Original Sin: The Order of Vampires, #1

By Lydia Michaels

From bestselling author, Lydia Michaels, comes a dark and addictive vampire romance that will leave readers hungry for more!

 

Adam Hartzler has always been an honorable immortal, but the fine line between right and wrong blurs when he is called to his fated mate. If he does not find and claim her soon, he will lose his soul and humanity, transforming into a vile predator controlled by insatiable bloodlust. His salvation relies on her surrender.  Will Adam find her or  live a tortured eternity as a vampire? Time's slipping away and so is Adam's control. 

 

Passion and emotion collide in an explosive meeting of destined souls that begins with a ruthless betrayal when Adam unapologetically takes what is his.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bailey Brown Publishing
• Release date: May 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9780999523643

Lydia Michaels

Lydia Michaels writes all forms of hot romance. She presses the bounds of love and surprises readers just when they assume they have her stories figured out. From Amish vampyres, to wild Irishmen, to broken heroes, and heroines no man can match, Lydia takes readers on an emotional journey of the heart, mind, and soul with every story she pens. Her books are intellectual, erotic, haunting, always centered on love.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Deep in the Pennsylvania Mountains

1934

The metallic stench of blood permeated the air. Pine needles and leaves cushioned each step, as the men crept closer to the putrid sounds of tearing flesh and growls. Blood trickled from a branch. Moonlight caught in a tangle of human hair matted to the rough bark of a tree. Ezekiel knew then, there was no salvation left for his brother.

Their heightened sense of smell hindered each step, as the rotting stench of littered corpses laced the wind. The ground was slick and sticky underfoot from the massacre. Blood traveled like little tributaries into the nearby brook, dyeing the shallow waters red.

Greedy snarls tangled with hungry grunts as Ezekiel and the hunters eased in, none of them prepared for the sight that greeted them. His jaw trembled as his gaze twitched away, rejecting the slaughter before him. His brother, once the kindest immortal to ever grace this earth, bared his fangs and screeched an unholy, predatory growl, warning them not to take another step.

A knot of bloodied limbs hung limply over Isaiah’s crimson stained claws. His grip so intense, his nails embedded in the lifeless woman’s flesh. She was not his mate. None of them were. Thus the delirium swirling in his eyes as he gored himself on female mortal, after female mortal, in an endless search for the missing half of his soul.

"He’s feeish," one hunter wheezed, while others gagged over the stench of carnage. Step aside, Ezekiel. You shouldn’t have to watch.

He couldn’t move. Rooted into the blood drenched ground, he burned the grotesque image of his bloodthirsty brother into his mind, promising to hold it there for eternity. This is what became of their gentle people when God’s call was not heeded. This was his brother’s forsaken fate.

A trail of genocide lay in Isaiah’s wake, and as Ezekiel stared upon the massacre, he felt responsible, on some level, for the crimes his brother had committed. This was the merciless gluttony of a madman—an animal—whose peaceful nature had been snuffed away.

Isaiah, what have I let you become? he rasped under his breath, brokenhearted by the tragedy before him.

So wild were Isaiah’s eyes, he did not register their threat, only their presence as he rutted into the limp corpse gripped in his arms. The instinct to bond remained, but his humanity had been stripped down to a raw nerve of instinct, a predator’s hunger now starved of benevolence.

Ezekiel reached a hand toward his son, who stared at his beloved uncle in shock. I’ll need a weapon, Jonas. One that will end this.

With trembling hands, his son loaded a bullet into the rifle, his gaze wavering between the gun barrel and Isaiah. They all wore the shame of this moment, each one of them responsible for not recognizing the insistence of the call when it fell upon Isaiah. As a mated Elder, Ezekiel should have been more attuned to his brother’s well-being, heeded the symptoms before they overtook his brother’s gentle manner and turned him into this.

As immortals, they were all susceptible to evil, each one running the risk of becoming the world’s most vile creature. But there were ways to avoid such horrific fates. If they had just helped Isaiah find his mate, his salvation, this could have been prevented. This was what their ignorance had cost them.

Father, Jonas whispered, handing him the rifle with quivering hands. It will only anger him and put us all in danger. The human blood has made him strong.

Ezekiel understood the boy’s fear. A bullet wound could only maim their kind. Bringing down an immortal of his brother’s age would take much more. Ezekiel would not allow anyone else the task. Isaiah was his kin, his responsibility.

When I shoot, you run. Do not look back no matter what you hear.

Jonas’s blue eyes widened with fear, but obedience kept him silent. The boy nodded and for the first time, Ezekiel saw him as a man.

He gripped his son’s shoulder, sensing the tremors under his skin. Look at him, Jonas. One day you will have sons of your own and you must know their fate. Let this be a painful reminder of what becomes of us when we ignore the call of God.

Jonas stared at his uncle as Isaiah impaled the sagging corpse and bared his bloodstained teeth with disregard. Jonas’s brow knit with confused disbelief, his gaze lowering to the ground as his body turned away from the horrific display. His fists clenched at his side.

Jonas and the other males would never forget the threat that accompanied God’s calling. Tradition dictated obedience, not only for the continuation of their species, but to save the human race from mass genocide. Left wild, one of their kind could easily exterminate legions of mortals. A feeish immortal put their kind at risk of exposure. Isaiah’s blessing had become a curse, and now it was Ezekiel’s duty to put him down like the animal he’d become.

Immortality remained a relative term. They existed on borrowed time, surviving by God’s will. Salvation required balance, good and evil, light to counter the darkness. Without that delicate balance, honor and duty would be overshadowed by disgrace and greed. The undead would mingle with the living, preying, violating, and pillaging without restraint or conscience. Failure, such as his brother’s failure, would rain like a plague, bathing the world in blood and sin until darkness was all that remained.

This was the consequence of disregard for God’s plan. God’s calling was their kind’s greatest blessing, but when left unanswered, it withered into an incurable curse.

As soon as you hear the gun shot, Jonas, run and do not stop until you reach the farm.

I should wait for you, Father.

Ezekiel shook his head, unsure if he’d escape alive. Do as you’re told.

He lifted the rifle and trained it on his brother, knowing the first shot would only anger the beast within. But there was nothing else to be done.

I’m sorry, dear brother…

CHAPTER 1

Lancaster, Pennsylvania

Present Day

Adam’s mind jolted awake to the crushing agony of loss. Bone deep sorrow and instant regret stole his breath as he jackknifed off the bed. The house stood as still and dark as a tomb, yet he sensed his mother’s fear as intensely as if it were his own.

Pulse thundering, he scrambled to his feet, only to double over and catch his weight on the bed as he pressed a hand to the piercing pain in his chest. Not his pain, but hers. Panic, regret, loss, and heartache splintered through his ribs like jagged ice. So familiar with his mother’s emotions, he instantly identified her as the source.

Confusion shifted to impotent fury as his father came awake in the room above, his potent emotions knifed up Adam’s back.

Abilene? Adam heard his father’s deep timber through the ceiling, and the concern vibrating his voice.

Jonas, his mother wept. Make it stop.

He knew in that moment, as his parents’ fear clouded his own, another babe might be lost. Adam’s sorrow tangled with their intruding emotions.

His bare feet scuffed over the cool wood floor as he reached for his clothes in the dark. His gaze scanned the shadows, listening for the confirmation he’d heard too many times before. His mother’s cries cut through the chilled air, from the floor above, and Adam lowered his head, knowing his suspicions to be true. She’d lost another.

Concern pushed into his mind, and he quickly tugged his pants off the peg on the wall, sensing his younger sister, Grace, approaching. He hooked his suspenders over his bare shoulders and took a step back just as the door swung wide. Gracie’s elfin figure filled the cavity.

Tears shimmered in her bright blue eyes. It’s Mother. Adam, she’s losing another one.

He pulled her into his arms, lending his strength as well as comfort. She had such a big heart, her emotions cut into him like razorblades lacerating his insides.

You must be brave, Gracie. We all must be strong for Mother.

And Father, she whispered. This will destroy him.

Have faith. Father is stronger than we realize.

She gazed up at him and nodded with borrowed, feeble courage. But unlike Adam, who only felt others’ emotions, his sister heard their most private thoughts. And in the silence, when emotions ran high and thoughts were less guarded, Grace’s telepathy always got the better of others.

Her bravery crumbled and tears rushed to her eyes. Oh, Adam, why does God keep taking her babies?

He tightened his arms and pressed a kiss to her head. Long waves of dark hair dwarfed her already petite size. So rarely did he see her without her bonnet, her unadorned head only added to her innocent appearance. Although Gracie was an adult, she’d always maintain a childlike quality in his eyes.

We mustn’t blame God, he whispered. Always trust that He has a plan for us.

Then who can we blame? This isn’t supposed to happen to immortal females.

He wished he had the answers she sought. Faith is based on trust, Grace. We must trust God’s plan. It is not our place to question that which we cannot know. When he sensed a pending argument, he said, You should see if you can be of assistance upstairs.

As a male, he would not be welcome into his mother’s private quarters under such circumstances. Grace, on the other hand, was expected to lend her services in such situations. But as an empath, Adam was drowning in their turmoil thrumming through the ceiling, and had little shelter from the onslaught. If Grace could ease their mother’s anxieties it would go a long way toward salvaging his strength.

She unlatched her arms from around his waist and stepped back. I can’t. Not yet. She’s so… I simply can’t bear her thoughts.

Adam could sense the shame washing over his mother, while Grace heard all the disgraceful thoughts ruminating through her head. By morning, they would both be wrung out and raw. Yet, their mother would bear the worst of it.

Based on the pain mangling his insides, he now assumed the loss was complete. His father’s reverberating regret left no doubt that the babe was gone.

Adam nodded and waved a hand for Grace to sit on his bed. She lowered like a feather floating to the earth, delicate and depleted.

Our added worries will only increase the burdens already laid upon this home. Let us suffer together in this moment, alone, where our doubts may be ground into teff and lost to the wind.

Sorrow filled her blue eyes, tears magnifying them in size. We must galvanize ourselves for the hours and days ahead, she whispered, folding her hand around his. It will be hardest on us.

He and Gracie would suffer the brunt of the pain, as they always did. She had learned to temper her telepathy on most days, but there seemed no filter in times of extreme emotion.

Having suffered every sentiment under this roof, he sympathized with her and squeezed her hand. One would think, after so many losses, the ache would wane.

She shook her head. It’s the opposite. With each miscarriage, her doubts grow, and her faith withers. Soon she’ll have no devotion at all, just a hollow womb and a hundred nameless graves.

Grace! Her words, so contrary to her usual uplifting spirit, startled him.

Would you rather I lie? I’ve seen the same worries in all of our thoughts. Even you wish they would stop trying to conceive for a time, so that we might have a respite from such grief.

Ashamed that she was right, he lowered his gaze. It pains me to see any one of you hurting.

Because you’re an empath?

No, because you’re my family. His grip tightened around her hand. It’s our duty to look after those we love. Father cannot save Mother from this pain any more than you or I can. It’s a terrible consequence for man to feel so helpless in what is already a great loss.

And for females it’s simply another lesson in acceptance. We have such little control over our lives as is.

He didn’t like hearing such jaded words from his sweet sister, but as he heard the scuffle of footsteps in the hall, he contained his comments for another time. Cain’s awake.

Her spine lengthened as if she’d adorned invisible armor. The door creaked and their brother stood over the threshold. Unlike them, Cain had no special abilities that offered insight to the unspoken climate of the house.

Am I dying? Why so bleak?

Grace released Adam’s hand and stood, tugging the wrinkles from her chemise as a way to avoid eye contact with Cain and hide her tears. It’s Mother. She’s lost another.

Even Cain, for all of his cool indifference, couldn’t hide his regret at such news. But she was so close, almost full term. Are you sure there’s nothing to be done?

Their mother’s misery was inescapable. Adam shut his eyes to better absorb it without flinching. It’s too late.

His strength waned, and he debated taking a seat. He loathed drawing attention to himself when others were in such need of comfort. Grace, aware of his thoughts, glanced at him and frowned.

He met her stare. Mother needs you.

Without a word, she gave a subtle nod and walked to the doorway where Cain stood. There’s nothing to be done. I should check on her.

Adam need only to shut his eyes, and his mother’s heartache would consume him. A selfish gratitude, that he could not interpret her physical pain, raced through him. The emotional agony was enough to drop him to his knees, yet he somehow remained standing.

Will she be all right? Cain asked Grace.

Grace looked up at Cain, her white sleeping gown billowing around her in a cloud of cotton. She blames herself. We must be strong and remind her that this is all part of God’s plan.

Cain’s face paled. What if this is God’s plan? It keeps happening—

It’s best for us not to question God’s intentions, Adam reminded.

You mean blame.

Adam met his twin brother’s hard glare. I mean question. What’s done is done. Inviting other doubts will only impede Mother’s path. She needs to heal, and we need to help her get to a better place emotionally. So quickly his brother could undo the delicate comfort he’d sewn.

I might not have gifts like the two of you, but even I can tell you have doubts. Our mother’s sobbing up there, and our father is trying to justify how a female, of an advanced species, could suffer what can only be a chronic medical shortcoming. If God is so almighty and knowing, why is he letting her suffer so?

Be quiet, Grace snapped. Adam’s right. This isn’t a time for doubt or blame. She pushed past him. I’m going to check on Mother.

Cain watched her leave then turned back to Adam. She’s too self-righteous.

It’s a momentary loss for you. Grace is forced to think about it over and over again, whenever it crosses Mother’s mind.

She’s twenty-one years, Adam. It’s not my fault she still hasn’t learned to control her gifts.

He sensed the bitter jealousy hidden behind Cain’s indifference. Her gifts aside, you mock our faith. It’s the only comfort she has in times like this. One seed of doubt can easily overtake an entire green.

What is a flock without one wolf? Someone has to keep things interesting around here.

Adam’s stare narrowed. And yet you stay on the farm, living a simple life like the rest of us sheep. I think if you truly were the heathen you claim to be, you’d have left by now to live among the English. But you wait like the rest of us, believing there will come a moment of truth.

Cain rolled his eyes again and leaned his elbow into the doorjamb. That’s not why I stay. Look at our Elders, the ones still waiting for God’s call. Father was wise to marry Mother. He took his destiny into his own hands. We should all be so judicious.

Their mother and father were not the first of their kind to marry for convenience, but their union had not been a simple means to an end. Their parents loved each other deeply. Their grandfather often said their father had been lost in a fever of passion when he married their mother, too lost to fathom the consequences that may still come should either of them be called to their true mate.

Adam was far from convinced his brother’s words were a true representation of his feelings, especially when Adam could so clearly sense his doubt.

Cain might claim their father was wise to marry for love, but a part of him still believed in the power of divine intervention. Grace had once whispered to Adam that she’d overheard Cain’s fears that their mother’s miscarriages were perhaps a punishment for marrying a male who was not her called mate. Adam suspected these lingering beliefs were also responsible for keeping Cain on the farm living amongst a culture he disdained.

Adam decided to let the debate go for now, knowing his brother’s boldness hid more uncertainty than arrogance. They were not the only immortals on earth. However, they were by far the safest.

Living under the guise of an Amish sect allowed them a certain level of privacy not found elsewhere. It also had a way of slowing trends, which meant something to a species that barely aged and could live a thousand lifetimes. The Elders of their order scorned technology, finding its ever-evolving improvements more tedious than beneficial. As Amish, such advancements rarely affected them. And as immortals, hiding in plain sight seemed the safest way to ensure the survival of their kind.

If Grace had any brains she’d leave, Cain said. Either that, or follow in Larissa’s footsteps.

Grace will not be like Larissa. She plans to wait. Larissa wanted a family.

Their eldest sister had recently been assigned as the wife to Silus Hostetler. It was not a love match or calling, merely a marriage of convenience. Silus wanted children and Larissa was obedient enough not to object when the Elders made the recommendation. Yet, no one in their family was naïve enough to believe it was a happy union.

A sharp cry pierced the silence, and both he and Cain looked to the ceiling. Adam sensed Grace’s calming presence in an ocean of unrest.

I’m going back to sleep, Cain announced. I know too well how long these nights last.

Adam supposed he should check on their father, but as he took a step, his feet rooted to the ground and he stumbled, catching his weight on the bedpost.

Cain pivoted at the sound of his tumble and scowled. What was that?

Adam shook off the sense of vertigo and frowned. I lost my balance. Agility was an innate quality of their kind. Heat scorched up his neck as embarrassment bloomed in his chest. I’m sure it’s nothing.

Adam straightened his posture and walked with stiff legs out the door. Cain’s stare followed his brother’s strides. When he reached the staircase he paused, needing a moment to catch his breath.

Adam? His brother’s voice sounded miles away.

White bursts of light flickered behind his vision. The staircase wavered and gravity took hold. Cain hauled him back from the stairs, a split second before Adam lost control and toppled forward.

What the hell’s wrong with you?

The world tipped off its axis as his brother dragged him back to his room. As his back hit the firm, straw mattress, he blinked at Cain, seeing his mouth move and his face contort with concern, but the sharp ringing in Adam’s ears made it impossible to hear anything beyond the blaring moan exploding in his head. The edge of his vision wavered, his view shrinking to a pinhole, and then all went black.

A sweet breeze tickled his nose, lighter than a whisper. He was no longer in his bedroom, but resting in a field. A melodic laugh teased through the air, the dulcet sound as soft as chimes playing in the wind. His senses fanned out, chasing the sound and seeking its source.

The distinct scent of honeysuckle mingled with a purely tempting female musk, and his body hardened. Fangs elongating, he rolled to his feet, his vision shifting to that of a predator’s. Lost in the hunt, a flash of inexplicable beauty raced by, and he chased the intangible source of his pleasure. Like a child after a firefly, he raced after his prey as the soft sound of her laughter drifted into the night sky, lost among the stars.

A tormented growl ripped from his chest and echoed in the thunder rolling from the blackened horizon. The wind lifted his hair, teasing his lungs as he breathed her in. Her nearness taunted him.

Mine… his mind purred hungrily, his eyes seeking what could not be seen.

He tracked her scent, following it deeper into the woods. The further he traveled, the less alone he felt. The beast within him awakened, and he was soon panting for her touch.

Another laugh trilled from the trees, and he pivoted, racing toward the sound. Her brilliance called to his darkness. She was the heat and light, exposing the shadowless truth of his salvation. His nature recognized her before his eyes had an opportunity to steal a glance, one soul sensing its counterpart and recognizing its mate.

The urge to hunt her dominated his thoughts, only slowed by the temptation to weep with relief. Why now? Why him?

His heart fluttered as her laughter tinkled like a distant bell ringing from the clouds. Too soon did he understand the cruelty of this place. The earth and his surroundings repeated on a loop as he moved in circles. Exhaustion swept over him. His fruitless search frustrated him, and his newfound peace shifted into rage.

Show yourself! His voice echoed back with jeering repetition.

Rain pelted his back as he stared at the graying horizon. Thunder rumbled again, blooming as it neared. A loud crack exploded from the woods, and lightning set fire to the trees in the distance.

Where are you? he demanded, only to have the stormy skies mock him.

Gray clouds fleeced the night sky, painting it blue and orange as the sun showed like a pinprick of light beneath the fading stars. Adam lifted an arm against the radiant gold rays, unsure if he’d ever seen the sun shine so bright. Its luminosity burned his eyes and his skin tingled as the clouds blushed and the sky caught fire.

Ducking under the shade of a tree, he watched through squinting eyes as the sun escalated. Her laughter sang from the horizon as if played from an instrument of light. Hunger gnawed at his insides. An unquenchable thirst dried his throat, but the sun imprisoned him to the shadows.

Their kind could walk in daylight. He didn’t understand this place or the laws that held him. How had he come here?

Rain sizzled in the warm air before hitting the ground. Thunder battled to steal the light, but it was too strong, too radiant and the storm drifted away.

Exhaustion pulled him to his knees. Falling forward, his fingers clawed at the damp grass and he growled. Something shook him.

Adam!

He jolted awake to find his brother hovering over him. Cain?

They were in his bedroom, the dark walls hardly touched by the breaking dawn as it filtered through the curtains. His ears strained to register any sound. His sister’s voice whispered from the floor above. His father’s emotions churned and Cain’s pulse raced. Did you hear it?

Hear what? You collapsed.

He breathed deep, his mind recalling the sweet scent of honeysuckle but finding no trace in the air. His gaze drifted over the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. He’d been in a field, in the woods. It was breathtaking. How had he gotten here?

What…? I was outside. The sun was rising. It was a new dawn and the heat… Words couldn’t explain what he’d seen.

Cain lifted a brow. You’ve been here. Sleeping. You were climbing the stairs when you started to fall. I dragged you to your bed and you passed out.

Sleeping? Had none of it been real? It felt real. He’d tasted the air. Drawing his tongue over his lips, he searched for a trace of honeysuckle and found nothing. A dream?

Cain drew back and scowled. Their kind did not dream unless—

Adam’s mind halted. There had been a female. His female. Yes, he recalled her yet couldn’t envision her. Her essence filled him like a memory imprinted on his soul.

I was dreaming, he rasped, voice full of disbelief and awe.

Cain’s stare twitched with sardonic doubt. You wish.

Adam tried to sit up, but his body proved too weak. Dizziness flooded his senses, and he collapsed on the mattress. I was running in a field under a sky bursting with stars. I could hear a female laughing like she was calling to me.

What female?

He shook his head, trying to picture her face yet unable to perceive her features. A mortal female. There was something delicate about her, playful and teasing.

You’re lying.

Adam blinked up at his twin brother wondering how he could make such an accusation. I never lie.

In that moment he felt Cain’s fear, a confirmation that he believed his words to be true. The significance was not lost in the silence as they both comprehended what this meant. Their kind didn’t dream. Only one time in a male’s life did such a phenomenon take place.

It was so real, brother. I could smell and taste her. I could feel the wet grass underfoot and hear the wind rushing past my ears as I chased her.

Dreams were said to be mystic visions sent by God, His way to call upon individuals and lead them to their destined mates. Tonight, he glimpsed his true mate, the female who would fill the other half of his soul.

Cain looked into his eyes. How long will you have?

Adam glanced at the window, noting how the sun had yet to fully rise. I feel fine now. Tired, but otherwise fine. Yet, in the dream, the sun affected me differently. I couldn’t face the light.

You must find her quickly.

The desire to hunt his mate called to him as surely as gravity kept him hemmed to the earth, but he had no idea where to begin. I need more time. I couldn’t see her, yet I sensed her beauty. Even now, desire to possess her gnawed at him.

Adam, you can’t delay. If this is real…

Both he and Cain turned their attention to the hall as footsteps approached. Adam shut his eyes to read the emotional grid. It’s Gracie. He gripped his brother’s arm and sent him a warning glance. Not a word.

Cain frowned. She’ll know. She’ll read it in our thoughts.

Block your thoughts. This isn’t the time, Cain.

You need to tell them.

Not now, he hissed, weary from his episode and struggling to hide his weakness. He forced himself to sit upright and gripped the bedpost. It can wait until Mother’s feeling better. This was the first I’ve suffered any symptoms. I’m sure we have time.

His brother’s worried eyes measured him. Adam silenced him with a stern glare, as Gracie entered the room. How’s Mother? he quickly asked, hoping to distract her notice.

She went into a familiar description of loss, one they all witnessed before. His mother would need a few days to mourn, and then several weeks to heal. Adam was well aware of the emotional jab that came every time her hand reflexively rested on her empty belly, her memory smarting with recalled loss each time.

A selfish part of him wondered if his circumstances could excuse him from suffering his parents’ grief under this roof, but honor commanded he look over them while they recovered. The time would come when he could no longer delay but for now, his presence was needed here.

CHAPTER 2

The Neshaminy Mall food court bustled with senior citizens. New moms showed off their fancy strollers and little ones, while teens loitered. No one fit the description of a man old enough to be her father.

That familiar feeling of looking for something that wasn’t there filled her chest and she fought off the memories, but they always came anyway. Her gaze dropped to the uneaten pizza she’d ordered so as not to appear a purposeless fool waiting alone in the food court, and her mind returned to her old home.

She could see herself paying the deliveryman, feel the heat from the pizza box in her hands and smell the Italian seasonings mixing with the steam. Her mom’s laughter echoed like a forgotten secret as they made a joke about being hungry enough to eat two pies.

Annalise blinked, her eyes suddenly blurred with unshed tears and the sounds of the food court returned. That had been the last time she remembered her mom being well. Shortly after that she’d been diagnosed with advanced stage lymphoma, and then life had stopped being carefree and started ticking like a time bomb.

Annalise was still reeling from the blast. Still feeling like parts of her world had been blown to pieces. And when the dust settled, she’d somehow become an adult when, in reality, she was only a child.

It was childish of her to sit here now, waiting for a man who wanted no part of her life to make yet another excuse for standing her up. She had to stop doing this to herself. He was never going to fill the void her mother left. He hadn’t wanted her then and he didn’t want her now.

Letting out a frustrated breath, she tossed the stupid Hallmark card on the table and stood, snatching her book bag off the empty chair. He wasn’t coming.

What an absolute, pathetic waste of fucking time. She was an idiot for believing he might show up. A few Facebook messages and an unanswered—but viewed—invitation to finally meet did not equal an interested parent.

The most embarrassing part was that she announced to her co-workers that she’d be meeting her dad today, like some moon eyed kid who was too naïve to know when she wasn’t wanted. Maybe they wouldn’t ask. Maybe she should just show up for her usual shift. Then they’d know nothing monumental had held her up, and not feel the need to ask about why she was not only on time but also early for work when she already asked them to cover her shift. Pathetic.

Well, she needed to study anyway. If her absentee father had taught her anything, it was to only depend on herself. And right now her future was hanging by a thread if she didn’t buckle down and memorize the last few chapter notes of her unit.

On the drive to her apartment she fought back tears. No matter how old she got, her dad would always be her Achilles heel. The mere idea of the first man to reject her left a primal wound she’d bear for life. Even now, her fear of his rejection could be paralyzing. Pretty impressive impact for a guy she’d never met.

She needed to stop doing this to herself. Since her mom passed away, the yearning to belong to someone had taken a front seat in her thoughts. Her father was the least likely solution to her problems and could never replace her mother. But it seemed utterly wrong to be twenty-three and not have any living family left.

It sucked that no matter how much she told herself that blood was thicker than water, that was just some cliché bullshit. She still longed to know the dickhead who stood her up time and time again.

Her hands slapped the steering wheel as she made the turn into her apartment complex. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She didn’t need someone who didn’t want her. She was an adult. It wasn’t like she was looking for guardianship. Just a fucking connection. If that was too intense for him maybe she was better off alone. No maybe. Definitely.

Forget him.

As she opened the door to her apartment, boxes from her old home greeted her with things she no longer needed but couldn’t bear to let go. She accepted this might be some crucial step in her therapy—therapy she couldn’t afford, of course. But hey, she watched daytime talk shows. Grief was a process and she was only in the early stages.

Those boxes served as a constant reminder that this was only a pit stop. If she’d spent time unpacking them, it would imply she’d been content to stay, which she wasn’t. All those little mementos of her childhood deserved a better home, a permanent place to call her own. And she deserved that, too. Once she finished school, got her degree, found a better job, she’d put down roots in a nicer area and…

She cracked open a beer. And what?

While she hated wasting her tears on a man who never showed any interest in her, she also hated the all-consuming loneliness that had been eating at her lately. Truth was, she had no plans and the wind in her sails faded more and more each day. What if she sputtered out after graduation and got stuck here? No compass, no paddle, just stuck. It was a good possibility, despite her absolute fear of such an outcome.

Her phone pinged. Kyle’s text, asking if her father showed flashed on the screen. She tossed the phone on the counter and chugged the beer.

It was sweet that Kyle recognized what a big deal this was for her, but also humiliating to have others, once again, witness her father’s disinterest. Kyle had been around for the last attempted meet and greet. And that one ended with a bucket of tears and tequila—and one regrettable moment of weakness where she asked him to spend the night.

Luckily, neither of them had been sober enough to remember what happened, but that launched them into this strange friendzone where she suspected he wanted a repeat and she wanted oblivion. Kyle was her friend and one of the only constants in her life since her mom died. She didn’t want to screw that up.

Friends check in.

Nibbling her lip and trading her empty bottle for a fresh beer, she contemplated if company would be better than finishing the night alone. She grabbed her phone and called the bar.

Jimbo’s, Kyle answered the bar phone on the second ring.

Hey.

The familiar sounds of her work muffled through the phone and there was a long pause. Should I lift a bottle of Patron for later? I knock off at two.

She slid down the front of the refrigerator and sat on the floor. I’d love to, but... The but was there before she understood the rationale behind her refusal. I have a lab tomorrow and I need to read about six chapters tonight to prepare.

Anna, his voice softened against the commotion of a full bar in the background. Maybe something came up, and he wanted to be there but just couldn’t.

Maybe she would have believed that excuse if she hadn’t used it a hundred times before. I’m fine. This is how he wants it, and it’s time I accepted that. She should have accepted it ten years ago.

At least you found him on Facebook. Maybe ask him what happened. Call him out on it.

That wouldn’t happen. She’d stalk his pictures and follow his posts for a while, slip into a mild depression, shallow enough to hide her devastation from the rest of the world. Then she’d block him for her own good and move on.

It was a private process—had to be. While she was vulnerable enough to hurt, she had too much pride to show him just how much he could hurt her.

But Kyle didn’t need to know all that. Maybe.

Is there anything I can do?

She forced a smile. You’re sweet, but no. I just need to push forward and let it go.

You sure you don’t want company tonight?

A temporary fix that could really complicate things. No, I’m good. But thanks. You’re a good friend.

I’ll see you tomorrow night?

Yeah.

Don’t study too hard.

She ended the call and shut her eyes trying to recall the last time she didn’t have this emptiness in her chest. She could fall asleep here, on the floor of her kitchen. That’s what happened when crazy dreams woke you up ten nights in a row. God, she was tired.

Her mind rested and for a few minutes she forgot she had hours of cramming ahead. In the silence, random memories skipped though her mind, like a scattered puzzle pieces that added up to encompass the jigsaw of her life.

The world never slowed enough for her to truly stop and appreciate the picture all the pieces made. But sometimes she managed to grab hold of a little piece and see the memory like it was brand new again.

Her smile stretched as she recalled the night her mother had tried making a casserole dish she found online. She’d burnt the bottom so badly they had to throw away the pan. Why that night was suddenly in her head she hadn’t a clue, but it was so clear she could almost smell the burnt cheese. That had been before the cancer.

I miss you…

Sometimes she envied religious people. Annalise had about as much faith in God as she did in Santa Claus. Losing a parent when all the right steps were taken and seeing the same treatments work for someone else’s mom but not hers… If she’d ever been a spiritual person, she wasn’t anymore. But she wished she at least had the faith to believe her mother was in a better place.

She shoved off the floor and carried her book bag to her bed. God’s not gonna get you an A, so stop looking for Him.

Why was she always searching for men who didn’t exist? Next, she’d be hung up waiting for Mr. Right. She plopped on the bed, belly first and sighed. Time to focus.

Paging through her text, she pushed her thoughts into the dependable world of science and facts. In her experience, there was more comfort in studying cellular science broken down to the function of organs than the philosophies of the human heart and its response to love.

Science was factual, inarguable, and safe. Love, spirituality, miracles… Those little girl magical beliefs couldn’t save her anymore.

Her prayers went unanswered for so long she’d forgotten how to pray. And while it was fun to think of her mother looking down from some fluffy cloud, Annalise was pretty sure all that remained of her family was buried at Beachwood Cemetery. And, believe it or