Surrender (Fated Souls Book 1) Read online

  But only one hug, it’s all I will allow. I have a five-hour drive ahead of me tomorrow where I can cry until my tears run dry. Until my soul depletes itself of the only man I would ever have in my life—Dad.

  “Curses aren’t real,” I mutter into Nessa’s hair, feeling that weight once more settle in my gut like bad takeout. Yet no matter how many times I utter those words, I can’t help but wonder if they exist.

  My cousins and Nessa pull back with the same sadness reflected in their eyes. Aside from Nessa, my cousins have been through this. Each losing their fathers.

  Ash’s father died in Afghanistan while deployed.

  Pepper’s died when a car fell on top of him. Literally. He was an incredible mechanic, but the curse snuck up and crushed him.

  As for Nessa? A lesbian couple adopted her. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing never knowing if her birth father was subjected to the curse.

  Our grandma birthed five girls. None of them were exempt. Some call it poor luck. But us four? We call it a curse. Only my grandfather outlived most, but not by much, dying in his late forties. Just long enough for him to sire those I call aunt and mom.

  “We’ve been through this, and together we will get through this again,” Ash, the most logical of us all, states while sliding back onto her stool. “Tequila first.”

  Arms slide off my shoulders as each of them returns to their own seat. Nessa squeezes one more time before following suit. The hard back of the chair presses into my spine as I stare at the tequila, lime, and salt.

  “To Uncle Allen.” Pepper chokes on emotion while swiping a tear away with annoyance. “One crazy Polish mother fu—”

  “Pepper!” Nessa’s wide, brown eyes flicker in shock before they squint at her in disappointment.

  A laugh spills free from my chest. She isn’t wrong.

  “Girl, I’m only saying it like it is. He was a crazy man. Perfect for Auntie.” Pepper doesn’t let up, reminding us all just how wild my dad was.

  Don leans against the bar with his own shot of tequila in his hand. “I’ll miss smoking out back with him.” His plump lips tilt just a hair, though sadness creases his features. “He was like a da to us.”

  His more stoic twin, Connor, leans against the bar top, holding another glass of tequila in his hands. “He helped us renovate this place, invested in two strangers from Ireland. We owe him and Pa so much.” We all sit in shock as Connor spills just what the men in my family meant to him, including my grandfather. He never speaks other than a grunt here or there. The two of them are so alike, yet so different, coming together like this.

  But it’s the same every time one of them dies. Dad was the last. All gone far before their time.

  “To Uncle Allen.” Pepper raises her salted glass, the rest following suit.

  With shaky hands, I lift my glass. “To you, Daddy.” I throw the liquid back, quickly taking a bite of my lime and chewing it unlike the others who just suck on the bitter fruit.

  “When do you leave?” Pepper spins in her stool, her eyes darting to Don with a little twirl of her fingers to keep the shots coming.

  “Fine, but only two more, ya lush. The rest, you’re buying.” He backs away slowly with a crooked smile.

  Pepper leans in to whisper, “Lies. He’ll do whatever I ask him to.”

  I glance between the two, their chemistry an energy that crackles between them. But she’ll never act on it. “I leave in the morning,” I answer, pulling the conversation back.

  “You sure you want to go out there?” Ash wrinkles her button nose, causing her glasses to slide down her face with the movement. “Alone?”

  “Isn’t that how Ted Bundy found his victims?” Pepper asks. Her worry isn’t about me being alone in the woods, she is, however, playing off of Ash’s anxiety.

  “Leave her alone, Pep.”

  “Is that true?” Ash glances to Nessa to reassure herself I’m not heading into serial killer territory.

  Nessa’s eyes widen as she nibbles on her lip. “Bean, what if?”

  “Ah, yer thinkin’ of the Butcher.” Don, mentioning another serial killer, leans in with more shots of tequila while Conner drifts around to sit beside Nessa, who hops her chair closer to Ash just so they don’t touch.

  “Sabina! You can’t go alone!” Ash spins in her seat, her hair bitch slapping Nessa in the face who takes it in stride by just spitting out the strands.

  I hold up a hand, warding off the angry cousins. “Stop. I’ve already spoken to the aunts.” I point to Ash, making sure she’s aware of that because I know damn well she was about to run off and tattle on me. “I need this.”

  “So you’re going deep into the woods of Pennsylvania alone?” Pepper smiles with a devious glint in her eyes that makes me squint at her. “You think you’ll find some naked mountain man to let that stress out on?” She pumps her hips like a horny Labrador. Don smiles at her ridiculous actions.

  “No. Don’t encourage her, Don.” I point to her, swiping the salt off the rim of my empty shot glass to lick it. “I just—” I pause, letting the salt dry my mouth out before I begin, “It was Dad’s hide out. His place, ya know? It was our space where we could go fishing, relax, and just let the world fade away. It was our hideout. I just need some time there to heal.” My finger lazily rims the glass, making salt drift to the countertop.

  Or... I’m following my gut that tells me there’s more to his death than Mama told me.

  “Or you head up there for some bigfoot fucking.” Pepper wags her brows, but the laughter isn’t there. Not really with those tears in her eyes. She knows why I’m really going.

  “We understand, Bean,” Nessa interjects, ever the mediator. “Take your time, just remember to check in so we know that bigfoot hasn’t captured you as a fertile female to repopulate the earth with little hairy babies.”

  I. Can’t. Even.

  A bottle of Patron thunks on the bar top, and I glance up to see Don has a smile on his face. “Take this.” He holds up his hand before I can protest. He just said we had to pay for our own drinks. “We give you two weeks. That’s it. Then, if you aren’t back, we are all coming up there.”

  “I think we should all head up anyway after two weeks, just us.” Pepper smiles the first genuine smile of the night. “Uncle Allen would have loved a drunken orgy.”

  “Pepper!” Ash smacks her upside the head.

  “Ow, what the hell?”

  “That’s... I can’t even with you.” Ash composes herself. “Why would you even say that? Ew. We’re all related.”

  “I don’t know why I say the things I do,” Pepper replies honestly, her voice soft with confusion.

  “Before these three nitwits spew any more bullshit, let’s toast to a promise. A shindig in Allen’s name.” Conner wags a finger at Pepper to stay quiet, though it’s with a crooked smile. “Sans orgy. You’ve got two weeks to mourn, then we are all following you up there, sooner if you need it. How long do you have off?”

  “A month.” If I ever go back to teaching. It isn’t that I don’t love the small creatures called children. I do. But how can I teach them to keep their wonder and inquisitive minds when I hurt so much inside?

  “Drink!”

  I throw back the shot, letting the burn of tequila comfort me. My fingers slide down the thick, clear bottle of Patron, Dad’s favorite. As their laughter picks up, my muscles relax and my mind settles.

  Somehow, I know Dad would have loved that idea.

  Sans orgy.

  Chapter 2

  “Just remember to gift the forest spirits with a shot of whiskey.” Nessa’s voice drifts around the interior of my truck with a soft melancholy. Well, Dad’s truck which is now my truck. Connecting the phone to the speakers was probably the best and worst decision I’ve ever made.

  I love Nessa. I truly love her. But there are days when she is just too flower power for me to deal with. Like now, when she is twenty minutes into a conversation about forest spirits and asking p
ermission to stay on their land. Maybe once upon a time I believed in fantastical things, when my dad lived and he, too, believed. But right now, I just don’t want to hear about it.

  “Nes, I only have tequila, bring the whiskey in two weeks when you guys come up.” I bite my lip, peering out through the windshield at the jungle before me. “How is this Pennsylvania?” What ecosystem even is this? Every time I come out here, it always amazes me just how lush the state can become.

  “Have you hit the forest yet?” Her excitement springs through the speakers with a crackle, and she leaves me with no choice but to turn her down so that her voice isn’t blaring through the truck. “Drive slow and don’t hit bigfoot.”

  “Nes.”

  “I’m serious, you are so lucky I found that bumper sticker. You don’t want him to think you are a hunter out to kill him and his little fur babies.” She’s serious. She pasted a sticker on my bumper that says, “I brake for Bigfoot.”

  She’s lucky I left it on there. “There’s nothing out here, Nes. Forewarning, I might lose you.”

  “No worries, I hid a satellite phone under your seat.” In the background, I hear her whisper, “Namaste,” before a soft sigh slips through the phone. I can picture her in the middle of her meditation room sitting there all ethereal like.

  “You hid a phone in my truck?” The itch to reach under and grab the damn thing almost overwhelms me. I refrain, albeit barely. “I need a grocery store.”

  “I sent a delivery to the local post office, pickup is tomorrow at nine AM sharp.” I’m too shocked to even register her words. Who even is this woman? Though, if I’m being truthful, I’m not surprised. “Moms” —yes, plural— “worry about you. It was their idea, and they may have gone overboard on snacks, so just say thank you. You only have the evening to get through, so buy some perishables.”

  And probably meal items, because I bet they only sent cakes and cupcakes.

  “I don’t know what to say.” The truck hits a pothole the size of a crater. I wince, hoping like hell I didn’t blow a tire. I’m not sure I can get a video to stream with no reception on how to change a tire. Dad tried to teach me, he did. I failed. Holding my breath, I wait for the telltale wobble of a blown tire, when it never comes, I breathe a little easier.

  “I told you what to say. Thank you.” Her breath gusts over the receiver to crackle all around me. “There should be a small grocer, though I couldn’t find much closer to the cabin which is weird. Lunar Mile doesn’t exist on maps. You have to travel miles to the post office. You can’t even walk.” There she is, my little hippie, preferring to walk or ride a bike over driving.

  “Yeah, middle of nowhere Pennsylvania means middle of nowhere. Dad loved this place.” Which is why I was so surprised he willed it to me. The last few years he refused to allow me to visit. “And it exists, I’ve been there.”

  Excitement pumps through me as my GPS pings. I glance at the device, noting I’m almost at Route 666. Nes isn’t wrong, there is no exact address on a map, though I know I’m a half hour away from the cabin. “Nes, I’ve got to find a grocery store.”

  “Go, and Bean?”

  “Yeah, Nes?” I don’t bother hiding my eye roll, knowing what she’s about to say. Besides, she can’t see me.

  “Take care of yourself. We will see you sooner than you think. But keep in touch.” Her soft, feathery voice warms a part of my soul where it swells with that kind of friendship most people long to have and search decades for but never find. Nessa is all of that and more. She’s family.

  “Love you, Nessy.”

  “I love you too, even though they should leave that poor dinosaur alone.” With a chuckle, I reach to end the call. “Wait!”

  “Yes, Nes?” I squint, thinking there’s an opening up ahead. Route 666 should feel ominous, but it calls to me.

  “I’ll bring your yoga mat, you left it here. Don’t forget to meditate in the mornings with the rising sun.”

  “Bye, Nes.” This time I hang up on her knowing full well when she shows up with said yoga mat that I purposely left at her studio, I’ll do the friend thing and force myself to bend in ways I’m not supposed to bend. Because friendship.

  I turn onto the ominous highway, cranking my playlist. Nothing but trees and broken homes lie before me. I travel for another ten minutes before my GPS glitches out and stops registering where we are. Fueled by the thrill of the adventure, knowing Dad would have loved this for me, I pick through my memories of a teenage me during my last trip out here. My mind reminds me of a road we always turned down. Which should be up ahead.

  “Ha!” I pump my fist as I turn down the little dirt road, my truck taking up most of the space. It’s overgrown and full of weeds, while changing trees loom overhead in shades of red and orange. I slow to take in each shrub and signature tree. Ahead, the road wavers like hot asphalt in the summer. Though it’s September and usually cool, an extended summer has taken hold with the clutches of humidity.

  Within moments, the road changes to that of a paved one, and a sign reading, “Welcome to Lunar Mile,” rises from the tall grass. My lips tip up. I’m here. The sign, covered in rust and barely readable, drifts past as I pick up speed. My GPS still glitches, telling me I’m just driving through forest and not on a proper road. I power it down, relying on my memory to lead me from here.

  I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, hesitant to turn my music down until, finally, the little town comes into view. Only a few stores rise amongst the trees, separated by a run-down road. I don’t look at it too much, since my bladder is ready to explode. I swing into a tiny mom-and-pop grocer. The hot engine sizzles and clicks as I turn it off. I slide down off my booster seat for the truck and grab my purse.

  Yes, booster seat. It’s a thing.

  Slamming the door shut, I sling my purse over my shoulder. One stop shopping for a bathroom and then groceries for the night. The tiny town isn’t much more than a strip that looks like the Wild West. Little stores such as a barber shop and a pub, complete with saloon doors, dot the space. Across the street, a sheriff’s office sits in a battered building. Others stand in different phases of remodeling, from brand new to rotted wood.

  The quiet afternoon sits thick around me with not a soul outside. Dismissing the weirdness, I’m pulled into the store by my bladder. The door swings open on loose hinges, letting me into the air-conditioned building. Two cash registers sit vacant in front of a tiny little bakery where the tantalizing scent of doughnuts drifts over to me.

  Yes, please.

  But first, bathroom. It’s been hours, and while I tried my best not to drink too much while driving, the fullness remains, threating to burst. Driven by my need to pee, I step into the tightly lined aisles looking for anyone to lead me in the correct direction.

  As I near the back, laughter spills out with the scent of tobacco. Following the noise, I push through the employee’s only door and into a tiny little break room where two guys sit watching looney tunes.

  Blinking slowly, I shake off the weird, my eyes landing on the sign to the bathroom. “Freaking finally.”

  I ignore their startled shouts and beeline straight for the precious porcelain god I’m about to worship.

  “Holy shit!”

  “Where the hell did she come from?”

  Chairs topple over, but I’m already locking the door and straddling the yellowed rim like a pro, my thighs barely screaming. Thank you, squats. The scent of urine wafts to me, making it clear that this place needs a damn good scrubbing, but I’m not about to be that chick. They can hire out for that shit.

  I sigh in relief as I finish my business and go to wash my hands. However, the sink sits in a layer of filth that will probably give me a virus. Thinking better of it, I grab the hand sanitizer from my pocket and fling open the door to find two very surprised men. I blink at them in annoyance as I squirt my hand cleaning fluid and rub it into my skin. The alcohol content in this crap makes my hands feel like sandpaper.

  “Boys.
” I glare at them while rubbing my hands, which probably looks like I’m plotting their demise. “That’s not a bathroom, it’s a glorified petri dish.” I pop my hand sanitizer back in my purse as I wait for their jaws to pop off the floor. It’s like they’ve never seen a woman. I wave my hand in front of them. “Hello?”

  The one to my right snaps out of it first. His white hair and beard hide a once handsome face. He’s no more than sixty and still gorgeous with a genuine smile. I instantly feel at ease with him, until he opens his mouth. “Who the hell are you?” I can’t tell if he’s in shock someone stepped into his break room or that I’m from out of town. He back pedals at the look on my face. “We don’t just get visitors.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Who are you?” the guy to his right, who’s much younger, asks. Tousled blond hair wisps around his rugged face much like the guy beside him, only a newer 2.0 version. Built like a linebacker, tall, and wearing a simple cotton t-shirt and jeans, he looks like he stepped right off the cover of a western novel. Slack-jawed, he stares at me with sapphire blue eyes, his open mouth framed by a neatly trimmed beard.

  Oh, I love beards.

  I begin my perusal. My eyes scan his body slowly with one brow raised, and I have a smile on my lips I can barely contain. Holy muscles... His brightly colored Hawaiian flaps open leaving me every hard line to feast upon with my gaze. I glance back into those unique eyes, rare with the spirit of the wild glimmering in their depths.

  “Hey.” It’s all I can get out before my heart does this weird twisting, pinching thing in my chest as though someone is viciously stabbing it. I stumble over to a chair, trying to take deep yoga breaths through the onslaught of pain. Nessa would be so proud.

  “Miss. Miss. What is it?” Alarmed, pretty boy comes over, his gentle grip on my elbow steadying. “Oh, my goddess,” he says on a breathy exhale, and his touch zings me with static electricity.

  His touch begins to burn right through me, sending a shock of pleasure to my core, exasperating that pinch a mere moment before it finally settles. My breath whooshes out as his grasp on my body tightens just a fraction.