When September Ends Read online

  When September Ends

  Book #2 - September Series

  By Andrea Smith,

  writing as Graysen Blue

  Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved.

  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 information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the authors.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except as permitted, under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the authors.

  Violation of copyright, by domestic or foreign entities, is punishable by law, which may include imprisonment, a fine, or both.

  This book is intended for mature audiences only.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9861385-2-2 (E-book)

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9861385-6-0 (Paperback)

  Contents

  Titlepage

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  When September Ends Playlist

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  “Silent Whisper” Synopsis

  Excerpt “Silent Whisper”

  Excerpt “Past Tense, Future Perfect”

  About Andrea Smith

  Acknowledgements

  Cover Design - Kim Black, TOJ Publishing Services

  Editing - Ashley Blaschak Stout

  Formatting - Erik Gevers

  As always, special thanks go out to Catherine Wright, my PA and the rest of my loyal street team. Both Graysen and Andrea appreciate all that you do on a daily basis.

  And to those who wonder about pen names and the use of them, trust me when I say that they are quite prevalent in the writing community for all sorts of reasons. I assure all of you, there was no clandestine reason behind my assuming this name for the purpose of writing New Adult Fiction. As always though, the perceived reality on Goodreads, almost always is stranger than fiction.

  When September Ends

  Playlist

  Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day

  Leave The Night On - Sam Hunt

  Return To Me - Joey Gian

  Tell Her No - Juice Newton

  September - Daughtry

  Make You Miss Me - Sam Hunt

  God Will - Lyle Lovett

  Because the Night - Patti Smith

  Goodbye To You - Scandal

  Christmas, Baby Please Come Home - U2

  Prologue

  My ten-year-old daughter, Scout, is officially not speaking to me. She hasn’t said more than twenty words since our drive to the airport, the flight from Meridian, Mississippi to Fort Smith, Arkansas, and now in my truck on the way to our home.

  She’s angry.

  She thinks I’m the ultimate butthead, even though she hasn’t officially labeled me that verbally…yet I know my daughter well enough to know she’s labeled me that in her mind.

  “Scout,” I address her glancing over, “You’re gonna have to talk to me about this sooner or later, don’t you think?”

  She’s gazing out the window at the late August cornfields not yet harvested. “No, Dad, we don’t ever have to talk about it, I guess.”

  So, that’s how she is gonna be about this? She’ll simply keep it bottled up inside and promise not to dwell on it because if she ignores it, then eventually it all goes away. That’s faulty logic, and I’m a perfect example of why that won’t work.

  She gets this trait from me.

  It’s what I tried—and failed—to do over five years ago when her mother, my wife, Libby, deserted all of us.

  How well has that worked out?

  “Scout, you know as well as I do that Lib—Sarah is better off staying with your grandparents in her current…condition.”

  “She’s my mother.”

  “I know she is, darlin’, but she doesn’t remember any of that, you see? She doesn’t even know her real name. She thinks she’s Sarah Smith. She doesn’t remember having you…or September either, honey.”

  She turns to look over at me, “I know all of that, Dad. But how will she ever remember us if she doesn’t come home? I mean, if she’s around us it might make her remember.”

  In a ten-year-old mind, it’s as simple as that. People get injured—in Libby’s case, beaten and left for dead—and then they magically get better, and everything’s back to normal.

  Except that isn’t reality.

  It’s not even close.

  I decide my daughter is old enough to understand, if I explain it to her. Isn’t that my job? I sigh, and choose my words carefully.

  “Baby, I know you want that to happen. Hell, everyone in this situation would like that to happen but, according to her doctors, the odds are that it won’t. And the other thing,” I continue, coming to the difficult part, “is that even if it did it still wouldn’t change a thing. Your ma and I, well, we aren’t in love with one another anymore, do you understand? She left because she wasn’t in love with me anymore. I wasn’t what she wanted.”

  She’s back to gazing out of the window of my truck. “But maybe now you are what she wants, Dad. I mean, she was all packed and ready to go with us, but you wouldn’t let her.”

  She’s never going to let me forget that awkward moment at her grandparents, Ruth and Henry’s place, when Libby—now Sarah, came downstairs all packed and declaring she was ready to go home with us.

  Fuck me.

  I thought back to that horrible moment when all eyes turned to look at me, waiting for me to embrace the idea and allow it to happen, for me to say, “Sure Sarah, after all, we’re still married. Let’s just pick up where we left off before you left us as ‘Libby’ that day back in 2006. I can forgive you for taking off while I was at work, leaving your thirteen-year-old daughter, September, behind to take care of our four-year-old daughter. Telling September to give me the news.”

  September.

  My September who, by the way, appears to be giving me the silent treatment worse than what Scout is at the moment. But can I really blame her?

  Hell no.

  I plan on rectifying that as soon as we get home. I’ve kept September dangling like someone I’m not sure of when, in fact, I am sure of her, and I’m sure of the love that I have for her. Why haven’t I made that more apparent? Why have I been so fucking standoffish with making my love and commitment to her public knowledge?

  She’s not my daughter. She’s going on nineteen and there’s no law that’s been broken. We fucking fell in love with one another. But I’m the one that’s delayed taking the next step
in our relationship. I’m the one that hasn’t let Scout know about the change in my relationship with her half-sister. It’s all on me. I’ve made it seem seedy and trashy, and I mentally have been kicking my ass about that all week.

  “Dad?”

  “Oh, sorry honey. I got distracted. What was the question?”

  “Never mind,” she grumbles.

  “Hey, listen. I’m sure Sarah settled down as soon as we were out of the driveway. Is that what’s worrying you?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “She was crying, and I felt sorry for her, I guess.”

  “Well honey, I tried as best as I could to be nice about it, didn’t I? There’s no reason you can’t give her a call as soon as we get home, how’s that?”

  She nods, but remains silent.

  The fuck? After all eyes had turned to me this morning as we prepared to leave, I took it to mean that I was officially assigned the job of being resident asshole of the moment.

  “Sarah,” I had said, trying to keep my tone soothing, “You need to stay here with your parents. Henry and Ruth are going to be taking care of you just like they have been over the past several days. This is your home now—with them, not with us.”

  “I don’t understand,” she had whispered, her eyes tearing up. “I thought you said he was my husband, Mama? And Scout—she’s my daughter, isn’t she? That’s what you told me.” Her voice had gotten louder, her tone accusatory.

  Ruth had quickly gone to her side, trying to console her and explain that she needed to get better first. She had steered Libby back up the stairs, the sounds of her crying had floated down to where the rest of us stood in silence.

  Why the fuck they continued to lie to her was beyond my comprehension.

  “Just go,” Henry had said, waving his hand at me dismissively. “We’ll take care of her since you won’t.”

  “Now wait just one fuckin’ minute,” I had snapped, but once I glimpsed the look on Scout’s face, I knew this wasn’t the time or the place to get into it with Henry. I had already made number one on his shit list when he’d figured out that September and I were involved.

  “Come on Scout,” I had ordered, taking her suitcase. “Let’s go.”

  And that was the start of the silent treatment I’d been getting from my daughter ever since.

  “Scout, once we get home, I think it’s time we all have a family discussion.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, quirking her brow.

  “I mean that you, me and September need to have a talk about this whole situation. There are some things that need to be said, and I think you’re old enough to hear them, okay?”

  “Is it about Sarah?” she asks.

  “Well, partly I guess. It’s mostly about the three of us though.”

  “Okay,” she replies, “I want to tell September about Mama anyway. About how nice she treated me and how soft she talks and all.”

  “I think that will be nice,” I lie, wondering how that bit of information will go over with September.

  But the truth is, September needs to face the fact that her ma is back, and not the same as when she last saw her. I need to make sure that September realizes that none of this changes my love for her or our plans for a future together.

  I am committed to not spending one more night without her in my bed, taking her rightful place beside me, and that can only happen by explaining to Scout that we are in love, and that it is a beautiful thing.

  Nothing to be ashamed of; nothing to hide.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as we pull into the driveway. I’m so fucking glad to be home. I feel as if a giant weight has been lifted with the realization that soon everything will be out in the open and nothing can come between what September and I have together.

  I will not let that happen.

  September’s car isn’t in the driveway, and then I remember that this is one of the days she pulls a shift at her job.

  “Where’s September?” Scout asks as she realizes her car is not here.

  “She’s at work, baby. She’ll be home around eight, don’t worry.”

  We grab our luggage and I unlock the door, stepping aside to let Scout in and instructing her to take her suitcase to her room and start unpacking.

  “I have to pee first,” she hollers, taking off, and I feel a small shred of hope that our news just might be what Scout needs to get her out of the funk she’s been in since leaving Meridian and her mother behind.

  Once inside the kitchen, I set my luggage down, and I don’t miss the fact that September’s cell phone is on the kitchen table. It’s not like her to leave for work without it.

  I pick it up and quickly scroll through the recent activity and see there’s nothing on it except for the text messages I sent from Henry and Ruth’s, along with the missed calls I had made to her.

  What the?

  Everything else on her cell has been wiped. Did she get a new phone?

  And then my eyes land on the set of house keys that had also been left on the table. The key ring had the dangling “S” on it.

  “S” for September.

  I quickly move from the kitchen, and head down the hallway to where her bedroom is located. I open the door, my eyes scan the room and it immediately registers that she’s gone. She’s left. As if I need further proof, I take the few steps to where the closet is located, and slide back one of the doors. Some empty hangers are all that’s left.

  “Dad,” Scout says from the doorway, her voice sounds as if she’s ready to cry, “September is gone. She left a note on my pillow.”

  And then the tears she hasn’t allowed herself to shed break loose as I turn and go to her.

  “Let me see, baby,” I say, taking the piece of paper she has clutched in her hand.

  I scan the note quickly.

  Hey Scout,

  I left for college and wanted to make sure you knew that I’ll miss you like crazy! I decided it would be best for me to live on campus so that I can make new friends here. As soon as I get situated, I’ll stop by to see you, okay? It might take me a little bit to get used to my schedule, so don’t think I’ve forgotten you because that won’t happen. I promise!

  Love you,

  September

  Scout is sobbing now, and I’m pretty sure it’s more about September than it is about Libby, but I’m sure it’s a combination of everything she’s been through these past few days.

  “Hush, baby,” I console, picking her up in my arms. “Everything is going to be fine, honey. I’ll find out why September decided she wanted to live on campus. I’ll fix this, I promise.”

  Her face is buried against my shoulder, and I can feel the wetness of her tears soaking through my tee shirt. She nods and tries her best to quiet her sobs. “Okay, but Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What if September doesn’t want to come back here to live? Will you make her?”

  I have no answer to that question and, then I realize, I have no right to make promises to Scout like the one I’ve just made. How can I promise to fix something that I’m not sure can be fixed? I’ve no clue what prompted September to leave us like this.

  That’s not the truth. Maybe it was the fact that I was dragging my feet with going public with our relationship that made her feel insecure.

  I just needed for her to be patient. I just wanted to make sure everything was right before taking that step.

  Seriously?

  Even I don’t believe my lame excuse.

  Chapter 1

  Scout is spending the day and night with her friend, Amber, from down the street. I had phoned Jeff, Amber’s dad, last night after Scout had gone to bed and asked if they could keep her due to some pressing personal business I had to handle. I provided no details.

  I need to look for September and find out why the hell she’s gone. I’m not going to lose her. She’s mine. Maybe I hadn’t made that abundantly clear to her, but as soon as I find her, I will. There will be no doubt in her mind as to the depth
of my love for her.

  My first stop is the restaurant where she works. I wait impatiently as the hostess on duty had gone to get the manager. I’m not sure why the manager has to answer the question I asked. It seems simple enough to me.

  When is September Dawson’s next shift scheduled?

  I mean, what the hell?

  Finally, a twenty-something dude comes out from the dining room and sees me standing by the cash register. His nametag reads Scott Winters, Manager. The name is familiar to me, probably because September has mentioned him in the past.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yeah, Scott. I was just trying to find out when September is scheduled to work again.”

  “And you would be?”

  Dude is starting to piss me off. “I’m Jesse Ryan.”

  “Oh. Her stepdad?”

  Fucker.

  “Yeah.”

  “September doesn’t work here any longer.”

  “What? Why?”

  He shrugs and takes on a bit of cockiness with me, which makes me wonder what exactly he’s heard about me. “She quit a few days ago. She didn’t bother to give notice. She just called in and left a message with Lisa, the night manager, said she was moving out of town. That’s all I know.”

  “What do you mean, that’s all you know? She had to leave some information…what about her last paycheck?”

  “She picked it up this morning.”

  Fuck!

  I leave the restaurant and head over to the U of A campus in Fort Smith. Classes aren’t starting for a couple of weeks, but I know September has been registered for the fall term since the beginning of summer.

  Once inside the Registrar’s Office, it takes about five minutes of waiting before I finally get in front of the person working the counter.

  “Yes, I’m Jesse Ryan and I need to verify that my stepdaughter, September Dawson, is registered for fall semester. I need a copy of her class schedule.”

  The woman eyes me warily. “May I have her student I.D. number please?”

  Double fuck!

  “Oh shoot…I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t have that on me.”

  “Her social?”

  “Nope.”

  I’m sorry, sir. We can’t access her information without confirmation of one or the other. It’s for the sake of privacy, you understand?”