Show Me the Way: A Fight for Me Stand-Alone Novel Read online

  Show Me the Way

  A Fight for Me Stand-Alone Novel

  A.L. Jackson

  Contents

  Show Me the Way

  Also by A.L. Jackson

  Prologue

  1. Rynna

  2. Rex

  3. Rynna

  4. Rex

  5. Rynna

  6. Rex

  7. Rynna

  8. Rex

  9. Rynna

  10. Rex

  11. Rynna

  12. Rex

  13. Rynna

  14. Rex

  15. Rex

  16. Rynna

  17. Rex

  18. Rynna

  19. Rynna

  20. Rex

  21. Rynna

  22. Rex

  23. Rynna

  24. Rex

  25. Rynna

  26. Rex

  27. Rynna

  28. Rex

  29. Rynna

  30. Rynna

  31. Rynna

  32. Rex

  33. Rynna

  34. Rex

  35. Rynna

  36. Rex

  37. Rynna

  38. Rex

  39. Rynna

  40. Corinne Dayne – Three years ago

  41. Rynna

  42. Rex

  43. Rynna

  The Epilogues

  Also by A.L. Jackson

  About the Author

  Show Me the Way

  A Fight for Me Stand-Alone Novel

  A.L. Jackson

  Copyright © 2017 A.L. Jackson Books Inc.

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.

  Please protect this art form by not pirating.

  A.L. Jackson

  www.aljacksonauthor.com

  Cover Design by RBA Designs

  Photo by Predrag Popovski

  Editing by AW Editing

  Formatting by Mesquite Business Services

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-946420-04-6

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-946420-03-9

  Also by A.L. Jackson

  Bleeding Stars Series

  A Stone in the Sea

  Drowning to Breathe

  Where Lightning Strikes

  Wait

  Stay

  Stand

  The Regret Series

  Lost to You

  Take This Regret

  If Forever Comes

  The Closer to You Series

  Come to Me Quietly

  Come to Me Softly

  Come to Me Recklessly

  Stand-Alone Novels

  Pulled

  When We Collide

  Coming Soon from A.L. Jackson

  More sexy, heartwarming romance in the new Fight for Me series

  Follow Me Back – Early 2018

  Lead Me Home – Spring 2018

  Hollywood Chronicles, a collaboration with USA Today Bestselling Author, Rebecca Shea – coming soon

  Prologue

  Alabama - Eleven Years Ago

  Rain pelted from the angry sky, and heavy gusts of wind howled through the trees, which thrashed in the blackened night. In agony, I ran, sure my heart had to be beating as loud as the thunder that cracked through the heavens above.

  I gasped when my foot slipped on the slick, muddy ground, and I stumbled forward, landing hard on my hands and knees. I cried out, unsure where the pain was coming from—my mind or my heart or my torn flesh.

  Why would they do this to me?

  I wept toward the ground, stricken with grief, with betrayal, before I heaved myself back onto my feet, trying to find traction. I staggered toward the house, which was lit up like warmth and light just off the road. Clutching the wooden railing, I propelled myself forward and then flung open the door and fumbled inside.

  I whimpered in misery when I paused to look around the room. Loss hit me as hard as the storm that raged outside.

  Why would they do this to me? How could they be so cruel?

  It took about all I had, but I forced myself to move, knowing I couldn’t stay. I had to leave. I had to get away. Choking back sobs, I clung to the banister and hauled myself upstairs and to my room. Knees caked in mud and blood, I dropped to the floor and dug out the suitcase from beneath the bed. I staggered to my feet and headed for the closet.

  Tears clouding my vision, I tore clothes from their hangers and shoved them into the suitcase I’d tossed onto the bed, my movements becoming more frantic with each piece I ripped from its spot. The urge to escape only intensified when I moved to the dresser. Distraught, I ripped the drawers from their rails and tipped them upside down, dumping what would fit into the suitcase.

  The whole time, I struggled to restrain the sobs bound in my throat. To keep them quiet. To pretend it hadn’t happened. To pretend I didn’t have to do this.

  With shaking fingers, I tugged at the zipper.

  “Rynna, what’s going on?” The sleepy voice filled with concern hit me from behind.

  Torment lashed like the crack of a whip. My eyes slammed closed, and the words trembled from my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Gramma, but I’ve got to go.”

  The floor creaked with my grandmother’s footsteps. She sucked in a breath when she rounded me, shocked by my battered appearance. “Oh my lord, what happened to you?” Her voice quivered. “Who hurt you? Tell me, Rynna. Who hurt you? I won’t stand for it.”

  Vigorously, I shook my head, finding the lie. “No one. I just . . . I can’t stay in this stupid town for a second more. I’m going to find Mama.”

  I hated it. The way the mention of my mother contorted my gramma’s face in agony.

  “What are you sayin’?”

  “I’m saying, I’m leaving.”

  A weathered hand reached out to grip my forearm. “But graduation is just next month. You’ve got to do your speech. Walk across the stage in your cap and gown. Never seen anyone so excited about somethin’ in all my life. Now you’re just gonna up and leave? If you can’t trust me, then you can’t trust anyone. Tell me what happened tonight. You left here just as happy as a bug in a rug, and now you aren’t doing anything but runnin’ scared.”

  Tears streaking down my dirty cheeks, I forced myself to look at the woman who meant everything to me. “You’re the only person I can trust, Gramma. That’s why I’ve got to go. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Anguish creased my grandmother’s aged face. “Rynna, I won’t let you just walk out like this.”

  She reached out and brushed a tear from under my eye. Softly, she tilted her head to the side, that same tender smile she had watched me with at least a million times hinting at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t you ever forget, if you aren’t laughing, you’re crying. Now, which would you rather be doin’?” She paused, and I couldn’t bring myself to answer. “Wipe those tears, and let’s figure something out. Just like we always do.”

  Sadness swelled like its own being in the tiny room. Loss. Regret. Like an echo of every breath of encouragement my grandmother had ever whispered in my ear. “I can’t stay here, Gramma. Please don’t ask me to.”

  With the plea, my grandmother winced. Quickly, I dipped down to place a lingering kiss to her cheek, breathing in the ever-present scent of
vanilla and sugar, committing it to memory.

  I tugged my suitcase from the bed and started for the door.

  Gramma reached for me, fingertips brushing my arm, begging, “Rynna, don’t go. Please, don’t leave me like this. There’s nothing that’s so bad that I won’t understand. That we can’t fix.”

  I didn’t slow. Didn’t answer.

  I ran.

  And I didn’t look back.

  1

  Rynna

  Leafy shadows flashed across the windshield, interspersed by the blinding strikes of sunlight that burned from the sky as my car passed beneath the heavy canopy of trees where I traveled the winding two-lane road.

  The closer I got, the harder my heart beat within the confines of my chest and the shallower my breaths grew. Cinching down on the steering wheel, I peered out at the worn sign on the side of the road.

  Welcome to Gingham Lakes, Alabama, where the grass is actually greener and the people are sweeter.

  Anxiety clawed through my nerves.

  It’d been eleven years and what felt like a lifetime since I left the small city that could hardly be considered more than a town. I’d promised myself I’d never come back.

  And there I was.

  I just wished I had broken that promise sooner. Not when it already felt as if it were too late.

  “Earth to Ryn.”

  I jumped when the voice boomed through the car speakers. I was losing it. It seemed fitting. I’d been questioning my sanity ever since I’d signed on that dotted line.

  “Are you there, or have I already lost you to the Deep South?” Macy asked. I could almost see her raising a dark brow at me.

  “You really are dead set on breaking my fragile heart, aren’t you?” she continued. “You left me here to fend for myself. Not a soul to go out with on Friday nights and no one to make me miracle hangover breakfasts on Saturday mornings. That’s a travesty. Don’t you dare shred it more by pretending I don’t even exist. BFFs, remember? Don’t forget it, or I’ll show up with the sole purpose of kicking your skinny ass. Oh, and to get back those black jeans I know you stole. I’ve been looking for them for the last two days. I bet you have them hidden at the bottom of one of those boxes.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” I barely managed to tease through the thickness that lined my throat. “Where those jeans probably are is under your bed in that disaster of a room. You’re worse than a twelve-year-old boy.”

  I was doing my best to inject a smile into my voice, but there was no disguising the hitch in my words as I rounded the bend and the town came into view in the valley below.

  Gingham Lakes.

  God, it was beautiful.

  The valley was a vast expanse of green. Flush with abundant, flourishing trees. The massive lake tucked at the base of the opposite mountain range appeared little more than a glittering mirage in the far distance, the river so serene and calm where it ran through the middle of the city and segmented it into the two mirrored-halves.

  This place was filled with the best and the worst of memories.

  With the best of people and the worst of enemies.

  There was only one person who ever could have persuaded me to return.

  Leave it to Gramma to do it in the sneakiest of ways.

  “Tell me you aren’t having second thoughts now that you’ve driven all the way across the country? By yourself, mind you, since you refused to let me come. You act as if I’d be a nuisance instead of a help. I can lift like . . . a thousand pounds. Pretty sure I’m the best mover in all the history of movers.”

  “Says the girl who thought it was a good idea to let a box filled with glasses tumble down a flight of stairs rather than carrying it down.”

  Macy chuckled. “Don’t be jealous. Just add creative to my list of skills.”

  “Creator of disasters, you mean.”

  She feigned a gasp. “I take full offense to that. I even made pizza and didn’t catch the apartment on fire.”

  “No,” I ribbed.

  “Truth.”

  Quiet laughter rolled free as that heaviness throbbed. “I’m going to miss you, Mace.”

  Right then, San Francisco felt a million miles away. An alternate galaxy. Really, it was just a different reality than the one I was headed toward.

  Somber silence filled the space, and Macy lowered her voice. “Are you sure this is really what you want? You left the city you love and an incredible apartment downtown. You resigned from a job any one of us would kill to have. Hell, you were halfway up the corporate ladder. Worst, you left me.”

  My heart clutched while I fought with the urge to turn around and head back to San Francisco. I wasn’t that broken girl who’d run from Gingham Lakes eleven years ago. I was strong, and I sure as hell wasn’t a quitter. “You know why I have to do this.”

  “I do, and I know how hard it has to be for you.”

  Grief pressed at my spirit. The perfect complement to the determination that lined me like steel. “It is, but I need to do this for her almost as much as I need to do it for myself.”

  “This city won’t be the same without you, Ryn.” In all the years I’d lived with Macy, I’d only seen her cry once. I knew she was trying to hold it back. Still, the soft sounds seeped through the line, touching me from across the miles.

  I pressed a hand over my mouth and tried to keep the jumble of emotions that quivered and shook inside me at bay. “You’ll come visit.”

  She released a soggy laugh. “Hell no. There are, like, alligators down there. One look at all my lush, curvy deliciousness, and they’ll be inviting their friends over for a feast.”

  I wanted to tell her I was plenty lush when I’d run from this place. The alligators were the least of her worries. I bit it back, keeping all those old insecurities buried where they belonged.

  “You don’t think I’m worth the risk?” I asked instead.

  She sniffled, and I swore I could see her grin. “Yeah, Ryn, you’re totally worth it.”

  I cleared the emotion from my throat, wondering how I was going to do this when the road took another sharp curve and the speed limit dropped. “I better go. I’m getting into town.”

  “Good luck, babe. You’ve got this. I want you to know I’m proud of you, even though I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

  “Thank you, Mace,” I told her.

  I was definitely going to need it.

  2

  Rex

  My eyes went round, and I came to an abrupt stop in her doorway.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to wear?” Sweeping a hand through the long pieces of my damp hair, I gave it my all to keep the panic out of my voice.

  Honestly wasn’t sure if I wanted to bust out laughing or drop to my knees and cry.

  Such was my life.

  We were already ten minutes late, and there she was on her bedroom floor, wearing a hot pink tutu over a bathing suit.

  “Uh-huh. We gots to look so pretty for dance. Annie said all the best dancers wear leg warmies, and her mama bought her all the pretty colors. Like a rainbow,” she rambled as she tugged on the black high-top Converse she’d talked me into at the mall last weekend.

  Right over a pair of old tube socks she must have found in one of my drawers.

  The hideous kind with the two blue stripes at the top that should have been burned years ago.

  “So I gots these.” She rocked her heels on the ground as she sat back and admired her handiwork.

  She suddenly looked over at me with that smile that melted a crater right through the stone that was my heart. Her single tooth missing on the bottom row and her attempt at a bun that looked like she’d just walked out of a windstorm were about the damned cutest things I’d ever seen.

  “I’m the best dancer, right, Daddy?”

  “You’re the best, prettiest dancer in the whole world, Sweet Pea Frankie Leigh.”

  I just was betting that uptight bitch, Ms. Jezlyn, wouldn’t agree. I’d already gotten one bullshi
t letter about “appropriate ballet attire,” which was strictly a black leotard with salmon tights (what the fuck?) without any runs in them. Apparently, Frankie wasn’t living up to those standards.

  That was what I got for picking Frankie up late from Mom’s and then coming home and telling her to get ready while I grabbed a quick shower. I’d been at the work site the entire day, had been drenched in sweat and grease and grime, and was trying to put my best foot forward.

  Problem was, I was having a hard time figuring out how my best could ever be enough.

  I pressed my palms together in some kind of twisted prayer. Then I dropped them and blew out a resigned breath. “All right, then. We need to get out of here before I get you in any more trouble.”

  Frankie hopped onto her feet and threw her hands in the air. “Ready!”

  I chuckled beneath my breath, grabbed her dance bag from the pink bench right inside her room, slung it over my shoulder, and extended my hand. “Let’s go, Tiny Dancer.”

  Giggling, she pranced over to me and let me take her miniature hand, so small and vulnerable in the massiveness of mine.

  Following me out the door and down the hall, she skipped along at my side.

  Innocently.

  Joy lit up my insides. I swore all her sweetness held the power to blow back the thousand pounds of blackened bitterness built up around my heart. Like when this kid was around, it weighed nothing at all.

  The day she was born, I’d sworn an oath to myself. I’d never allow her to be torn up by this vicious, cruel world. Refused to let it tarnish her the way it had me.

  My entire life was protecting her from it.

  I snagged my keys from the entryway table when I heard the sound of a door slamming somewhere outside. Frowning, I leaned back so I could get a glimpse out the window and across the street.

  An older white Jeep Grand Cherokee was parked in the driveway of Mrs. Dayne’s old house.