The Blessing

  Copyright © Elizabeth Lee 2018

  All Right Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  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, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover Artist: Jada D’Lee

  Edited by: Sherry Neal, Paige Edwards, and Lizzie Lee

  Pre-read by: Caroline Ward and Sue Gilreath

  This book was published thanks to free support and training from:

  EbookPublishingSchool.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Sherry and Paige, you both are so solid and I know I this book would never have been possible without you both.

  To everyone who has supported my journey so far, thank you. All of your kind words of encouragement and support have turned me into the romance writing junkie I am today. All of you have changed my life and I feel so blessed for each and every one of you.

  To my family, especially my mom who will probably be reading this, thank you for your love and support every step of the way. But Mom, keep in mind that this is a “romantic erotica” and there are some parts you might want to skip. So, if you come across something “steamy” just move along… Don’t say I didn’t warn you because I’m totally warning you right now in this acknowledgment section.

  Prologue

  I was once deluded enough to believe we all had so much fucking time on Earth. Deluded enough to believe my brother’s days were endless. If I knew Dean was going to die the way he did—I would’ve never left to go on my journey to “find myself.” It sounds so fucking ridiculous now. But when I was younger and not so damn jaded, I wanted to drop everything to travel the country. Did you really need to “see the world,” Trev? Did you see the world, or did you merely lose yourself? I didn’t find myself—not even close. If fact, I’m more lost now than I’ve ever been.

  “Trev—Cat’s going to pop any day now. Do you think you can make it home? I’ll pay for your trip if money is the problem… I love you, Brother. We all want you here. Greyson’s going to want to meet his uncle.”

  “I’ll come home when I come home. I have a lot going on here, Dean. What do you expect me to do? Drop everything?”

  “Come when you can, Trev. But my son isn’t going to be young forever…” Dean pauses for a moment, and I know there’s so much more he wants to say—but doesn’t dare to. “My home is always open to you. We’ll be here waiting, Trev. I’ll be here whenever you want to come back.”

  Lies. Filthy lies which my older brother couldn’t help. He wasn’t here when I came home.

  After Dean died, I sobered up and returned to Evergreen, Colorado. My hometown’s just as fucking bleak as I remembered it. Everything seems so empty now that my brother is no longer one of its inhabitants. Everything looks so familiar, but none of it makes me feel the least bit nostalgic. Every place I pass on the way to my parents’ home stirs up a memory of my brother. Biting down on my lip until I can taste the iron of my blood, I push the thoughts away—before the guilt fucking consumes me. I shouldn’t have ever left.

  Dean had been the golden child while I was the problematic youth who barely made it through high school. However, there was more to him than that. Not only was he perfect—just what society suggests a man should be—he was an amazing brother, as well. Even when he was being a jackass. I was lucky to have him in my life and he deserved a better brother than me. I was a fuck-up. I am a fuck-up. I came back home to rectify my mistakes and exorcise my demons. I was shit while he was alive, so, I’m hoping I can be the man he wanted me to be now that he has passed.

  Chapter 1

  Sober

  Things appear to be the same as they were when I left. I swear, nothing changes in this town. It’s still the quaint, boring town I remembered. There’s a blur of familiar faces—including a few women I never want to run into again. I wish I could go back in time and beat myself for being the whore I was back in high school. Hopefully my past doesn’t come back to fucking haunt me. That’s the last thing I need.

  As I stop to fill-up my gas tank, even the clerk behind the counter gives me a sympathetic smile, seeming to remember me due to my brother’s influence and popularity. At least now I have their sympathy and not their disdain. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask about my brother’s death because I’m not sure if I’m ready to so much as mention it. I haven’t talked about it since he died, fearing that once I voice my feelings aloud—I’ll have to finally admit to myself that the accident truly happened, and this is my new reality. A new reality without one of the most meaningful people in my life isn’t something I’m willing to accept. I pay for my gas and an energy drink—one of the few vices I have left—and pass a group of smokers on the way back to my truck. As the scent of tobacco fills my nostrils, my throat constricts as desire overwhelms me. Fuck. With a clenched jaw, I pump my gas before I head on my way.

  My parents live in the same large, brick house I grew up in. It’s exactly like I remember it, inspiring memories of my childhood which leave a lump in my throat. I take a moment to breath in the crisp, Colorado air before heading inside. This will be a fresh start for me and I’ve got to make the most of it. I sobered up since leaving California and while the withdrawals are nagging at me—I can breathe easier now that I’m not constantly under the influence. When I found out Dean died, the first thing I wanted to do was get completely fucking hammered. I wanted to drink until I didn’t remember my own name. However, the baby which is waiting for me at my parents’ house stopped me. Dean wanted me to be his son’s guardian. I can’t fathom why he would want me of all people, but it’s what he and his wife, Cat, had bequeathed in the will. I don’t know the first thing about children, but I love my brother enough to rise to the challenge. I’ve never met his son, Greyson, but I love him already for one reason: he’s one of the only pieces of my brother I have left.

  I grab the duffle bag, which carries all of my belongings, and head into the house, feeling oddly nervous about seeing my parents for the first time in almost two years; the last time I saw their faces was at Dean and Cat’s wedding. I knock on the door a few times and wait, expecting one of them to let me in. I notice my dad’s car isn’t out front, so I assume he’s at work, which leaves me with my ice-queen of a mother. Maybe she’s improved since the last time I saw her, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part. I suppose I can’t blame her for treating me the way she did; I wasn’t exactly the “model child” growing up. I gave my parents a lot of grief—although, my mom and dad handled my behavior in completely separate ways. While my dad has always been supportive of me, my mom gave up on me entirely by the time I finished middle school. Perhaps my brother’s death may have changed her. I’m the only son she has now, after all.

  After standing outside for a few minutes with no response, I decide to let myself in. The interior of the house is exactly as I remembered it. Except cleaner now that it’s not inhabited by two teenage boys. I set my duffle bag on the floor of the entryway and look around. The main hallway is lined with photographs, mostly of my brother, but there are a few of him and me together, as well. My chest constricts as I look at them. I can’t believe he’s really fucking gone. My fingers trace the lines of his face, as my eyes prick with tears. I can’t rem
ember the last time I cried. I didn’t even shed a tear when my dad called to inform me of Dean’s untimely death. I’d been shocked and was unable to truly accept the news as reality. But now… Fuck—now my eyes are wide fucking open.

  “Trevor, you’re my brother. Do you think I could ever turn my back on you? I’m here for you, Brother. No matter what you do.”

  A lone tear runs down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt. I hear the faint cry of a baby in the distance, which brings me back to the present.

  I follow the sound, eager to meet my nephew for the very first time. I find him being held in my mother’s arms. She doesn’t acknowledge me, which could be due to the fact that the little guy’s cries are so loud. I take a moment to stare at his little face for the very first time. His eyes are shut and his face is flushed; tears are running down his chubby cheeks as he cries out. My mother begins to rock him in her arms and murmurs things to him which are too quiet for me to hear. As his cries begin to subside, he opens his eyes and looks right at me. He looks at me as if he’s known me his entire life, and in this moment, he has me wrapped around his little finger. I know I would do anything for him.

  “Hey,” I say lamely, stepping into the living room to make my presence known. After five years of squandering my fucking life and traveling, I can’t think of anything better to say to my mother.

  She gives the baby a kiss on the forehead before turning to acknowledge me. She looks me over as if she were looking at a complete stranger, before finally saying, “Hello, Trevor.” Jesus, she’s always been so formal with me. “Your old bedroom is all ready for you.”

  After five years this is all she can manage to say to me? I suppose things were never too warm and loving between us. She practically dismisses me and turns her attention back to the baby. I try not to take it too personally. Maybe this is just her way of grieving for Dean. As I turn to leave, I hear a tiny squeal which causes me to stop in my tracks.

  “Can I hold him?” I ask, although, I don’t know why I bother. I am his guardian now.

  “He needs his rest, Trevor,” Mom responds in a tight voice.

  I move to stand next to them and Greyson giggle, reaching his hands out to me as if he wants me to hold him. “Come on, Mom,” I say, unable to look away from the little boy who resembles my brother. With that smile on his little face, he looks just like Dean. “Let me hold him for a bit.”

  “Trevor, it’s almost his naptime.”

  I take a step back and turn away, not wanting to get into an argument with her on my first day back, but Greyson’s cries cause me to turn back. He reaches for me again, and I wonder if I seem familiar to him. I don’t look much like Dean, but we do have some of the same facial features. I wonder if the baby can see that.

  “Fine,” she bites. “But don’t come crying to me if he gives you any trouble.”

  I ignore her comment as I hold my nephew for the first time. I can’t name the emotion which fills my heart as I look at him—it seems so foreign to me. I’ve only recently learned to take care of myself, yet I feel as if I’d do absolutely anything I had to do to take care of this little guy. His eyes widen as he studies my face for the first time, before a giant smile graces his face. With his sage eyes and dark brown hair, he looks just like Dean. It’s almost painful to look at him because of it. I trace his small face—just like I did with my brother’s photograph moments before. His skin is so soft under my coarse fingers and I suddenly realize how fragile he feels. He’s so little; I’m almost terrified of holding him for fear that I might cause some sort of irreversible damage. With shaky legs, I sit down with him in my arms and hold him against my chest so his small head rests on my shoulder.

  I notice he doesn’t cry at all when I hold him, and I wonder if it’s because he likes me. Maybe this little guy fucking likes me! Perhaps I have some sort of calming effect on him? I kiss the top of his head and smile as his fuzzy hair tickles my lips. Once I start smiling—I can’t stop. I love him so much already.

  When I look up at my mother, I notice she’s taking in the scene with an icy look on her well-constructed face. I can’t imagine what her problem is. If anything, I thought she’d be happy that I’m getting along so well with Greyson. I’m his guardian, after all. I smile at her, and she responds with her version of a smile—tight lipped and constipated—before turning on her heels and leaving the room. My stomach drops. Her rejection stings more than I imagined it would. I didn’t expect much from her, however, I thought after years apart she might have warmed up and missed me a little. I return my attention to Greyson and try to ignore the subtle aching in my heart. Fuck her. If she doesn’t want me, that’s her problem.

  “Hey, Greyson,” I say, running my fingertips along his chubby cheek. He gasps in surprise as he hears me say his name, before giggling at me. “Should I call you Grey, or Greyson?” I question with a goofy fucking grin.

  He squeals and wiggles in my arms and I lower him down on a sitting position in my lap—facing me—so I can get a better look at his flushed face. “Greyson?” I pause to assess the look on his face. “Or Grey?” He squeals at the second name, causing me to make my decision. “Grey it is then.” He cocks his head to the side and looks up at me curiously—as if he were trying to figure out who I am. “I’m your uncle,” I tell him, reaching down to tickle his stomach. “I’m your Uncle Trevor.” He squeals again and grabs ahold of my finger to bring to his mouth.

  As cheesy as it sounds, I feel like we’re sharing our first moment together. I never dreamed of having this sort of connection with him already, but I feel like I’ve known him from the second he was born. What I wouldn’t give to have been there to welcome him to the world… to see the look of contentment on my brother’s face. Dean had wanted me to come to the hospital so badly, but I was in California with no means of transportation. He called me on the phone as soon as he found out he had a little boy. I can remember the conversation so clearly in my mind. I can remember the excitement and tears in his voice as he told me Cat had just given birth to their son. I’d been mildly intoxicated, but I felt so happy for my brother even though I had no interest in meeting his child at the time. Now that I’m holding said child, I wish I could’ve known him when he was a newborn. A smile tugs on my lips as I watch him suck on his thumb.

  “I’m going to take care of you from now on, Grey,” I tell him in a quiet voice. He stares up at me as if he was able to comprehend exactly what I had said, before rewarding me with a bright smile. “I’m going to get a job here, save up some money, and fine a nice place for us. I vow to do my best by you.” I promise him, and I promise myself. I don’t want to be a fuck-up anymore.

  I enjoy my first few moments with him and commit them to memory. With him tucked safely in my arms, I go back to the entryway to grab my duffle bag before heading to my childhood bedroom. Nostalgia washes over me the second I see it. It’s just as I remembered leaving it. Dust has accumulated on my furniture, suggesting that no one has been in this room since I left. A part of me is shocked that my mother didn’t take it upon herself to turn this room into a home gym or something. While another part of me is uncomfortable, knowing the reason this room hasn’t changed is probably because my parents knew I’d end up back here sooner or later. Feeling slightly defeated by this fleeting thought, I walk inside the room and set my duffle bag on my bed, which is still covered in the black, Star Wars comforter which I recall getting when I was a freshman in high school. Before I became immersed in the world of drugs and alcohol—I’d been quite the geek. My room is an interesting hodgepodge of sci-fi and Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition posters.

  While rocking Grey in my arms, I show him around my old room. I show him my collection of DVDs shelved near the fifty-five-inch flat screen I had been very proud of owning as a teenager, my Nintendo 64 with its plethora of games, and finally, I show him my vast collection of comic books which I’d bought as a preteen. Grey looks at everything as if it were the most interesting thing
in the world, which, maybe to him it is. I’m sure everything is stimulating when you’re five months old. I settle him down on my lap so he’s leaning comfortably against my stomach; opening one of my favorite comic books, I begin to read to him. I can’t remember the last time I even held a comic book. Honestly, I can’t remember when I had interest in any of the things I used to love. These past five years of my life have been such a blur and as soon as I sobered up, I feared that I’d lost myself completely during the time I spent traveling. How ironic. I go on a journey of self-discovery and come back feeling completely fucking adrift.

  After I finish one comic, I pick up another, happy to keep my little guy entertained. Before I know it, I hear a soft knock on my opened door and look up to see my dad standing in the doorway. We stare at each other for a moment—both trying to find our words after our schism. While I barely seem to recognize myself, it’s obvious that my dad recognizes who I am. He’s always seen something in me that I’ve never been able to see in myself. He’s always had such hope in me, which only made me feel shitter about letting him down my entire life. Unable to find the right words, I stand up with the baby in my arms and go to greet my dad. He gives me a wistful smile. As I approach him, I notice he looks so much older than I remembered—so much older than his fifty-two years. His blonde hair still looks the same, as well as his tanned skin from the hours he spends outside golfing with his colleagues. The change is in his eyes… they reveal so much pain, completely taking my breath away—punching me in the fucking gut. They’re filled with sadness, longing, fear, and regret.

  “Trevor,” he says softly, while giving me a weary smile. “We’re so glad you’re home, son. Things have been so chaotic around here lately.”