Never Too Late

By Ana Balen

They thought the love they shared would last forever but they were wrong. The last seventeen years Sophie was focused only on her career, but she could never forget the boy who had her heart.

Dylan Thomas was determent to live his life without a girl he fell in love with and lost. The last seventeen years he tried to move on and failed.

But when Sophie comes back to Hopeful to get over a crippling loss, Dylan knows he needs her gone. And if she won't leave on her own, he'll make her. A wish murmured in desperate need near the town's well lights a spark of hope.


Can Sophie and Dylan give themselves a second chance or has the time that passed too much for them to take?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ana Balen
• Release date: Mar 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9789534904640

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title Page

Contents

Copyright

Also by Ana Balen

Prologue

1. Sophie

2. Sophie

3. Past

4. Dylan

5. Sophie

6. Sophie

7. Dylan

8. Sophie

9. Sophie

10. Sophie

11. Dylan

12. Sophie

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Never Too Late

Ana Balen

Contents

Also by Ana Balen

Prologue

1. Sophie

2. Sophie

3. Past

4. Dylan

5. Sophie

6. Sophie

7. Dylan

8. Sophie

9. Sophie

10. Sophie

11. Dylan

12. Sophie

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Self-Published by: Ana Balen

Edited by: Ellie McLove with My Brothers Editor

MyBrothersEditor.net

Cover Design by: Raven Designs

Formatted by: Raven Designs

Zagreb, 2020

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are strictly the product of the author or used fictitiously. Any similarities between actual persons, living or dead, events, settings, or locations are entirely coincidental.

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.

Also by Ana Balen

Ryan Family Series:

Jason

Max

Good Intentions Trilogy:

Good Intentions Volume One

Good Intentions Volume Two

Good Intentions Volume Three

Good Intentions Trilogy Box Set

Wishing For A Star

Prologue

Sophie

I

hated every inch of Hopeful.

It was nowhere near as awesome as Denver was. And none of my friends were here.

I didn’t even want to think about why I was stuck living in Hopeful.

Even in my twelve-year-old mind, I knew without a doubt, if I did, I would crumble and nothing and no one would ever be able to put me back together.

Come on, Sophie, my grandmother whispered. Even she had trouble speaking at a normal volume for the last ten days. Let’s get you settled.

I stood still by the door. I didn’t want to get settled. I didn’t want to even be here.

I wanted to go home. To my friends. To them.

My grandmother ignored the fact I stayed where I was, silent and not coming inside, and moved farther into the house, pulling her coat off her shoulders.

She didn’t look back at me, but she stopped by the wall, looked to her right and froze.

I knew why that was, and just a fleeting thought closed my throat and started to burn.

At the sight of my grandmother bringing her fingers to her lips, kissing them lightly, and then those fingers moving to the frame that hung on that wall only to touch it for a second opened the floodgate and tears started gliding down my cold cheeks.

Gran? I croaked. At the sound of my broken whisper, Evelyn Moore did something I never saw her do. She bowed her head and her shoulders started shaking uncontrollably.

I’ve never seen her cry before.

I took a step toward her but didn’t get any farther.

That was because she curled into herself, her arms still trapped by her coat that was hanging loosely off her shoulders and down her back, wrapping around her.

And then. God, then, a wail that resembled a wounded animal tore from her chest.

Granny, I called, but she didn’t respond.

Her back to me, I could see she pushed her arms out and in front of her, and in the next second her fists slammed into the lower part of her abdomen.

I watched stunned as she repeatedly punched her stomach.

God, she wailed, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I ran to her, threw my arms around her middle, and buried my face in her back.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, standing in the middle of the hallway, crying.

After a while, she pulled me gently around her, bent over, and took my face into her hands.

No more, she whispered, whipping the wet from my cheeks. No more of this, my Sophie. I watched as the tears clung to her wet eyelashes. There will be a time when you will feel like you can’t breathe from how much you miss them. And it’s okay to cry if you need to. I focused on her eyes that were shining with the love she felt for them. But we will never again let the grief cripple us like this. We had our moment of complete desperation, we gave in to the overwhelming pain just for a second. But we also put them to rest, we said our goodbyes. And they deserve for us to live the best lives we can, carrying them with us every step of the way. We owe them that. I promise you, my girl, I will help you out of this darkness that you’re in now.

I turned my head and looked at the picture that pulled such a visceral reaction from my grandmother just minutes ago.

In it, they were smiling.

It was a random photo of my parents.

They were sitting together on the couch in my grandmother’s living room.

It was a normal day, full of laughter as it always was with them.

And it will never again be.

Because they were gone.

And I promise you, my girl, she went on, pulling my attention away from the picture. I will do anything in my power to make your life bright again.

I didn’t believe her vow, and she knew it.

The only thing she could do was prove it to me.

And that, she did.

Until he destroyed everything and once again, I had to leave home.

1

Sophie

I

thought I hated this town.

At one point in my life, I did. With every fiber of my being.

Then for a brief period of time, it became my everything.

Until he took that away from me.

Like he did everything else.

Then I went back to hating it.

I hated it so much, even a passing mention of its name used to make me flinch.

That was because he used to live here.

Even when I learned that he was long gone, I didn’t want to come back.

Not even for a visit.

God, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Even standing where I was, the occasion was so far off joyous it wasn’t even funny, I couldn’t be blind to the beauty that was Hopeful.

Everywhere you looked, you could see either the mountains, the pines, or grass. And it was all green. That was until the snow covered everything and it became all white.

You could even see how clean the air was.

I knew it sounded stupid, no one could actually see air.

But go down the mountain and into Denver and then come back here, and the difference was evident.

And it held a tranquillity you couldn’t find anywhere in the world. I knew because I did my best at trying to find it. I also failed.

Established in the nineteenth century, at the beginning of the Pikes Peak Gold Rush, it was a mining camp.

As the years went by, the mine stopped operating, but people loved it, so they stayed and adapted. And it grew to what it was now. A town that was put on the map as a place to have a good time, relax, ski, and just enjoy. It was most popular in the Christmas season because the whole town became something right out of a fairy tale.

I’m so sorry for your loss, a woman I didn’t know who wore a somber look on her face like it was her who lost everything three days ago, muttered.

Thank you, I whispered, barely meeting her eyes, my hand limp in hers, before my eyes went back to stare at the wood. When she didn’t get whatever she expected from me, I sensed her leave. Like everyone did. They all left.

I couldn’t look away from the casket that was in front of me. The wood gleaming in the winter sun.

Sophie, a voice I knew whispered.

Mrs. McConnell.

I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t.

She was her best friend. She helped her raise me. And I knew if I looked at Mrs. McConnell even for a second, I wouldn’t be able to stay strong. I would give in. And I would lose myself in grief.

I’m so sorry, dear. She repeated the words she said to me over the phone.

When I still didn’t look her way, she grabbed me by my elbow and squeezed, trying to get my attention.

Not looking away from the box that held my last remaining relative in its clutches, I said in a flat tone, Not to be rude, Mrs. McConnell, but I can’t right now.

What can’t you? She was still holding on