Bittersweet Always Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Ella Fields

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, resold or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations within a review.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAPH

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  PREVIEW OF SUDDENLY FORBIDDEN

  ONE

  TWO

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  FIND ELLA HERE

  This story has been waiting for me for quite some time.

  I just needed the right characters.

  As soon as Toby and Pippa walked onto the page in Suddenly Forbidden, I knew I’d found them.

  The realization filled me with excitement but also a great amount of fear.

  That fear was warranted. This story was hard.

  There were times I wanted to give up, or completely rewrite the whole thing over and over again.

  I guess that’s the gamble we writers take when we try to do justice in telling a story that’s very close to our hearts.

  Anxiety, depression—any mental illness—you simply can’t lug them into a one-size-fits-all category.

  This is in no way my story, but I have drawn from experiences in my life. And while I know this is a subject that affects so many of us, this story was based on my experience with ONE person. And I couldn’t be prouder of that person or the eye-opening journey these characters took me on.

  For the strongest man I know.

  Darkness can deliver monsters invisible to the naked eye.

  Love can light up that darkness and suddenly those monsters have a face.

  A name.

  A shadow.

  And a weakness.

  And where there’s a weakness, there’s a chance for victory.

  I didn’t know what time it was, but the sun had risen hours ago, and my dad was still in bed.

  Mom said he sometimes got real tired on the weekends after spending a long week at work. He was a builder—he even built the very house we lived in—so I guess that made sense. Only, I didn’t think anyone should like to spend their days sleeping all the time. I couldn’t understand how you’d want to miss out on life in such a way.

  Then again, I was only thirteen, and as my brother, Drew, would say, how the heck would I know?

  “Pippa! Get your stupid makeup set off the table already.” Drew shoved the large pink case aside and almost sent it crashing to the floor. “Mom’s only told you a hundred times not to leave it out.”

  Sniffing, I squared my shoulders as I marched to the table to fold the case closed. “What’s it to you anyway? It’s not bothering anyone.”

  “Pippa,” Mom scolded gently, walking into the dining room and placing a bowl of fruit on the table. “You know what your dad’s like so just put it away. Please.” She stood with her hands on her hips, and the look in her eyes had my shoulders drooping.

  “Kay.” It was always the same old. My dad couldn’t deal with too much mess. Something about it put him in a sour mood, which, in turn, made my mom look like she was sucking on a rotten tomato until he eventually snapped out of it.

  After putting the makeup away in my closet, I spent the morning with my word search book. I’d gotten three for Christmas, and this one was more challenging than any I’d had before.

  Mom knocked on my door after lunch, saying she had to run Drew to hockey practice. If she wasn’t going to be gone long, she often let me stay home. I liked that she could trust me. What I didn’t like was that my dad was sleeping when he could’ve been spending time with me.

  I missed him. I missed him even though he was only down the hall.

  Sighing, I closed the book and tossed my pencil on the bed, making my way downstairs to get a drink.

  The cool water slid down my throat as I watched a flock of birds take flight from the old oak tree outside the kitchen window. After putting my glass in the sink, I poured a second one but hesitated when I climbed back upstairs to my parents’ room.

  Chewing my lip for a moment, I glanced down at the water in the glass, which felt cold in my shaky palm. I could hear the fan whirring on the other side of the door even though it was the middle of winter.

  I shook my head and rapped lightly on the door with my free hand. No response—not that I expected one. Slowly, I pushed the door open and peeked inside.

  “Dad?” Again, no response.

  Mom had made the bed neatly around him as though he was a part of the décor and would easily blend into the room. My parents’ floral duvet was pulled over his head, but he wasn’t snoring like he usually would if he was sound asleep.

  “Dad?” I asked again, a little louder this time.

  “Not now, Pip.” His voice was groggy, rough, but clear and loud enough to make me wince.

  “I got you some water.”

  “I said not now. Shit.” Shuffling ensued, and I watched as he rolled over to face the window with a view of the mountaintops in the distance.

  On bad days, his shortness with us most definitely stung. Guilt pricked at my conscience. I didn’t think I could be like my mom. Almost fourteen or not, my patience was wearing thin.

  Stepping over to the bed, I placed the water down on his nightstand.

  My feet paused on the woven rug near the door on my way out. “You know, Mom’s taken Drew to practice. Again.”

  Hockey was Drew and Dad’s thing. And I get that my dad had issues. As much as I didn’t understand them, I still knew that he did. But Drew never spoke up about it. Even though I knew it had to hurt him every time Dad got in a mood or didn’t want to wake up, leaving Drew to paint on a smile for Mom instead.

  Dad made a huffing sound, and I spun around when I heard the bed creak under his weight.

  “I’m just tired, baby girl. It’s been a long week. He understands.”

  Gritting my teeth, I inhaled deeply through my nose and slowly let it out th
rough the crack between my lips. It didn’t help. “Does he, though? You do know that sleep promotes sleep, right?” Yes, I’d looked it up. “Maybe if you got up and did something, you’d be able to stay awake.”

  He mumbled what sounded like, “Jesus Christ,” then sighed. “Pip, come here.”

  My brows furrowed as I watched him maneuver to a sitting position, the duvet falling around his t-shirt covered waist.

  “That’s okay. Just wanted to check in on you.” I turned to go, swallowing thickly.

  “Pippa, please. Sit down.”

  Closing my eyes, I counted to three, then moved over to the bed, trying to sound aloof with my next words. “What’s up?”

  “Look at me.”

  I did, noticing the red lining his eyes and the three-day-old scruff that peppered his jaw. My dad was a big guy—healthy looking, strong, and at least six foot tall. Maybe more. He’d always seemed so giant to me, king-like, and growing up, I’d wanted nothing more than his approval, his smiling eyes on me.

  But looking at him now, I didn’t know how to place this image with the one I was so used to seeing in my memories. Or perhaps, the one I wanted to see. The one I’d built up as a defense mechanism in my own mind.

  Because really, I hated looking at him when he was like this.

  “What?” I rasped, wanting to kick myself for sounding so vulnerable.

  Patting the bed, he dipped his head toward my mom’s pillow.

  Forcing a smile, I climbed onto their bed and propped my mom’s pillows up to lay back against them.

  “You remind me not only of your mother but also of my dad,” he stated.

  Thinking about Grandpa Henry, I scrunched my face. Grandpa had unruly gray hairs filling his nostrils that matched his overgrown eyebrows. “Grandpa sometimes doesn’t remember who we are.”

  My dad chuckled. “Dementia. He can’t help that. But once upon a time …” He bopped me on the nose, and I tried not to let my eyes flare open too wide. “He was a stubborn, opinionated, and very strong-willed man.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, getting sucked into the life that lit my dad’s eyes ablaze.

  “Yeah.” Then those eyes turned sad as he stared at me for a minute. “Promise me something.”

  Too scared to blink, for fear I’d lose his gaze on mine, I simply nodded.

  “Promise me, no matter what, you’ll never lose that.” A smile lit his eyes again but didn’t lift his lips. “You’re going to keep growing, changing, and learning. But promise me, what’s in here”—he reached over, his large finger tapping at the rainbow in the center of my blue t-shirt—“will remain the same.”

  His finger dropped to the sheets, and I finally blinked.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  “Why are you saying that?” I croaked, my chest filling with a steady amount of hope but also an odd feeling of trepidation.

  His lip was tugged behind his teeth as he stared at me, his expression now unreadable. “Because life will happen. Happen with it, but … don’t let it change who you are.”

  After that, he laid back down, stared at me a while, and then fell asleep again.

  Later that night, I woke to the sound of tires crunching over the gravel drive outside. The one Dad had never gotten around to concreting.

  Crawling over the bed, I tugged my curtains aside, my sleepy eyes squinting into the dark and struggling to focus. But there was no mistaking what I saw.

  The taillights shone like red omens as my dad’s truck disappeared, speeding off down the street.

  I barely suppressed a groan as I shoveled some more mint chocolate chip ice cream into my mouth.

  “Are you like, open? Or are you maybe on a break?”

  With my eyes bulging in mild surprise, I slowly set the small cup of ice cream down and swallowed. Holy shit, it burned, but I plastered on a closed-lipped smile and wiped my hands on my blue apron. “Yeah, no. We’re open.” Duh, I wanted to say but bit my tongue. “What can I get you?”

  “Low-fat strawberry milkshake.” The brunette looked down at her phone, and I got to work on preparing her drink. “And you’ve got a little something on your chin.”

  Refusing to feel embarrassed, I took her money, then handed over her change and drink, before wiping the ice cream from my chin as she walked out the door.

  So sue me. I liked to use my free time wisely. Thursdays were usually busy at the ice-cream parlor where I worked, but tonight, she was only our third customer.

  Light footfalls had me hiding my snack behind a stack of napkins as Tim, my boss, appeared.

  “You go home now, Pippa.” His slight German accent accentuated his words.

  I glanced at the clock—eight forty-five p.m.—then shrugged. He didn’t need to tell me twice.

  “Thanks, see you next week.” After removing my apron, I retrieved my bag from the staff room and clocked out.

  “You forgot your ice cream.”

  Busted. I pivoted halfway to the door, marching back with a sheepish smile on my face.

  His moustache tilted with his own smile as he handed me the cup of melting ice cream. As far as employers go, I knew I was pretty damn lucky.

  Thanking him, I spooned some into my mouth as I shoved the door open with my butt.

  The evening yawned and blinked, creating a soft breeze that shook the leaves from the trees and sent them scattering to the ground. Fall had arrived, taking with it any traces of the unbearable summer heat. It was unusual for the weather to cool this early in Gray Springs, but I wasn’t going to complain.

  Boob sweat was no fucking joke. I loved winter.

  My phoned buzzed in my purse, which was hanging haphazardly from the crook of my arm. Pausing on the sidewalk, I ignored the few people skirting around me as I looked from my ice cream to my purse.

  It stopped ringing, so I kept eating as I meandered down the sidewalk.

  When it started again, I groaned loudly and tossed the leftover ice cream into a nearby trashcan before pulling it out.

  Drew.

  “What?” I answered.

  “Sheesh, what’s up your ass?”

  “Gross. Don’t say shit like that. But if you must know, I ditched something very important to answer this call.” I huffed out a breath, grumbling, “So spit it out already.”

  “Ew, you’re the gross one. Keep it PG, yeah?”

  “Screw you and keeping it PG. And I was talking about food.”

  Drew chuckled, and the sound of a door closing met my ears as his voice lowered. “All right so, um, I need twenty bucks.”

  My feet stopped moving once more. At this rate, a ten-minute walk would take me all night. “Twenty bucks?”

  “Okay, thirty would be better.”

  Eyes widening, I hissed into the phone, “No, get your own damn money.”

  “Mom cut my allowance off this week.”

  “Why?” I started walking again, smiling at a girl from my calculus class.

  “Pip, please.”

  “Nuh-uh. Tell me what you did first.”

  After some silence, he said, “I hooked up with Cindy from next door.”

  Again, I stopped walking. But this was feet-stopping business. “The reverend’s daughter?” I tried to ask incredulously, but anyone could hear the amusement in my voice.

  “Can you say it any louder?”

  “I can if you want.” I scoffed. “Though no one here gives a crap.” I cleared my throat, trying to sound more like the big sister I should be. “Totally not cool. Keep it in your damn pants.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, it’s not like that. I like her. But Mom found out and thinks I’m trying to mess with her. She thinks she’s all sweet and innocent. I won’t get my allowance back till I leave her alone.” He lowered his voice again. “And she’s really not that innocent. Though”—he paused—“she is sweet.”

  “Too much information, turd head.” Sighing, I resumed walking. “Look, I sympathize with your plight. I really do.
But no can do, buddy. I only work a few days a week.”

  “Pippa, it’s just twenty bucks. Come on.”

  “Get a job.”

  He groaned. “With hockey and school, Mom said it’s too much to take on.”

  “Then tell her to reinstate your allowance.”

  We were at a stalemate because we both knew she wouldn’t. Oh, she would eventually. Our mom was firm but underneath, she was buttery soft and always ended up caving. She just liked to make us sweat it out a little first.

  “Look, I gotta go.” I climbed the steps to my dorm, heading inside. “You could always ask Dad, you know.”

  He made a disbelieving sound, and I almost tripped on the stairs from laughing. “Don’t even, Pip.”

  “Just saying, I know he’d love to hear from you.”

  Because he would. Despite leaving us the way he did all those years ago, he was always eager to talk to us.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for nothing.”

  He hung up, and I sighed once more, dumping my phone into my bag.

  Standing in the hall outside, I took a minute to collect myself.

  Our dad loved us, and I’d never doubted that for a second. But he had problems, and he let them make the decisions for him. That was what I had a problem with. We still talked every now and then, and he lived nearby, but I hardly ever saw him. Though, not for his lack of trying.

  I guess you could say I harbored some resentment over him leaving us, sure. But Drew, he rarely spoke to Dad. And when he did, it only made him shut down even more. He could hide his feelings, but they were starting to become evident in his actions. You only had to look closely.

  I could hear my roommate, Daisy, listening to music on her phone on the other side of the door. I smiled, grateful that for at least this past week, I hadn’t come home to find her crying into her pillow or staring at the walls.

  Coming to college and thinking you’re going to meet up with your childhood best friend, soul mate, and first love, only to find out he’d moved on would do that to a girl.

  Daisy shut off the music as the door closed behind me, and I dumped my purse by my bed. “What’s crackin’? And if you say your heart, I will personally call Callum myself and ask him to take you out again.”

  She’d finally gone out on a date last weekend, but the dude had yet to call her for a repeat.