Here Without You Read online

  Here Without You

  By Jennifer L. Allen

  Here Without You

  Copyright © 2017 Jennifer L. Allen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published: Jennifer L. Allen 2017

  [email protected]

  Editor: Aimee Lukas

  Cover Design: Concierge Literary Designs and Photography

  Dedication

  To the men and women of the

  United States Armed Forces.

  Thank you for your service.

  Table of Contents

  ~ Prologue ~

  ~ 1 ~

  ~ 2 ~

  ~ 3 ~

  ~ 4 ~

  ~ 5 ~

  ~ 6 ~

  ~ 7 ~

  ~ 8 ~

  ~ 9 ~

  ~ 10 ~

  ~ 11 ~

  ~ 12 ~

  ~ 13 ~

  ~ 14 ~

  ~ 15 ~

  ~ 16 ~

  ~ 17 ~

  ~ 18 ~

  ~ 19 ~

  ~ 20 ~

  ~ 21 ~

  ~ 22 ~

  ~ 23 ~

  ~ 24 ~

  ~ 25 ~

  ~ 26 ~

  ~ 27 ~

  ~ 28 ~

  ~ 29 ~

  ~ 30 ~

  ~ 31 ~

  ~ 32 ~

  ~ 33 ~

  ~ 34 ~

  ~ 35 ~

  ~ 36 ~

  ~ 37 ~

  ~ 38 ~

  ~ 39 ~

  ~ Epilogue ~

  Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Connect With Me

  Also by Jennifer L. Allen

  ~ Prologue ~

  Anna

  “The lavender gown looks gorgeous on you. It brings out the grey in your eyes. So pretty,” I told my sister as she held up her two favorite dresses. The silver dress washed out her pale skin and light blonde hair, but the lavender had just the right contrast, and it made her hazel eyes pop.

  I made a mental note to remember that when I went shopping for my prom dress the next week. My older sister was my fashion plate. If it wasn’t for me having our dad’s nose and her having our mom’s, we could have been mistaken as twins; in fact, we sometimes were. Throughout the years, I’d observed and copied her fashion choices, using variations of her styles—and her hand-me-downs—on myself. She never minded, we were as close as two sisters could be. Irish twins, born eleven months apart in the same year. We were even in the same grade. Weird, yes. But it was our normal, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  She smiled sweetly at me. “Thanks, Anna. Derek will be thrilled I can finally give him a color for his tie and vest.” Derek was her boyfriend of six months. He was the star quarterback and she was the cheer captain. They were the cliché golden couple of Lakeside High School.

  “Don’t forget the corsage,” I sang as I removed the dresses she didn’t like from the dressing room. “I’m going to put these up, and then I’ll meet you in shoes.”

  “I think I’m just going to wear that silver pair with the kitten heel that I wore to homecoming. Think those will go?” she asked, holding up the floor-length, beaded lavender gown and looking at herself in the mirror. She’s going to look amazing all done up in that dress.

  I nodded. “Absolutely, I was going to suggest silver.”

  “Perfect,” she said with a decisive nod. “I’m going to head over to cosmetics, I’m about to run out of lipstick. How about we meet over at the coffee shop in ten? I’m dying for a mocha.”

  “Sounds good,” I walked off with the six gowns carefully balanced over my arm.

  “Thanks for doing this with me today,” she called to me.

  “Anytime,” I answered, waving at her over my shoulder.

  “You’re my favorite sister!” she continued.

  I laughed and turned to face her, walking backwards. “I’m your only sister! I love you, too, Ronnie.”

  She smiled at me again and turned in the opposite direction, a bounce in her step as she hustled off to the cosmetic counter, the gown flowing in her wake. I shook my head, turned back around, and proceeded to return the dresses to where we’d found them.

  As I placed the final dress on its rack, my phone chimed a new text message.

  Ryan.

  Beaming, I read my boyfriend’s words.

  Ryan: I miss you. Still at the mall?

  Me: Just finished dress shopping. Going for coffee.

  Ryan: Would you be pissed if I crashed your girls day?

  Me: Never!

  Ryan: I’m finishing up at the shoe store. See you in a few.

  I grinned the entire way to the food court.

  ***

  Pulling out a chair out from one of the tables in front of Digital Grinds, I set mine and Ronnie’s mochas on the table. Ryan didn’t like coffee, so I knew he’d show up with his beverage of choice: some kind of smoothie or an ice cold lemonade. He was a sucker for sweet, fruity drinks. I relaxed back in my seat, eager to spend a few minutes checking out the shoppers while I waited for my sister and Ryan.

  The coffee shop slash cyber café was bustling with people. Its location—caddy corner to the food court in Lakeside Mall—allowed me the perfect vantage point for people watching. I loved people watching; they absolutely fascinated me. It was one of the reasons my artistic specialty had always been portraits, sometimes straightforward and sometimes abstract. I loved portraying people on canvas in my own creative style, the same way I assumed photographers enjoyed capturing them on film.

  The mall was a hotbed of activity, ripe for my perusal. Packs of girls roamed the wide corridors carrying long plastic garment bags presumably holding formal gowns similar to the one my sister had just purchased. There were trendy women in their tunics, leggings, and ballet flats pushing strollers holding children of various ages and temperaments. The handles of the strollers were laden with paper and plastic shopping bags.

  Sometimes I wished I was a photographer, so I could get the instant gratification of capturing their expressions right on the spot. I’d often have to hold images in my memory and hope that later on, I’d be able to convey what I’d seen.

  I pulled my cell phone out of my black Coach wristlet and checked the time on the screen. It had been twenty minutes since I left Ronnie. She was late…probably still at the cosmetic counter. I knew she wouldn’t leave there with just a lipstick. My sister wasn’t vain, she just loved her makeup. And I didn’t mind it one bit because she took all the work out of it for me. What looked good on her, looked good on me, by default. Ryan would get here eventually, he was probably purchasing his shoes and picking up his smoothie.

  As I tore my eyes from
a couple chasing their little boy around the small indoor play area, I finally caught sight of Ronnie walking across the food court from the direction of the department store and waved just as a loud bang shattered the steady, happy din of the mall.

  It sounded like someone had set off a firecracker.

  In the mall.

  Right behind me.

  Then the screaming began.

  Eyes wide, I stood from my chair and dared to look through the plate glass window of the coffee shop. Through the cheerful Valentine’s display in the shop window, I saw the barista I’d just purchased our lattes from with her back pressed against the cappuccino machine behind the counter, hands in the air. Tears were streaming down her face. What the hell was going on? Across from her was a guy in a black sweatshirt and jeans. His back was towards me, so I couldn’t see his face, but he was gesturing wildly at the girl and…was that a gun in his hand?

  The pieces fell together. Blood spatter on the baristas white shirt, the bang, the gun.

  He’d shot someone.

  As I backed away from the window, another two shots rang out, causing me to jump. One shattered the glass right in front of me. I jumped back another step, frozen in place. I couldn’t see the barista anymore. But the guy with the gun…he was still there…and he was looking right at me.

  “Anna!”

  I followed the sound of my sister’s horrified scream and spun on my heels to run towards her. To get the hell away from the disaster that was unfolding just feet away from me.

  More shots rang out, and I swore I felt one whiz right by my head before I was tackled to the ground under a large, hard body.

  I screamed and kicked and punched my attacker; my survival instinct pressed into full gear.

  “Calm down,” a deep, gravelly voice said. Ryan. “Stay down, baby. I got you.”

  “R-ronnie,” I stammered through chattering teeth, desperately trying to raise my head and look over to where my sister had just been standing.

  Ryan put his hand over my head and tucked me safely into his chest and under his body. “She’ll be okay, Anna…just wait.”

  More shots rang out, and my body jolted with every one of them. I was shaking from head to toe, unsure if I was going to throw up or wet my pants. Tears blurred my vision, and I was struggling to breathe. Whether from Ryan’s weight on top of me or the panic, I wasn’t sure. Probably the panic.

  Seconds…minutes…hours went by, for all I knew, while I stayed huddled under the safety of Ryan, breathing in the comfortable, familiar scent that I knew was his Old Spice deodorant.

  But…Ronnie.

  She was out there.

  “P-please…I n-need my s-sister.”

  He held me tighter, knowing I was going to bolt the moment I felt his grip weaken. He kept shushing me and whispering words to soothe me as absolute hell was taking place nearby.

  Then there was silence.

  An eerie kind of silence.

  There was no movement. No shuffle of bodies or clatter of silverware.

  Then a sob.

  More sobs.

  And suddenly, wails of terror and pain echoed throughout the food court.

  I felt Ryan rise and his hold on me lessened. I panicked. I didn’t want to be left alone.

  What if the guy was still out there?

  “N-no. S-stay with m-me. D-don’t let me g-go. P-please.”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Stay right here. Just for a minute, okay? Let me check things out. I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to look up for a minute.”

  I nodded, still somewhat pressed against his chest.

  He released me and got to his knees. I picked up my head slowly and carefully, noticing for the first time where we’d landed after he knocked me down—tucked behind a few of the trash bins where diners could deposit their trays after their meals.

  I peered up at my boyfriend—my rescuer—and I’d never seen the expression on his face before. He looked horrified—sick even—as his eyes darted around the vast space.

  Then I remembered Ronnie.

  I tore my eyes away from Ryan and searched for my sister. She must have taken cover when she’d realized what was happening. People were huddled under tables, hiding behind trash bins and planters, only a few daring to peek out to see if the danger was still present. I hoped Veronica had retreated, finding her way into one of the nearby stores or hidden somewhere safe.

  Then I spotted the edge of a hot pink purse…one that looked remarkably like the Kate Spade purse Ronnie had gripped in her hand just a few moments ago.

  My pulse throbbed in my skull.

  Maybe she’d dropped it.

  “Veronica,” I called out quietly. “Ronnie?”

  I saw a brown suede ankle boot peeking out from behind a couple of overturned chairs near the purse.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  “Ronnie?” I called out, desperation clouding my voice. I rose to my feet. I had to get to her.

  I jumped as a hand landed on my shoulder. It was Ryan. “Anna, you shouldn’t…”

  “Ronnie is over there!” I yelled, swatting his hand away and taking off. I weaved through the tables, chairs, and mess of food that speckled the floor.

  I dropped to my knees beside my beautiful sister’s unmoving body, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from my knees at the hard landing.

  Her eyes were closed. The front of her jeans and pink short-sleeve blouse appeared clean and untouched. But dark red blood pooled beneath her, seeping into the silver garment bag that held her brand new prom dress.

  “Ronnie,” I whispered, placing my ice cold hand on her warm cheek. “Ronnie…please wake up.”

  The small paper bag containing her lipstick lay abandoned near her right hand, and her left hand still gripped the handles of her Kate Spade purse.

  I took her right hand in mine and squeezed.

  “Ronnie,” I cried softly, over and over again. I felt Ryan’s arms wrap around my shoulders as I sat there, begging my sister, “Please wake up.”

  “Please wake up.”

  “Please wake up.”

  ~ 1 ~

  Anna

  Five Years Later

  I rubbed my hands against my arms, trying to get warm as I walked the cold streets of Seattle. I wished I’d remembered to bring my gloves; it was bad enough I only had a fleece to keep me warm since I’d torn my only winter coat. A new coat wasn’t an expense I could afford, not if I wanted to eat and pay rent.

  I startled, hearing a scuffle down the dark alleyway I was passing. I didn’t turn my head and look, just kept on moving, hastening my pace. I was almost to the bus stop. I could see it through the fine mist my breath was making in front of my face.

  At first, I’d been attracted to Seattle’s colder weather. It numbed me when all I wanted was to not feel anything. Now, I hated it. I hated everything about it.

  I hated the cold.

  I hated barely being able to make ends meet.

  I hated that I had to walk around with a small switchblade in my pocket just in case some creep tried to attack me.

  I hated my apartment and the empty refrigerator inside it.

  I hated my job.

  I hated the bus.

  I hated being so completely and utterly alone.

  I wanted…I wanted to go home.

  I tried not to think about home often. About my parents and my sister…and Ryan, who I knew wasn’t even there anymore. Thinking about home made me think about the shooting and everything that happened after. Everything I’d lost.

  But I was at the end of my rope. I’d been on my own, wandering around with no direction for far too long. I left Lakeside hoping to find myself, to find something. Instead, I’d found nothing but one struggle after another.

  My own shame kept me from returning. I knew my parents would welcome me home, but I was too afraid to make the first move, even if it was as simple as picking up the phone and calling them. I let them down so much, I didn’t deserv
e their love.

  I sighed as I continued to shuffle down the sidewalk, another cloud of breath appearing before me. One of the many downfalls of working the late shifts at the diner was having to make the trek on the dark streets to the bus stop. I tried to time it just right, so I’d arrive about the same time as the bus and not have to wait alone in the dark bus shelter.

  I passed a few bars and night clubs as I walked, excusing myself through a pack of smokers near a designated smoking area.

  “Hey,” one of them called out as I passed.

  I ignored the male voice. The drunks were always so mouthy. Not sure what kind of thrill this guy was looking for, and I wasn’t interested either. Surely he wasn’t attracted to me in my pale blue polyester diner dress, white tights, and non-skid shoes. I didn’t make a pretty picture, and I liked it that way. I generally repelled anyone I came into contact with, with my ghost-like complexion and poor, thrift store fashion choices.

  “Anna,” the guy called out again, and I froze in place.

  This time the voice sounded familiar, but…

  No, it couldn’t be.

  He sounded different. Huskier, maybe? Stronger? Like what the man would sound like, not the boy I remembered.

  I contemplated turning around. I knew I should, so I could catch one last glimpse of him…if it was him…but I didn’t. I started walking again, quicker than before.

  It was a hallucination. I was homesick and imagining things. Great. Was that a symptom of malnutrition?

  Hurried footsteps came up behind me, and I reached into my pocket for my knife, about to break into a jog. The bus stop loomed in the distance, so close and yet so far away, when a firm hand landed on my arm and stopped me in my tracks.

  I’d felt him just before he touched me…the connection was still there…after all that time.

  “Anna?” he asked, his voice cracking and sounding more like the boy whose heart I’d broken so many years ago.

  “Ryan,” I whispered.

  He spun me around and looked into my eyes, a frown marring his face as he took me in. I knew what he was seeing: pale skin, bony cheeks, and sunken, lifeless hazel eyes. I was skinny, skinnier than I’d been when I’d last seen him, and I didn’t have much extra weight on me back then. I probably looked so frail and breakable to someone like him.