If Only (The Willowbrook Series Book 1)

If Only

Ashlyn Mathews

Commencement Bay Publishing

TACOMA, WA

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Quote

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Books by Author

About the Author

Copyright © 2012 by Ashlyn Mathews.

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. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

[email protected]

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

2012 Cover designed by The Killion Group, Inc. http://thekilliongroupinc.com/

2014 Cover designed by Christy Caughie at Gildedheartdesign.com

Edited by: Kim Wollenburg

If Only/ Ashlyn Mathews. 1st edition

ISBN 978-0-9960946-5-8

I have so many people to thank for helping me with If Only. Thank you to my beta readers, Jen and Jan, for their unwavering belief in me; my editor, Kim Wollenburg, for her guidance through those serial commas and massive amounts of pronouns; Jennifer and Kim at Hot Damn Designs for the awesome cover; and indie author and friend, Christina McKnight, for inspiring me to take the chance to explore a different path.

And to the awkward and geeky girls in high school, who later grew up to become strong and independent women, I dedicate Asa and Rhys’s story to you. May you find your happily-ever-after.

“So there’s this boy and the way he laughs makes me smile, and the way he talks gives me butterflies and just everything about him makes me happy . . .I love him.” ~
Unknown

Chapter One

A funeral was the worst place for a reunion.

Beneath her umbrella, Asa kept her head lowered, otherwise, she’d stare at the man standing in front of the casket. Beneath his black suit, his shoulders drooped. Cold rain fell, and Asa wasn’t sure if he kept his gaze downcast to shield his face or to hide his grief.

Rhys Miles
. The man who had hurt her with an insensitive comment during one of the most memorable nights of her life, and a man she had hurt in return with her own cutting words.

The minister said a final prayer, and in unison with the other mourners, Asa whispered an “Amen” and gave the casket one final glance before she hurried away. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quick enough.

“You weren’t invited, Asa.”

It would’ve been easy to dismiss his grief and walk away from him, the harshness in his tone a reminder of what had happened between them a year ago. But no matter how much Rhys disliked her, it wasn’t the right thing to do.

Gripping the handle of the umbrella, she took a deep breath before pivoting to face the man who meant more to her than the good friend he used to be.

“I loved your grandmother, and she cared about me. I have every right to be here.”

Unlike the other mourners who came prepared with an umbrella in hand, Rhys appeared to enjoy the rain as he shoved his hands into his pant pockets and glanced up at the sky. Water dripped off his head and down the sides of his face, drawing her attention to his loosened tie and the hint of tan skin beneath the collar of his shirt before her gaze drifted back to the raindrops clinging to his lashes.

If things were different between them, she’d share in his sadness and settle her head on his chest, over the spot above his heart. She’d run her fingers across the straight brows over his intense hazel eyes then down the chiseled plane of his face before she’d press her lips to his cheek.

But their situation remained the same as it had for the past year. He avoided her. She tried to forget him. It hadn’t been easy. Asa waited for him to say something, anything. The rain continued to patter about them while his silence echoed in her ears.

The umbrella, with its edges tilted upward, should’ve distanced them. Instead, it sheltered them from curious stares as the others filtered to their cars leaving her alone with him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned forward and crowded her space. “You might’ve been Jo’s neighbor, and yeah, she might’ve loved you like you were her own flesh and blood, but she damn well knew how I feel about you.”

How I feel about you
. His last words whispered hot on her forehead. Yes, Jo might’ve caught on to why he disliked and had avoided Asa whenever he was in town. But she and Jo had never discussed how Asa felt about him.

What would she say to Jo?
Yes, I’m in love with your grandson and have been since I was sixteen, and oh by the way, he hates me because I blamed him for the car accident that killed my father
.

No, she couldn’t tell his grandmother that piece of news. Biting the corner of her lips, she mentally counted to ten and tried to forget the hurt on Rhys’s face that day. The task proved difficult. She hadn’t been this close to him since they had slept together at a party almost a year ago.

At the memory of that unforgettable night, her gaze strayed to the hollow at the base of his throat, lingering on a spot she had flicked her tongue over, the salty taste of him from their lovemaking still embedded deep in her memory. Through the smell of the water washing the sky clean, she caught a whiff of his deodorant.
Old Spice
. Sexy, familiar, and very much Rhys.

Suddenly, without another word, he straightened and barged past her, leaving her alone to wonder whether their close proximity had affected him as much as it had her. In the quiet and solitude of the cemetery, the noise of an engine and the popping of a muffler had her turning to see Rhys driving off in his Grandma Jo’s pickup truck.

With a sigh, Asa loosened her grasp on the handle of the umbrella and prepared herself for the long walk home on a dirt path flanked by tall grass. Along the way, she tried her best to not think about Rhys. There’d be plenty of time for that since he was staying next door at his Grandma Jo’s place, making it very likely they’d run into each other again.

Jo
. A heart attack took her in her sleep, that’s what the doctor had said. Good for her she hadn’t suffered, providing Asa some comfort. And she’d meant it when she told Rhys she loved his grandmother.

Maybe if she was raised to believe that showing emotions was a good thing, she’d have cried for Jo at the service. Instead, she had stared at the ground to hide her grief, hoping to God no one thought of her as a cold and unfeeling person.

As a child, her mother encouraged her to suppress her temper. Angry little girls weren’t well liked, that’s what she’d said. When her parents’ marriage started to get rocky, her father convinced Asa to keep her anxiety and sadness over their fights hidden behind closed doors.

“Smile, Asa,” he’d said. “Then the world wouldn’t know of our family’s problems. Believe in it enough, and you could fool yourself, too, that everything is fine,” he kept saying.
Just like he had done.

And being the agreeable daughter she was, she had listened to her parents. During their fights, she’d hole herself in her bedroom. Often times, she cried herself to sleep. But the majority was spent imagining the pillow in her bedroom was her mother’s head as she hurled the nearest heavy object at the innocent target, her anger consuming her at what her father tolerated from his wife.

Eventually, her bedroom became less about hiding her emotions and more about immersing herself in the angst of a great book and an even better song. But when Rhys had left town after graduating from high school, those two things weren’t enough. Soon, she took up a different activity that had her feeling closer to him while giving her an outlet to release her anger and sadness over her parents’ failing marriage.

Unfortunately, the activity she had chosen was dangerous.
Oh well
. No one would ever know.

Hell, even Jo hadn’t suspected, and they were neighbors.

Half an hour later, two houses came into view, the sight of Jo’s place causing her chest to constrict. Tonight, while Asa lay curled up in her bed, she would cry for Jo and the grandson who loved her. For now, she needed to get out of the cold, wind, and rain. Her fingers were numb while her teeth chattered.

Catching sight of the pickup truck parked in the driveway separating her place and Jo’s, her gaze swiveled to the picture window of Jo’s living room. The curtains were drawn, giving her a full view of Rhys. He appeared relaxed, dressed in a pair of low hung blue jeans, and a black t- shirt that hugged all the right muscles. God, why did he have to look so sexy and dry to boot?

When he noticed her examination, he lifted a brow. Butterflies danced in her belly, and she nearly tripped over her feet. Darn him for affecting her with such a small gesture.

Well, she’d show him he wasn’t all that. Straightening to her full height of five-foot-three, she tipped her chin, squeezed the umbrella handle until her knuckles turned white, and stared forward.

Almost there
. A few more steps and she’d be out of Rhys’s line of sight. Just her luck, the wind chose that moment to blow a gust big enough to tilt her umbrella back, leaving it inside out while torrential rain drenched her clothes, making them sopping wet in seconds.

Strands of her long hair plastered across her face and whipped into her eyes. She and the umbrella fought, and the umbrella won. Disgusted, Asa salvaged the mess of metal and cloth and scrunched the umbrella in her hand. Jo’s door flung open.

“Issues?” Rhys called after her.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” She stormed toward the comfort and safety of her house, her cheeks stinging from the cold and rain.

Asa couldn’t tell if he heard her or not, but she thought she detected a trace of bitterness in his laughter, carried to her by the rough wind.

Past hurts divided them, creating a chasm neither were willing to jump. How to make things right? If she confessed her guilt in her father’s death, she would have to tell Rhys how she truly felt about him, and Asa wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable again.

Dropping the broken umbrella on her front porch, she fumbled in her coat pocket for the house keys. With his grandma’s death, the chance to settle things between them would disappear. Rhys had no other reason to return to Willowbrook.

Once inside her house, Asa closed the door, pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket, and glanced at the time before she set the phone on the small table next to the door. Near noon. Business at the Magic Pages Café was slow, but she had promised the café’s owner and her friend, Eve, she’d return to work after the funeral.

After grabbing a hanger from the closet by the door, Asa hurried to the bathroom, shrugged off the wet coat, and hung it on the curtain rod. Water dripped off the sleek black material, creating a pool on the linoleum floor. She quickly tossed a towel over the spot and rushed to her bedroom to change.

The house was small—one bedroom and bathroom—but it was hers, and that’s what mattered. To have something to call her own even if the house was bought with the life insurance money from her father’s death.

As soon as she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a navy blue hoodie over a gray t-shirt, Asa put on a waterproof jacket, snagged another umbrella from the closet, and darted out the door toward town.

Ever since the car accident, she walked or used public transportation. It wasn’t because she didn’t have the money to buy another car after her Honda Accord was declared totaled by the insurance company.

No, her unwillingness to get behind the wheel had more to do with the guilt she shouldered from her father’s death. When her mother had discovered her reluctance to drive again, she suggested counseling, implying Asa was crazy. But she hadn’t budged.

She wasn’t ready to let go of the guilt, her refusal a constant reminder of her role in her father’s death. If only—

Stopping, she slanted the umbrella back and lifted her face to the sky. That day, metal had slammed into metal and darkness had swept over her. Later, after she regained consciousness, the news of her father’s death drifted into her haze of pain before the realization sliced her heart in one agonizing cut.