What If: The Anthology

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Lure

  Delusion

  Unforeseen

  Paradox

  Twisted Course

  Two Steps Back

  Alive

  Unspeakable Lies

  Thank You

  What If

  The Anthology

  All Proceeds will benefit the Autism Awareness

  Each title in this collection is copyrighted to their respective authors as noted. This collection is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, place and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations, and any resemblances to actual events or locales or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. These books contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

  Cover Design by: LM Creations

  Interior Formatting by: Kassi’s Kandids Formatting

  Lure

  ©2015 M. Mabie

  Delusion

  ©2015 Chelle Bliss

  Unforeseen

  ©2015 Shantel Tessier

  Paradox

  ©2015 River Savage

  Twisted Course

  ©2015 Aly Martinez

  Two Steps Back

  ©2015 Hilary Storm

  Alive

  ©2015 Erin Noelle

  Unspeakable Lies

  ©2015 Alice Tribue

  LURE.

  Copyright © 2015 M. Mabie

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be re- produced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, alive or dead, is coincidental and not indented by the author.

  DISCLAIMER. This is a work of adult fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author does not endorse or condone any behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.

  ONE

  CASEY

  Sunday, April 26, 2009

  So, I left.

  And then I left again. I didn’t have to work, but I couldn’t be in town. I wouldn’t be able to hide from her. I was sure we’d run into each other at the hospital. I’d called Cory that night as I re-packed a fresh bag and told him I was leaving.

  “Why don’t you finally stick around and fight for her?” he’d asked.

  “She doesn’t want me to.”

  “How does she know? I don’t think she knows what she wants because you’ve never shown her what she could have. Man, you chased this girl all over the country for the last year, but you never came out and told her what you really wanted. What was she supposed to think? For a year, you pretended like it was okay she was with this other dude, and now it’s not. That’s convenient.”

  “I’ve got to go,” I told him. I knew on some level that he was right, but fuck him for saying it after it was too damn late.

  “You do that. Come see your Godson when you get home. And your mom. You can’t run all the time.”

  His words were spot on. Run. That was what I was doing, but I honestly didn’t know how to stay.

  He was irritated at me and had every right to be. I didn’t know what else to do.

  I flew to St. Louis. It was the next flight out when I arrived back at the airport for the third time that day.

  I drank a belly full at the Adam’s Mark. The bar was big and full. There had been a Cardinals game and I was surprised that for midnight on a Sunday night it was still that busy. They had won and the place looked like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

  I didn’t go home that week. I was supposed to have a few days off, but I spent them in St. Louis walking around downtown and sitting on a barstool wherever I found one.

  Days went by, I jumped back into my regular routine.

  Work.

  Sleep.

  Dream.

  Blake.

  Then I did it all over and over again.

  Money rolled in, I was officially a partner in the company. The new building was up and running, and I was keeping them busy writing new deals with clients and increasing the shipments with customers we’d already won over.

  As May 23rd crept closer and closer, I battled with myself.

  On May 3rd, I decided it was bullshit. I hated her and at least she wasn’t marrying me with her cheating ass. Then, I rationalized that I knew better.

  On May 4th, I Googled How To Stop A Wedding. That was interesting reading.

  I went back and forth, over and over in my head.

  Text her. Call her. I did none of those things.

  On May 11th, I decided I had to lay it all out there. Had to give it one last shot. Otherwise I was never going to climb out of this funk.

  On May 22nd, I rented a car, figuring that by the time I got to her, I’d know what to say.

  TWO

  BLAKE

  Saturday, May 23, 2009

  I didn’t know what to say or think. Everything felt surreal.

  I woke up at my mom and dad’s house, the morning of my wedding, and simply went through the motions.

  My mother was already in the shower. It was five a.m. I only had Micah and a few cousins standing up with me as bridesmaids. My mother having taken the helm of the wedding ship shortly after it began, took it upon herself to nominate them. I went along and asked. They said yes. Everyone was happy.

  We were all getting ready here at nine.

  Micah and Cory drove up with Deb, Casey and Cory’s mom. She came to help them with Foster since he was still so tiny. I told Micah that it was silly for her to come all this way after just having him, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  They were staying at a hotel nearby, which I think made both Micah and Cory feel much better.

  My dad asked, “Blake, what’s on your mind?” as I drank my first cup of coffee in my pajamas.

  “Oh, stuff,” I said, blowing air across the hot mug.

  “Anything you want to run by your old dad?” he said, reading the paper.

  “I don’t think so,” I told him, taking a seat next to him, grabbing the entertainment section.

  “It’s your wedding, Blake. It’s perfectly normal to feel nervous or anxious,” he offered. “You got some cold feet?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if they were ever really all that warm,” I admitted.

  My father put his paper down, folded it, and placed his mug down on top.

  “Talk,” he said.

  I took a few breaths, tried to organize my thoughts so that I didn’t sound like a maniac. Like the selfish little bitch I was. Then, I told the truth.

  “I don’t know if this is right. I don’t know if Grant is the one.” My eyes started to burn and I rubbed them, trying to pass off the action for early morning grogginess.

  “Why not? Don’t you love him?”

  “I do. But sometimes it feels like it’s missing something.”

  “Like what?” he asked sympathetically.

  “Like me.” My fucking lip started to quiver, so I hid it by taking a drink.

&nbs
p; “Well, I hate to break it to you, baby doll, but today is your wedding day. It would be devastating if you weren’t there.”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “I think I know what you’re saying. So, hear me out. You don’t feel like yourself when you’re with Grant? Is that it? Like you’re someone else?”

  “Yes. What does that mean?” I took another sip.

  “Do you ever feel like you’re yourself, Blake? Or is it only around him?”

  It was pathetic. My dad probably thought I was having some sort of stress-induced psychotic break. When in reality, I was freaking out because deep down I didn’t want to marry Grant.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered.

  He nodded, giving me his full attention.

  “I’ve not been totally faithful to Grant. I know it’s bad, and before you think I’m terrible, just know that I feel so bad about it. But, Daddy, if I loved him the way I should then I wouldn’t have done that, right?”

  “Is it over with the other guy?” he asked.

  “I think so. I broke it off. Lots of times. I knew it was wrong, but dad—” I didn’t know where to go from there.

  “Do you love him?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” Then I noticed that tears were already falling. “I never let myself think like that. You know. I never let myself think that that was even a possibility. But Daddy, I’m me with him.”

  “Shhh, don’t cry. Is it that boy with the hair?” he asked and it surprised me. How did he remember that?

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “Baby, dads know. You got to tell me though. Right now. Are you going to get married today? I’m behind you. Whatever you decide. But Grant is a good man. He loves you. He wants to take care of you and make a life together. Are those things you want? Because as a dad, that’s a pretty good son-in-law package. I don’t know this other guy. I’m sorry. I wish I had met him, and then I might be a better judge. But anyone who could let my little girl go is a fool. And he doesn’t deserve you. Come here.”

  I went to him and cried on his shoulder. I sat on my dad’s lap feeling the truth in what he’d said. He walked away from me so many times. Grant never would.

  If I left Grant and went with Casey today, I might be heartbroken again by the end of the week. I had no way of knowing.

  It was time for me to grow up.

  It was time for me to finally do the right thing.

  THREE

  CASEY

  Saturday, May 23, 2009

  I drove ninety down the interstate toward her house. It finally felt like I was doing the right thing.

  I knew her parents’ names from conversations with Blake and it didn’t take much to find their address on my phone. I also called Micah and begged to know where she would be. So there was also that.

  My foot heavy on the throttle, the rental car ran wide open.

  I couldn’t take it. My adrenaline was amplified in my blood. My bones were aching with a need to see her one last time before she was his. Till death do them part.

  Well fuck that.

  I wanted them to part now.

  At very least, if I got there and saw her happy with my own eyes I could go. If it was true, then it just was.

  But I knew in my gut it wasn’t true.

  Not as true as us.

  I exited the freeway and rounded the corners a little faster than I should have. The back end of the car slid and the tires squalled at me at every turn. I was reckless, what did I have to lose besides everything.

  I was more afraid of wrecking my heart than I was of wrecking the fucking two-hundred-dollar-a-day rental.

  I pulled in down the street from their house, the drive way was full of cars. As I began my walk up the cement stairs leading to her parent’s front door, I saw a long black limo coming down the street.

  I changed course.

  I ran around the back side of the house, between the bushes and the brick of her parents’ home. I didn’t stop to think if she was in the back. My instincts knew I’d find her there.

  Around the corner was a small patio and a large French door. It was cracked. I heard two voices.

  One was hers.

  Blake was in there.

  “Are you ready, sweetheart? The limo is pulling up,” said a woman.

  “Yeah, okay,” Blake said. Her voice sounded pained. She didn’t sound like my honeybee. She didn’t sound like Betty. “I need a few minutes. I’ll get my things together and I’ll be right out. You can send everyone to the limo. I’ll be right there, Mom.”

  “All right, but I’ll wait by the door for you. I’ll help you down in your dress.”

  I waited until I heard her mother’s heels clip-clop away from her. My heart raced. I felt like I’d been shot up with pure adrenaline. The vein in my neck throbbed almost audibly.

  I walked to the door slowly, not wanting her to be frightened or scream.

  “Blake?” I said quietly as moved into the open doorframe.

  I startled her, but she covered her mouth. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. Her mouth was open behind her hand and she sobbed. Her eyes overflowed, it was like they held back an ocean and her eyes fissured, leaking behind her lids.

  “Shhh,” I said shaking my head. My stomach lurched at the poor sight in front of me. As I crouched before her in her white gown, I felt all of the pain that this whole thing had caused her.

  She knew. She felt it as much as I did.

  Her chest heaved silently, stifled by her perfectly manicured hand. She wore false nails. I don’t know why that struck me and resonated, but it did. Blake bit her nails. If she was nervous, she bit them. When she was anxious, bored, troubled, she mauled her fingers until they were a mess. Slapping some false shield over one of her personality traits—something so telling about who she was and what she was thinking—made me think irrationally.

  She was uncomfortable.

  She was a mess, but she didn’t have her nails to show it.

  Fake nails, for a fake wedding. At least to me, it all seemed fake.

  “Don’t do this, honeybee. Look at yourself,” I urged her. “You don’t have to do this to yourself. You don’t look like a woman about to get married. You look devastated. Please, stop crying. Talk to me.” I rubbed my hands soothingly up and down her thighs, trying to give her some comfort.

  Her hand fell away and her eyes clouded over, an eerie stillness came over her face. She took a few breaths, holding a hand out in front of my face. Palm-side out. But she didn’t look into my eyes. She hadn’t since I crouched in front of her.

  “Stop. Just stop.” She hiccupped and sniffed. “Why are you here, Casey?”

  I didn’t answer. Surely she knew damn well why I was there.

  “Why don’t you ever just leave me alone?” Her voice broke as she whispered a scream, “Leave. Me. Alone.”

  “No. Talk to me.” I hadn’t expected her to be so angry, so livid. I guess I hadn’t thought about it all the way through. There were things that I still had to know. “Why him? Why not me?” My hands found my hair and I pulled it in frustration.

  “You know why,” she said with heated venom, reminiscent of the Blake I was used to. But then it iced over just as fast when she continued, “Don’t act like this was something that it wasn’t.”

  “Not wasn’t,” I shouted, a little louder than I should have. Then softened, “Is. It still is.”

  “This isn’t a fucking love story, Casey. This is life.” She huffs, then choked back a sob. I try to think of something to say to that. Then she continued, “We met in a bar and we had a one-night-stand.”

  I was grinding my teeth. My jaw ticked hearing her blasé description of a night that meant so much to me.

  I defended, “One-night stand? Woman, there’s nothing about that night that was ever going to be just a one-night stand.” I shook her leg, and my teeth set to clench again. “Now. Call. This. Shit. Off!”

  A fleeting spark danced across her brow
n eyes. “It’s too late.” Her words gentled. “We can’t do this anymore. I can’t take it. It’s too hard. I’m too tired. Please, leave me alone. Just go, Casey.” Her stupid mouth must have made her heart mad, because the hands that had been hanging loosely at her sides were now balled into fists.

  Then she shoved me back with them. At first weakly, then she came at me again.

  I stood up, taking her with me grabbing her with my hands. My shaky fingers wrapping easily around her small wrists.

  Her nostrils flared and her breasts rose and fell in fast succession. The white lace of her dress raised and lowered with each hit of air her lungs stole from the room. She stared at me. Her eyes clear and so resolute.

  “Fine,” I let her go. “Hit me. Blake, kick me out! You’ve always been good at that. Go ahead. Get mad. That’s all you, but you’re not fighting me.” I stepped back feeling my own temper rear its head again. Like a tidal wave every time my mouth moved, I couldn’t hold any of it back anymore.

  What was the point?

  “You’re. Fighting. You,” I said slowly. And I punctuated it with my finger in her chest. Not hard enough to move her, but enough for her to feel me and know I was going to fight back. “You fucking love me. Not him!” I shouted.

  “It’s too much!” she yelled. “Oh, God what have I done?”

  “It’s not too late. Make this stop. Be mine. Be all mine.” She came to me, a ray of hope shot up my spine, making me stand taller.

  She wrapped her arms around my waist so tightly, crashing her cheek to my chest. “I’ll always be yours. I can’t help it. But it can’t. I can’t stop all of this now.”

  I arched my back, and cupped her cheeks angling them up at me and spoke as calmly as I possibly could, the emotion of this whole thing finally hitting me in the stomach. “Yes, you can. I’m right here. Call someone. Call Reggie.” I leaned down to her face. “Please tell them. Tell them that you’re calling it off.”

  I reached for my phone in my pocket. “You can,” I urged.

  She looked at it in my open hand and then back to my eyes. It was like watching my heart get hit around a court during a live or die tennis match. Love serving love.