Single Dad Loves Again: Small Town Second Chance Romance, page 1
SINGLE DAD LOVES AGAIN
RALEIGH RAINE
Copyright © 2024 by Raleigh Raine
All rights reserved.
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CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
PROLOGUE
September 2013
She had the wind in front of her the night I made the mistake that ended it all; her hair was billowing around her like a tiny halo, but she had a smile on her face. A smile laced with a certain tint of mischief. I jumped off the ledge, offering my hand. She slapped it away with a smile and hoisted herself up the ledge in one swift movement.
“I am no invalid, horse boy!” she called.
“Don’t call me that!” I retorted. She had always called me horse boy, I hated it with every bone in my body. I wanted something tender, my name said softly, a pet name for her lips alone, anything but horse boy.
We sat in silence, watching the river flow. The river runs right by my ranch and flows through our town. We’ve walked the river from town to my ranch and back so many times that we have made an established trail. The river had taken on the blackness of the night, a blackness that was broken here and there by the scattered light of the stars. The moon played a game of peek-a-boo with the clouds; the cloud was winning.
“Have you been waiting for long?” she asked without looking at me. I watched her, feeling a soft, comforting heat spread through my chest and down my body. The moon slipped out of a pocket of clouds at that moment and bathed her in orange glory. I bent and gently pushed her hair off the side of her face and bent to kiss her cheek. She turned in that moment, and instead of her cheek, my lips landed on hers.
I pulled back suddenly, feeling my cheeks turn red. She took my hand and laid it gently on her chest. I could feel the beating of her heart.
“I love you, Trisha,” I blurted out. She smiled, but she didn’t say a word; instead, she bent slightly and kissed me on the lips, her hand sliding into my hand.
“Come on!” she said, jumping off a rock and running down the river bank. I waited a moment, counting five Mississippi’s in my head, before jumping off the rock to run after her. We walked along the river for almost an hour, holding hands, pausing now and then to bask in the happy audience of the stars before continuing down the trail along the river and ending up in town.
I did not want the night to end; I wanted to stay here with her, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky.
“Would you walk a little further with me?” she asked.
“Are you sure? Someone might see.”
“Juno is already asleep; you’re worried about him, aren’t you?” she asked. I nodded, taking her hand and slowly walking down the street with her. Old, gnarly elms lined the streets. My father said the elms were planted by the first settlers, men who had kept the first ranches and worked the earth. He works the earth with so much pride, and I didn’t know how to tell him I was thinking of college, of becoming more than a horse boy for Trisha.
I would love to become a veterinarian. I enjoy animals so much, and I think it would be interesting to learn the unique anatomy, physiology, and medical needs of farm animals. My dream after college would be to open up my own vet clinic. But this may only be a dream.
We are just getting to her home when suddenly we hear a loud voice ask, “Who is that, Trisha?” We both jumped at the sound and for a moment, we were frozen, staring straight at two pairs of eyes standing at the side of the road. “Why are you both shivering? Have you done something wrong?”
“Nana, is that you?” Trish asked.
“Now you recognize my voice. Roaming about in the darkness with a boy, are we?” Her voice held a coldness that neither of us had heard before. “Go on, run along, little Hammock boy. It’s late, and you shouldn’t be out this late,” the older woman said.
“Goodnight, Trish…”
“Go on now!” the older woman bellowed. I turned and began to walk off slowly, turning now and then to take a look at the two retreating bodies. It is not the first time she has reacted this way to me. Her fangs often come out whenever she finds me with Trish.
The temptation to turn around and trail them overwhelmed me, but I kept my feet straight and made for home. When I got home, my father was standing at the door with a lamp in his hand.
“Where are you coming from?” he asked.
“I took a walk,” I replied, walking past him.
“Don’t you dare walk off while I am talking to you! Your mother said you’d gone to see that Walden girl again!”
“I am going to college dad!” I blurted out. He grew quiet, staring at me for a moment before turning around and walking back to the house without a glance at me. At the door, he stopped, turned around, and walked to the gazebo at the edge of the compound.
“Come here!” he bellowed. I could feel the anger boiling deep inside him, and for a moment, I wondered if it was wise to go to him. Dad has been known for his temper, and though he had never laid a hand on me, I wavered in that moment. “Now, boy!”
I walked over to him, feeling my legs tremble ever so slightly. He lit a cigarette and puffed the smoke into the sky, then he shook his head and chuckled lightly. He was working too hard to get his emotions in check.
“You, boy, you...” He pointed at me, shaking his fist lightly while chuckling. “Was there ever a time anyone said you shouldn’t go to college? I’ve always wanted you to follow your own path, to chase education or to work the earth; it is always your choice.” He stood, placed his hands on my shoulders for a moment, and chuckled.
“I thought you would be angry,” I said.
“No, never, but I will be disappointed if you are doing this for any other reason other than for yourself, son; if you’re going to do it, do it for you!” I nodded, feeling that something in my encounters tonight was off. From Nana Hilda to my father, something was certainly off, and I couldn’t tell what it was.
I was young, sick with love, and so sure of my path that I felt I couldn’t go wrong. But when I wake up the next morning, the girl I loved would be gone, and I wouldn’t know why.
CHAPTER ONE
LEVI - THE PRESENT
Sharon ran forward, buoyed by the wind, towards the featherlight leather ball. I had picked that ball specifically so her tiny hands could throw and catch it easily. Autumn is in full swing, and the leaves lay dead all around us. The gnarled and barren branches lay naked, unadorned by leaves or the occasional colorful flowers of summer.
In the distance, the horses neighed, forcing my eyes to turn to the tree to which they were tethered. Sharon had disappeared into the surrounding shrubs in search of her ball.
Ariel kicked her feet, and I paused to look closely. She was leaning to the side, almost resting all of her weight on her right.
“Sharon?” I called out. I didn’t have to worry for too long; she was running out of the shrubs with her ball held high above her head.
“Daddy, I got it!” she yelled.
“Good girl! I am going to check in on Ariel; she seems to be in some distress.” I moved as I spoke, Sharon trailing behind me, her face mirroring my worries.
“Will Ariel be okay, Daddy?” she asked.
“I think so; I am not sure.” I grab the horse’s hind leg, lifting it up gently to look under the hoof. There is a shiny object lodged between the hooves, and a soft gasp escapes Sharon’s lips.
“That’s glass; it must hurt!”
“Go call Henry,” I whispered softly. Sharon pranced off towards the main building. I ran my palm along the legs of the horse, trying to calm her down. Some pains are merely skin deep, while others reach deep into the heart. I wondered if this one was superficial or deep. “Should I try taking it out, girl? Are you in a lot of pain?”
I tap gently on the shard of glass and it falls off immediately without much prodding. In the cleft of the horse’s hoof, there is the beginnings of a cut. It must be the reason she had been leaning to the side, unwilling to balance her weight on that leg. “Easy now, girl, you’re all good, it’s just a scratch,” I whispered.
I ran my palm along the hairy leg, showing the little horse it’s okay to set her feet down again. Sharon will be pleased to know Ariel is fine. I straightened up and rubbed Ariel’s head bonding for a moment by looking into the horse’s eyes like father had taught me. The rumbling of engines and the grating of tires on gravel caused me to turn away from the horse and focus on the gate.
I ambled towards the front yard, a smile playing across my face. Only one person remembers the anniversary of Lana’s passing, and as his car pulled to a stop, he stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Uncle Juno!” Sharon ran out of the house, rushing into Juno’s arms. He held her close for a moment and could see that pause when he looked into her pretty face and saw a painting of her mother. He planted a kiss on her forehead before handing her a tiny strand of the flower. “The rest are for mommy, aren’t they?” she asked.
“The rest are for your mom,” Juno answered, turning to shake my outstretched hand. “Lev, how are you doing, man?”
“Same as always, except every year, I fear I lose a bit of her.” Juno was nodding in understanding. His fiancée stepped out of the car at that moment, and Sharon ran into her open arms just as she had done with Juno. We moved to the side, watching the two as they had one of those conversations that remain unfathomable to you except you are right in the middle of it.
“Are you ready, Levi?” Sarah turned to me wearing empathy in her eyes.
“Ummm, yeah, sure,” I reply. Sharon ran to the porch and grabbed the bouquet of flowers we had picked just before we began our game of catch. I do not want her to forget and I try as much as I can to make sure she laughs and smiles on the days the memories of her mother loom large for both of us. She was barely two when Lana passed; she didn’t know much, but she knew just enough to remember.
We walked together, Sharon holding Sarah’s hand and Juno and I walking side by side as we made our way down to the field behind the house. The Hammock land stretches far behind and to the side. The land has been in the family since great grandfather Jeremy bought the adjoining Camdem lands. Originally, the Camdems had run the largest farm in all of Franklin. They were wine merchants who had struggled to survive the times after the Great Depression.
On the right side of the land where the Camdems had a pseudo temple raised to the Roman goddess, Venus, Grandpa Jeremy had marked a plot for our dead to be laid to rest. He thought Peter Camdem was a confused man for he hadn’t worshiped the roman goddess, but it was a fashionable item for most gothic styled houses of that era. Grandpa Jeremy was a practical man and he knew it was better for the Hammock dead to rest here than the statue of a Roman goddess who no one worshiped in these parts.
There is a certain peace to this place. In the summer, the smell of wild magnolias littered the burial lot. But now, in the fall, only dead leaves and the mild smell of dried leaves fill the air. There is a poetic quality to the image of dead leaves and the reason we gather here every year.
Sharon walked up to the marble headstone and laid her bouquet down. Juno and I stood behind her, staring at the headstone. The words were simple, here lies Lana, mother, wife, beloved. The sting of hot tears stung the back of my eyes and for a moment, a river of tears threatened to flow.
For about thirty minutes, we stood at the graveside, staring at the name on the marble headstone. In all the plans we had made for the future, we had not planned for a death but here we are.
Back home, sitting on the front porch, Juno stared ahead at the stables and barns, his mind lost on a different plane. I’ve known him all my life, it is easy to tell when he has something on his mind. Sarah sat with Sharon again; they seemed to be having one of those inaccessible conversations.
“What’s on your mind, Juno?” I asked.
“Nothing major,” he breathed deeply, turning to me with a look of concern on his face. “Don’t you think it’s time you put yourself out there again?” he asked. I chuckled. This isn’t the first time he is attempting to push me out of this rut I have fallen in. It’s been five years since Lana passed, and, in that time, I have not been with any other woman.
“I am not ready yet,” I replied.
“I am not telling you to marry anyone; I am saying you should step out more instead of burying yourself in the ranch and punishing yourself. That accident wasn’t your fault, Levi.”
I was quiet, the images trooping into my mind in quick motion. If I hadn’t been speaking on the phone, I would have seen that car swerve into the traffic. I could have stopped just in time, and she would still be alive.
“A drunk driver slamming into your car is no fault of yours; cut yourself some slack,” Juno continued. “Look, all I am saying is, get out there again and live a little. Lana wouldn’t want you to lock yourself up and hide from the world.”
“I hear you; I will think about it,” I replied. My eyes fell naturally on Sharon as he spoke and I wondered about the implications of a strange woman coming into the house. She has taken to Sarah and Juno but to bring a woman in, a woman she might one day call mom always left me paralyzed.
“She will be fine, and I don’t want you to worry too much about anything. The spring festival is this weekend; you should come. Sarah and I will be there, it is the perfect time to get out of your funk.”
“I’ve said just about the same, he doesn’t listen!” My mother said, stepping out of the house with her face beaming brightly. “It is so good to see you, Juno,” she said, giving him a warm hug. Sarah got in on that hug too and Sharon, unable to resist, rushed in and wrapped her tiny hands where she could.
“Daddy, come in for a hug!” she smiled. Everyone laughed. I got up and went over, squatting to get in on her side of the hug. “You look sad,” she said. “Don’t be sad, Daddy.”
I nodded and hugged her a little tighter before returning to my seat. It’s been a few years but days like today bring so many memories and images to mind. We had planned for forever but a mistake that would have simply earned us a speeding ticket took her life instead.
“Maybe I will see you at that festival,” I whispered to Juno before he drove off. Sharon's hand was on mine while mom stood beside me, her hand on my shoulder, pressing down softly to show she understood.
CHAPTER TWO
TRISHA
I woke up sharply, running my arms around the bed in search of him. He wasn’t there. I should have known. He hasn’t been there for over a month now. The side of my bed remained as empty as it had been for the past month. I felt cold, wrapping my arms around my body to wade off the onslaught of loneliness that often overwhelmed me each morning I wake to realize he wasn’t here anymore. My tears didn’t come then; they’d wait until I was in the bathroom, then they’d come, falling uncontrollably and sliding down my face.
Soft moans of agony escaped my tight lips as the tears began to flow slowly. I thought it was over, the painful recollection of what could have been. Earlier in the day, scrolling through my phone, I stumbled upon a picture Sally had taken of us at the 9/11 memorial, and the tears had come galloping down my cheeks. We were so happy and in love. I forced myself to sleep, and it had followed me into the dream, bringing vivid images of what we had.
It had begun at the end of my sophomore year. Deacon was not like the men I dated; he was the opposite of the macho, tall, gym brats who pushed me to achieve my body goals just to measure up. Those gym types had always left me broken and battered and I had decided to turn my eyes elsewhere, to the nerdier Deacon. Soft spoken, huge glasses that made me a little scared for the kids we might have in the future. Yes, I certainly thought about the future, I always seem to look further forward to what may come.
There was another reason he had caught my eyes at the time, he looked just like him, harboring a blend of softness and a ripple of power underneath his lean frame. It reminded me of a love I had almost found, one I lost before it could blossom.
When Deacon spoke, I could close my eyes and imagine that it was Levi. He picked his words like he was chewing on them, thinking each word over before speaking it out loud. The first time we kissed, I recalled that starry night, sitting by the river, watching the sun, when his peck caught my lips, and I felt like my world had just burst into a thousand splinters of light.
Everything Deacon did reminded me of him, and I dove right in, like the nights we went skinny dipping back home and Levi would stand by the edge of the water, unsure. I always dove right in, unwilling to be held back by all the things he always had to consider.
For four years, I went out with Deacon. He was sweet, we had great sex, and in my head, I had found names for the two kids we were going to have in the future. He had chuckled when I told him then he asked me to move in with him. This just felt like a sign and I jumped at it.
