Read Online Books/Novels:
Wide Open Spaces (Shooting Stars #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
1537274902 (ISBN13: 9781537274904)
That moment your life changes. That moment that changes your life. That moment you love someone more than you love yourself.
That was the moment we gave our son up for adoption and the moment I was left bare.
A wide-open space that would forever be empty.
There are moments that define you as a person, moments that prove just how strong you are, moments you push yourself to keep going forward when all you really want to do is give up. It was in one of those moments when I reached out and found him waiting for me.
When Shelby Calder left home fifteen years ago, she never planned on returning to the Alaskan town she left behind. But after the death of her grandfather and a bitter divorce, she hopes going home will be a fresh start for her and her ten-year-old son.
Zach Watters has made a lot of mistakes in his life. But when he sees Shelby Calder, looking more beautiful than ever, standing outside her childhood home, he promises himself that letting her go won’t be a mistake he ever makes again.
Some things never change and love is one of them.
|Books in Series:|
|Books by Author:|
“You have to let him go now.” Kathleen softly lays her hand on my shoulder. Shaking my head, I feel my throat close up and pain—excruciating pain—slice through me. “I know this is hard,” she says gently.
“No, you don’t,” I choke out, feeling tears drip down my cheeks as I rest my lips against the smooth skin of my baby’s forehead.
“Shel, baby,” Zach says, capturing my gaze as he walks around the bed toward me. “We agreed. This is the best thing for him.”
Swallowing hard through the pain expanding inside of me, I pull in a deep shaky breath, closing my eyes.
“I hate you,” I whisper, blinking my eyes open meeting his gaze once more. I have no idea how I can love and hate someone so much, but both of those emotions rock through me as I hold my son in my arms.
“You don’t mean that.” The pain in his voice rips me apart a little more, and I lean my head back, closing my eyes, needing to block him out.
“Shelby,” Kathleen prompts, and my eyes open.
“Can I have a minute alone with him before you take him?” I plead, looking up at her.
“Of course,” she agrees softly, wrapping her hand around my shoulder and squeezing gently before leaving the room.
“I want to be alone with him, Zach,” I whisper, not even looking to the side of the bed, where he’s still standing.
He’s silent for a moment. I wonder if he even heard me. “He’s my son, too,” he says, causing bitterness to well up inside of me.
“Yeah, well, you can say goodbye when I’m done,” I tell him, hearing the indifference in my voice.
“I love you, Shel.” The feel of his lips against the top of my head causes a fresh wave of tears before I hear his retreating footsteps, carrying him farther away from me. The door finally opens and shuts promptly, leaving us alone.
Inhaling a ragged breath and releasing it slowly, I press my finger to my boy’s chin, where there is a dimple identical to his father’s. “If things were different, if I knew I could make it and give you the life you deserve, I would never give you up,” I whimper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. I bring his tiny body up to my chest and lean back, letting his weight settle against me until it’s time to let him go.
I wake feeling warm, my arm and leg thrown over Zach, the steady beat of his heart playing in my ear like my favorite song. Sliding my hand from his abs, I rest it over my now flat stomach and swallow down the tears burning my throat.
“It will be okay. I swear it will be okay,” Zach whispers to the top of my head, while I bury my face against his chest.
I know he’s wrong. A piece of me is missing. A part of my soul is gone. I will never be okay again.
Shutting off my car, I stare at the two-story house I used to call home. It looks the same as it did when I left. The deep blue is still vibrant, even more so now against the backdrop of the gray sky behind it. The white porch is still welcoming, with flowers hanging from the banister.
My grandmother and I would spend hours planting flowers in those boxes during the summer. When she passed away during my sophomore year of high school, I made sure to keep up the tradition in her memory. It looks like, in my absence over these last fifteen years, someone else had taken over the job.
Looking at the bright blooms growing wild, hanging over the sides of the boxes, I wonder if Granddad hired someone to plant them for him when he left to live in Florida. He never mentioned that he cared about the flowers we planted. Honesty, I don’t remember him mentioning them. Growing up, I didn’t even think he noticed, but now, looking at the blooming buds that are artfully arranged, I know they meant something to him after all.
“Mom?” Turning my head, I look at my son Hunter and force a smile as aching pain and regret slice through my chest.
“Sorry, honey. I spaced out. Do you want to unpack tonight, or do you want to wait until tomorrow, kiddo?”
Looking over his shoulder, he eyes the boxes and suitcases piled in the back then looks at me. I hate the sadness I see in his eyes. I hate I’m the cause of his pain. I know he misses his father already, and I know that at ten years old, he doesn’t understand why we’re no longer together even if it’s been over two years since we separated and divorced.
“Tomorrow,” he grumbles, and I feel that ache in my chest expand. He hates me for moving him across the country. Away from his friends, away from everything he knew. And I hate myself a little bit, too, for failing miserably at keeping my family together. I just hope this move will be a new start for us.