UNexpected: The Island, #1

By Alyne Hart

Can three people really love each other? 
All I wanted was to find some peace.
To find myself again.
Falling in love wasn't part of that plan.
But everything changed the day I met them.
Gabe and Michael.
So different.
And yet together, they are perfect.
I can't decide which one I love more.
And maybe I don't have to.
Because they both love me too.
Can three people really love each other?
Or was it the air of the island messing with our hearts and minds?

This book was previously released as The Island. It has been completely re-worked, revised and re-written. Ends on a cliffhanger. No MM action.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alyne Hart
• Release date: Mar 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386352129

Alyne Hart

Alyne Hart is a contemporary romance author and wine connoisseur living in Walla Walla, WA. She's known for writing stories that pack an emotional punch and get you right in the feels.  She loves writing real, flawed characters and writing about realistic, gritty and raw romance. She's a romance junkie and happy endings addict, and if you’re a lover of deeply emotional, flawed and realistic romance reads with lots of delicious angst, her books are for you. Alyne's stories involve characters with bigger problems than just finding love. She writes stories about making peace with the past, rekindling old flames and healing old wounds. She loves small towns, men in uniform and alpha males with a heart of gold.  She began her story-telling journey first with her dolls, then it progressed to paper. She has a deep love for anything romantic, and she's a believer that in love anything is possible.  When Alyne isn’t writing, you can find her reading, hanging out with her cat, and spending time with her two children. She enjoys trips to the mountains just as much as trips to the wine cellar, live music, chick flick movie marathons and hanging out with her eclectic group of friends.  Follow Alyne: Facebook → http://bit.ly/2w89KNP Twitter → http://bit.ly/2w8kRqb Blog → http://bit.ly/2vxvmGy Goodreads → http://bit.ly/2vv8S8S Bookbub → http://bit.ly/2fyhncE Newsletter → https://mailchi.mp/a8a0de143ef8/alynehart

Book preview

UNexpected Copyright © 2019 by Alyne Hart. All Rights Reserved.

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. 

Cover designed by Alyne Hart

Proofreading by Melita Bloomer 

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. 

Alyne Hart

Visit my website at www.alynehart.com 

Printed in the United States of America 

First Printing: March 2019

Also By Alyne Hart:

The Homecoming Series

Rocking Autumn

The Men of Evansdale County 4 book series

The Space Between Us

How We Fall

Something Like This

What About Us (spring 2019)

The Island Duet

UNexpected

UNconventional

Standalone

Spiced Holiday Kisses romance anthology

––––––––

Visit alynehart.com for more information

UNexpected

The Island Part 1

Alyne Hart

You are the love that came without warning; you had my heart before I could say no.

—unknown

This book is dedicated to my father.

His passion for life.

For creativity.

Family.

And telling the stories inside of himself.

He will never be forgotten.

He’s with me every step of the way in spirit.

I miss you, dad.

Contents

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

Prologue

Amie

Moments of clarity can strike at any time.

Sometimes you need to listen carefully to hear them, especially when the realization itself seems crazy or unconventional or outside your regular train of thought. I would like to say my moment came while I was sitting on a mountaintop or after meditating by a peaceful stream or something along those lines.

None of those things happened.

I had my moment of clarity standing in the ocean and staring at the moon under the strangest of circumstances. Though considering the circumstances, it only seems fitting it would be outside the norm for most people.

But you don’t get to choose your moments. You have to wait for them to find you.

Chapter One

Amie

My best friend Tony would be house-sitting for me while I was away, and since it gave him a chance to get out of his mother’s house, at least for a little while, he was more than excited at the opportunity. I’d given Tony strict instructions to remove almost everything I owned and sell it at a yard sale or even give it away if he had to.

In fact, it was Tony who gave me the idea to do what I’m about to do, though he disagrees with the severity to which I took it.

Though, I suppose I’m getting a little ahead of myself here.

I’m leaving.

For a little while anyway. Nothing permanent, I’m not going off the grid or jumping off the deep end or anything crazy like that. I just needed to get away.

With my fingers gripped tight around the handle of the big red suitcase I wheeled behind me, I took one long look around my living room for the last time. At least for the next four months of my life anyway.

I didn’t really feel sad or anything. Actually, I didn’t feel much of anything at all.

It was here in this living room I had carried on the charade of a happy life and a happy marriage. The perfect doctor’s wife image I’d so carefully cultivated. From my designer jeans and tailored blouses to my strings of pearls and my impeccably kept up French manicured nails and toes—I was a caricature of myself.

It wasn’t so long ago, in this very same room, I’d discovered my now ex-husbands earth-shattering secret while using his computer one day and consequently asked him for a divorce that very same night. It was right here in this living room, I’d spent the following months alone, depressed, and confused about my entire life and the ideas I had based it on.

I’ll admit, I’d never been happy, but I was comfortable—and there was a time that seemed good enough.

The entire house had been decorated to his meticulous tastes. Nothing came into our home without his stamp of approval. Every holiday and every social event I garnished the tables, walls, mantles and even myself to his very particular ideas of what success looked like.

So yeah, the only thing I felt as I walked out the front door, was a deep relief that rolled through my bones like a gentle whisper.

But back to Tony.

He and I have been friends for the last four years. We worked together at a fancy furniture and imported décor store and were stuck to each other like glue almost instantaneously. Tony is almost ridiculously attractive, stands about five-foot-eight, has spiked black hair with shaved sides, and he dresses way better than me. He’s flamboyant and loud, he doesn’t sugar-coat anything, he has a wicked sense of humor, and I absolutely love him.

Climbing into a yellow and black cab, I told the driver to take me to the airport and thought about the conversation I’d had with Tony on the night of my thirty-fourth birthday.

Ah, birthdays. They’re wonderful, joyous. A time of celebration, right?

Not.

Not if you’re freshly divorced. Aging. Borderline depressed.

The whole birthday thing is depressing as a woman. Especially when just that morning I’d been out shopping for eye cream. Eye cream! My mother uses eye cream and drinks pink wine with ice-cubes while she watches daytime television. I suppose I’m not far behind her now.

We sat outside drinking wine (minus the ice cubes) on the patio of some swanky bistro, picking at a platter of fried calamari. I know Tony thought I would come all decked out and ready to flirt with hot guys with him. It appalled him I’d worn jeans, a t-shirt, and a ponytail and he wasn’t subtle about it either. He practically harrumphed me when I showed up. But to tell the truth, my mood was low, and I was just trying to survive the whole thing.

With it being November, that meant soon it would be December and all those holidays were coming up, and I was single. A divorcée if I want to sound fancy. Yeah, I was dreading the whole thing—the whole thing meaning being alone on the holidays. Not because I need a man. That ideal can bite me.

No, it was more about all the parties and gatherings and me getting stuck at some horrible singles table trying to make conversation with the other lowly singles while we sucked down martini’s and tried not to double-dunk our chips in Becky’s famous seven layer dip.

However, I had a plan.

Step one: stage some kind of accident. Perhaps an unfortunate incident on an escalator.

Step two: fall and break my leg.

Step three: avoid said social gatherings to tend to my wounds and heal my broken bones.

Step four: repeat every holiday season until necessary.

Where is Amie? Tony asked, his voice dripping with mocking as his hands waved at me almost wildly. Because girl, this is the anti-fabulous.

Tony was busy flirting with our waiter while I sat and wallowed in my self-doubt and loneliness. It was usually at this time I questioned myself.

Why didn’t my marriage work?

Why am I single?

Why can’t I just meet a nice guy?

Will I ever meet a nice guy?

I’d had a few dates, of course, but they were all set-ups from friends who knew ‘the perfect guy for me.’ Because I couldn’t stand the idea of a dating website and going out to a bar to meet someone was out of the question, I’d had quite a few of these. The problem was, I hadn’t gone past the second date with anyone. Though I suppose that was more on me than them because I found reasons to not date just about everyone I’d gone out with.

That one smiles too much. That one doesn’t smile enough. That one talked non-stop about his ex. That one texted other people the whole time, that one was rude to the waiter, that one is quite possibly a serial killer and I should check the FBI website when I get home. I’d even quietly considered trying a girlfriend for a short period, but I knew that wouldn’t happen because while women are beautiful and I can appreciate that, it’s men that get my motor running even if they drive me bat-shit crazy most of the time.

Nope. I’d probably wind up alone, and with twenty cats at the rate I was going, and the idea didn’t sound half-bad. Cats are at least loyal, and if they’re ready to move on, at least you’ll know about it. Throw in some pink wine, and my future was set.

Girl, Tony sighed as he slowly turned his gaze away from our waiter’s magnificent rear end. You need to get out of this town for a while. Get out there, see something new and find out who you are.

I shot him a sarcastic laugh, easier said than done.

Not true, he shook his head. Take a leave of absence, go somewhere tropical, meet some hot little boy toy and come back refreshed. You have all that money your Dad—

You are insane, I interrupted, drawing out each word slowly, as I popped another calamari in my mouth.

When I drove home that night, I sat at the corner of Suffolk and Oracle for entirely too long, and the tears started pouring down my cheeks in a torrential downfall. I didn’t even know where they came from, but they seemed to have no intention of stopping. My head was a little fuzzy from the glass of wine, hot tears blurred my vision, and all I wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed and forget about everything. I drove slowly through the quiet streets, and that’s when I saw the sign.

Saying it now sounds so ridiculously cliché, but that’s exactly what happened.

It was a giant billboard on the side of the road that had a young woman grinning ear to ear, and an equally happy and handsome man kneeling beside two smiling children. The sign boasted: See the World! Help People! Make a Difference! I sat in my car staring at that poster thinking I wanted to be as happy as they were.

Someone in a car behind me honked their horn. When I looked up, I noticed the light at the intersection had turned green, and I drove away from it lost in thought about that happy boy and girl.

The next morning, I drove straight to the Global Humanity office and filled out the application papers.

Tony looked at me like I said I was thinking of growing a second head when I told him what I had done. But I’d made up my mind. I took the physicals, got my immunizations updated and waited for an assignment to come in. Months and months went by, and at a certain point, I’d actually forgotten about it until they called me and gave me a date and location.

I’d been expecting, and maybe even hoping for somewhere like Haiti or China or somewhere deep in South America where I could really dig into some misery and find a silver lining at the end. I nearly laughed out loud when they told me I was going to the island of Kauai, Hawaii. However, as it would turn out, an entire village was left without shelter and a place to grow fresh food after a landslide during a recent storm.

"It is tropical, I told Tony, with a note of false positivity in my voice. And there will be men there."

He just snorted, lifting his chin a notch. Yeah if you like to make out with granola, have fun with that.

I really don’t want to meet anyone right now though, Tony, I confided. I’m still—

He reached out and grabbed my hand, I know babe, I know. He squeezed harder. I just want you to come back as the full of life crazy bitch I love. Can you at least do that for me?

Chapter Two

Gabe

The new kid cried, his sobs stifled by a thin pillow he clutched to his chest like a teddy bear. It didn’t surprise me. The younger ones always cry the first few nights, so I knew what to expect. But with tomorrow being Saturday, and Saturday meaning work, that meant we needed to get our sleep.

Hey, I called out in a hoarse rasp, keeping my voice just above a whisper so no one could hear us. Are you okay?

The kid said nothing, he just sniffled pitifully.

It’s okay, you know, I whispered. You’ll be okay.

I’m scared, his voice crackled in the dark, echoing against the walls of the mostly empty room.

I know, I answered quietly. He said nothing in return, and instead went back to his blubbering, I had to do something before it got out of hand. Hey, do you like Batman?

Yeah, he croaked.

C’mere.

He rolled off his mattress and made his way to mine, crawling slow and unsure, wary of what I was about to do. I couldn’t blame the kid. I’d probably just have stayed in my bed and kept my eyes shut tight until the sun came shining through the window. But he was young and curious and hadn’t learned better yet.

He sat on his haunches next to me, and it was then I could see him more clearly. Before me sat a small, thin boy, so frail it looked as if a good wind might knock him on his ass. Giant, wide-eyes that looked more like saucers shining at me in the dim light peeking in through the window and a haphazard shag of dark blond hair tumbled over his forehead. The kid looked like he’d definitely seen better days. He shivered against the chill of January creeping through the floorboards, wrapping his thin arms around himself for warmth.

Tomorrow would be rough on him.

I’m not gonna bite, get in, I did my best to assure him, patting the space next to me on a blow-up mattress I called my bed. Watch.

I flipped the switch on a little flashlight I’d swiped last time they took us to Walmart. I’d kept it hidden in a folded-up sock, so no one would find it and take it away from me. Now tiny little bits of light in the shape of bats danced on the ceiling, and the boy laid next to me to watch. After a while, his shoulder relaxed against mine, and he wasn’t sniffling so much anymore.

What’s your name? I asked.

Michael. What’s yours?

Gabriel, but I like to be called Gabe. I’m nine. How old are you?

He bawled again, making his shoulders shake.

Seven. It’s my birthday today, he hiccupped a sob. I miss my mom. Don’t you miss your mom?

How the kid could be seven shocked me. He was as small as Gracie, and she was barely five. I shook my head in response to his question. Nope. I’ve never met her though. I handed him the flashlight. Here, you can have it. Happy Birthday.

Thank you, he sniffed. Can I lay here tonight?

Yeah, I stretched my arms over my head so it wouldn’t be so hot with his hair smashed against my arm the way it was. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time I had to share my bed with other kids. Besides, I felt kind of sorry for him.

Are they nice? Michael asked. The Guthrie’s, are they nice?

I shrugged, sighing a loud breath of air. They don’t hit us if that’s what you mean. We have a lot of chores, but they feed us real good, and the beds are warm. So yeah, they’re okay. What was your last one like?

Michael cried again, and I understood. He didn’t need to tell me anything else.

The next day, it was like there was an invisible strip of glue attaching Michael to my side. Every step I took, he was there. Like a shadow I couldn’t get rid of. Even when I had to pee, he followed me to the bathroom. I let him, mostly because I was still feeling pretty sorry for him. And even if I were numb to it by now, it’s not like I didn’t remember being just like him and being so scared. I guess in a way, I felt a little protective of him too.

Things change you. Shape you in unimaginable ways. The people of Ghana, they changed me. They are extraordinary and kind people, giving and selfless. Their culture is so rich, so vibrant, and there is so much joy and love that surrounds them, you can’t help but be affected.

But it was the kids and their smiles that really got me.

Michael and I weren’t there for long. Our time in Ghana only lasted seven weeks. We were part of a team of volunteers constructing a school.

Every morning, kids of all ages would gather and watch us build. As the sun came up we made the bricks. As in, literally made bricks. It’s a grueling, back-breaking process of crafting concrete from sand, gravel, and water—then using a hand pull device to compress them into rectangles.  But every morning I could feel the excitement building in the children as we made every brick, and every wall went up. Their smiles when they would see us arrive every morning were priceless. The kids would hug us and hand out high-fives like we were superheroes or something. It was unbelievable just to witness, and to be a part of creating something so small that meant so much. You kind of learn how much you take for granted.

Ghana changed Michael too. One night he came racing through the door, nearly yelling in his excitement to tell me what happened. He’d had some crazy out-of-body experience while he floated in the water and stared at the moon. He said it connected all the dots between life, death, love and what it all meant. He said it would change him forever and the way he viewed the world around him.

Ghana was like that. It was like witnessing magic take place every day.

Then India changed me.

Michael was busy chasing after some girl I knew would break his heart. Like most girls, she was infatuated with his looks, and not so much with him. With Michael gone so much at night, I became fascinated with meditation and discovered some books about it piled in the corner of the living room of the place we stayed in.

"Breath by breath, let go of fear, expectation, anger, regret, cravings, frustration, fatigue. Let go of the need for approval. Let go of old judgments and opinions. Die to all that, and fly free. Soar in the freedom of desirelessness. Let go. Let Be. See through everything and be free, complete, luminous, at home—at ease."

That quote altered my outlook on a lot of things.

When Michael got his heart broken, again, I talked to him about his experiences in Africa, about the things he’d told me he felt that night in the ocean. I spoke to him about the letters of Van Gogh, and some of the Buddhist stuff I’d been reading lately and how I thought maybe it somehow connected everything we’d done.

Things happen in three’s, I explained to him, forming a triangle with my fingers. It’s how the universe works. It’s not a circle, it’s a triangle, with points, so you know where each one of the third begins and ends.

So what does that mean? he looked at me like I was six kinds of crazy.

It means, I think we do one more build and make it a perfect three.

Michael shook his head, I’m kind of sick of this, Gabe. I’m ready to go home and start the yard business.

Michael and I had a life plan. Pay the kindness of Claudia and Bill forward. Get a business loan and start our yard-scaping company and save enough money to buy a house together somewhere off the grid.

Don’t you get it though? I explained, my hands waving around like a mad scientist. Pay it forward, start the business, buy a house. Three. Maybe it’s crazy, but one more build completes the triangle. A perfect three.

Michael finally agreed to my plan of three’s, but mostly after he found out the next build was in Hawaii. As it turned out, we both loved Hawaii.

The landscape of Kauai is pure, pristine—almost so idyllic that it doesn’t even look real. Like a sea of emerald everywhere. Vines, trees, leaves—as far as the eye can see. High, steep mountainsides all covered in vibrant greens with bright turquoise oceans. The island is nothing short of awe-inspiring, even though the crew left a bad taste in my mouth. They were different somehow, younger or something. Maybe not in age, just more immature in how they acted.

In Ghana and India, it was the mission that seemed to drive the people we were with. At night we’d overhear the group gushing about their experiences and how their lives were forever changed by what they’d done and what they’d seen. Here they were more concerned about what would they do on the weekend. There was no discipline.

Jeff, the leader of our group, he was all right I suppose, but he wasn’t around very much, and when he was, he didn’t do much of anything at all. He was half in, half out. Mostly out. He had no drive, and no ability to direct, which is probably why he put Jody in charge.

Now, Jody, she was all right at first. She came across as sweet, and she had a bossy, take charge kind of attitude that reminded me of someone who led all the social groups and student councils at school with an iron fist. But just like those kids in high school, she was punch drunk on the power.

Not surprisingly, Jody took to Michael right away, and at this point in my life, I get it. It’s just a fact. Women like Michael, they always have. He’s got the swoon-worthy looks and muscular build you might see on the cover of a romance novel. So, they naturally flock to him, thinking he will be the cliché jock, meat-head alpha dude with a pretty face and little to no depth.

I thought for sure he’d be into her. Jody’s cute, in fact, really cute. Red hair, pretty face with tons of freckles and a long, slim body. No real curves to speak of, but she has this sort of boyish, athletic frame that works well on her. After what happened in India, I was more than a little surprised when he didn’t at least take the bait she kept throwing out, if for nothing else, at least