Drawn to You (Miller Lodge Romance), page 1
Drawn to You
A Miller Lodge Romance
Jadelynn Asher
Copyright © 2021 by Jadelynn Asher
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Melissa Proffitt
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
About the Author
This book is dedicated to those in our lives who are struggling with addictions, big and small. We see you. We love you. And we wish we could do more.
1
Daniel squinted against the brightness of the morning sun as he sat next to his young son, Joey, in the middle of the woodchips at the edge of the playground. Joey giggled, filling the back of his plastic dump truck with chips and pouring them into a pile. Daniel shielded his eyes with his hand, looking around to find Trenton and eventually spotting his older son in the line to go down the big red curly slide. The weather was nice, warm for Colorado in May, but it wasn’t hot enough to make the plastic equipment uncomfortable, and the slide was very popular with the five- to eight-year-old crowd.
Daniel lowered his hand and wished, for the third or fourth time, that he had brought his sunglasses. He was glad his sons were having fun, even though it was only guilt and two determined children poking at him all morning that had got them here. Last night had been the latest in a series of rough nights and this morning hadn’t been very great either.
He’d been doing better, a lot better, but then he’d found another box of Karen’s clothing tucked in the closet under the stairs. The scent of her perfume and the sight of her favorite fall sweater had sent him tumbling into a late-night whiskey-fueled lament.
Now, the fresh air and sunshine helped to ease the aftertaste of whiskey in his mouth, though he wished it would do more for his pounding headache. The old saying about the only way not to be hung over was to keep drinking was a crock of shit, and he swore to himself, again, that he’d dump the hard liquor and stick to no more than one beer a night.
“Dad!”
Trenton’s voice pierced Daniel’s self-recrimination, and he forced his attention back to the here and now, where it belonged. He had to be present. He’d deal with the box later. He waved and tried to smile as Trenton climbed to the top of the slide and sat down. Daniel glanced at Joey and then back to Trenton in time to see another little boy climbing up the bottom of the slide. Every adult knew climbing the slide was a terrible idea, but every kid had to try it. He yelled at Trenton to stop, but Trenton had already pushed off and it was too late. Trenton swung around the slide’s first curve and collided with the other child, throwing them both over the edge and onto the ground. It wasn’t a long drop, but it didn’t have to be.
Adrenaline sharpened the moment into crystal clarity, and Daniel snatched Joey into his arms, running for the pile of tangled limbs and crying.
Daniel knelt in the scattered wood chips, “Trent, it’s okay. I got you, buddy.” He tried to keep Joey close while working with another parent to untangle the two upset children.
“My leg! Dad, it hurts! It hurts!”
He looked over Trenton’s leg, and his gaze stopped when it reached his little boy’s ankle. Trenton’s foot was turned oddly back on itself, twisted in his shoe, obviously broken. Daniel’s stomach dropped in numb horror as he lifted his son onto his lap, his alcohol-fuddled thoughts trying to process what had happened. Despite the fact nothing was wrong with him, Joey started wailing too.
Daniel clenched his eyes shut and fought to remain calm. He cradled his boys, wishing, not for the first time, that their mother was here. Karen would know what to do. Karen had been a wonderful mother. She had always known just what to do. They would have taken care of this together. But she wasn’t here, and his little boys needed him.
“It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.” Daniel opened his eyes, waited for his vision to settle, and reached for the keys he didn’t have. He needed to drive Trenton to the hospital. He stopped at the thought as cold reality hit him. He didn’t have a car here. Even if he had, he couldn’t reliably see straight, even when he squinted. He couldn’t safely drive his son anywhere.
Guilt and shame threatened to crush him, but he forced them away. He could beat himself up later, but he had to do something now. He cleared his throat, looking for another adult. He didn’t have enough hands to juggle a phone and the children. “I…I left the car at home. Please. Call 911.”
The setting sun came through the slats of the thick wooden blinds, painting the hospital waiting room in shades of pale gold and pink. Daniel sat on the edge of an uncomfortable chair, the green vinyl cover squeaking and releasing the smell of hospital-grade cleaner every time he shifted. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and burying his face in his shaking hands. The cafeteria sandwich he’d eaten sat heavily in his stomach, not doing nearly enough to make him feel better
He dug his nails against his forehead, trying to rub away the pain and the fear. Words like surgery, and screws, and recovery time chased each other around his aching head. Trenton was going to recover, but surgery was absolutely necessary, and there was a long recovery ahead of them all.
Daniel had called his neighbor, Mrs. Knighting, to come and get Joey. She babysat for them often and was a familiar face. A hospital waiting room was no place for a three-year-old. Daniel was glad she’d been available, but with nothing but waiting to focus on, guilt threatened to drown him. Maybe if he hadn’t been so buzzed, he could have done something more to keep the accident from happening. He certainly would have been able to bring Trenton to the hospital himself instead of all of them taking what he knew would be an expensive ambulance ride.
Maybe his mom was right. Maybe the boys should go live with her and Dad for a while so Daniel could get his life together. The very thought was a gut punch, and he veered away from seriously considering it. He was their father, dammit. It’d been over two years since Karen had passed away. He needed to prove he could do this on his own, without his parents as a crutch. He’d failed to do enough for Karen. He couldn’t fail their children too.
Soft footsteps approached, and Daniel opened his eyes to see a pair of white sneakers. He followed the sneakers up to scrubs and eventually the doctor’s face. He didn’t remember if he’d met the man in the emergency room or if he was the surgeon who had shown up later. Everything had happened so fast and in a sea of scrubs and surgical masks it was hard to be certain.
“Mr. Miller?”
Daniel nodded.
“I’m Doctor Finch, Trenton’s surgeon. We met earlier. Everything went very well. The break in his ankle is clean, and I think it will heal nicely. He’ll need some physical therapy for a while, but that’s something we can talk about later. Kids heal fast.”
Daniel nodded again, the silence of the hospital drawing out between the two men. Finally, Dr. Finch sat in the chair next to Daniel. His dark eyes were kind in his brown face. “It’s a hard thing raising kids. Especially on your own.”
“Yeah. Especially then.”
Dr. Finch adjusted the stethoscope that hung around his neck. “There are things we report when it comes to injuries and kids, but I’ve read the paper work and I don’t think you’re responsible for this. It was an accident. You’re lucky, and he’s going to be all right.”
“It happened so fast.”
“Accidents usually do.” Dr. Finch leaned forward, resting his forearms against his legs. “The report also says you were brought by ambulance. A good choice if you’ve been drinking.”
Daniel jerked before he could stop himself then took in a deep breath. “Only a little. Nothing since this morning, but…” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to risk driving.”
“Do your mornings start with alcohol very often?”
“No. It was just a really bad week.” The admission was soft, carrying no further than the two chairs.
“Bad weeks happen, but your kids have to come first.” Dr. Finch fished around in his pocket, coming up with a card. “Here, take this.”
Daniel stared at the card, then took it with trembling fingers. There were two neat lines of text in a bold font.
Todd Star.
Addiction recovery and therapy.
An email address and phone number were written in plain text under the name.
“Why are you doing this? You’re not my doctor. You don t even know me.”
“No. But, I know what it’s like to be a single parent. Those dark circles around your eyes used to be mine, so I do have some empathy for your situation. Even more importantly, I am your son’s doctor and his advocate, and I believe it’s best for him to have a sober father. I don’t want to see you or your kids in here again. So, you get a referral and a shot to get your head together. If something like this happens again, I’ll have no choice but to file with DCPS.” Dr. Finch’s tone never wavered as he offered both help and damnation in one. He rose from his seat. “We’ll keep Trenton overnight to make sure everything is draining right and the screws don’t move, but he shouldn’t have to stay long after that. He’s up in the children’s ward in room 312. He’s sleeping and you should go get some rest too. I’ll be back to talk to you in the morning. I expect you to be sober.”
Daniel nodded, fighting back the cacophony of emotions and exhaustion that assaulted him. The only thing he could think of that would be worse than losing Karen was losing the boys. He couldn’t keep pretending he was okay. Denial, as the silly saying went, was not just a river in Egypt. He couldn’t deny he needed help. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “I will be. I promise. I… Thank you.”
2
Valerie pulled up to the little park, grateful that the parking lot wasn’t crowded yet. Most Saturdays during the late spring and summer were pleasant times for visiting the city parks, but that meant dodging a lot of people. She got out of her car and stretched, then popped the trunk. Bright blankets cradled a large painting which looked like it hadn’t moved at all in the trip from the school. She smiled and carefully pulled the painting from inside.
She’d covered the large canvas in brown paper, but hadn’t secured it with tape yet, just some twine. She wanted Todd to take a look and make sure he was happy with the finished product before she taped down the wrapping. The painting was a collage of smaller paintings of each of Todd and Emily’s six grandchildren, and it’d been a delightful challenge to create. Valerie had taken pictures of the front of Todd’s red-brick home and combined it with a mountain backdrop, then sketched in the people surrounding the home. He’d given her a lot of artistic freedom in how she designed the painting, and her hopes that he’d like it danced around her stomach. She loved painting commissions, but she worried about people liking them the most.
Valerie crossed the thick grass and walked behind the playground, looking around until she spotted Todd lounging on one of the park benches. She turned her steps in his direction and started laughing when she saw the ducks and a large goose crowding the far side of the bench.
“Are you feeding bread to the ducks again?”
Todd turned at the sound of her voice and grinned. “Are you kidding? My grandson would never forgive me if I did that. I’m feeding them frozen peas.” He waved a hand at an empty bag of peas, discarded on the bench next to him. “I don’t think they like it as much as they liked the bread I used to bring them, but Keith is certain feeding ducks bread is like duck murder. I read up on it. It’s not murder. It’s more like feeding them cake, and they get fat and lazy.” He patted his ample stomach. “Not necessarily a bad thing.”
Valerie laughed and sat on the other end of the bench. “I don’t think anyone could call you lazy. Just…umm…nicely padded.”
Todd snorted. “Which is a nice way of saying that I’m fat. Fortunately, Emily likes me this way.” His gaze came to rest on the covered painting. “I’m not even going to pretend to make small talk, Val. I’m dying to see what you came up with. It’s Emily’s birthday in two days, and this is the big present, along with everyone coming over for a surprise lunch.”
“No pressure, huh?” Valerie worked the twine knots and carefully folded the paper back, letting the sunlight pour onto the painting. “I can make small adjustments if needed, but this should pretty much be it.”
There was a long silence as Todd studied the painting. Valerie tried not to hold her breath. She knew it was good work, but art was always subjective. Just because it was good work didn’t mean it was what he wanted.
Todd nodded and then smiled broadly. “That is stunning. Truly stunning. She’s going to love it.” He gently touched the edge of the canvas. “I wasn’t sure how you were going to work everything in, but it all came together very well. This will be perfect on the wall over the piano.”
“I’m so glad. I liked it, but there’s always that moment of utter doubt when you show something to a buyer for the first time.”
“Well, you’ve more than earned your money. I still think you’re wasted as a high school teacher. You could make a full-time career with your painting.”
Valerie snorted and leaned back against the warm wooden bench. “No way. I like getting a consistent paycheck.”
“An art teacher’s paycheck.”
“A consistent art teacher’s paycheck and summers off to ride around the mountains and take pictures and work on my own art.” She grinned. They’d had this argument before, but it always came up again. She appreciated that Todd thought of her work so highly, but she liked the life-work balance she had, and she loved teaching, almost as much as she loved painting.
“It’s true you can’t knock the hours. Which community classes are you doing this year? I haven’t seen a schedule yet. Whoever runs the community website needs to get help, possibly from a teenager who knows what they’re doing. It’s a mess.”
“I can’t argue that. I’ve got two classes on the schedule right now. A landscape class for sure, and an advanced figure drawing course later in the summer if there’s enough interest.” She tilted her head at him. Todd worked as an addiction recovery therapist and sometimes sent her students who were interested in art as part of their recovery. She loved the idea of helping people by engaging their creative brain, and the students were always interesting people. “Do you have someone to send to me?”
“Not today, but springtime always brings more clients looking for help, so I like knowing my options.”
“I’ll send you a copy of what I know. Last time I looked, I still had open slots in landscaping. That class will start up the week after school, so I just have to know by then.”
“Great.” He nodded toward the painting. “I hate to compliment and run, but my lunch break is over, and I need to get back to the office. If you’ll help me get this wrapped back up, I’ll take it with me and send your payment from there.”
“Sure. Just don’t leave it in your car while you’re working. This heat will warp it and then you’ll be up a creek.”
“Without a paddle, I’m sure.”
“Exactly.”
“Dad! Dad, I need you!”
Daniel grabbed the laundry basket off of the dryer and carried it down the hall, stepping over blocks and Legos as he hurried toward the cry. Connor had only left ten minutes ago. What could be wrong already? He stepped into the front room where the couch had been turned into Trenton’s bed until the boy was recovered enough to navigate the stairs. It was a mess of toys, empty juice boxes, and half eaten sandwiches, despite Daniel’s best efforts.
Trenton was sitting up on the couch, a horrified expression on his face.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Trenton raised a shaking finger, pointing it at his younger brother. “He…he ate my Nutella sandwich, Dad!”
Joey looked up from where he sat on the floor, his face covered in incriminating evidence. “Sandwich yummy.”
Trenton, usually the most calm and collected five-year-old kid Daniel knew, burst into tears.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
Daniel put the laundry down on an end table, squishing a lamp between the basket and the wall, and sat on the couch, gathering Trenton into his arms. He’d spent a lot of time with one or both children on top of him. Sometimes it seemed like being a big pillow was the best comfort he had to offer. “Hey. It’s not a big deal. I can make more sandwiches.”
