Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
I pulled my wife’s body against my chest. The metallic essence of blood filling my mouth and nose, soaking through my clothes, sticky and sickeningly warm. I wrapped myself around her and held her like a vise. I rocked her gently, back and forth, humming our wedding song to the love of my life in my arms.
That morning, our story was different. We were living a fairy tale—two kids from different sides of the tracks, chasing our dreams together, wildly in love, destined for a happily ever after. We were going to grow old together in our little house. We were going to sit on the wooden swing on the porch and watch our kids and grandkids run through the field of lavender.
We were never going to be apart.
You promised me eternity.
You promised you’d be the one who would never, ever abandon me.
And I believed you.
A bright-red cardinal glided in from the trees and landed on the tip of my boot. I stared at his vivid garnet feathers and wished Brianna could see him. Red was her favorite color. Red lips. Red nails. Red dog. Red door. Red hearts. Red dress. Red roses. The bird stayed there—perched on my foot—watching me with sorrow pooling in its glossy black eyes. Like a tiny guardian, he stood vigil.
“Please wake up,” I whispered. Brianna’s cheek was cold against my lips. “I love you. I love you so much. Don’t leave me alone. You promised.” Sobs and blood caught in my throat. “I’ll do anything. Please come back.”
A shadow slowly crept over us, inch by inch, until it overtook all light. I could no longer see the little red bird, but I could hear his soft, faint chirps.
Just as the darkness enveloped me, a sparkling, silvery-blue falling star shot right before my eyes.
Delirious and desperate, I made a wish.
I didn’t listen to the advice.
I was not careful what I wished for.
Chapter 1
LAURA - 2013
“I’m going up to bed,” Ben says as he rises from the couch. He stretches his arms over his head, yawning loudly. “I have an early meeting in the morning.”
I smile at him as I unfold my legs across the warm cushion he just abandoned. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. I’m just going to finish my wine.”
He throws me a look that might be disappointment—or maybe just exhaustion—before he disappears upstairs. There was a time, which feels like a long time ago but really wasn’t when we went to bed together every night. We’d make love, or I’d lie next to him in bed and read until I was too tired and fell asleep. We were happy and content. Building a life together like people do. But lately, we’ve been in a state of perpetual annoyance with each other. Therefore, I prefer to sit alone for a while each night, sipping my wine and staring out the window at our quiet street.
After a few minutes pass, I take my glass into the kitchen and place it in the sink. I check the French doors leading to the deck out back and then the front door, ensuring the double locks and dead bolts are secured. On my way to the stairs, I pause in the foyer to enter the passcode into our security system. It’ll trigger a siren sound that could wake the dead if any doors or windows in the house are opened.
I flick off the lights and pad upstairs on thick, plush carpet. Ben didn’t want carpet on the stairs when we bought the house and remodeled, but I did. Carpet is softer. Safer.
At the top of the stairs, instead of going left to the main bedroom suite, I go right and quietly open the door to my daughter’s bedroom. Closing my eyes, I inhale a quick prayer that I’ll find her cuddled up under her pink blanket with her favorite plush fox, sleeping peacefully like every six-year-old should be at eleven o’clock at night.
My shoulders fall and a long, weary sigh escapes me when my eyes adjust to the dark room illuminated by a glowing teddy bear night-light. She’s not in her bed, but sitting on top of her white wooden toy chest under the double window. Her little palm is pressed against the glass. Still as stone, she gazes out into the darkness.
I’ve found her this way every night for the past eleven or twelve months. It may have even been longer than that. I’ve wished so many times that she’d been inspired by bedtime stories and was looking up at the stars or the moon, seeking magical worlds that sprang from the pages of her books. Or perhaps a sleigh pulled by reindeer. But soon I realized that wasn’t the case at all.
Quietly, I sit next to her on the toy chest and gently move her long, wavy red hair away from her petite face. “Penny…” I say softly. “It’s very late. You should be in bed now.”