Uncovering Hope (Uncovering Love Book 3)
Uncovering Hope
Book Three in the Uncovering Love Series
Kacey Shea
Copyright © 2016 by Kacey Shea Books LLC
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers — www.ppccovers.com
Photography: TheIrishWolf – www.theirishwolf.com
Cover Model: Robin Hill – http://instagram.com/robin.bornsinner
Editing: Brenda Letendre, Write Girl Editing Services – www.facebook.com/writegirlediting
Proofreading: Christina Weston & Angela Stephens
Formatting: Stacey Blake, Champagne Formats – www.champagneformats.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Kacey Shea and Author Links
To my sister—
For being brave enough to leave,
having courage to see a better life,
and learning your worth.
I love you.
ELIJAH SCREAMS AS I BALANCE him on my hip. He’s teething badly, his little round face taut with pain. “I’m sorry Pam. I can’t make it in tonight.” I switch the phone to my other ear so I can make out my supervisor’s response.
She sighs, and that’s not patience I hear in her tone. “Not again, Carly. I hate to do this, but you know I’m gonna have to write you up. This is the fifth time this month you’ve called in. Maybe if you give me a little notice next time I can get one of our on call nurses to cover. They don’t mind, but not at the last second.”
Eli wails and I pinch my eyes shut. Tears spill out the sides. His cries bolster my own and I choke back a sob.
“Sweetie, you okay? We can talk leave of absence options if this just isn’t going to work.” Unpaid. I have to feed my children. More tears prick my eyes. I cannot lose this job. It’s all I have anymore. I set Eli on the bedroom floor and pop a bottle of cold milk in his mouth, then wipe the tears from my face and prepare a convincing lie.
“No. Pam, that’s not necessary. Things are fine. Well, as fine as they can be with a sick one-year-old. Josh got called into work and I don’t have anyone who can watch the boys.”
“Hmm . . .” She clicks her tongue. “He got called in at ten o’clock on a Thursday night? What exactly does your husband do again?” Shit. I pluck the bottle from Eli’s greedy mouth and he screams on cue.
“I’m sorry Pam, I’ve gotta go.” I end the call and toss my phone on the bed. “Sorry, sweet boy.” Picking him up, I replace the bottle and cradle him. “You’re a good little boy for mama,” I soothe, and rock from side to side until his tears quiet and his eyelids become heavy. His heartbeat slows, calming my own.
I brush back his sweaty curls. I need to cut these locks soon. They’re babyish and make him look like a girl but I can’t bring myself to chop them just yet. I’m holding on to the baby phase, not willing to move on. I’ve always dreamed of having a large family but that’s not possible. There’s no way in hell I’ll bring another little life into this chaos.
Carefully lowering myself to the bed, I lie back against the pillow and roll his little body to the center. I curve my larger one around his sleeping form and place one hand on his arm. I’m so damn tired. Where the hell is Josh? I shut my eyes. I don’t want to consider the possibilities. Maybe he’s dead. I hate myself for the hope that brings. Who have I become? It wasn’t always this way. I try to remember better times and give in to the pull of exhaustion.
“My God, you’re amazing.” Josh leans down, places a chaste kiss on my parched lips. “He’s beautiful, baby. You did good.”
“Would you like to hold your son, Mrs. Martinez?” The nurse holds our infant swaddled in a hospital standard blanket. I nod and she nestles my little boy in my arms. I’m exhausted but I’ll be damned if I’m not the first to hold my son.
Josh sits at the edge of the bed, snaking one tattooed arm around me and the other beneath my arm that cradles our little boy’s head. I’m overcome with emotion, feeling safe and content. Through smiling tears I watch my husband gaze upon our son.
“He’s perfect, Carly.”
“He has your face, I think.”
“What should we name him?” We’ve gone back and forth for weeks. I want to call him Austin but my husband wants Ezra. Suddenly the argument seems irrelevant. How lucky am I right now, a healthy babe in my arms, my man by my side.
“He looks like an Ezra to me. What do you think?” My husband’s eyes snap to mine and a grin spreads across his handsome face.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
“Mama! Mama! It’s raining in my room.” My eyes flutter open and heart hammers in my chest. It takes a second to realize I dozed off. Not sure how long, but I’m soaked in sweat. My eyes adjust to the pitch black room and find Ezra standing in the doorway.
“Come here, baby.” He pads to the foot of my bed and uses his four-year-old limbs to climb up. Sitting, I reach for him and discover his little jammies are damp. The power’s out. I clamber around the pile of blankets and sheets, careful not to wake sleeping Eli, and unearth my phone. Three-twenty-two in the morning. The screen illuminates Ezra’s innocent face. I push aside the fact Josh hasn’t tried to call.
“Why’s it raining in my room?”
“It’s not raining, baby, it’s just really hot in here. Look, Mama’s hot, too. Let’s cool off and get some clean clothes, okay?”
He nods and I carry him to the bathroom, stripping away our clothes and rinsing off our sweat. I should do the same with Eli but he’s finally sleeping and I can’t bring myself to wake him.
We dry off, find clean clothes, and construct a temporary bed in the front living room of our duplex. I open the windows here and in the kitchen, earning fresh air that’s slightly cooler. Ezra curls up to sleep instantly and I carefully move Elijah, wishing I could plug a fan in. It’s still too warm.
The roar of the motorcycle breaks my thoughts. It growls louder until the engine cuts. He’s home. I tiptoe out of the living room and into the kitchen, where I lean against the counter that faces the door. A few moment’s wait, and his heavy steps reach the door. He swears under his breath and after a few attempts the door swings open with a loud creak.
“Where’ve you been?” He ignores me, tosses something on the counter with a bang, and frantically rustles through the cabinets.
“I need to find it. I just need to find it. It’s gotta be in here. This is where I left it.” He mutters as he knocks over bowls and dishes in his search. Damn it. He better not wake the boys.
“Josh. Where have you been?” I whisper again.
He stands and flips the light switch up and down. “God damn, where are the trash bags and why can’t I turn on a fucking light?” Shouting, he finally meets my gaze. The street lights cast shadows in the room and I can’t read him.
“They cut the power again. You forgot to pay the bill.”
“Why the fuck is that my problem? Can’t you help out around here? Pick up a few shifts. Pay some damn bills for once.” His anger lashes and cuts deep.
“If you came home when you promised I could actually show up for my shifts. Josh, I’ll lose my job. We need to address the greater issue here.” I try to stay calm but anger boils beneath the surface. How dare he blame me for this situation?
“Shut the fuck up! I can’t listen to your bitching right now. I need to think. We’ve got bigger shit than you getting canned.”
“Oh, my god! Josh! Do you hear yourself? I need my job to pay bills. To put food in our boys’ bellies. What’s more important than that?” I yell, and instantly regret it as Eli’s wails cover my heavy breathing.
“There they are!” Josh shouts from where he’s crouched beneath the sink. He stands and pulls out the box of kitchen garbage bags like he’s won the fucking lottery.
Defeated, I hang my head. “What are you talking about, Josh?” I’m too tired. He’s too high. I don’t want to deal but here I am.
“Carly, I need you to do something.” He rolls the bag on the counter open, and that’s when I see it. The flash of metal. A gun. He begins wrapping the bag snugly around the weapon.
“What have you done, Josh?” I hiss. He halts his progress, grips his long fingers around the gun and points it directly at my face. Time stops. I can’t breathe.
“Don’t question me, bitch. I’m your husband. I need you to take this and get rid of it, so no one ever finds it. Now.” He seethes, the gun fixed and steady. I lick my lips. I don’t dare move. I don’t trust this man. I don’t know what he’s capable of.
“Okay,” I whisper. My chest heaves with each breath. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
Four Years Later
“OH, MY GAWD! DID YOU see Dr. Fine Ass making rounds this morning?” Jenny giggles from where she sits atop the counter. She’s swirling a plastic spoon through her cup of yogurt, legs swinging haphazardly.
I’m done for the day, having worked a night shift. I stretch my arms overhead and stifle a yawn. Jenny and I have been friends since we graduated nursing school and landed our first RN jobs here at Children’s nine years ago. She always fills me in on the latest hospital gossip. We don’t usually work together, but our shifts often overlap.
“I’m sure that’s not his name.” I grin. My uneaten snacks are still in the breakroom fridge so I pull them out and stuff them in my large purse. My phone doesn’t show any messages or missed calls, and a little sigh of relief escapes. Years have passed, yet I still anticipate bad news. I try not to. It’s a bad habit I’m working to break. My brother and his fiancée take excellent care when my boys aren’t at school.
“If you’re not sure who I’m talking about, then you haven’t seen him. I’m serious, Carly. The doc has mojo. He’s only been here a few weeks and has half the floor walking around with lady boners.” Giggling, she hops down and wraps me in a bear hug.
She’s outrageous, but I chuckle along. “I’m out. I’ve got to get a few hours of sleep before the boys get home. And then I have my brother’s engagement party tonight.” Jenny nods and tosses her empty container into the trash.
“I’ll walk with you to the elevator.” She pulls the door open and lowers her voice as I walk through. “So did you have Mama Bear or Greta the Grouch as supervisor last night?”
I glance around for listening ears before I answer. “Grouch.” I shake my head and shove my hands inside the pockets of my scrubs. “She’s a real you know what, and apparently I’m on her shit list.” I don’t even want to think about it. The soft, cool comforter of my bed is calling me. With the blackout shades drawn, I’ll be passed out in minutes. It’s almost cruel punishment that I still have a thirty minute commute to battle.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me, girlfriend. Sammie said she’s been after everyone lately. I hear she’s going through a bad divorce, but that doesn’t give her an excuse to be a bitch.” I cringe a little and Jenny gasps. “Oh, gawd. I’m sorry, Carly, I didn’t mean it that way. And I wasn’t even talking about you.”
I muster a smile, “Yeah, I know, Jen. No worries.” I wave as we pass the nurses’ station. Three of my co-workers sit at the desks, huddled together, and likely trading conspiracy theories. In our pediatric oncology unit we are close, a family away from our families, and everyone knows everything about everyone. And if they don’t, they speculate.
“Carly!” Heather calls out. I turn back to find a phone cradled in her neck as she waves me over. “You’ve got a call, hun.” Strange. I pull my cell out to check once more. No missed calls. I wonder who it is.
“I better get that.” I smile at Jen. She pulls me in for a quick hug.
“We’ll catch up later. I should get to work, anyway. Love you, girl!” Jenny walks away and I head back to the nurses’ station. Heather hands me the phone and I lean over the desk to rest the headset over my ear.
“Carly Reynolds speaking.” The line crackles and I push the phone tighter against my head. Silence stretches. I try once more. “This is Carly speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hello.” The familiar gravel baritone sends chills down my spine and I drop the phone. The plastic shell clatters to the desk. My heart hammers in my chest and I struggle for breath. The room spins.
“Carly. Carly, hun, you okay? You’re white as a ghost.” Heather rushes around the desk and grips my arm. She pulls me to sit in an empty chair. I resist the urge to throw up. “Breathe. Just take deep breaths. Is everything okay? The boys aren’t hurt, are they?” My boys. I shoot to my feet. I need to get to Eli and Ezra.
“Sorry. I’ve got to go. Heather, if anyone calls here for me again do not give them any information, okay?” She nods. A worried frown fills her face.
“You know I wouldn’t, hun. You sure you’re good to drive?”
“I’m fine.” I’m not, though. I turn and race down the hallway, thankful it’s still early enough not to be crowded full of visitors. Pushing out a side exit, I shove the door with all my force, only it doesn’t fully open. A pained grunt sounds instead. A man dressed in scrubs pulls the door the rest of the way open. One hand covers his face. I don’t recognize him, but a great many people work in this hospital.
“Shit, you really got me there.” His eyes blink rapidly, and though I can’t see all his features, his ice blue stare pulls my attention.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry. I’m in a rush and I didn’t see you. Are you hurt?” It’s then I notice the blood seeping between his fingers. “Oh, crap. I think you’re bleeding.”
“You think? You sure you made it through med school with those deduction skills?” he jokes and pulls his hand from his nose. Even tho
ugh blood trickles down his frowning face, he’s very handsome. And young. And with a full head of hair. This must be Hottie Doc, or whatever they call him.
“Well, I didn’t go to med school, so there’s that.” I pull several clean tissues from my bag and press them firmly over his nostrils. “I did graduate nursing school, so you’re in good hands.”
He moves to hold the tissues in place and our hands brush in the exchange. His eyes widen and goosebumps run down my arms at the contact. I instinctively pull away. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”
I brush past him, careful not to touch again. My hands tingle from where he grazed them, and I chastise myself for getting caught up with a stranger at a time like this. I need to get to the boys’ school. See them with my own eyes. Touch them. Only then will I have any chance of getting sleep. I unlock my trusty Camry and toss my bag in first before sliding in. The cool, crisp October morning signals the best Arizona weather is just around the corner.
I take care at each turn and light, refusing to give thought to the earlier phone call lest I get in an accident. My body is tight, muscles taut, and I have to remind myself to inhale.
The boys’ school comes into view. I pull up to the red painted curb and throw my car into park. I don’t give a damn that it’s illegal. I run to the door and press the button to be buzzed inside.
“ID and name, please,” the scratchy voice calls from the speaker. I flip open my wallet, slide the license from its clear plastic holder, and lift it to the tiny camera. “Carly Reynolds, for Ezra and Eli.” The seconds tick by like hours until finally there is a loud click from the door. I reach out and pull it wide.
“Mrs. Reynolds, what can I do for you? Are you here to volunteer in one of the classrooms?” The receptionist smiles.
“No. Actually, I’m here to hug them.”
“Hug them? Mrs. Reynolds, surely you realize we can’t pull children out of class for that sort of thing. It disrupts their morning.” She pins me with a patronizing stare.
“Yes, I do. But I don’t care. They’re my children and I need to see them immediately. I also need to speak with the principal before I leave.”