That Summer

By Jamie Spicer

Jett Stone is a widow who is hell-bent on making it on her own until Ryker Carpe, the young son of the towns mayor, shows up to help her with her small farm. Dealing with secrets, tragedies, and the opinion of the whole town, will Jett and Ryker over obstacles that stand in their way and give themselves what they both truly need?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jamie Spicer
• Release date: Nov 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223644798

Book preview

Chapter 1- Jett

J ett, you need to come with us. When I answered the door, I never thought two of Jackson’s finest would be standing there in their blue uniforms. One of them being my husband’s fishing buddy, Burton Spencer.

What’s going on, Burton? The smile on my face fades as a sickening feeling hits me. I search the expressions on my husband’s friend’s face.

He could never keep anything from me. Whenever he or my husband would try to hide something, I’d always look at Burton's face because he is like an open book. Right now, though, I wish he was able to hide his emotions and that I wasn’t able to read the worry lines drawn across his forehead. His mouth is set in a grim line, and his gaze doesn’t hold mine for long before they drop to the ground. My blood runs cold as my thoughts race and latches onto the worst-case scenario. Oh god, something is wrong with Shawn.

I’m sorry. I don’t know all the details. They just sent us to pick you up. He motions between his uniform and his partner, still sitting in the cruiser’s driver’s seat. The movement is slow and controlled to the point of a father talking to his daughter after she fell and skinned her knees. All I know is that it’s an emergency, so grab your purse and lock up the house.

His voice is calm, but it doesn’t stop the fact that my heart is suddenly about to pound out of my chest. Or that my throat tightens to the point of suffocating, and my hands become moist with sweat. I slip on my Crocs, snatch my purse off the little table by the door, then quickly walk out, following Burton and locking it behind us. He holds the door open to the cruiser, and I climb inside.

The back seat is clean. I’ve never been in the back of a police cruiser before. It’s cleaner than anything I thought it would be. The only difference is that I’m seeing my husband’s friend through a mesh wire cage. It's enough to set my nerves on edge and my mind to continue to race about what’s wrong with Shawn.

We live about thirty minutes outside of town on a small farm in the middle of nowhere. It was our first purchase as a married couple nearly five years ago. Shawn and I love the privacy and the simple life of country living. It’s like our own slice of heaven right here on Earth.

The gold of my wedding band glints from the sun as I spin it around on my finger. It’s a tell-tale sign that I’m anxious. The fact that Burton nor his partner will tell me anything only makes that feeling a million times worse. The silence grows heavy on my shoulders. The cruiser takes a few turns until I know exactly where we are headed, to the little county hospital.

It’s a small brick building with a tiny emergency room. It isn’t equipped to help with the more severe emergencies. That means if Shawn is here, then he’s not that bad, but that doesn’t diminish my worry for him by any means. When Burton throws the police car into park right at the entrance, I pull on the handle frantically, not realizing it’s child-locked, until Burton opens the door to let me out. My feet pound the pavement as I jump out of the car and sprint until I’m standing next to the nurse’s station. Burton doesn’t follow me inside. I guess he has to go back to the police station.

Can I help you? an older white-haired woman with spunky purple glasses asks, not taking her eyes from her computer screen.

Shawn Stone? I need to see him.

The woman stills and drags her gaze up to me. Her grayish eyes peer into mine, and she nods. Go on back through those doors. I’ll buzz you in. She offers me a waning smile before I take off to do as I’m told.

Casey, one of Shawn’s fellow firefighters and friends, is standing outside of a closed emergency room door, and I make a beeline straight for him. Casey, what the hell is going on?! No one will tell me anything. Where is my husband?

Jett! His brows raise in surprise at my abrupt appearance, then his eyes soften when it registers that it’s me in front of him. He’s being worked on right now. Casey’s uniform is streaked in soot. The acrid smell of burnt fabric is exceptionally fresh and potent. My eyes water from the secondhand smoke. I turn toward the door, my intent obvious in my stance. You shouldn’t.... He reaches an ash-smudged hand in my direction, but I ignore him, pushing the door open. What I barge in on is something I wish I never laid eyes on.

There’s a figure on the bed. The body is so dark it looks like a shadow. The shadow of my husband. He is black with soot, and the smell... differs from the typical charred scent I’m greeted with whenever I hug Shawn before he showers after getting home from work.

This smell. I’ll never forget this smell. It’s the smell of my husband’s burnt flesh. Just now realizing I’ve stopped in shock upon entering, I take a step forward and get a better look. It’s a bit difficult to move. because several hospital staff are working on him. Still, there isn’t enough to obstruct my view of all his blisters or the open wounds where the blisters used to be. There’s silence. The view in front of me is a blur of motion, yet the scene is completely soundless. The lack of noise becomes heavy, the weight of it tangible oppression.

It is substantial.

Overwhelming.

It’s closing in around me like a cloak of steel, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

I can’t breathe. Oh god, I can’t breathe. My shoulders rapidly rise and fall as I fight to get oxygen in my lungs. My vision tunnels, pushing my husband's body further and further away. Then his little finger twitches.

Shawn.

That slight movement brings forth the maelstrom of sounds my consciousness has been blocking out. And I gasp, getting some of the oxygen I desperately need, but not nearly enough. I also get the attention of those surrounding Shawn.

I’m going to vomit.

Get her out of here! a deep, disembodied voice calls before I’m grabbed and pulled backward out of the room's doorway.

I am sorry, Mrs. Stone, but you need to stay out here, a brunette in blue scrubs, a mask, and gloves says before immediately turning back around and returning to the room where my husband lay.

Tell me what the fuck happened to Shawn! I scream at Casey. Tears form in my eyes, and I do my best not to let them fall. I have to be strong for Shawn.

Casey takes a deep breath, runs his hand down his long beard, and peers at me with his dark eyes. A look of sadness washes over him. You know that factory down on Highway 205?

Yeah, I know it. I nod my head aggressively.

The factory is a lifesaver for this small town. Most people work there or someone in their family works there.

They called the fire department about a gas leak. The factory was evacuated. Shawn and Ryker Carpe were in there. You know Ryker, don’t ya? The mayor’s son? He’s bad off, too. He nods to where a couple is standing together holding each other. He’s going to make it, the doctors think, but he’s going to have a lot of surgeries. He said that Shawn saved his life, Jett. He steps toward me with his arms wide. "Shawn is a hero."

Before I can answer, the door to Shawn’s room opens, and a doctor steps out. He’s tall with gray hair, but it’s his eyes that capture my full attention. I’m trying to search for the answer in them before he speaks like I did with Burton, but not everyone is as easy to read. The only thing I can pick up from them is exhaustion. His eyes are tired as he takes off his mask and sterile gown. Mrs. Stone?

Yes. Yes, that’s me! I step toward him, eager for news on my husband, but the atmosphere around him is heavy. It's smothering, suffocating in its thickness, causing me to step back to the wall behind me for support.

Mrs. Stone, I regret to inform you that your husband is on a ventilator. He has suffered third-degree burns to most of his body. He’s in severe pain right now. The ventilator is keeping him alive, but we expect his condition to decline soon. We wanted to give you the time to say goodbye. The doctor starts to fade as the world around me spins, dizziness taking over. Do you understand Mrs.Stone?

With my hands planted against the cool stone wall, I slide down it, hitting the floor hard. I lift my knees up and rest my head on them. The physician report plays in my mind as I try to make sense of everything. Shawn’s only alive because of a ventilator. The ventilator is what is keeping him alive. My young, handsome, powerful husband, who was supposed to come home to me. We would’ve been celebrating our sixth wedding anniversary soon, but instead, he’s laying in a bed on a breathing machine, burnt head to toe from a factory explosion.

Casey lowers in front of me. Jett, sweetie, are you okay?

I look up at my husband’s friend. The teardrops are now streaming down my face, wetting the collar of one of my husband’s old t-shirts. They were always the softest and comfiest to wear around the house. Shaking my head, I whisper, but my words are scratchy as they come out, I will never be okay again.

Chapter 2-Jett

Four Months later. ..

Every day since Shawn passed has been straight-up hell. I have to do chores around the farm, feed the animals, muck the stalls, and do the basics of running a farm. Things I used to love doing with my partner are downright dreadful now that he’s gone. Besides forcing myself to get out of bed to take care of errands, I do nothing. I’m miserable. I can’t keep food down, and I rarely leave the house. Not unless it’s something that has to be done.

The best part of me was Shawn, and now that he’s gone, I live in a world I no longer wish to exist in anymore. The world around me is bleak and colorless. There’s nothing left to make me laugh or cause the light that shines through the kitchen window in the early mornings to burst into a kaleidoscope of bright hues on the tile floor. That piece that made minuscule, monotonous, ordinary life into a beautiful canvas is gone. It’s as if everything has been sucked out, leaving me an empty shell. Nothing is the same as it used to be.

It’s okay, though. He received a reward from the mayor for being a hero. I shouldn’t be so resentful about it because Shawn did save his son, Ryker, who had been sent to a rehabilitation center in West Virginia. I hear he’s doing well, and I’m glad, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing my husband hadn’t died to save him. That’s a terrible way to think, but the truth is, I’m a zombie. I just exist. I no longer have it in me to care about anything anymore.

Jett, honey, you need to get up and take care of yourself. Nancy, my best friend, comes out of the kitchen with a big black trash bag and starts picking up trash that’s littered in the living room, where I now sleep because I refuse to sleep in the bed I shared with Shawn without him lying in it with me.

"Go take a shower, girl. You’ll feel so much better. And get you some clean clothes on. You need to get