Before You

By Amber Bynum

Just when Sarah thought she'd never fall in love again...

Living in the small town of Ashen Mills, Sarah's life was a fairytale. Until her husband died in a tragic car accident the same day she found out she was pregnant.

Sarah has put all her focus into being the best mom she can be to her da

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amber Bynum
• Release date: Jan 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989793914

Amber Bynum

Amber is an Indie Author living in North Texas with her family of 5. She is best known for writing small town romance novels that tug on your heart strings.If you asked Amber what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would have said...a stay at home mom who writes books! After years of writing behind closed doors, Amber is excited to finally release her books into the world.When Amber is not writing you can find her reading or listening to audio books, creating new designs for her small business The Nest or chaffering her three kiddos all around town.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

SARAH

The smell of ground beef and Italian sausage combined with onion and garlic fill the house, making my stomach grumble. 

My hips sway to the upbeat music playing through the speaker in the kitchen as I stir the mixture together. I find myself daydreaming of what my life is going to look like over the next few months. My belly will grow as pregnancy hormones surge, and of course there will be all the food cravings to come. All of it leading up to giving birth to a little boy or girl. Watching Blake become a dad, and me finally able to be a mom.

It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

Blake and I both always knew we wanted a big family. We both agreed the sooner the better, so we began trying the night of our wedding. What I didn’t expect was how long it would take to actually get pregnant. It’s like you make such a big decision and you are ready, but disappointment begins to flood in as you wait month after month.

My desire to become pregnant had consumed me and I didn’t even realize how bad it had gotten. I didn’t want the start of my marriage to be so stressful. I imagined nothing but joy and happiness. So on the advice of my mom, I stopped trying so hard.

For our one-year anniversary Blake and I took a trip to a lake house, just the two of us. The secluded cabin in the middle of the woods with nothing but trees on either side was the perfect place to celebrate our marriage, and that’s exactly what we did. We used every inch of the cabin and I blush thinking back to one particular moment on the kitchen counter.

Six weeks later I was late. At first it didn’t really hit me what that meant, but the tests I took showed two lines. Instead of telling Blake right away, I made an appointment with my doctor. This morning the little ball on the ultrasound and the precious heartbeat confirmed that my dreams were coming true after all.

My heart is already so full, and this new season is just beginning. I turn the music up and continue to dance around the kitchen, gathering all the ingredients for my famous lasagna from the pantry.

My plan is to make Blake’s favorite dinner and then give him the gift I’ve been hiding in my closet for almost a year as I’ve waited for this exact moment: a tiny baby onesie with the words, Baby Harte Coming Soon embroidered on the front. I can’t wait to see the look on Blake’s face when he realizes he is going to be a dad. I set a pot of water on the stove for the noodles and continue to make my famous sauce.

I attempt to twist the metal lid off the jar of spaghetti sauce, but it won’t budge. I grab a hand towel, covering it and squeezing my hand over the lid, trying it again with no luck. Setting it back down on the counter, I step back and take a deep breath to relieve the frustration that is building inside of me before trying again. But as soon as I grasp the jar, it slips from my hand.

The sound of glass shattering on the tile is so piercing that I jump back, and a silent scream tries to make its way from my lungs. Red liquid is splattered among the glass on the floor, on the white cabinets, and across my bare feet. I stare down at the mess and my eyes swell with tears. I reach down to lift a piece of glass that is resting on my foot, not anticipating how sharp it would be until it is too late.

Ow! I scream and the piece of glass falls to the floor, shattering into even more pieces.

Blood is now dripping from my hand onto the floor. I grab a towel from the counter, pressing it tightly against the cut on my hand. The tears trickle out from my eyes. I slide my body against the counter until I hit the floor.

What is supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life is quickly shattering all around me. By now the tears are pouring out and I feel my mascara sticking to my eyes. My body is shaking with an overwhelming sense of fear that seems out of proportion to the little mess I’ve made.

When I finally get the strength to move, I carefully make a pile of glass shards with a towel, then use a broom to sweep them into a dustpan. As I wipe the sauce and blood from the floor, the tears finally cease. The doorbell rings in the distance and a throbbing pain reminds me of the injury to my right hand. The towel is already soaked through with blood, but I’m too scared to remove it.

Above my head I hear a sizzling sound. The water begins to boil over in the pot. The doorbell rings again. I stand and run to the stove, using my left hand to pull the lid from the pot. But the heat from the handle burns my skin and I toss it onto the counter. When I do, water splatters and hits my arm, which burns even more.

The doorbell rings again and I scream in frustration.

I turn the burner off and wipe my face with a paper towel. I’m sure there’s mascara all over my face, but I head to the front door anyway, not even worried what the person on the other side thinks of me in this moment.

When I open the door, there are two police officers standing on the front porch. Their faces are blank, showing no emotions. The one on the left is a man wearing jeans and a tan button up with a shiny badge attached and a matching tan cowboy hat. The other person is a woman with her blond hair pulled into a bun wearing a patrol uniform.

Are you Mrs. Harte? the one with the cowboy hat asks. 

Yes, I say, unable to hide the frustration welling up inside me. Can I help you?

The man takes his cowboy hat off, lowering it to his chest. A speck of emotion shows on his face. I instantly know something is wrong, but my thoughts are jumbled and I can’t imagine what could be wrong.

I can’t move. I can’t talk. Why aren’t they talking?

He clears his throat, and my heart stops beating for a moment when he says the next eight words. 

Ma’am, your husband has been in an accident.

1

SIX YEARS LATER

SARAH

The sun weaves its way through the blinds, brightening up the room. I loosen the grip I have on the blankets that are pulled up to my neck. Slowly sitting up, I look to my right at the empty half of the bed. The nightmares have come and gone over the past six years. I’ve found ways to keep them away but sometimes, like last night, they creep their way back into my sleep.

I pull myself out of bed, throwing on my navy-blue silk robe. Exhausted from a night of little sleep, I gather my messy blond hair up into a bun and head to the kitchen. Yawning as I insert a pod into my Keurig, I press the start button on the machine and watch as the liquid pours into my mug. I pull the mug away as soon as the coffee is done and top it off with caramel creamer.

Snuggling up into the couch, I cherish the first sip as the warm liquid soothes my throat. Since Kate has spent the night with her grandma, I’m looking forward to a quiet morning. But at the same time, I can’t help but feel a little sad that it’s the last day of summer. School starts tomorrow, and so does a whole new routine for Kate and me.

While she will be one of the younger kids in her class, she is beyond ready to start kindergarten. After doing so well in preschool last year, even with it only being half days, her teacher felt she would have no problem adjusting to a full day of school this year.

I’m thankful we got everything done this week—sorting school supplies, catching up on laundry, cleaning Kate’s room—so that today we can take it easy and enjoy the day. As soon as she gets home, I plan to snuggle up with my little girl as much as I possibly can.

It’s not easy being a single mom. But I am eternally grateful for the support I have from my family and friends. Since I still have a few hours until my mother-in-law brings Kate back home, I plan to take my morning slow and enjoy it before the crazy week we have ahead of us begins.

 I take a big deep breath in, letting the aroma of my coffee settle in my lungs for a moment. But a loud bang startles me, quickly bringing my eyes back open. When I look out the window, I see movement in front of the house next door.

I get up to take a closer look. Our house sits on a cul-de-sac and our living room faces the neighbor’s front yard. A big red truck hauling a black trailer is sitting in the driveway next door. 

The house was for lease for a bit, then it was put up for sale about six months ago. It needs some work, but it’s charming, and I’ve often wondered why nobody has snatched it up yet. It’s probably because most people don’t see its full potential.

I remember how our house used to look when we first bought it, and I laugh. In Blake’s eyes it was perfect, and he convinced me to say yes to this one despite my reservations. Just think of all the possibilities, he said as we walked through the empty, outdated room.

In the end he was right—I love every inch of my house and the fact that I was able to help choose the upgrades we made to ensure it was perfect for us. As I stand here alone, I am thankful for all of the memories I have of being here with Blake. Even though he is no longer on this earth, there are parts of him all throughout this house.

I take another sip of my coffee while holding the curtain to the side so I can spy on our new neighbors. A man steps out of the trailer, and he’s wearing jeans, boots, and a tight-fitting gray T-shirt. He has tattoos along both arms, and I notice what look like scars trailing all along his right arm in between the ink.

He lifts the black ball cap off his head and runs his hands through his deep-brown, messy hair. He puts the hat back on and his hands go into his pockets as he stares at the house before him.

When he turns around to face the trailer I see some stubble on his face, but his eyes are hidden in the shadow cast by his hat. My eyes drift back to his jeans and how well they fit him. They hit his boots just right too. That’s always been a pet peeve of mine—when men wear jeans that are either too tight or too loose around their boots. But his sit perfectly against the brown leather. 

My eyes move up his body to the gray T-shirt he is wearing. The fabric looks soft yet worn, and the way it hugs him means I can see the shape of his muscles beneath it. Oh, what it would be like to be that shirt right now…

I quickly close my eyes. There’s no doubt he is hot, but I shake my head to remove the thought from my brain, remembering there is probably a woman in his life. They could have a kid or two, or maybe she is pregnant. Either way, there is no need for me to be staring at my new neighbor the way I just did.

He disappears into the trailer and my mind begins to daydream. I hope his wife is nice and I really do hope they have kids, especially one who might be the same age as Kate. Although she has plenty of friends here in Ashen, it would be wonderful to have one who lives right next door.

I smile at the blur of memories that pass through my head from my own childhood. My best friend Wren lived across the street from me, and we were always either playing outside or going back and forth between each other’s houses.

Ashen is your typical small town, where everyone knows everyone, and it was a great place to grow up. I was always the shy one and Wren was the outgoing one. Complete opposites. But it’s been a friendship that has lasted all this time. I never imaged I would end up living back in my hometown. But now I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The man emerges from the trailer just as a little girl runs out of the house wearing a pink tutu, a purple shirt, and sparkly yellow shoes. Her straight, bright-red hair has been pulled into two uneven pigtails and she’s holding a unicorn stuffed animal. She runs into the man’s arms, and he squeezes her, then twirls her around.

My cheeks are burning from the wide smile spread across my face. I feel my heart beating a little faster in my chest. I’m partly jealous that my husband never had the chance to hug our daughter that way. But I am also filled with adoration of the special father-daughter bond the two clearly have.

He sets her on the ground, and she runs back into the house. I hear her giggling and I am overjoyed that there is another child living on this street. I cannot wait to tell Kate; she is going to be so happy. The girl looks to be around the same age, and I instantly imagine playdates and sleepovers, the girls running around in the yard. The little girl’s mom and I hanging out while they play outside on the swing set.

But a woman never steps out of the house. I watch as the man unloads the contents of the trailer, box by box, on his own.

The little girl appears now and again, skipping around the yard, playing in the flowerbed, and the unicorn stuffed animal never leaves her arms. I am amazed at all the work he’s doing on his own. Not only has he carried in boxes, but he’s managed to move in several pieces of furniture. Sure, he is using a furniture dolly, but still, that can’t be easy.

As I’ve been watching, I’ve contemplated multiple times going to help, but I know I would just get in the way. I’m sad he doesn’t have any friends helping him. I wonder where his wife is. Maybe she’s at work or taking care of things at their old house. Or maybe there is no wife. Maybe he is a single father.

If he really is single, I realize this is not going to be easy living next door to him as I watch him suddenly lift the sweat-stained gray T-shirt over his head. He seems to move in slow motion, and his perfectly sculpted muscles are revealed along his chest and arms one by one. Sprinkles of thick, dark hair flow across his chest and disappear into his jeans.

When he gets the shirt over his head, he takes off his hat and tosses it into the truck bed, then runs the now-soaking-wet shirt across his hair before tossing it next to his hat. My eyes are glued to his body, all of his muscles. His arms are toned, and the lingering sweat is glistening on his skin. Shirtless, wearing jeans and boots, he looks like a character straight out of the TV show Yellowstone, and I am laser-focused on the scene unfolding in front of me.

He lifts the door to the trailer up off the concrete, closes it, and secures the rods on each side to lock it. He brushes off his hands and turns his head in my direction. His eyes focus on something. For a moment I’m frozen, and I think he might be looking right at me but I can’t be sure, so I pretend I’m a statue in hopes that he won’t notice. A small smile appears on his lips and he raises his hand and waves, confirming my fear that he can, in fact, see me through the window. My heart pounds in my ears and I hold my breath. My brain is telling me to run away, but my feet are stuck in place. 

Finally all of my senses resume, working together, and I quickly close the curtain and step away from the window. When I do, I bump into the lamp on the end table and it hits my coffee mug, spilling cold coffee all over the floor. I stumble, grabbing the mug, and when I finally regain my footing and reach the kitchen, I set the mug in the sink and grip the edge of the counter.

The Image of the sweat glistening off his body, then his smile and wave … It’s all replaying over and over in my head. 

I turn on the sink and splash some water on my face, trying to bring myself back to reality. I cannot believe my new neighbor just caught me staring at him shirtless in his driveway.

2

PETER

Well, that was interesting. The smile is still on my face even after she’s closed the curtain and I’ve come inside. I noticed her watching me earlier, but just figured she was being a little nosey.

But she was still watching me forty-five minutes later. Even through the window I could tell she was gorgeous. But thinking about my new neighbor in that way is not something I have time for right now. As flattered as I may be.

It’s not easy to move, and it’s definitely not easy to move on your