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  OTHER TITLES BY JAMIE MCGUIRE

The Beautiful Series Beautiful Disaster

Walking Disaster

A Beautiful Wedding: A Novella Something Cute: A Novella The Maddox Brothers Beautiful Oblivion

Beautiful Redemption

Beautiful Cede

Cute Fire

A Beautiful Funeral

The Providence Series Providence

Requiem

Eden

The Happenstance Novellas Happenstance: Part Ane Happenstance: Part Two Happenstance: Part Three The Red Hill Series Red Hill

Among Monsters: A Red Hill Novella Stand-Solitary Works Apolonia

Sweet Nothing

Sins of the Innocent: A Novella

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Text copyright (c) 2018 by Jamie McGuire All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any course or past whatever means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com

Amazon.com, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781503902787

ISBN-10: 1503902781

Encompass design by Eileen Carey

For Eden McGuire, the strongest person I've ever had the honour of knowing.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Affiliate 2

Affiliate Three

Chapter 4

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Affiliate Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter 11

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Xiv

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Affiliate Xix

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-2

Chapter 20-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter 20-Five

Affiliate Twenty-6

Chapter Xx-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter 30

Affiliate Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Affiliate 30-3

Affiliate Thirty-Four

Affiliate Thirty-Five

Chapter 30-6

Chapter Thirty-Vii

Epilogue

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

And thank you to. . .

UPCOMING FROM JAMIE MCGUIRE

Almost THE AUTHOR

Prologue

Elliott

The old oak tree I'd climbed was i of a dozen or more on Juniper Street. I'd chosen that particular wooden giant because it was standing right next to a white picket fence--1 just tall plenty for me to use as a step to the lowest co-operative. It didn't matter that the heels of my hands, knees, and shins were scraped and bleeding from the sharp bark and branches. Feeling the sting from the wind grazing over my open wounds reminded me that I'd fought and won. Information technology was the blood that bothered me. Not because I was nice, but because I had to wait until it stopped oozing to keep it from smearing on my new camera.

X minutes after I was settled against the trunk, my backside balancing twenty or and so anxiety in the air on a co-operative older than me, the crimson stopped seeping. I smiled. I could finally properly maneuver my camera. It wasn't brand-new, simply an early eleventh birthday present from my aunt. I usually saw her two weeks after my altogether, on Thanksgiving, only she hated giving me presents tardily. Aunt Leigh hated a lot of things, except for me and Uncle John.

I peered through the viewfinder, moving it over the endless acres of grass, wheat, and gently rolling hills. There was a makeshift alley behind the fences of the houses that ran along the street my aunt lived on. Two tire tracks bordering a strip of grass were all that separated the backyards of our neighbors from an endless bounding main of wheat and canola fields. It was monotonous, only when the sun gear up and oranges, pinks, and purples splashed across the sky, I was sure there was no place more beautiful.

Oak Creek wasn't the desolate disappointment my mom described, merely it was a whole lot of use tos. Oak Creek use to accept a strip mall, use to accept a TG&Y, use to have an arcade, use to accept tennis courts and a walking rail effectually 1 of the parks, but now it was empty buildings and boarded-upward windows. We had only visited every other Christmas earlier Mom and Dad's fights got so bad she didn't want me to witness them, and they seemed to become worse in the summers. The commencement day of summer pause, Mom dropped me off at Uncle John and Aunt Leigh's after an all-dark fight with Dad, and I noticed she never took off her sunglasses, even in the house. That's when I knew it was more than a visit, that I was staying for the whole summer, and when I unpacked, the amount of dress in my suitcase proved me right.

The sky was merely beginning to plough, and I snapped a few pictures, checking my settings. Aunt Leigh wasn't the warm and fuzzy blazon, but she'd felt bad enough for me to buy me a decent camera. Maybe she was hoping I'd stay outside more than, just it didn't affair. My friends asked for PlayStations and iPhones, and then they magically appeared. I didn't get what I asked for very oftentimes, so the camera in my hands was more than a gift. Information technology meant someone was listening.

The sound of a door opening drew my attending from the setting sun, and I watched a male parent and girl behave on a quiet conversation as they walked into the backyard. The man was carrying something small, wrapped in a blanket. The girl was sniffling, her cheeks wet. I didn't motility, didn't breathe, afraid they would meet me and I would ruin whatever moment they were most to have. Information technology was then that I noticed the pigsty adjacent to the body of the tree, abreast it a small-scale pile of red dirt.

"Conscientious," the girl said. Her hair was a piffling bit blonde, a piddling bit dark-brown, and the blood-red around her eyes from crying made the green in them glow.

The man lowered the small-scale thing into the hole, and the girl began to cry.

"I'm distressing, Princess. Goober was a good domestic dog."

I pressed my lips together. The chuckle I was fighting was inappropriate, but nonetheless I plant humour in a funeral for something with a name like Goober.

A adult female let the dorsum door slam backside her, her tightly wound, dark curls poofy in the humidity. She wiped her easily on a dish towel at her waist.

"I'one thousand here," she said, breathless. She froze, staring down into the hole. "Oh. You already . . ." She blanched and and then turned to the daughter. "I'm and then sorry, honey." As the mother stared at Goober, his small-scale paw poking out of the baby blanket he'd been loosely wrapped in, she seemed to get more upset by the second. "But I can't . . . I can't stay."

"Mavis," the homo said, reaching out for his wife.

Mavis'due south bottom lip trembled. "I am so sorry." She retreated to the firm.

The girl looked to her father. "Information technology'southward okay, Daddy."

He hugged his daughter to his side. "Funerals have e'er been difficult for her. Just tears her up."

"And Goober was her baby before me," the girl said, wiping her face. "Information technology's okay."

"Well . . . we should pay our respects. Thank you, Goober, for being and so gentle with our princess. Cheers for staying under the table to eat her vegetables . . ."

She peeked up at her dad, and he down at her.

He continued, "Thanks for the years of fetching and loyalty and--"

"Snuggles at night," the girl said, wiping her cheek. "A

nd kisses. And for layin' at my feet while I did my homework, and for ever being happy to see me when I came home."

The homo nodded once, and then he took the shovel propped against the fence and began filling the pigsty.

The daughter covered her mouth, muffling her cries. Once her father was finished, they had a moment without words; then she asked to exist lone and he allowed it, nodding before returning to the house.

She sat next to the mound of clay, picking at the grass, but being sad. I wanted to sentinel her through my viewfinder and capture that moment, but she would hear my camera click, and I would await like a huge creeper, so I remained still and let her grieve.

She sniffled. "Thank you for protecting me."

I frowned, wondering what Goober had protected her from and if she needed protection all the same. She was about my historic period and prettier than any girl who went to my schoolhouse. I wondered what happened to her canis familiaris, and how long she'd lived in the massive house that loomed over the backyard and cast a shadow beyond the street onto the other houses when the sun moved into the western sky. Information technology bothered me non knowing if she was sitting on the ground considering she felt safer with her dead dog than she did inside.

The sun dropped out of sight and night settled in, the crickets chirping, the air current hissing through the oak'southward leaves. My stomach was kickoff to gurgle and growl. Aunt Leigh was going to rip me a new 1 when I got home for missing dinner, only the daughter was still sitting next to her friend, and I'd decided over an hour before that I wasn't going to disturb her.

The back door opened, a warm yellow light brightening the backyard. "Catherine?" Mavis chosen. "It's fourth dimension to come in now, honey. Your dinner's getting cold. You can come up back out in the morning."

Catherine obeyed, continuing and walking toward the house, stopping for a moment to expect back at the grave over again before going in. When the door closed, I tried to guess what she might be looking for--perchance she was reminding herself it was existent and Goober was gone, or maybe she was saying one concluding goodbye.

I slowly climbed downwardly, sure to jump and land on the outside of the fence, giving the fresh grave plenty of space. The sound of my shoes crunching against the rocks in the aisle stirred a few neighborhood dogs, but I completed the return expedition in the dark without any problems--until I got domicile.

Aunt Leigh was standing at the door, her arms crossed. She looked worried at kickoff, but when her optics constitute me, instant anger flickered in her eyes. She was in her robe, reminding me of just how late I was. A single greyness streak of hair sprouted from her temple, weaving in and out of the thick brown sections of her side complect.

"I'm pitiful?" I offered.

"You lot missed dinner," she said, opening the screen door. I walked inside, and she followed me. "Your plate's in the microwave. Eat, then you can tell me where you lot've been."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, making a beeline past her. I passed the wooden, oval dining table to reach the kitchen, opening the microwave to meet a foil-covered plate. My mouth instantly watered.

"Have that o--" Aunt Leigh began, only I had already ripped it off, shut the door, and pressed the two on the number pad.

I watched the plate turn in a circle under the glow of a warm yellow light. The steak began to sizzle, and the gravy on the mashed potatoes bubbled.

"Not yet," Aunt Leigh snapped when I reached for the microwave handle.

My stomach gurgled.

"If you're then hungry, why did you expect and so long to go home?"

"I was stuck in a tree," I said, reaching in the 2d the microwave beeped.

"Stuck in a tree?" Aunt Leigh handed me a fork every bit I passed and followed me to the tabular array.

I shoveled the beginning seize with teeth in and hummed, taking 2 more before Aunt Leigh could ask some other question. My mom was a good melt, also, just the older I got, the more starved I felt. No matter how many times I ate during the day or how much I ate at a fourth dimension, I never felt full. I couldn't become food--any food--in my stomach fast enough.

Aunt Leigh fabricated a face equally I hunched over my plate to create a shorter trip from the plate to my mouth.

"You're gonna have to explicate that," Aunt Leigh said. When I didn't terminate, she leaned over to identify her hand on my wrist. "Elliott, don't make me ask again."

I tried to chew apace and consume, nodding in compliance. "The huge house down the street has an oak tree. I climbed information technology."

"And then?"

"So while I was up in that location waiting for a expert shot with my photographic camera, the people came out."

"The Calhouns? Did they come across you?"

I shook my caput, sneaking another quick bite.

"You lot know that's Uncle John's boss, right?"

I stopped chewing. "No."

Aunt Leigh sabbatum back. "Of all the trees to pick."

"They seemed overnice . . . and sad."

"Why?" At to the lowest degree for the moment, she forgot virtually being mad.

"They were burying something in the lawn. I think their canis familiaris died."

"Aw, that'southward also bad," Aunt Leigh said, trying to muster up sympathy. She didn't accept children or dogs, and she seemed okay with that. She scratched her head, suddenly nervous. "Your mom called today."

I nodded, taking another bite. She let me terminate, waiting patiently for me to call back to utilise a napkin.

"What did she want?"

"Sounds similar her and your dad are working things out. She sounds happy."

I looked away, clenching my teeth. "She always is at get-go." I turned to her. "Has her eye even healed?"

"Elliott . . ."

I stood, picking up my plate and fork, taking them to the sink.

"Did you tell him?" Uncle John said, scratching his round belly. He was standing in the hall, wearing the navy-blue pajama set Aunt Leigh had bought him concluding Christmas. She nodded. He looked to me, acknowledging the disgust on my face. "Yep. We don't like information technology, either."

"Simply now," Aunt Leigh said, crossing her artillery.

"About Mom?" I asked. Uncle John nodded. "It's bullshit."

"Elliott," Aunt Leigh scolded.

"It's okay for united states not to like her going back to someone who hits her," I said.

"He's your dad," Aunt Leigh said.

"What does that affair?" Uncle John asked.

Aunt Leigh sighed, touching her fingers to her forehead. "She won't like us discussing this with Elliott. If we want him to proceed coming back--"

"You want me to keep coming back?" I asked, surprised.

Aunt Leigh folded her arms over her chest, refusing to toss me that bone. Emotions made her mad. Maybe considering they were difficult to control and that made her feel weak, simply for any reason, she didn't like to talk about anything that fabricated her feel anything but angry.

Uncle John smiled. "She hides in the bedchamber for an hr every time you leave."

"John," Aunt Leigh hissed.

I smiled, only information technology faded. The sting from my scrapes reminded me of what I'd seen. "Do you guys think that girl's okay?"

"The Calhoun girl?" Aunt Leigh asked. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Just some weird things I saw while I was stuck in the tree."

"You were stuck in a tree?" Uncle John asked.

Aunt Leigh waved him away, walking over to me. "What did you see?"

"I'grand not sure. Her parents seem nice."

"Dainty enough," Aunt Leigh said. "Mavis was a spoiled brat in school. Her family unit endemic half the town because of the zinc smelter, but the smelter closed, and ane past one they all died of cancer. You know that damn smelter contaminated the groundwater hither? In that location was a big lawsuit against her family. The only thing she has left is that house. It utilise to exist called the Van Meter Mansion, you know. They changed it one time Mavis's parents died and she married the Calhoun child. The Van Meters are hated around here."

"That's pitiful," I said.

"Sad? The Van Meters poisoned the town. Half the population is fighting cancer or some complexity from cancer. That's the least of what they deserve, if you lot ask me, particularly if y'all take into account how they treated everyone."

"Did Mavis treat you bad?" I asked.

"No, only she was a

wful to your mom and Uncle John."

I frowned. "The husband is Uncle John'south boss?"

"He'south a skilful human," Uncle John said. "Everyone likes him."

"What about the daughter?" I asked. Uncle John offered a knowing grin, and I shook my caput. "Never listen."

He winked at me. "She's a pretty 1, huh?"

"Nah." I passed them and opened the basement door, walking downward the stairs. Aunt Leigh had asked a billion times to rearrange it, purchase new furniture and a carpet, but I wasn't in that location enough for it to thing. All I cared about was the camera, and Uncle John gave me his quondam laptop so I could practice editing the photos. I uploaded the shots I took, unable to concentrate, wondering about the weird daughter and her weird family.

"Elliott?" Aunt Leigh called. My head snapped upwardly, and I glanced at the small, blackness foursquare clock that saturday next to my monitor. I picked it up, in atheism that two hours had passed.

"Elliott," Aunt Leigh repeated. "Your mom'southward on the telephone."

"I'll phone call her back in a minute," I yelled.

Aunt Leigh walked down the steps, cell phone in her hand. "She said if yous want your own cell phone, you demand to talk to her on mine."

I sighed and pushed up from my seat, trudging over to Aunt Leigh. I took the phone, tapped the brandish for speakerphone, and sabbatum information technology on my desk, returning to my work.

"Elliott?" Mom said.

"Hey."

"I, um . . . I talked to your dad. He'south back. He wanted to say he's sorry."

"And then why doesn't he say it?" I grumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You don't have anything to say virtually him coming domicile?"

I sabbatum dorsum in my chair, crossing my arms. "What does it matter? Not like you asked me or care what I think."

"I do, too, Elliott. That'due south why I'm calling."

"How'south your centre?" I asked.

"Elliott," Aunt Leigh hissed, taking a step forward.

It took a moment for Mom to respond. "Information technology's amend. He promised--"

"He always promises. It's the keeping it when he'south mad that's the problem."

Mom sighed. "I know. Only I accept to endeavor."

"How well-nigh you enquire him to try for in one case?"

Mom was serenity. "I have. He doesn't take many chances left, and he knows it. He's trying, Elliott."

"It's not hard not to put your easily on a girl. If you can't, then but stay away. Tell him that."

"You're right. I know you're correct. I'll tell him. I honey you."

I clenched my teeth. She knew I loved her, but it was hard to remember that saying it back didn't mean I agreed with her or that I was okay with Dad coming home. "Me too."

She breathed out a laugh, but sadness weighed down her words. "Information technology's going to be okay, Elliott. I promise."

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