More Than Perfect

By Whitney Sullivan

What happens next?

Kensi and Myles Callaweigh have solved all their problems and are ready to begin their life together. However, strings from the past try to keep them tied down. Can they finally cut them altogether?

Melanie Gilmore has struggled with her past decisions and the guilt that she has felt every day for the last twenty-four years. A way to reconcile her mistakes has finally shown itself. Will she be able to face it?

A couple in Atlanta, Georgia, has been reeling from their failures for seven years. A chance meeting has handed them the opportunity to put their broken pieces back together. But will they be able to put away pride and accept everyone?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781489705907

Whitney Sullivan

Whitney Sullivan is a business graduate of Liberty University. Whitney’s faith and belief that God has a plan for anyone who desires to follow Him fueled The Perfect Plan. She hopes that the themes of the story will encourage anyone else wondering if there is a plan for them.

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Copyright © 2015 Whitney Sullivan.

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ISBN: 978-1-4897-0589-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-0590-7 (e)

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 11/24/2015

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

To Momma.

I cannot imagine where or who I would be if I had not been raised by you.

Chapter 1

Excuse me, the man was wearing a brown tweed jacket with blue jeans and a pair of tennis shoes - the kind no active person would ever wear. A notepad was open in his hand and a spare pen was tucked behind his ear. He held the other one out like a microphone and said again, Excuse me, as he tapped her on the shoulder.

Kensi Austen-Callaweigh was just trying to get in her morning run before she had to be at Zeke’s Equipment Store. But for the fourth morning in a row, someone was keeping her from it.

The man was beginning to sweat from chasing her around the path that outlined the lake at the park. He was not dressed for the late July Georgia heat. He had to have been uncomfortable.

He grabbed her arm and finally stopped her while saying, Pardon me, but are you Kensi Austen?

She pulled her earbuds out and paused the music on her iPod. I’m sorry, sir. What did you say?

As he caught his breath, he asked one final time, Are you Kensi Austen?

She took a moment to think of a way to answer him. Then, like the other times, she simply answered, No, and started to turn away.

Austen-Callaweigh then, the man called after her.

With her back to him, just a step or two away, she dropped her head and let out a deep sigh. The other ones must have spread the word.

A few times, she was able to fib well enough that the people left her alone. They wanted to talk to Kensi Austen, but it was obvious that none of them knew who it was they were looking for. Her glorious days from being the basketball superstar were well behind her. When they asked if she was Kensi Austen, she told them no. Because she was not anymore. She was Kensi Callaweigh. That trick worked until last week when someone finally figured out her game.

She brushed a bead of sweat from her face as she turned back to the man. This heat was tolerable when she was being productive. Moving and being active. Not when reporters were hounding her about her former fiancé. Who do you write for?

A triumphant grin spread across his face, as if he had just won a battle of wits. He extended his hand to her and answered, The Fruitland Daily Gazette, in Maryland. I’m Tucker Caden. I cover some of the major national headlines, and I wanted to talk to you about your involvement with, uh, he double checked his notes, Jase Parsons and Ace Ryker.

Well, I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. I wasn’t involved in anything with those two. Again, she started to turn away from Tucker, but before she could, he was speaking again.

That’s not what Jase told me, she could hear the smugness in his voice after that last comment. He had to have noticed the way she reacted to that. He said you should be in the cell next to him.

Really? What else did he say? She should not have been interested in anything this man had to say, but especially this.

He said you were engaged to him one day and then married to a total stranger, he checked his notepad one more time, someone named Myles Callaweigh, the next.

At least he does not know who Myles is, she thought to herself. Anything else?

Tucker Caden shook his head. Your turn, miss.

Kensi was quiet for a few seconds. Then, she gave Mr. Caden the same, now-rehearsed, answer she gave the others from Texas, Tennessee, Alabama, South Carolina, and of course the other ones from Georgia. My grandfather started the illegal business before I was born. He made it a rule to never let me know anything about it. Jase took over when his brother and mine were killed in a car accident. Since then, he kept me farther away from it than my brother or grandfather ever did.

So how did Jase get arrested? And why were his other two crew members, Ross Davison and Matt stone, not arrested?

The questions never changed. They never got any easier or more comfortable to answer. Matt and Ross were the two who came up with the plan in Nashville. They made the arrangements with the local police there, so I guess they made a deal.

Tucker made a face as if he did not completely buy her version of the story, but he made the notes and asked, What about your husband? What role did he play in all of this?

I’m sorry, but I have to go now. She turned away from him and heard his shoes on the gravel behind her, following her.

How long did you know him? Did you have an affair? How long were you together?

His voice was falling behind her as she kicked her feet harder. Run faster.

Did he know Jase? He asked more questions, but she could not hear him anymore.

Run faster.

Myles Callaweigh heard the door close from where he was in the kitchen. He went around the corner and saw Kensi. Her back was pressed against the door, and she was trying to catch her breath. He just looked at her for a beat. You okay, baby?

She bit her lip and her eyes met his. Yep. She moved toward him and kissed him as she headed upstairs. I just need a shower and then I have to get to the store.

Myles caught her wrist and pulled her back to him saying, In a minute.

Kensi laughed as he tangled her up in his arms. Stop. I’m sweaty and gross.

Nah, you’re just, he rested his chin on her shoulder and they both laughed as he finished his thought, Okay, yes. You’re gross. But I need you for a little bit. He felt her lean into him.

I need you, too.

He let her go and found her eyes again. Are you okay?

Myles knew Kensi. Better than she wanted him to sometimes. Over the last month, something had been off with her. He knew it had to do with Jase being extradited from Tennessee back to Georgia. He was being held in the Central State Prison, which was only two hours away from Saddleridge. He just prayed she would talk to him.

I’m fine.

Court starts next week and then this will all, finally, be completely over. She nodded to him. Has he spoken to you?

He noticed a hesitation before she answered. No.

You’ll tell me if he does, right?

Another small hesitation. Yes.

But you’re alright?

Great. She kissed him once more. But now I’m going to be late.

Myles let her go. He watched her run up the steps and prayed silently, God, let her know she can tell me. That I want to help her.

The day blazed by. Kensi only had to hide in the back of the store two times from more reporters wanting to talk about Jase. Luckily, she worked with some of the greatest people in the world. Over the past weeks, they had gotten really good at getting rid of the newspaper nuisances.

Now, though, she was in the grocery store picking up the few things she needed to make dinner.

And praying.

The same prayer that had not seemed to stop all day.

God, why did I lie to him? I’m sorry I lied to him. I know he will help me. I know he will take care of me. I know Myles is not Jase. So why do I keep treating him like Jase? I don’t want to lie to him anymore, but I don’t want to tell him about Jase. Not yet. Not until I know how to fix this. Please, will you help me fix it?

Just then, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She read the caller ID, Unknown. It was coming from somewhere in Georgia, though, she recognized the area code.

Hello?

Baby, listen, the voice sent a tremor down her spine. You’re only making this harder. Worse on yourself.

Jase, p-please stop calling me. It was the third time just today that he had called. Not to mention all the emails he sent. But his calls were always from an unknown number. I have nothing to say to you. Still. Just like this morning and this afternoon.

But I have something to say to you. You’re going to regret treating me like this. When I get out of here, you’ll be wishing you never did this to me.

Do you hear yourself? You’re not getting out of there.

You’re being really ignorant right now. I honestly misjudged you. I thought you were smarter than this. You really think your little stunt is going to work forever? He was quiet for a second, like he was expecting her to say something. And when I do come home, the first thing I’m going to do is send your boyfriend off. You know, so he can finally meet Jerry. Like I know you wish he could have.

Jase kept talking. Tearing her apart through the phone. Just like he always used to. Telling her she was less than what she knew she was. It was an audible version of the multiple daily emails he sent. And right back to what she had lived with for the last chunk of her life.

She stood in the middle of the packaged meat isle. Frozen.

Then a thought of Myles flashed in her mind. The way he encouraged her. How he had given her a new kind of strength when he promised to love her. Then without thinking, she quietly said, I have to go, and ended to call.

Thanks for that push, God.

She was still distracted from the call when she heard a familiar voice behind her, that of an old friend from high school.

Hey, Kens.

Oh, Marty. Hey, how are you?

Good. Um, he pointed to a blonde haired man standing beside him – who looked an awful lot like Tucker Caden from this morning. This fella was looking for you. I saw you walking around and said I’d help him out. He’s been all over town trying to find you.

Oh. Crap. Marty did not know any better, and he was gone in a blink.

She was cornered by yet another writer.

My name is Tyler. I write for Star News Daily in Tallahassee, Florida. He pulled a notepad from the breast pocket of the button down shirt he was wearing. Can I ask you a few questions?

I’d prefer if you didn’t.

She tried to get past him but he grabbed the side of her shopping cart, "But I’m already here. And so are you. Just one or