The Unlucky Ones, page 1
The Unlucky Ones, Copyright © 2019 Stacey Marie Brown
Smashwords Edition, License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold 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 return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and her crazy friends. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It cannot be re-sold, reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
All rights reserved.
Published by: Twisted Fairy Publishing Inc.
Cover by: Hang Le Designs (http://www.byhangle.com/)
Developmental Editor Jordan Rosenfeld(http://jordanrosenfeld.net)
Edited by Hollie (www.hollietheeditor.com)
Layout by Judi Fennell at www.formatting4U.com
ALSO BY STACEY MARIE BROWN
Contemporary Romance
Buried Alive
Shattered Love (Blinded Love #1)
Broken Love (Blinded Love #2)
Twisted Love (Blinded Love #3)
Paranormal Romance
Darkness of Light
(Darkness Series #1)
Fire in the Darkness
(Darkness Series #2)
Beast in the Darkness
(An Elighan Dragen Novelette)
Dwellers of Darkness
(Darkness Series #3)
Blood Beyond Darkness
(Darkness Series #4)
West
(A Darkness Series Novel)
City in Embers
(Collector Series #1)
The Barrier Between
(Collector Series #2)
Across the Divide
(Collector Series #3)
From Burning Ashes
(Collector Series #4)
The Crown of Light
(Lightness Saga #1)
Lightness Falling
(Lightness Saga #2)
The Fall of the King
(Lightness Saga #3)
Rise from the Embers
(Lightness Saga #4)
The Monster Ball:
A Paranormal Romance Anthology
Table of 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
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Books by Stacey Marie Brown
About the Author
“When the soul suffers too much, it develops a taste for misfortune.”
―Albert Camus, The First Man
“There’s nothing worse than meeting the perfect person at the wrong time.”
Leaves brushed in deep crimson and brown floated and twirled to the ground. They kissed the earth in a gentle death, sighing in relief their time was up.
I wanted to be one of them. Floating away into a peaceful oblivion.
“Devon?” A woman’s gentle voice tugged me back into the room where I sat, but I continued to stare out, not ready to let go of this last moment of serenity. Reality gnawed at my edges with a warning it was about to run my ass over like a freight train. “Devon.” A hand touched mine, and I jerked my head, busting the wall between me and the devastation I had held at arm’s length. The shock and sorrow churned my mind into white noise.
“I know this must be a shock. But I am here for you. Don’t be afraid to ask any questions.”
I pinched my mouth together in resentment at the blonde woman I had known all my life. Her brown eyes closed with sympathy as she leaned nearer to me, her white doctor’s coat brushing my knees. Jocelyn Walters, now Dr. Jocelyn Matheson, had graduated the same year as my mom, married the guy who ran the lone grocery store in town. My mom hadn’t run in the same circle as Jocelyn, being more of a wild child, but everybody in this town knew each other. You couldn’t piss without everyone knowing.
“Are you sure?” I croaked out in a whisper, though I knew in my gut it was true. I’d seen the signs for some time but brushed them off, making excuses for every episode. I tried not to think about how we lost my grandmother.
Dr. Matheson leaned back onto her desk, her eyebrows furrowed in sympathy.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” She tugged at her doctor’s coat. “It’s extremely rare for someone so young, but not unprecedented, especially with your family history. We think it’s a form of the disease called familial Alzheimer’s. Most often someone has a grandparent or parent who was also diagnosed with it at an earlier age.” She sighed, this being hard on her too. “She has early-onset, which is quite unusual. Only about five percent with Alzheimer’s develop symptoms in their 40s and 50s.”
I stared down at my hands, blinking back the tears, feeling the weight of taking this news alone. My older sister blamed her morning sickness and fatigue on why she couldn’t make it. Bullshit. She wasn’t throwing up. She just didn’t want to come, leaving me to be the responsible one as usual.
“I have reading material for you, so you’ll know what to look for. How to respond.” Dr. Matheson grunted as she reached for the pamphlets behind her on the desk in her tiny white office. One framed picture of her family sat on the desk, and huge filing cabinets lined the wall behind the paper-cluttered desk.
She probably only used this office when she had to deliver bad news in private. When the nurse called me and walked me down the stark hallways to this room, my gut screamed I should run. Deep down, I knew what the results would be, but those few moments before…I could still live in denial. Hope.
My fingers wrapped around the brochures, filling my lungs with cement. By taking them, I felt as if I were agreeing to what was going to happen, to the devastation that would tug my small family further into hell.
My gaze wandered over the large bold letters at the top of the papers. Dealing with Alzheimer’s.
Tears burned my eyes.
“I know it seems scary right now, but your mother is in the beginning stages.” Dr. Matheson tucked a strand of her shoulder-length hair back into her blunt-cut ponytail. “On average, a person with Alzheimer’s lives eight to ten years after diagnosis, but there have been cases where they lived as short as three years but as long as twenty years. Usually, early-onset is a more aggressive form, which can lead to a more rapid decline. But, Devon, there are treatments now that can improve or slow its development and might be able to help her live longer.”
Live? Is this what you call it when your own mind was being ripped from you.
I peered down at my hands, my long dark brown hair shielding my expression from her, a twitch of pain fluttering over my face. Those cases, we all knew, were the one percent of one percent. My family didn’t have that kind of luck.
My father was not quite a year in the grave—shot in the line of duty. My sister barely made it through her first year of community college before getting knocked up by her abusive boyfriend and dropping out. My mom lost her job at the bakery a few months after losing my dad. Money was a constant problem; some months our cable and heat were turned off.
We had never been well off, but we’d never hurt like this. During the past year everything had declined for us, especially our financial situation. Chief Lee, the leader of the Native American tribe my father was raised in, took care of Dad’s burial, his spirit and body back on tribal land up in the mountains, but the bills stretched far beyond his funeral. As generous as the residents of our town were, leaving meals on our porch for us couldn’t pay the bills.
Almost eighteen and a senior in high school, it all fell on my shoulders to keep everything together.
After we lost my dad, I thought my mom’s confusion and lack of memory were from grief. Why I had pushed away what I’d known in my gut.
But no.
She had a disease that would slowly shred every memory and most of her bodily functions from her, tearing her apart along with us. Jocelyn told me the disease can go undiagnosed for several years.
“Your mom knows, but I wanted to talk to you alone.” Jocelyn tilted her head, sympathy radiating from her. It was no secret I would be the one to help my mother. Amelia, though older, was never the responsible or compassionate one. If she could get out of doing anything, she would. Responsibility fell to me as long as I could remember. “I can understand how devastating this news is. And you might have a lot of questions and concerns you’d rather your mother didn’t hear. You can
Silence.
“I’m here, Devon. Right now I can help with any concerns you have, but there will be a time when her disease will progress past what I am capable of dealing with.”
Jocelyn was a family practice physician. Our miniscule town didn’t have any specialized hospitals or doctors. For that we had to head to bigger cities.
The leaflets sat on my lap as I rolled over everything. I knew sadness, anger, fear, and a million other emotions were somewhere inside, but I didn’t feel any of them.
Just numb.
“I want to go home.” The papers crunched in my hands as I stood up. Every bone seemed to have doubled in weight since I stepped in here.
“I understand.” Jocelyn nodded, rising from her desk to her full height, her head barely reaching my nose. I was a little above average height, my five-foot-eight frame was muscular and lean from track. Running was my escape, where I could shut off the world and forget my life. “Process everything and if you need to talk, please call. Anytime. You have my cell. I know this must be so difficult for you and your sister…after your father.” She placed a hand on her chest. “We all miss him so much.”
My teeth thrust into my bottom lip. So do I. Sheriff Jason Thorpe had been the kind who volunteered on his days off, would stop for a duck and her ducklings crossing the road and block traffic to make sure they got safely to the river. Then return every day to feed them. He was fair and compassionate and didn’t see every case as black or white. He took into account human mistakes and the situations causing them. He cared about everyone.
In this tiny town everyone had adored him, but sometimes I had resented it. I disliked all the weekends he chose doing his duty instead of spending time with his daughters. With me.
Now that he was gone, I saw him more for the man the town had. He’d been fit and handsome at fifty, which made his death even more cruel. He’d gone on a domestic abuse call, where the man had been high on PCP and shot him point-blank as my dad tried to get the abused wife safely away from him.
The role of head sheriff had gone to Dad’s young brother, Gavin. My uncle, five years younger, followed in his big brother’s footsteps. But Uncle Gavin was a stickler for the rules. To him, everything was completely black or white.
The door creaked open, and I turned toward the exit. Jody, the nurse, entered the room escorting my mom.
Mom had aged in this last year beyond her forty-seven years. Wearing baggy gray sweats and jacket, her once long silky blonde hair was now streaked with a few strands of gray and cut up to her shoulders. She was my height and curvy but had always kept herself fit…until my dad’s death. Now the muscles were slowly dissolving away, her eyes and forehead lined with wrinkles, her eyes dull. She’d given up on everything except her several glasses of wine each night.
“Devon.” Mom’s face crumpled. “I am so sorry.”
Her eyes flooded with heartbreak. She staggered to me, her arms wrapping around me. Her pale skin contrasted with my darker skin and hair. My mom looked every bit of her Norwegian origins. Amelia got the darker skin and eyes like Dad but seemed to try and be more like the Norwegian side, dyeing her hair a blondish color and complaining about her brown eyes. I liked being similar to my dad. I was proud of my Native heritage. The only things I got from Mom were her hazel eyes, freckles, and height.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. She needs you to be strong.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” I crushed her to me, needing to comfort and be comforted. Even though she hadn’t been present this last year, she was still my mom. She was supposed to take care of my sister and me, telling us everything would be all right.
No more.
It would probably land on me even more to keep this family going with Amelia pregnant. College would have to wait. My dreams of doing a semester abroad in Italy or South America crumbled into dust.
“Because. This is happening to you too.” She pulled away, tears leaking down the corners of her eyes. “I am going to be such a weight on you. I can’t do that to you.” She gripped my face, her chest wracked with agony. “What about college? A job? Oh god…” She moved away, fear widening her huge eyes. “Will I know my own granddaughter when she’s born? Will I be able to go to the park with her unsupervised? Witness my daughters getting married? I will drain you. Physically and emotionally. And the money? We don’t have money for the care I’ll need.” Her arms waved around frantically, her feet pacing like a caged animal.
“Mom, stop.” I swallowed. The nurse moved in behind her, trying to soothe her. “You are not a drain. We will figure it out.”
“Figure it out? I’m slowly losing my mind. Soon I will not remember you, much less how to eat or breathe.” She wailed, shoving the nurse away from her.
“Alyssa, let’s sit down.” Jocelyn swiftly cut in between us, taking Mom’s hands.
“How would you feel, Jocelyn, if you knew you were going to lose everything that makes you, you?” Fear and anguish twisted her face. “I am forty-seven and I have Alzheimer’s. How fair is that? Was it not enough I lost my husband, my heart? But I must lose my mind while my girls watch?” Jocelyn bundled up my mother as she crumpled to the floor, sobs wracking her body. Strings of saliva sprayed from her mouth as she yowled.
My throat swelled with torment, watching my mom fall apart. Inside I was walking closer to the ledge, about to fall over with her, but I tried to push it away, knowing she needed me to hold it together.
Be strong.
“She needs something to relax her.” She stroked Mom’s head as I watched the tension drift out of my mother’s body. “I will send you home with something to help her sleep or relax when she starts to get like this.” Jocelyn turned to glance at me. “This is a very normal response to this news. The pills will be temporary, until you all can start dealing with this.”
Dealing with this? I think I need a bottle of the pills myself.
The drive home was silent. Mom stared vacantly out the window and walked like a zombie into her bedroom when we got to our small three-bedroom house. The house was built in the seventies. Dingy brown shag rug in the living room was so worn down it no longer looked like shag carpet, and the avocado-colored stove was with scuffed light-yellow laminate counters. Not much had changed since it was built, making it always feel grimy, no matter how much you cleaned.
Dirty dishes Amelia left in the sink were still there but, of course, she wasn’t. I had tried calling and texting her a dozen times, but she was off in her own world. Probably at Zak’s. Even though he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the baby, she still clung to the idea she could change his mind. He was a massive dick. I hated him with every fiber of my being. My sister was selfish but not cruel. He was the nasty kind of egotist.
My boyfriend was the opposite. Sweet, loving, romantic. Cory and I started dating in ninth grade, both captains of our track team. We spent a lot of time together, and eventually at an away competition he kissed me. We had been together ever since.
Tall, lean, with dark hair and eyes, big ears and smile, he was cute because of his personality, but by no means gorgeous. He was popular because he had a thing about him, a good nature which drew people in. Always happy, he had a smile that could make your day feel lighter. How many times his smile had taken away the horrors of my life.
All I wanted now was to feel his arms around me, hear his voice saying it would be okay, but he was four hours away at a track competition. My coach didn’t even ask if I was participating. This last year, my extracurricular activities had been replaced by a waitressing job at the local diner. My friend Jasmine took my spot as captain.
