a reason for sainthood, my friend.”
“And you forgot to mention donating her veterinary skills,” Skye pipes up with a smirk.
I roll my eyes and slap a gray beanie on my pink hair before pulling my coat tighter around me for the umpteenth time in ten minutes as I prepare to step outside.
“You guys are being ridiculous. It’s not that big of a deal. I love animals anyway, and I have the space. Why not help those who are less fortunate than me by sharing it?”
Saylor reaches for the handle on the heavy door that will let us out of the court building, when a masculine arm covered with a fine dusting of hair beats her to it.
My head whips to the side to find its owner, and I am gifted with an up close and personal view of Mr. Wright; the guy who was driving drunk around my house, slid into my yard, and bulldozed my Cat Sanctuary sign.
We haven’t spoken. In fact, the entire ordeal was handled by outside authorities after I called the cops that night. But now that I know he’ll be hanging around the premises for community service, I guess it’d be a good idea to officially introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Sway.”
“Anthony,” he returns, running his fingers through his brown hair. The motion brings attention to his sharp jaw and dark eyes. I can’t help but notice how defeated they look, but I don’t bother asking him why. It’s obvious his life is a little screwed up right now, and I don’t blame him for seeming a little cold and awkward.
“Nice to meet you,” I offer. “So…umm…looks like we’ll be working together for a little while.”
“Yup. That seems to be the case.”
The detachment in his tone is suffocating.
I bob my head up and down awkwardly before repeating him. “Yup.”
“When do you want me to start? The judge said you could decide so….” His voice trails off, leaving the ball in my court––Ha! No pun intended––as the cold air seeps in through the door and makes me shiver.
“Umm…I don’t know? Whenever is good for you, I guess. I mean, it’s not like we don’t have plenty of hours to work with.” Skye snorts at my terrible joke before Saylor shoves her out the door.
“We’ll be in the car with the heater on full-blast,” she tosses over her shoulder as a fresh flurry of snowflakes sprinkle from the sky.
Squeezing the back of his neck, Anthony looks up at the ceiling as we hover near the exit before he turns his attention back to me. “Yeah. I think we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well over the next few months.”
“So do you have a job or anything that we need to work around? I think it would probably be a good thing if I had an idea of your schedule.”
With a dry laugh, he shakes his head. “Nope. No job. No family that’s close. Just me.”
The sadness in his statement hits me square in the chest, and I reach out to grab his forearm in a lame attempt to comfort him. “Then it looks like you’ll fit right in around my house. I do collect strays, after all.” I add a not-so-subtle wink to lighten the mood, and he scoffs in return before sliding out of my grasp.
“Good to know. So when do I start?”
“Maybe on Monday? If that works for you?”
“Yup.” He pushes the door open the rest of the way, clearly dismissing me, and I take a step into the bitter cold. The strong wind makes my hair swirl into a chaotic mess, and my cheeks burn from the temperature, but I don’t head to my car. Instead, I turn on my heel and give him a cheeky grin. “See ya around, Anthony!”
All I get is a half-wave in return as he rushes away like a bat out of hell.
Figures.
Chapter Three
Sway
Pulling into my parents’ ranch-style house with the heater on full blast, Skye jumps out before I’ve even put the car in park.
“Why the rush?” I ask Saylor, taking the key out of the ignition.
She slides out of the back and says, “Mom made cinnamon rolls, but only the first batch is done baking.”
Which means if I don’t get in there soon, I’ll have to wait another fifteen minutes to eat one.
As soon as the words slip past her lips, Saylor follows in Skye’s footsteps, booking it to the kitchen while I trail behind.
The girls are a bunch of Hoovers when it comes to my mom’s cooking, so I doubt there will be any left by the time I hit the front porch. Even if Saylor likes to pretend she’s the only kid with manners, we all know those rules don’t apply when cinnamon rolls are on the table.
When I see my dad bundled up in his chair with a hot cup of coffee, the steam swirling in the bitter cold, I smile. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Hey, Swayze Girl. How’d it go?”
With a sigh, I pull out the seat next to him and plop right down before folding my arms to keep a little more of the heat in.
“It was okay. He has to pay for the damage to my property and will be working at the sanctuary until he finishes his community service hours, so I’ll have some help around the place for a little while.”
Resting his elbows on his knees, he offers me his cup of coffee, and I take a long sip, letting the heat warm me from the inside out.
“That sounds like a heck of a deal, Swayze Girl. Why do you sound hesitant?”
I shrug before offering his cup back to him. “Because I feel bad.”
“Why on earth would you feel bad?”
“I don’t know. Skye has run into that sign in the past while she was sober, and the streets were clear. Is it really this guy’s fault for ramming into it in the dead of night, on an unfamiliar road after a snowstorm, when it was icy as hell?”
Grabbing my knee, my dad squeezes it gently. “He was intoxicated, Swayze Girl. I don’t care what the driving conditions were. He made a mistake when he got behind that wheel, and he needs to deal with the consequences. Understand?”
“Yeah. I understand. Doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, though.”
“Why? For accepting court-mandated help?” He laughs dryly, and the sound is so contagious, I join in.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“It’ll be fine. But I want to meet him. If he’s going to be at your place alone with you, then I want to make sure it’s safe.”
I purse my lips, refusing to admit that I love how much he cares. After I take another sip of coffee, I remind him, “Dad. I’m a big girl, remember? I can take care of myself. And do you really think the judge would set this up if he didn’t think I’d be safe?”
Grudgingly, my dad concedes, but not without giving me the side-eye first. “Good point. Just be careful. I don’t want my baby girl getting hurt.”
“Meh.” I wave him off before handing him his cup of coffee. “You’ve got two more for backups, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.” After nudging him in the shoulder, I stand to my full height. “Now, come inside. It’s freezing out here, and I heard there are fresh cinnamon rolls waiting for me.”
“That there are, Swayze Girl. Let’s go get some.” With the pace of a turtle, my dad pushes off from the wooden chair and guides me inside as I smile at the man he is.
If there was an award for Greatest Dad Ever, Brock Swenson would win. It wouldn’t even be a competition. He’s the best cheerleader, monster killer, and story reader you’ve ever met, and I know without a doubt that my family wouldn’t be the same without him.
