Begin Again (Home In You Book 2) Read online

  Begin

  Again

  Home in You Series

  Book Two

  Crystal Walton

  Impact Editions, LLC

  Chesapeake, VA

  Copyright © 2017 by Crystal Walton.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Published by Impact Editions, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Design © 2016 Victorine Lieske

  Author Photo by Charity Mack

  Begin Again/Crystal Walton.

  ASIN: B01NAQDA8K

  Contents

  Begin Again

  Contents

  Foreward

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Epilogue

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  Books By Crystal Walton

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  Foreward

  Crystal’s giving away a free book, along with exclusive bonuses from the heart-melting stories you love. Tap here to grab your copy of Your Story Matters and enjoy more behind-the-scenes content: crystal-walton.com.

  Prologue

  Anchor

  Cracks of thunder over the Pamlico Sound had nothing on the adrenaline pounding in Drew Anderson’s ears. With his knees pressed into the pier’s wet, grainy boards, he stilled a hand over his dad’s. “We should wait for the Coast Guard. You don’t know what conditions you’re facing.”

  “No time.” Dad finished untying the rope tethering his old skiff to the dock. “A family’s stranded in this storm. What else is there to know?”

  Just like Dad to put complete strangers first.

  A gust of wind chased another clap of thunder. The grooved wrinkles bookending Dad’s compassionate eyes softened. “Sacrifice doesn’t build character, son. It reveals it.” He squeezed Drew’s arm, climbed in the boat, and cranked the motor. “They have a home to return to.”

  So do you. The thought of losing one more person in his own home nearly knocked Drew upside down like the capsized sailboat on the horizon.

  Lightning streaks lit up the tumultuous waters. “Daddy?” From the top of the pier, Drew’s five-year-old daughter, Maddie, tore free from Grandma Jo and sprang for him.

  He swept her into his arms and nestled her head under his chin. “It’s okay, Sea Monkey.” After holding on with all he had, he tightened her hood and kissed her forehead. “Grandma Jo’s gonna take you back to the house. Daddy and Grandpa will be home soon.”

  “In time for good-night prayers?”

  His heart cinched. “Always, sweetie. I promise.” Drew transferred her to Grandma Jo and looked between his dad and baby girl—his past and future. Two anchors that steadied him through every storm. That wasn’t about to change now.

  He boarded the skiff and nodded for Dad to motor them away from the docks. Once out of the harbor, their boat felt more like one of Maddie’s bath toys, rocking in the waves as they approached the sailboat.

  Drew lowered the anchor and turned as Dad was emptying his pockets—his wallet, two pieces of saltwater taffy. He stalled with the shop’s keys in his hand. Drew had his own set, but Dad’s were the original ones from the day he and Mom first opened their store in Ocracoke.

  “For safe keeping.” He set the keys in Drew’s palm, curled his fingers over them, and turned to the water.

  “Dad, let me. I’m—”

  “No. I need you here to pull them in.” Leaving no room for argument, Dad dove in and swam to the sailboat like a fit petty officer instead of a retired vet.

  Drew readied the life jackets. Within minutes, Dad returned with a trembling teenager under his arm for Drew to tow aboard. It didn’t matter if they were strangers. Sodden and afraid, the young girl clung to Drew as if she’d known him all her life.

  He cradled her head to his chest while Dad returned for the next rescue. “You’re going to be okay. I need you to put this life jacket on, okay?”

  With a shaky nod, she reluctantly loosened her hold around his waist. A swell pitched the skiff to the left. Drew gripped the edge of the boat to steady them. “I’ve got you—”

  A woman’s scream whipped his head toward the waves smacking the side of the sailboat into Dad’s back. The sight alone almost knocked the wind from Drew. He launched for the edge, but Dad held up a hand to stop him. Powering through, he brought a woman in reach for Drew to lift to safety. “Dad, that’s enough.”

  “My husband.” The woman clenched Drew’s sleeve, her frayed plea coiling around him. “Please.”

  Raindrops thrummed into the silence he knew Dad wouldn’t leave unanswered. Every ounce the hero he’d always be, he cut through the dangerous waters for one more save.

  Rain blended into tears of shock and fear as the girl rushed to her mom.

  A guttural howl of wind pierced the sound and lurched Drew into the skiff’s opposite rail. Darkness festered. Muddled yells swarmed. He rubbed the base of his head until a hand grasped the boat’s ledge.

  Drew’s pulse kick-started enough energy to propel him to his feet. He reached over the side. The husband. As soon as Drew hauled him aboard, the guy backed against the inside of the boat and gasped for air.

  Drew scanned the choppy water. “The man who rescued you.” He searched the guy’s face. “Where is he?”

  “The sail. I don’t know. I . . .”

  Drew didn’t hesitate. He plunged into the cool waves, muscles burning with tension. Unforgiving winds spun the capsized sailboat into his path. No sign of Dad. Drew banged a palm to the wood and swam to the opposite side. Nothing.

  Panic surged. He sucked in a giant gasp of air and dove under the boat. There, tangled in the sail. Drew pushed against the current with a strength he didn’t know he had.

  Heartbeats struck his ears like a shot clock. One strike. Two. Pressure seared his lungs as he heaved to break Dad’s motionless body free. Three. Four.

  Out of air, Drew wrenched them both to the surface.

  Thunder growled. Rain pelted. But nothing roared louder than Dad’s lack of breathing. Drew buoyed him against the boat. Five. Six. “Come on
, Dad. I made Maddie a promise.” He pinched Dad’s nose and released air into his mouth. “Come on!”

  The wind raged in response, hurling them both off balance. Waves beat them into the side of the boat, but a whirlwind of fury and fear kept Dad clutched in his arms.

  He scanned for the skiff. Seven. Eight. No more time. He had to make it. Adrenaline fueled him through the dark swells. He hefted Dad aboard and cleared the edge in one swing. Raindrops pounded against the bottom of the boat like a military drum.

  Nine. Ten. Drew dropped to his knees. “Don’t do this.” Eyes blurry with rain and unshed emotion, he laced his shaky hands over Dad’s chest and pumped. Again. And again.

  The young girl clung to her mom and released a cry Drew felt to his bones. He transferred breath to Dad and leaned an ear to his soundless mouth. Praying. Begging. Please.

  Wind tore across the sound and thrust the sailboat straight for them. The girl screamed this time as the husband lunged for the wheel. Drew grasped the ledge, scraped an arm under Dad’s back, and pulled him to his chest.

  Shock clock, drained.

  Chaos brewed around him in slow motion. Every heartbeat amplified. Every second further out of reach. Drew rocked Dad in his arms, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I promised.”

  A dangerous mix of emotions building inside him craned his head to the perilous sky. One mangled yell followed another until his lungs fully emptied. Movement flickered from all directions. But in the eye of the storm, he could only manage to hold Dad tighter—his world unhinged, his anchor lost.

  Chapter One

  Enigma

  Five Years Later

  The waves pulsing against Ocracoke’s shoreline echoed every reason Drew Anderson should turn away from this door.

  He raked a hand through his just-washed hair, wishing for the familiar feel of sand and salt instead. He should be in the water, chasing an answer he was running out of time to find. Not wasting an evening at a summer party.

  For the twentieth time tonight, concerns about his daughter being away from home at a sleepover knotted his stomach. He rotated his neck. Maddie hadn’t had a flare-up in weeks. She’d be fine. If anything came up, Winnie’s parents had his number.

  Checking his cell just in case, Drew scrolled to the text Maddie had sent earlier. Leave it to his carefree baby girl to urge him to have fun tonight.

  Inside, conversations coming from a small den to the right competed with laughter and music trailing in from a sliding door leading to a pool. Drew took one look at both options and headed into the kitchen instead. Other than the faint sound of a girl singing nearby, only the churn of the icemaker filled the quiet room.

  He leaned against the counter, closed his eyes, and massaged his temples.

  “You shouldn’t try so hard.” From behind a cute pair of glasses, blue eyes met his. A blonde in an off-the-shoulder, white cotton dress and an unabashed gaze stood in front of him.

  Where’d she come from? Drew glanced behind him. To what, the wall? Of course she was talking to him.

  When his vocal chords caught up, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

  A lot of good unclogging his voice did. If it got any more pubescent, he’d take that windpipe right out and knock some sense into himself with it.

  She reached for his hand and lowered it from his throbbing temple. “De-stressing. You’re trying too hard.”

  Drew stared at her warm fingers against his. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

  “Ti Russo.” A series of bracelets jingled down her arm. “Pleasure.”

  He’d never met a girl who went by an initial.

  Looking down, she ran the back of her bare foot along her calf. Waiting.

  Now would be the appropriate moment for southern hospitality. Or at a minimum, basic manners in returning the introduction. Yet Drew just stood there like a washed-up piece of seaweed languishing under a sunrise he couldn’t look away from.

  She was probably a few years younger than him. Twenty-eight at best. But her eyes carried the experiences of someone twice her age, along with an artistic flair he knew better than to entertain.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.” He strode to the opposite counter.

  “If you really want to work on something, you might try honing your lying skills.”

  Drew turned, jaw slack. If the girl’s accent wasn’t enough confirmation she was from the Big Apple, her lack of a filter just eliminated any doubt. Unbidden, thoughts of New York triggered memories that’d been festering beneath the surface all day. He tamped them back down where they belonged.

  Ti dipped her head in front of his, brow raised as if waiting for him to divulge his inner thoughts. Like that was happening.

  “Don’t you have a hot yoga class to go to or something?” He scanned the kitchen for a drink. Or maybe a pail of ice to dump over his head.

  “What do you know about hot yoga?”

  Way to open himself up for that one. Drew pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “Isn’t that what you girls do on vacations?”

  A trace of something unreadable passed her eyes before she batted it away. Fear? She covered a moon-shaped scar on her arm when Drew’s gaze strayed to it. “I might be here for business,” she rambled off way too fast.

  “Then I’m sure you need to get back to it.” As he should’ve been doing.

  Drew swiped one of the pre-filled cups of Coke on the counter, took a giant swig, and almost spewed it back out. Not Coke. Dr. Pepper. He pivoted around in search of something clear to wash out the aftertaste. The water filter on the fridge looked like the only option.

  That reminded him. He remembered to tell Winnie’s mom Maddie couldn’t have soda, didn’t he?

  Right beside him again, Ti propped a never-ending leg against the fridge. “Rose.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Rose. It’s the queen essential oil for de-stressing. Expensive, but totally worth it. You should try it with a little lavender, maybe some bergamot.”

  Wow. He must’ve really looked pathetic if some hippie chick was trying to push herbal remedies on him. He snagged an empty cup from the counter.

  “Ooh. Or how about a little painting therapy? I met a girl at Down Creek Gallery earlier. We talked about doing some acrylics one morning this week. You should come.”

  Her unassuming smile curled around him while errant strands of hair mingled with her long dangling earrings. Drew pressed the cup in the general direction of the lever, but he didn’t tear his gaze from her until something churned louder than his stomach.

  Ice. Tumbling over the cup and spilling everywhere. Great. Drew turned to the sink.

  She followed. “C’mon, it’ll be—”

  Her high-pitched squeak spun him around in time to avert her collision with the scattered ice cubes melting on the floor. She gripped his sleeve, and he secured one stabilizing hand to her waist, the other to the fridge. This close, heady fragrances swirled up from her hair and tangled around his voice again. “You all right?” he managed.

  A hint of satisfaction gradually colored over the fleeting embarrassment in her eyes. “See what a little distraction does? Gives that uptight stance of yours an elastic stretch.” Her lips crept to the side. “Or is that from the yoga?”

  Without answering, he let go, grabbed a towel from the sink, and knelt to the floor.

  Ti was right behind. “Seriously, you should come tomorrow. It’ll at least get your mind off whatever’s got your forehead all scrunched like that.”

  Not likely. Aromatherapy? Painting on the beach with a starry-eyed artist? Negative. The only thing he needed to do was get back to figuring out how to meet the bank’s deadline.

  Drew dumped the ice in the sink and turned for the front door. “I hope you have fun on the island, but I really need to go.”

  His momentum ushered him into the briny air, up the walkway, and into a breeze waiting for him like a friend. What was he trying to do by coming here tonight?

  Hunched against the garage
, Drew looked back at the house and released a long breath. He shouldn’t have been short with that girl. She wasn’t the one he was upset with.

  Flashes of unwelcome memories stormed in. He glared at the dark sky until the call of the waves beckoned him to race the riptide. To taste the salty water, feel the rush of the surf, and cling to the only consolation that’d gotten him through these last several years.

  In the morning, a new day would begin again.

  The memory of his dad’s voice breezed through him. Trouble was, even with the sunrise coming, Drew was no stranger to how long a single night could be.

  Ti stood in the kitchen with her heart lodged somewhere in her throat while the door closed behind Mr. Enigma.

  His green eyes had gripped her the minute she saw the torment they held. She didn’t have to know the specifics. She’d experienced enough turmoil of her own to recognize the signs.

  The pain hit her dead in the chest again. What was wrong with her? She’d come to the party to fade into the background and forget what’d driven her all the way to North Carolina from Queens last night. She was supposed to be clearing her head, not clouding it.

  So, maybe trying to get someone else to de-stress helped her do the same for a few minutes. Still, her impulsive decision to come was probably a mistake. She grabbed her shoes.

  Outside, humidity fogged her glasses but didn’t keep her from overlooking the dark-haired, tan-skinned guy from inside leaning against the garage. Their eyes met long enough to make it clear he thought she was following him.

  Before Ti could alleviate his worries, a couple strolled up from the opposite direction.

  The dude’s white blazer, complete with brown chest hairs curling over his V-neck shirt, screamed Miami Vice. To top it off, his hair-sprayed do had about as much give as his haughty grin. “Drew Anderson. Joanna and I were just talking about you.”

  So, Mr. Enigma had a name. And clearly had a beef with the Don Johnson wannabe. Whatever was brewing between them was none of Ti’s business, but something about the weary strain across Drew’s shoulders made her want to take up for him.