Worth the fall, p.1

Worth the Fall, page 1

 

Worth the Fall
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Worth the Fall


  by

  J. Sterling

  WORTH THE FALL

  Copyright © 2024 by J. Sterling

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by:

  Jovana Shirley

  Unforeseen Editing

  www.unforeseenediting.com

  Cover Design by: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative

  Cover Photography by: Regina Wamba

  E-book Edition, License Notes

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945042-70-6

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Please visit the author’s website

  www.jsterlingbooks.com

  to find out where additional versions may be purchased.

  Thank you for downloading this book.

  Sign up for my newsletter to get emails about new releases, upcoming releases, and special price promotions:

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  PRIVATE READER GROUP

  OTHER BOOKS BY J. STERLING

  Bitter Rivals- an enemies to lovers romance

  Dear Heart, I Hate You

  10 Years Later- A Second Chance Romance

  In Dreams – a new adult college romance

  Chance Encounters- a coming of age story

  The Game Series

  The Perfect Game - Book One

  The Game Changer - Book Two

  The Sweetest Game - Book Three

  The Other Game (Dean Carter) – Book Four

  The Playboy Serial

  Avoiding the Playboy- Episode #1

  Resisting the Playboy- Episode #2

  Wanting the Playboy- Episode #3

  The Celebrity Series

  Seeing Stars- Madison & Walker

  Breaking Stars- Paige & Tatum

  Losing Stars- Quinn & Ryson

  The Fisher Brothers Series

  No Bad Days – a New Adult, Second Chance Romance

  Guy Hater – an Emotional Love Story

  Adios Pantalones – a Single Mom Romance

  Happy Ending

  The Boys of Baseball

  (the next generation of fullton state baseball players):

  The Ninth Inning – Cole Anders

  Behind the Plate- Chance Carter

  Safe at First – Mac Davies

  Fun for the Holidays

  (a collection of stand-alone novels with holiday based themes)

  Kissing my Co-worker

  Dumped for Valentine’s

  My Week with the Prince

  Fools in Love

  Spring’s Second Chance

  Don’t Marry Him

  Summer Lovin’

  Flirting with Sunshine

  Falling for the Boss

  Tricked by my Ex

  The Thanksgiving Hookup

  Christmas with Saint

  Sugar Mountain Series

  (The O’Grady Brothers)

  Worth the Fall- a single dad romance

  Worth the Wait- a second chance romance

  Worth the Chase- a best friend little sister romance

  DEDICATION

  For all the women who feel unseen, unheard and

  unappreciated in their relationships. It’s okay to walk

  away when you can’t take it anymore.

  Wanting to be happy isn’t selfish.

  Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently.

  And to the men (who aren’t reading this anyway)-

  we never leave you without warning.

  Start paying better attention.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  OTHER BOOKS BY J. STERLING

  WELCOME HOME

  DIVORCED IN MY TWENTIES

  WOULD YOU RATHER

  THE KINGS OF SUGAR MOUNTAIN

  DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING

  OH, HELL NO

  POSITION ACCEPTED

  SUCK IT, MISS SHOOSTER

  MY FAVORITE GIRL

  NEW BEST FRIEND

  I’M SO SCREWED

  EVERYONE DESERVES A WAFFLE

  VERY UNPROFESSIONAL

  LOSING IT

  TIME TO END THIS

  IT’S GETTING HEAVY IN HERE

  NO TRICKS, JUST TREATS

  FAMILY DINNERS AT THE FARM

  LET’S GET OUT OF HERE

  DON’T WAKE ME UP

  A REAL ASSET

  TIME FLIES ... LIKE A TURKEY

  THANKFUL FOR THIS FAMILY

  SUGAR MOUNTAIN SNOW

  SHE’S GONE

  LITTLE RUNNER

  STRUGGLING

  HAPPY ENDINGS

  THANK YOU

  OTHER BOOKS BY J. STERLING

  About the Author

  WELCOME HOME

  THOMAS

  My wife died giving birth to our daughter. She fucking died. In the same moment that I was meeting the most important girl in my life, I lost the other one I loved. I stood there, helpless, watching her eyes roll into the back of her head as I held our daughter in my arms. The hospital staff rushed in, shoving me aside as they wheeled my wife out of the room, leaving me standing there with a newborn who was now making sounds far louder than any small human should be able to make.

  Thank God a nurse appeared shortly after to take the baby because if I had been left alone for any longer, I might have dropped her. Not because I fucking wanted to, mind you, but because I couldn’t feel my arms anymore. I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

  When the doctor reappeared, I didn’t think I’d moved an inch. How long had I been standing there, frozen in time, my mind replaying the scene? It could have been ten minutes or an hour. I honestly had no idea.

  “Thomas,” he said gently, like the words he was about to deliver wouldn’t blow me down with such force that I’d sworn he’d hit me. “Thomas,” he said again, clearly waiting for me to focus my eyes on his. “She’s gone,” he said in that same gentle tone, his paper hat clenched tightly in his fist.

  I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. My body no longer worked like it should. “How?” was the only word I forced past my tongue. It came out in a whisper even though I’d tried to speak it normally.

  “Brain aneurysm.” He shook his head slowly. “There was nothing we could do. No way either of you could have known. It just”—he paused, his fist unfurling—“happens sometimes.”

  It.

  Just.

  Happens.

  Sometimes.

  “Okay.”

  What else was I supposed to say? It wasn’t as if fighting with the doctor would bring Jenna back to life.

  “Is there anyone you’d like me to tell? Your family? Jenna’s parents?” he offered.

  I simply shook my head so he’d leave me the fuck alone. It still took him longer to go away than I would have liked.

  “Let me know if you need anything. We’re all here to help,” he said before heading out the door, and I realized that I had no idea who this guy was, but he definitely knew me.

  It wasn’t surprising really. Not that it mattered right now.

  Speaking of, my family was in the other room, cigars in hand, waiting for me to come out and give them the good news. Jenna’s parents were out there too. This would be the last thing on any of their minds. How was I supposed to walk out there and tell them that Clarabel was alive, but Jenna was dead? It seemed impossible to even think the words, let alone say them out loud.

  Doubling over, I put my hands on my knees and tried to focus on my breathing. The oxygen wasn’t coming.

  “Thomas? Are you okay?” A female voice sounded concerned as she started shuffling in my direction. Her feet scraping against the tiled floor was the only thing louder than the sound of my pounding heart. She placed a hand on my back and started rubbing in small circles. “It’s okay. You’re just having a little panic attack.” She tried to soothe me, but that only made me freak out more.

  I did not have panic attacks.

  I was an O’Grady. We been in Sugar Mountain since it had been put on the map. Generations of my family had helped found this town. And everyone within a hundred-mile radius seemed to at least know of us. I was sure owning and running the Sugar Mountain Resort with my two younger brothers and dad helped with all that.

  “Just breathe in and out. Try to take a long, deep breath and hold it for two seconds,” she instructed before her feet made the shuffling sound once more.

  I tried to do as she’d said, but my lungs refused to listen.

  “I have someone who wants to see you,” the nurse cooed, and I turned my head ever so slightly to peek. My daughter was wrapped like a burrito in her arms. “I though

t she might help you deliver the news.”

  Just. Fucking. Breathe.

  I was the oldest son. The first one to get married. The first one to make my dad a grandpa, even though he wanted to be called Pops. But I wouldn’t be the first O’Grady to bury a wife. That honor went to my dad. And my granddad before him. Maybe we truly were cursed? I’d heard someone say that once back in high school, and I’d thought they were a fucking idiot. Maybe they were right though.

  Why else would my mom have died in a car accident, leaving behind three boys who needed her? And Jenna? She would have never chosen to leave when she could have stayed. Maybe O’Grady men were meant to be alone. Neither my grandpa nor my dad had ever remarried. Hell, I didn’t even think they’d dated.

  With my breathing slowly returning to normal, I grabbed my baby girl and headed out the door to deliver the worst news possible while holding the best. Life could be really fucking cruel sometimes.

  EIGHT YEARS LATER

  I’d been dubbed “the grumpy one” ever since Jenna had died. Grumpy O’Grady. As if my brothers calling me that would force a smile to my face or somehow make me less grumpy. Idiots. The only person who made me happy was Clarabel, my perfect angel of a daughter. The best thing in my life. My purpose. My reason for not giving up in those first couple of years. Without her, I was convinced that I wouldn’t have gotten through it. The pain had been all-consuming on the days she seemed to need me the most.

  My daughter had saved me.

  And today was her eighth birthday. Eight years that Jenna had missed. That was what made me the most somber. The moments that Jenna would never know. She had given birth to this wonderful human, and she didn’t even get to appreciate a single minute of it.

  Jenna’s parents had stayed in Sugar Mountain a couple of years after her death, probably to make sure I pulled through the grief, but it eventually became too hard. Memories haunted them at every turn, and they felt like they couldn’t escape the pain, no matter how hard they tried. It chased them. They moved out of state, but stayed in touch, video-chatted and came to visit whenever it seemed like they could stomach it.

  They never blamed me for Jenna’s death, but I knew that seeing me made them sad instead of happy. The same thing went for Clarabel. Looking at her was a constant reminder of their own daughter and the pain that came from losing her. Clarabel had Jenna’s eyes and her lopsided smile. There had been so much hope and happiness back then, but it’d all died when she did.

  I was never upset that they’d moved away. I felt like I understood. Their grief was different from mine. It wasn’t something that ended. Losing a child was like losing a limb; you constantly wished for it back. And moving forward felt impossible.

  “Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children,” they used to say through an endless stream of tears.

  Their hearts never seemed to mend.

  Unlike my own, which had stopped aching for Jenna the way that it once had years ago. I knew it sounded shitty, but being with her felt like another lifetime. I could barely remember what it had been like. What she was like. We were both twenty-three when we first got together.

  I’d known who Jenna was back in high school, but we weren’t exactly friends. When our paths crossed one night when I went to the saloon after work, I asked her out on the spot. I remembered her friends cheering after she said yes.

  We’d only been dating for ten months before we found out we were pregnant. One broken condom was all it had taken to alter the course of our lives. I proposed the next day. We were married at the courthouse the following week. Not because it was the right thing to do, but because we wanted to. I had been a different person then—younger, carefree, naive.

  I wasn’t that person anymore.

  Thomas O’Grady was a single dad with responsibilities to a small person who counted on him day in and day out. My daughter was all that mattered. And all that was left of my and Jenna’s relationship were a handful of framed photographs scattered throughout the house that I barely even remembered taking.

  “Dad, when will the uncles get here?” Clarabel bounced down the stairs and into the living room, her long brown hair still in tangles from sleeping the night before.

  “I told you that they’re on their way. They have to pick up stuff for your party first,” I said for the fifth time today as I reached for her hair and held it between my fingers. “Go get the brush.”

  “Me and my hair are waiting for Uncle Patrick,” she declared as she maneuvered out of my grasp.

  “And why is that?” I sipped my coffee as I waited for her to answer as to why my middle brother needed to be the one to brush her hair and not her wonderful father.

  “Because he knows how to French braid.”

  “I know how to braid!” I exclaimed, wanting to be her first choice in everything.

  “French braid, Daddy. He knows how to French braid. They’re not the same thing.”

  “Oh. Okay then. Wait for Patrick, the French-braid extraordinaire,” I agreed, but had no idea what the hell she was talking about. I’d find out though. Before the day was over, I’d know the difference between a braid and a French braid. And I’d make Patrick teach me how to do one.

  And then I’d do it better than he ever could.

  So, I’m a little competitive. Sue me.

  I watched as she opened up the refrigerator and grabbed a fresh-squeezed orange juice. She twisted off the top, took a long sip out of the single-serve bottle, and then put it back on the shelf where it belonged. It was little moments like these when I realized how grown-up she was getting. She used to need me to open the fridge for her and then the top as well. Now, she could do it all herself.

  Time was moving way too fast for my liking.

  “Going back upstairs. Let me know when the uncles get here!” she shouted with a smile as she bounced away.

  On her way up, she stopped at her favorite picture of her mom hanging on the wall and gave it a kiss, like she always did. “It’s my birthday today, Mom. I’m eight. I know you know that, but I like telling you. Wish you were here. I miss you. I’m sorry you died.”

  My eyes started to mist over, but I quickly pulled it together. Clarabel knew that her birthday was the same day of her mom’s death, but somehow, we’d been able to make it a happy occasion instead of a sad one. Knowing that your mom had died after giving birth to you was something that could really screw up a person, and no one wanted that to happen to Clara. She was too pure. Too good. And it wasn’t her fault.

  “Where is my perfect princess?” my youngest brother, Matthew, shouted as he threw the front door open, cradling Clara’s cake in his arms.

  I rushed to meet him, hoping to take the cake from him so he wouldn’t drop it. You never knew with him. Out of the three of us, Matthew was like a golden retriever—happy to see you, but his tail might break everything in sight if you didn’t keep an eye on him.

  “Give me that, jackass.” I reached for the cake, but he swiveled quickly, like he was on ice skates.

  “How is it possible that I’m a jackass already? I just got here.” He twirled again, his feet moving far quicker than anyone’s should.

  “You tell me.” I gave him a look that told him I knew what he’d done last night, but I truly had no idea what he’d been up to.

  Matthew had been a big hockey star up until about a year ago. He got a knee injury during a playoff game and never fully recovered. Instead of plugging along in the league for as long as they’d let him, he hung up his skates instead and came home, knowing he’d never be the kind of player he once had been if he stayed in the league.

  He had come back to Sugar Mountain the same kid we all knew and loved on the outside, but something on the inside had changed.

  “I didn’t do shit last night,” he said before wincing. “That I remember.”

  “Matthew,” I groaned, reaching for the cake and finally taking it this time.

  “I don’t want to hear it from you, Grumpy.”

  I rolled my eyes at the world’s stupidest nickname.

  Placing the cake on the kitchen counter, I turned to face him, my tone serious. “You can’t keep drinking the way you do.”

  He shrugged, and for a second, I could see him in his uniform, full pads and a helmet covering his grinning face as he held a stick in his hand.

  “Technically, I can.”

  I exhaled, loud and exaggerated.

  “You don’t need to worry about me, Grumps. It’s not like I drive drunk.”

 

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