Authors: K. Ryan
She doesn't need to finish because the rest of their party appears from around the corner. His youngest son is laughing and smiling and happy again—it's been this way every Sunday—and he has his arm around the dark-haired girl as he holds her close.
"Uncle Sean!"
"There he is," Sean grins widely. "Get over here, Brennan!"
Jack lifts his son off his shoulders and the little boy leaps into his uncle's arms, giggling the way little boys do before they get themselves into trouble with their uncles, and he watches as his daughter wraps her arms around her sister to pull her in for a tight hug before doing the same for her brother.
He learned, through their now renamed store's website—that they'd decided to close Chic Chateau on Sundays, primarily so this family time could be the focus of their day and by all accounts, that seems like a sound decision. His sons, after all, run the bar the same way—family first—and there hasn't been a fight inside those doors since they took the reins.
"Hi Auntie Lucy," Brennan waves shyly to the dark-haired girl, even as his uncle blows a raspberry on his stomach. "I was good, right, Uncle Sean?"
"You were
so
good, buddy," Sean laughs. "Quiet as a mouse."
"I'm gonna have to remember that," Jack shakes his head and ruffles his son's auburn hair. "Pancakes is all it takes, I guess."
As the party moves inside the same restaurant they patron every Sunday at this time, they meet the rest of their party at their table. His daughter's best friend and his husband are already there and waiting for everyone else to join them. More laughter and hugs follow. More love and food is shared. They all sit around their table as a family unit, passing their phones around to show off pictures and videos and by the end, his grandson has sat on everyone's lap at least once throughout the meal.
There's love at that table. Family. Devotion. Dedication. It takes all of those things to preserve the tight-knit group he sees from the window across the street. His son wraps his arm around his daughter and kisses her hair, his other son sits with his grandson in his lap and whispers something in his ear that makes the little boy dissolve into a fit of laughter—everything he's ever wanted for them is here at this table.
He just doesn't get to be a part of it.
So he pays for his coffee and heads out onto the street. It's not quite mid-afternoon yet and the sun warms his shoulders through the clouds, guiding his way and lighting his path as he sets out to conquer the rest of his own Sunday tradition. That path takes him all the way to Castle Island, where he finds a solitary bench and takes a worn, yellowed letter out from his wallet.
In the years that have passed, he's watched his family blossom and grow. Witnessed his son's release from prison after finally getting his day in court. Signed divorce papers that were a long time coming. Observed his son and his daughter's wedding from a distance. Watched the man he loathed more than anything in this world sentenced to life in prison after all his sins came to light in the press and after the FBI descended—he's nothing but a disgraced and defiled man now. Most of it has given him pleasure. Most of it has also brought him great pain. Perhaps it is no less than he deserves.
He unfolds the letter and glances up at the water, the glint and glow reflecting from the sunlight. When his eyes find those aging, familiar words again, it's all he really has left of them. His daughter sent this to him just a few months after he'd given it to her. Whether or not she read it is between her, God, and probably her mother too. But it's the only real contact he's ever had with her and he shouldn't have been surprised when it didn't have a return address.
This is all he has left. Just memories. Just regrets. Just pain.
His eyes skim the letter:
My dearest Roark,
I know you won't understand why I've done this, but there was nothing else I could do. I can't live in a world without you in it. I've tried. For six years, I tried. I failed. I could try again and live the rest of my life brokenhearted, but I just don't have the will this time. Maybe this world was just never where we were meant to be. Maybe we're meant to be together somewhere else. I'm going there now. Will you meet me? We can dance in the rain and love each other freely again. We can be happy again.
I'm waiting for you there.
Love, Jillian
The sky opens and the clouds descend on this day, the same day that represents so much happiness to his children and their loved ones. Rain soaks his shoulders, saturates his hair, his face, his soul, but doesn't make him clean. Doesn't make him whole. Doesn't wash away his sins.
And so, he sits there in the rain and waits for an absolution that will never come. And he waits. And he waits.
Finally, the letter drifts to the ground and the rain catches it, tearing it away from the broken, ruined man on the bench.
About the Author
K. Ryan lives in the Green Bay area with her crazy-supportive boyfriend and the best decision of her adult life, a not-so-stray cat named Oliver. When not writing, she's either binge-watching something on Netflix, running, reading, or cheering on the Packers.
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Also by K. Ryan
The Carry Your Heart Duo
Carry Your Heart
(Book #1)
Carry You Home
(Book #2)
Contemporary Romance (Standalone)
Acknowledgements
First of all, I've said it before and I'll say it again, a book is really only as good as its cover, so I owe a huge thank you to Christa at Paper and Sage. Thank you so much for being willing to show me option after option when I just couldn't decide. Your patience and your professionalism really made all the difference in getting this cover perfect and it really is.
To Mia at Indie Sage—thank you once again for all your hard work and your dedication. My book doesn't mean anything if it doesn't get into the hands of the readers and you're a huge reason why that happens at all. I can't wait to plan the promos for my next book with you, and then my next, and my next...
To Morgan and Cathy, my awesome betas—your time and your thoughtful feedback has been invaluable to me. Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedules to read through my early and very, very rough drafts. Morgan, you are ever the optimistic and your cheery mood and even cheerier feedback always put me in a good mood. Cathy, I'm so glad we reconnected! It's been literal years and to come back into each other's lives this way—even if it's just through our computers—has been so much fun. I miss you! We need to get together face to face one of these days.
To Pavi—I know this was your first time giving this beta thing a shot, but seriously, you did an amazing job. Your feedback was tactful, to the point, but constructive and helpful. I know I didn't listen to all your suggestions, but I thought good and hard about every single one and they all played a part in the edits I made. You told me everything I needed to hear—the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I honestly don't think Jack and Rae's relationship would have evolved the way it did without your careful and considerate suggestions. It's my hope, too, that one day we'll figure out how to meet! Seriously, can you be my beta forever?
To my parents—thank you for supporting me through each and every single one of my books. Mom, you read everything I write and you read it with a critical eye, checking for mistakes and plot holes like you would for any other author who isn't your daughter. Dad, you're the reason there are less sex scenes in this one, if you know what I mean ;) Thank you both for your unwavering support. I couldn't have done it without you.
To Michael—thank you for managing our messy apartment, late nights, lots of fast food, and your girlfriend living in another world pretty much 24/7. Your patience, your support, your willingness to pick up my slack, and let's be honest here, your love, are the reasons I'm able to continue on this crazy journey. Thank you so much.
To all the bloggers who've taken a chance on my books—thank you so much for your willingness and your time to both read and promote my books. There's no way I would've reached as many readers as I have over this last year without all of you wonderful ladies in my corner. Thank you, especially, to For the Love of Fictional Words and the Graduated Bookworm for always managing to feature my books somehow on your feeds and keeping my words alive.
And to my readers—thank you for reading and if you choose to, thank you so much for your review. You have no idea how much that means to an indie author. My work, literally, wouldn't be here without you.
Playlist for
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