The One Reason

By Odile Rose

Love will find you, and then your story begins...

When what should have been one of the best nights of his life takes a turn, seventeen-year-old Elvis Sullivan,who always seems to run into trouble, finds himself in a situation where he has no choice but to act bravely. A girl's life falls into his hands and, in the face of fear, Elvis becomes her only saving grace. For years after that tragic night, in spite of all his attempts to forget what happened, he can never get the girl out of his memory, not knowing if she survived. The magic of fate proves itself in serendipity, revealing that, even when you're broken, love is the one reason to believe in.

www.odilerose.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Oct 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9780228818250

Odile Rose

Odile Rose was born in Paris, France, to Lebanese parents who raised her alongside her beloved grandmother, Rose. Her family moved to Canada in her childhood years, starting in Quebec, as French is their second language. British Columbia then became her home before she eventually settled in Ontario. She grew up with three brothers and is now a mother of two beautiful boys. She's always had a passion for writing and knew in her heart that it was the path she wanted to follow. She initially found herself starting a career in the financial industry, where she remained for nearly two decades. It wasn't until one blessed day, with some encouragement and the right kind of inspiration, that she finally decided to take a deep breath, make that leap of faith, and begin her writing journey.

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The One Reason

Copyright © 2019 by Odile Rose

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 author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-1826-7 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-1824-3 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-1825-0 (eBook)

The

One

Reason

Introduction

They say everything happens for a reason although I never understood that expression well enough. I used to think it was a way of finding comfort, a way to make sense of things, a way to ease the pain of today by giving hope for tomorrow. It promises that one day you will have your answer—you will know why things happened the way they did and not any differently. You can’t linger in the past. Time will pass. We become sidetracked, and maybe even a little blind to it. We get distracted with life.

What about when two hearts collide? Is there a purpose for two souls to meet? Can anything in life truly be a coincidence? Is it something more powerful than us; are some things simply written in the stars? You see, something terrible happened in my life, only for me to realize in time why it all had to take place. I will tell you a story that happened for a reason …

CHAPTER ONE

June 2014

Seventeen is not an easy age, Archer. You remember, don’t you, honey? Take it easy on him, I heard my mother say early that Saturday morning as I was making my way out of my bedroom. I started pacing the hall upstairs, listening quietly to their conversation.

Sure, I remember what it’s like to be seventeen. I also remember being a lot more responsible, Emily. He needs to grow up and realize how serious life is. I want him to be the best man he can be.

My father ended his statement by walking out of the kitchen, towards the bottom of the stairs. I was sure he could hear my footsteps on the floor above, so I ran to the bathroom. I wasn’t ready for my family to see me with this face. I locked the door and leaned against it.

This is not going to be fun, I thought.

I could already hear what my father would say: You just can’t keep yourself away from trouble, can you, Elvis? You’re almost eighteen years old, graduating high school, and you still can’t figure out your future. Blah, blah, blah. It went on in my head.

Jeez, couldn’t my father just lay off my back? Maybe I hadn’t been the easiest teenager to deal with, but when can a guy get a break?

My mother’s words came to mind: He’s a good man and he loves you. She’d always told me and my siblings that when we were in trouble, but my father looked disappointed with me all the time lately. Only she still seemed to see the best in me. Elvis, I see the real you through your eyes. I looked at them when you were just a little boy, and I saw what every mother sees … an angel.

She would say this as though she was absolutely sure of it.

I normally don’t interrupt my father when he’s angry. I’ve learned to listen more than speak during his lectures, but today would be different, and I wondered if he was going to hear me out. As I considered it, my mind kept flashing back to the night before; it felt like a nightmare. Maybe none of it had even happened? Or perhaps I just wished it wasn’t real. I couldn’t seem to get those images out of my head. Should I have stayed and waited to get some answers? But I hadn’t wanted the cops to arrive and bombard me with questions I didn’t have the answers to.

It’s better this way, I’d thought.

I just wanted to escape the image of the girl that was engraved in my head. I didn’t want to think about her! I banged on the door in frustration. It was better to deal with one thing at a time and, at that moment, my once-again-disappointed father and saddened mother were waiting for me.

ELVIS! my father shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Crap, here we go.

In the bathroom, Dad. I’ll be out in a minute! I shouted back.

I walked over to the sink, opened the first drawer to get the toothpaste, and squeezed some out on the top of my toothbrush. My eyes caught the bathroom mirror, and I leaned closer to see how badly my face had been damaged after the brawl.

That doesn’t look too good.

I gently touched the top of my left eyebrow. The blood was still fresh on the open wound. One of the three guys had a pretty good hook that had left me with a swollen cheek and a black-and-blue eye. I brushed my teeth, splashed some cool water on my face, and took a deep breath before walking out of the bathroom. With deliberate steps, I made my way down the stairs. As a child, I had loved the rush of running down that winding, spiral staircase as fast as I could, and the light-headed feeling it gave me, but now I needed to go slowly to give myself some time to prepare.

We lived in a twelve-thousand-square-foot home in a gated community at the top of the mountains of British Properties in West Vancouver. My father provided us with an extraordinary life. He was well compensated as the head heart surgeon in the province, the best in all of Canada: Dr. Archer Sullivan.

Your father travels across the country to save lives, my mother reminded us whenever he was away.

My parents have been an item since they were sixteen years old. High school sweethearts. We still catch them, from time to time, dancing across the house in each other’s arms. I hated it. Why couldn’t they just be Mom and Dad? Isn’t that what parents are supposed to be, anyway?

They’re soulmates, my sister Allison would tell her long-term boyfriend, Logan. She’s a year older than me, and she’s all about this love, soulmate thing. I must admit, I questioned it. How do you know it’s love? How do you know when that’s what it is?

My parents’ dance music came from the fifties and sixties, so we grew up with the sound of Elvis Presley in the house. Elvis! My father named me after the King of Rock and Roll. Ugh! I hate my name—it makes me sound so old. Why couldn’t they name me something normal like my siblings? My brother, Adam, is four years older than me. Then came our sister, Allison, and then comes ELVIS! Seriously, what was he thinking? Maybe they were listening to Presley’s music in the car on the way to the hospital. Seeing as I wasn’t exactly planned, they probably hadn’t thought of a name yet. I’m guessing they had to pick one quick! And now here I am, Elvis Sullivan, King of Terror!

I made my way to the kitchen, hearing my parents and siblings talking over breakfast. When I finally walked in, they all stopped what they were doing and stared at me, all of them except my father. Adam was the first to say something.

Seems he caught you off guard, little bro. Adam looked at me mockingly with his big blue eyes and a smirk on his face.

Adam looks a lot like my father: tall, well-built, and with lighter hair than my sister and me.

Good thing I wasn’t there to see it. I would have pounced on him and got myself arrested for hitting a minor, he said.

Adam has always been a great big brother and a protective one, too. Since he was eight years old, he’s trained in martial arts, and as a little boy, I would watch him, always fascinated with it. When we got older, he seemed to enjoy teaching us self-defence. I definitely learned a thing or two about taking care of myself from him. But Adam never abused his martial arts skills on the streets, only using them if he absolutely had to.

I can take care of myself, Adam.

I would never want my big brother to get in trouble on my account.

Ouch! Elvis, that looks painful, Allison said sympathetically, shaking her head.

I’m fine. I put on a brave voice, looking over at my father.

But he still wasn’t looking at me, instead he was tapping out a message on his phone; I assumed it was the hospital. My mother stood up off her chair and walked around our oakwood kitchen table to hug me, while I still had both my arms stuck, straight down at my sides.

My mother is a petite woman, who only reaches the height of my chest, and her chestnut-brown hair is always perfectly combed no matter what time of day it is.

It breaks my heart to see your perfect face bruised like this. I can barely see your beautiful blue eyes, she said in a soft, sad voice.

Being an optometrist, my mother notices everything about someone’s eyes. She held my face gently, giving me a kiss on my right cheek and skilfully avoiding the sore side of my face. It always made me feel horrible to see her so upset.

I know, Mom. I’m sorry, I whispered.

She looked at me with her warm brown eyes and then turned away, walking back to the table to stand beside my father’s chair. He slowly pressed his finger down on the power button, releasing it on top, and pushing it away from him. Finally, he looked over at me.

Your hair is a mess, he said, with an unreadable expression.

Oh, I didn’t mention before that I have a lot of hair. Thick, brown hair. Not only am I named Elvis, I even have Presley’s crazy hair!

My siblings nearly stomped on each other trying to get up and out of the room as soon as my father spoke. Allison had warned me several times in the past—It’s better not to give Dad anything to pick on when he’s in a foul mood if it can be avoided.

This is an effort to help me stop getting into so much trouble.

It looked like my hair would be my downfall that day, and neither of them were willing to stick around for the fallout.

Good luck, little bro, Adam said as he walked past me, patting my right shoulder affectionately.

Yeah, thanks. I leaned against the granite countertop, looking at the ground.

Hey, you know where to find me if you want to talk after all this. Allison smiled as she made her way out of the kitchen.

My sister has always been a good friend to me. She’s someone I can confide in. Allison inherited our mother’s petite build with the same chestnut-brown hair and the same warm brown eyes. She’s happy all the time, very cheery and bubbly, always optimistic. My sister is definitely high on life!

I was still looking down at our white marble kitchen floor when I heard my father clear his throat.

I’m not exactly sure if I’ll ground you again, Elvis, he said in a quiet but angry voice, since that doesn’t stop you from getting yourself into trouble again as soon as you’re off the hook.

My eyes travelled to him, then to my mother. She had the palm of her hand leaning on his shoulder, and I noticed her squeezing it a little to silently calm him. All I could do was stare at them in a daze as my mind replayed the night scene by scene. I couldn’t care less if my father thought about grounding me or not. I wasn’t even sure how to clear my head enough to tell my parents all about it. I couldn’t get the girl out of my mind. Was she all right? What happened to her? Did she even make it?

Elvis, sweetheart, what is it? Why do you seem so distant? My mother’s concern distracted me from my thoughts.

Does it hurt? Do you need an ice pack? she asked.

No, I don’t need an ice pack, Mom. I’m fine.

What is it that draws you to this every time, Elvis? Why can’t you learn to walk away from trouble when you see it, instead of running right into it?

My father went right in with the line of questioning, as usual.

I’m waiting for you to understand that there’s more to life than partying all the time, dating a different girl every week, and being part of all this nonsense that brings you home looking like this! It breaks your mother’s heart every time she sees your face all smashed up. Do you think it’s ever easy on your mother to check in on her son in the morning, only to see that his face has been treated like a punching bag and his clothes are covered in blood? I think I speak for the both of us when I say we would be tormented if something worse happened to you, Elvis. You’re graduating high school in a couple of weeks. Trust me, reality will be the next thing to hit you in the face.

He stood up suddenly from his chair, smacking the enormous wooden table with his big hand, creating such a loud noise that my mother gasped. But I stayed where I was without reacting. My dad was right. I knew this hurt them, and reality had already hit me. It hit me the night before, but not in the face. More like in my gut, in my chest, and in my heart. My dad took another breath in to continue his speech when my mother interrupted with her soothing, sweet voice.

Elvis, every time you leave the house, I worry about you, my heart aches. I can’t keep having to think something terrible might happen to you. I pray every now and then for you to be safe, for nothing to harm you. Seeing you look like this over and over again hurts beyond belief. She had tears in her eyes that she was trying to hold back.

I have to admit that hurt the most. Knowing that my actions affected my family that way. I thought about the girl, how her parents must have felt when they arrived at the hospital to find their daughter in a horrific state. I shuddered at the thought. It would devastate my family if they ever had to see me or Adam or—I could hardly think about it let alone say it—Allison in such a state. Oh God, I would have found whoever was responsible for such brutality and made them wish they had never been born. The anger built up inside of me began to take over.

I can’t even imagine. Those poor parents. That poor girl.

You’re going to be an adult in just a couple of months, Elvis. My father’s voice took me out of my deep thoughts—he sounded furious. It’s time you started acting like one.

He walked towards the double French doors to our terrace, staring through the glass at the view. Tall forest-green trees crossed with the clear blue water of the Pacific Ocean and were shadowed by the mountains, wrapped around it all. He just stood there, gazing through the big windows with his lips in a hard line.

Eventually, he turned around to face me, continuing his lecture where he’d left off. But I wanted them to hear me out. Maybe my father could find out something about the girl, I thought. He was still preaching, but I couldn’t listen to his words anymore. I was too distracted by my own thoughts and a little too disturbed by the echoes of the night. I had to let them know.

I shook myself, ran my fingers through my wild brown hair and held up my hand, interrupting my father. He stopped, and I began tell them about the night before.

***

It was the biggest graduation party of the year. Amanda Black’s family was hosting it at their banquet hall in Burnaby. There must have been over eight hundred graduating students who showed up. Amanda had invited students who invited other students from different high schools in the city. It was the wildest party before prom.

Liam, Philip, and I decided to take the transit bus to Hastings Street. The bus was full of students—some knew each other, some were new faces, and it seemed that everyone had chosen that route because most of us were heading to the same place. Everyone was ready to have the best night of their life. We were all on the same page, cheering loudly, enjoying the vibe. But I couldn’t take my attention off of these three guys sitting all the way at the back of the bus. I had noticed them just as we stepped onto the bus, and we briefly made eye contact but then got distracted by everyone’s excitement. The guys seemed a little older than everyone else, and the way they carried themselves had me on the defensive. They looked like trouble. I was curious to know if they were heading to the same place. They didn’t seem as enthusiastic as the rest of us, but then, sure enough, they stepped off the bus with the same crowd making their way to Amanda Black’s party. Liam noticed me staring disapprovingly, and he put his hand on my arm.

Don’t pay any mind to them, El, he whispered.

Philip placed his hand on my shoulder, nodding. Yeah, we’re here to enjoy the biggest party before prom and graduation.

I took a deep breath, looked away from my friends, and watched the three guys make their way into the banquet hall. We started walking towards the doors ourselves when I noticed that ominous, dark rain clouds were starting to take over the sky.

Inside the party, we admired the way the Blacks had the place set up. Tables were covered in fine cloth, and the seats were dressed in coverings. There was a long buffet, as well as black-tie waiters circulating with more appetizers, and a bartender who served us soft drinks. Strobe lights filled the room with all sorts of flickers, shapes, and colours, and the DJ was playing all our favourite songs, setting the right mood for celebration.

After a few hours, the night was flowing smoothly and all around the hall there was lots of dancing, loud cheering, and laughter. Although there were students from different high schools, everyone seemed to be getting along and making new friends. Liam, Philip, and I met up with some girls from school and immediately made our way onto the dance floor, but the vibe I felt from the three guys from the back of the bus didn’t sit well with me, and I couldn’t enjoy