Lost Years Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover more New Adult titles from Entangled Embrace… Driving Me Wild

  Fearless and Falling

  Until We’re More

  Wild Child

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by MK Schiller. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  [email protected]

  Embrace is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Candace Havens

  Cover design by Jersey Girl Design

  Cover photography by fotostorm/iStock

  Olga Gavrilova/Shutterstock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-839-6

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition September 2019

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

  xoxo

  Liz Pelletier, Publisher

  To my faithful Novel Sirens - Sienna Snow, Sage Spelling, and Aliza Mann, who believed in this story before anyone else did. Thank you for being part of my writing tribe and pushing me to be the best version of myself.

  To my beautiful girl, Nicole, who inspires me everyday.

  To my talented editor, Candace Havens, who helped me to shape this story and made me a better writer though the process.

  Chapter One

  If someone told me my dreams would lead me to Texas, of all places, I’d ask them what drugs they were on…and if they wouldn’t mind sharing. But I’d taken this winding pot-holed path, and it had led me here to Serenity, an island just off the coast of Port Aransas.

  Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I studied the house in front of me. It looked like any other single-story house. Well, except for the bright blue door with the large silver doorknocker in the shape of a rose.

  I felt nothing for it. The place held no memory for me. What did I expect? Maybe I’d finally let go of the last shred of reality and punched my one-way ticket on the crazy train.

  It wasn’t until I stepped out of the Mustang and reached for my phone that I realized I’d never set the GPS with the address when I rolled off the ferry. I’d driven here on my own as if I’d been here before.

  The tension I’d carried eased up just a bit as if someone had removed a few weights from my chest. This was right. Maybe.

  The Texas sky exploded with stars, creating a spotlight around the small house. I checked my watch. Nine forty-four p.m. seemed a God-awful time to drop in on someone you’d never met. I considered turning around and finding a hotel or driving around until I found a secluded spot where I could sleep in my car until morning.

  Fuck it.

  Knocking on the door, I inhaled a lungful of ocean air, hoping it would swell up my courage.

  Would she turn me away? It was the reason I didn’t tell her I was coming. I didn’t want to risk having obstructions before I’d even gotten here. The last few days had been a blur. I may be sober, but I’d never felt more out of control than I did now.

  My size twelve sneakers were too big for the tiny porch. I shifted my feet and dragged my fingers through my hair, wishing I’d taken a minute to groom myself.

  Sounds of shuffling came from inside. I took a step back when the door opened and almost landed on my ass. She was shorter than I expected. Streaks of gunmetal gray interlocked with her dark hair. She adjusted her glasses, taking me in. Wrinkles lined the outer corners of her eyes and mouth.

  I wondered if I misunderstood and she was really my great aunt. She seemed much older than my mother would have been, although she was the younger sister. I recognized her dark green eyes, though. They matched mine, as did the shade of jet-black in her hair.

  “Hello, Aunt Rose, how are you?”

  She blinked in surprise, cupping her hand over her mouth. “Jason? Jason Flynn?”

  “Guilty.”

  She looked me up and down several times, actually standing on her tip toes, trying to get close to my face. I bent down so she could avoid any unnecessary strain. She hugged me, the scent of oranges and cinnamon coming off of her.

  “What brings you here, sweetheart?” Such a casual question, as if anything about this was normal.

  Between the solid two-and-a-half days of driving from Manhattan followed by the thirty-six-minute ferry ride to Serenity, you’d think I’d have come up with a convincing explanation, but I had nothing. The truth would probably get me a customized straight jacket and a reservation to the nearest padded cell.

  “Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?” I said with a lopsided grin.

  She placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head. “As much as I’d believe I’m the long-lost Kardashian sister.”

  I laughed for the first time in a long time, relieved she had a sense of humor.

  “We are an island, so unless you were on a boat trolling the Gulf, I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

  “The truth is I wanted to visit with you. Just for a few days, if you’ll have me, but I can stay at a hotel.”

  “There are no hotels in Serenity.” Everything tensed all at once.

  “Not that I’d allow you to stay in one. You’ll stay here.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  She opened the door wider, gesturing for me to enter. I walked into the bright pink living room full of trinkets and tapestries. The only subdued colors were the beige couches, but even they had tie-dyed blankets over them.

  The fresh smell of citrus seemed out of place in the old-fashioned room. But what really didn’t make sense was the music. The music didn’t fit at all.

  “Aunt Rose, are you listening to Phish?” It was the last kind of music I imagined her liking. Maybe Harry Connick, Jr. or Michael Bublé or something, but not the second coming of the Grateful Dead.

  She smiled, which made her look younger. “Great band, don’t you think? This song is calle
d ‘Farmhouse.’”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

  “You can stay as long as you’d like.” She reached up and tousled my hair. “Gosh, you grew up handsome. You, um…you’re nineteen now?”

  “Twenty,” I answered.

  “That’s right. I should have remembered.” She frowned as if forgetting my age really upset her.

  “It’s no problem.”

  “You look so much like your mother. You have her eyes and mouth. But you have your father’s square jaw.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t drop in like this. You don’t even know me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t my choice. Your father isn’t a fan of mine.”

  Well, I guess Aunt Rose and I had something in common then. My dad didn’t exactly care for me much, either.

  She gestured to the couch. I scanned the room before taking the seat, hoping for something to latch on to—a scene from a memory or a dream. I came up empty.

  “I’ll make us tea,” she said, clapping her hands.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “My only nephew travels over sixteen hundred miles to visit me. The least I can do is brew a pot of tea.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t like tea, but I did have enough sanity left to know I shouldn’t tell her about the dreams. No use getting institutionalized before I could investigate. “Thank you. Your home is really nice.”

  She flipped her hand. “It’s a knickknack haven.”

  Her scratchy voice floated out of the kitchen as she sang along to the song. I couldn’t help grinning. Damn, Aunt Rose, you are not what I expected.

  Chapter Two

  I walked around the room, studying the bookshelves, loaded with odd arrangements of porcelain cat statue, seashells, and what looked like an antique hookah straight out of A Thousand and One Arabian Nights. A small stuffed terrier smiled back at me. I picked it up and pulled the string. Its mechanical paw moved, and it barked three times. “Well, Toto, we’re not in Manhattan anymore.”

  My cell buzzed again. Anna probably sent another text. My sister had been blowing up my phone since I’d hopped on the George Washington Bridge.

  “Here we are,” Aunt Rose said, breaking my trance.

  I almost dropped the Johnny Walker collector shot glass in my hand. Taking the tray containing a large teapot, two cups, and a plate of sandwiches from her, I searched the room for a spot to deposit it all.

  “On the coffee table,” she said. “Will this be enough? I can whip you up some chili or something.”

  I didn’t think people just whipped together chili, but what did I know? “This is plenty. Thank you.”

  “Such nice manners.” She poured two cups and placed a sugar cube in each, stirring with a small silver spoon. “So, what really brings you here?”

  Straightening in my chair, I blurted out the half-truth answer before I lost nerve. “I saw an ad for Serenity in a travel magazine, and I remembered you lived here.”

  “Oh, the one about cheap beach vacation spots?”

  “Yeah.” I flashed back to the Bodega in Brooklyn when I stood behind a lady as she flipped the pages of the magazine. I was so amped up I couldn’t even form coherent words or thoughts. A photo taking up the top half of the glossy page showed a large boulder jutting up from wet sand surrounded by crystal blue water. It would not have been extraordinary in any possible way—except I’d seen this rock before in a dream. Actually, I’d seen it in almost all of my dreams for the past ten years. I paid the woman fifty dollars for the magazine. She’d looked at me like I was crazy when she pocketed the money. Ironic, since this was the first time I felt sane.

  “I’m glad you’re here, but aren’t you in school?” Aunt Rose asked.

  “I’m taking a break for a while. I thought a road trip might be cool.” Cool? Who said shit like that? But how could I tell her the truth? I wasn’t sure how Aunt Rose would react, especially since she just invited me to stay with her. “So here I am at your doorstep like some kind of hobo. I do have money so I can pay you rent.”

  She sipped her tea, surprisingly calm as if this happened all the time. “Do not insult me by offering money again. Your grandfather built this home. It belongs to you as much as it does to me.”

  I exhaled, relaxed for the first time since I’d gotten off the ferry. “That means a lot.”

  “Does your father know you’re here?”

  “I don’t think he cares.”

  “He might. He thinks I’m crazy, you know.”

  “Why is that?”

  “What have you heard about me?”

  I shrugged. “Dad doesn’t really talk about you. Not that he talks about much. I honestly forgot my mom had a sister until this past Christmas. I got your present. Thank you.”

  She took a long sip of her tea. “You liked the football cards?”

  “Very much,” I lied.

  “Does Anna like the snow globes?”

  “She loved it.” At least that was a truth.

  Her eyes darted around the room. “It wasn’t brand new. I found it in a resale shop.”

  “Those are the best kinds of gifts. They’ve been loved in a past life.” My fingers twitched, remembering the newsprint that wrapped the heavy globe—the front page of the Serenity Post. The story was about some guy my age who had drowned while surfing. I read it twice, absorbing every single word. For the first time since forever, I actually cried.

  I swallowed and focused on the sandwich—tuna salad with pickles and celery on rye bread. I never cared for pickles, but this tasted pretty damn good.

  “I thought you probably hated my gifts. You’ve never called.”

  “Gifts?” I raised an eyebrow, realizing she’d been using the plural this whole time.

  The cup clattered against the plate as she set it down. “I’ve sent you both Christmas gifts since you were babies.”

  “I…I just saw this one. The post arrived when I was home for the holiday break.”

  “I see.”

  “My father kept your gifts from us.” Or maybe my stepmother, Colleen, had something to do with it.

  “Well, I’m sure he had his reasons.” If she was angry, she didn’t show it. She just looked sad.

  “How come you are estranged? You’re my only family on my mother’s side. It’s weird.”

  She played with a loose string of the couch blanket. “I beat to a tune that isn’t rhythmic for most folks.”

  “Then we’re not so different, you and me. Besides, I don’t hold my dad’s opinion in high regard. You seem like you have it together.”

  “The lines between sanity and senile are often blurred, young man.”

  “Well, when you say things like that, I kind of wonder.” I cracked a smile, and thankfully, she did, too.

  She wagged a finger at me. “You definitely take after our side of the family.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Do you mind if I light up?”

  “It’s your house. Doesn’t bother me.” The house didn’t smell of lingering smoke, only oranges and maybe lemons.

  “Would you care for some herb?”

  I held up my teacup. “I thought this was herbal tea.”

  She chuckled, the lines of her face smoothing for a moment. “I wasn’t referring to the tea.” She stood and walked over to a wooden box on the fireplace. She brought it back to the coffee table, carefully setting it down. I stared in shock as Aunt Rose picked out seeds from a large ripe green bud. I’d smoked weed before but usually through a vape. The rolling process fascinated me. She rolled the joint with the preciseness of a seasoned stoner. She held the fat stogie toward me along with a shiny metal Zippo lighter.

  Was she trying to test me?

  “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Jason. This is medicinal.”

  I smiled, taking it from her. I choked a bit on it. It has been a while for me, and this stuff wasn’t weak. “What ailment do you suffer from, Aunt Rose
?”

  “Memory loss,” she said.

  “Are you honestly telling me pot helps with memory?”

  She shrugged, waving the air to disperse the smoke. “It’s ironic, but yes, it does.” She took the joint from me, inhaling deeply and holding it in. “This is the good stuff. I grow it myself.”

  I nodded. Never, in a million years, had I pictured sipping a cup of herbal tea and sharing a joint with my estranged aunt. The world could really mess with your expectations.

  She started coughing.

  “Want some water?” I asked, getting up.

  She shook her head and grabbed her teacup. After taking a long sip, she gestured for me to sit. “Tell me about Anna.”

  “She’s great.”

  A smoke ring came out of her mouth as she sighed. “No…no. I don’t want to hear some generic nicety. Tell me who your sister is.”

  “She’s a dancer.”

  Aunt Rose sat up straighter. “That’s amazing.”

  “Yeah, it’s not Broadway, but she’s been in a few shows. My dad disapproved when she dropped out of college, but she stuck to her guns. I’m glad she did. It’s what she’s meant to do.” I couldn’t exactly explain it myself, but whenever I saw Anna dance, it felt as if I was in the presence of a real-life miracle. “She’s engaged, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, his name is Keith. He’s an investment banker on Wall Street.”

  “Is he good to her?” Aunt Rose asked, her concern a little surprising. After all, she didn’t really know us.

  “Very good.” It looked as if she hungered for more information, so I recited the story Anna always did. “He came to the after-party when she played one of the evil stepsisters in Cinderella. It was a musical version with dancing. Anna wore a huge prosthetic nose, and they made her teeth look two sizes too big for her head. She said Keith was the one when he passed up Cinderella’s obvious flirting to talk to Anna. They’ve been together ever since. He proposed last weekend.”

  Rose put her hand over her heart and blinked her eyes several times. “I love that. Good for Anna.”

  Truth was I was happier for Anna then I’d been for anything. She’d never given up on me, even though I’d given her many reasons over the years. That reminded me. I owed her a call…and an explanation.