My Everything Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Novels by Heidi

  HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN

  MY

  EVERYTHING

  A BEAUMONT SERIES NOVELLA

  Copyright 2013 by Heidi McLaughlin

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form of by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/published contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of its many distributors.

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

  Edited by Fallon Clark at SnowEditing.com

  Cover Designed by Sarah Hansen at OkayCreations.net

  ISBN: 978-0-615-78808-1

  Chapter 1

  She’s everything I’m not looking for yet each day when I return, she’s there, greeting me with the warmest smile, the softest touch and expecting nothing but hospitality in return; and each night I lie in my bunk and think of her. I imagine what it would feel like to run my fingers through her sun-bleached hair. I close my eyes and picture myself holding her tight, our bare skin touching, our lips connecting. I tell myself that tomorrow will be the day. Tomorrow I’ll walk into work and, instead of taking my charts from her I’ll ask her to dinner. I’ll ask her to take a walk with me at lunchtime. Anything to get us away from the clinic and allow us to be adults for one moment before the hectic day bombards us with agony and despair.

  Each morning I wake, prepared to start the day as I had planned and fail. When I look at the picture that sits on top of my nightstand I’m reminded why I’m here

  No matter how many days, weeks, months pass, things have not gotten easier. The way I left Beaumont haunts me. I was a coward. I was a grown man in an adult relationship – one that was raising a child – and instead of staying and fighting for my family, I allowed someone to walk in and take it away.

  I knew I had a fight on my hands when the doors swung open and he was behind Katelyn. I thought for sure that if he ever came back she would be on my side, but actually seeing her with him, I knew. My life flashed before my eyes. The only problem was that instead of me with Noah, it was Liam and I was standing on the outside. It didn’t matter if Josie was on my arm, deep down I knew she was going to be wherever Liam was.

  I tried so hard to be the bigger man and I failed. I thought I could make it work. I could be the bona fide stepdad and we’d be a happy family. Josie and I would finally get married and Noah could visit Liam on alternating weekends and holiday. I had it all planned out in my head. Late at night when I’d wake and find that she wasn’t in our bed, all I could do was think. Think about how it was going to fall on me to make sure everyone was happy. Think about how in the blink of an eye I was losing everything and did nothing to deserve what was happening.

  Instead, I left. I walked away from my practice and my life without a goodbye and now I live with regret. I should’ve never walked out on Noah’s life the way I did. He didn’t deserve that. For years I was his father figure. His football and baseball coach, his study partner. He was my go- to guy when I wanted to do something special for Josie, my right hand man and I left him. I never once considered his feelings. Even though he has Liam, we had something special. Each day that I think about it is a reminder that he’s the only person with whom I need to make amends for my actions.

  I watch as she leaves for work. She doesn’t even look away from her car. If she had she’d see me sitting out here watching her. I hoped she’d stay home today and we could talk. We could fix things and figure out how we're going to make it.

  She drives away oblivious to her surroundings. It pains me to see her like this. When did I not matter to her anymore?

  I pull into the driveway and park. This will be the last time I’m here. I stare at the house and see all the happy times we spent outside landscaping the yard. The hours I spent teaching Noah how to throw a football and baseball. The nights under the floodlights where we’d shoot free throws. Memories. That is all I have from the last six years.

  I let myself in the house and look around. I think I was secretly expecting things to be different when I walked in. Maybe I was hoping to see that she’s moving on without me, but everything is the same. My football bag is where I threw it last night. Her afghan is spread across the couch, her new bed. My heart breaks thinking that she didn’t sleep in our bed last night even though I wasn’t here. It’s as if she thinks it’s tainted.

  I go out to the garage and get a few boxes. It’s sad to think I’ve lived here for the past five years and all my stuff can fit in a few boxes. Nothing in this house belongs to me. That should’ve been my first clue. I should’ve pushed for us to get a new house, make a new home for us, but I was afraid to rock the boat. I shouldn’t have lived that like. It’ wasn't fair to her or me.

  With the boxes in hand I start in the bedroom. My bathroom essentials are easily packed in an overnight bag. I bring out my suitcase and pack my clothes, clearing out my side of the closet.

  I try not to get emotional when packing, but lose it when I come across the engagement ring I bought her, but never found the time to slip onto her finger. Maybe if I had, she’d be here with me now. I can’t believe I was so stupid.

  I finish packing, stopping in Noah’s room. I just need to look around and feel his presence. I’m going to miss him. I run back to the bedroom and take the picture of Noah sitting on the dresser and take it with me. It’s not enough, but will have to do since I won’t be in his life anymore.

  He must hate me. He should. I hate myself for walking out on him, but I have no doubt he’s being well taken care of. Liam, with his never-ending bank account, and Josie – the most resilient woman I know – leave no question in my mind that Noah is well cared for and that’s all I can ask.

  I should call. I’ve tried. I’ve picked up the phone a few times and dialed their number only to hang up before it rings. I guess I don’t want to know if they’re still living in her house, the house we shared as family. I don’t want to know that she’s moved on and erased the happy memories that we all shared. I’m not sure how I’d deal with that knowledge. Some things are better left unknown.

  I dress in my usual khaki shorts and an Under Armour polo shirt and slip on my worn-out Nikes. I’m going to need to order some new clothes soon; these have seen better days. The dirt and harsh water really do a number on your clothes after a while. The walk to the clinic from our dorm is short and for me a luxury. It gives me ample time to converse with the residents and greet the children as they do their daily chores.

  My life as a doctor is fulfilling, but it wasn’t until I came to Africa that I finally found peace with who I am as an individual. The people here are beyond grateful for anything that I can do for them and I am indebted to them simply because they trust me with their most precious commodity – their children.

  The temperature doesn’t
change when I walk into the clinic. The air inside is just as stifling as out, but with the added smell of antiseptic. Aubrey, our newest staff member, has her back turned to me. I take a moment and look her over. I’ve tried not to stare like the other doctors, but it’s hard not to. She’s been the subject of my dreams lately even though I try not to think about her in that way. It’s hard not to gawk, she’s one of those natural beauties that other women strive to look like. I know a few of Josie and Katelyn’s friends pay a lot of money to have Aubrey’s blond hair and her eyes, blue like the ocean and full of life when she smiles.

  I shouldn’t be attracted to her. It’s wrong. She’s my co-worker and a friend, and I can’t afford to be anything more to her. I watch as she talks to one of the other nurses, she throws her head back and laughs and I wish I knew what they were talking about.

  From the day that Aubrey arrived I tried not to be in the same room with her but it was unavoidable. We work together a lot and it’s the subtle brushes of our skin when we pass over a patient, the coy looks and shy smiles that make my knees buckle. She’s nothing like Josie. Aubrey is petite, barely five foot three. I must look like the jolly green giant standing next to her.

  Aubrey turns toward the waiting room and sees me. Her reaction is instant. I don’t even need to look past her flirtatious eyes; they tell me everything I need to know. I try not to act shy, but I fail miserably. My head moves on its own volition as it turns slightly downward. I smile back and am rewarded with the most beautiful shade of pink when she blushes. In this moment, her smile is my salvation.

  I know she’s from South Africa, her parents are American missionaries, but she was born and raised here. I never see her with make-up or her hair full of products. Her bright blue eyes accent her lightly sun-kissed skin. I should take the time to get to know her. If anything she can at least be a friend.

  I take the pile of charts from her extended hand and hold them to my chest, a move simply to protect my most valuable asset, one that needs to heal and be whole again.

  I nod and walk back to my makeshift office. A thin piece of gauzy fabric creates the walls we use around here. When I first arrived, my expectations were so low that I was pleasantly surprised at what I’d be working with. Albeit, it’s not much, but it’s enough for me to provide good healthcare for the patients and it’s more than enough for me to get my mind off of things back home.

  My day is relatively smooth, peaceful even. I see a few of my favorite kids and they coax me into a game of football after work. I can’t pass up the opportunity to spend time with them; it’s one of the reasons I’m here.

  When I told Josie we were moving, I knew she wouldn’t come with me. It was my last-ditch effort to save what was falling through my fingers. I won’t lie, I saw Noah out there playing with these children and appreciating what he had, giving him the ability to teach them what he knew and learn from them. For me it was a win-win. I’d be doing a service as a doctor and a parent. I was being selfish.

  After handing Aubrey my files and once again avoiding any personal contact, I step outside into the blazing inferno. Nightfall will be a welcome reprieve simply because the sun won’t be burning itself into our skin.

  “Doctor, doctor,” one of my young patients yells. He’s motioning for me to come to him. He kicks his football to his buddy and takes my hand, pulling me into the circle. He tells his friends that I’m playing, this much I can decipher as the kids split off into two teams.

  I crawl into bed and pull her into my arms. She’s so warm and soft against my rough hands. Tomorrow is our two-year anniversary. I have plans that I’ve kept secret from her. I had to work out the logistics with her parents so they could watch Noah and her mom can work in the store. I’ve been on her about hiring someone, but she’s happy working alone.

  “Are you asleep?” I whisper against her skin.

  “Mhm,” she mumbles.

  “Liar.”

  She rolls in my arms, her fingertips dance along the stubble on my jaw. I lean down and kiss her softly.

  “I love you, Josie.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Noah wants to play football. He asked me after dinner.” I feel her stiffen in my arms. I wish I could take away the pain, but she never talks about it. I hate that she has to deal with all this shit. Sometimes I wish Noah was a girl. Maybe things would be different.

  I know she sees Liam when she looks at Noah. Hell, I do. It’s like Liam is living in our house while not actually being here.

  “I don’t want him playing.”

  “I know you don’t, but he’s a boy and his friends are playing. It’s a natural thing for him to want to play, plus there’s Mason. We are throwing football down his throat.”

  She rests her head on my chest, her fingers dancing along my skin. “He can’t turn out like his dad.”

  “He won’t. I won’t let it go to his head.”

  “You’ll protect him?”

  “As if he was my own, Josie, you should know that.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I say, kissing the top of her head. She knew this day was coming and I know she was hoping he’d play soccer. We’ll just have to deal with it.

  I quickly realize that I’m the only one with a shirt on, so I strip mine off and match the boys. They giggle relentlessly at the white man standing in front of them so I do what any self-respecting man would do; I steal the ball and dribble toward their goal. The laughing quickly stops when they figure out what I’m trying to do and now we have a game.

  It isn’t long until it’s time for the children to head to their homes. I hug them all goodbye with promises of another rematch. This is probably the best workout I’ve had since I arrived and something I’ll definitely do again. The bonding is important so that they trust me. I need for them to know that I’m an okay person even if sometimes I have to give them shots.

  I bend to pick up my dust-covered shirt and my eyes land on Aubrey. She’s standing in the doorway of the clinic watching us. For the first time I wave and watch in amazement as her face lights up. She waves back and stands a little straighter. I don’t know what I’m doing here. With Josie, everything progressed naturally. She brought Noah in shortly after I took over the practice and I saw how lonely she looked. I took a chance that night and brought them dinner, determined to shower them both with love and affection, not just her. I wanted both of them to be in my life. I was bold then and look where it got me.

  I shake the dust out of my shirt, but don’t put it back on. I’m sweaty, it’s dirty and I’m in desperate need of a shower. I take a step forward, not really sure where I’m going, but hope is written all over her face. She wants me to talk to her and I have no reason not to oblige.

  She meets me half way, out on the dirt road that is also the children’s playground. There is an air about her, a calmness that surrounds her. Here she is, tending to the needy when she could’ve escaped to the comforts of America.

  “You’re not half bad.” Her accent, something I’ve never really paid attention to, catches me off guard. She speaks perfect English, but it’s refined and educated. Not something I expect from a missionary’s daughter.

  “They’re trying to kill me.” I say as if I’m out of breath, which is ridiculous because I’ve had time to settle myself. Does she make me nervous? It’s been years since I’ve been nervous around a woman. Not even Josie made me nervous. I was content with her, until I asked her to marry me.

  “They were having fun with you. It’s nice to see. Many times doctors only come to work. They do their jobs and retire to their huts for the night and ignore what is going on around them. But you’re different.”

  Is being different good? I want to think it is. I never want to go through life being the same as someone else. I’ve always wanted to be unique, genuine. I want to be remembered and make an impression on people.

  “Anything to see them smile,” I say and realize that I really want to see her smile again. She’s eye-catching
and deserves to be on the cover of magazines. Her beauty is pure and unharnessed and I shudder at the thought of her glamming herself up for an event. I would be one lucky bastard to have her grace my side as a date sometime.

  I roll my eyes at the thought. She’s a co-worker and we’re advised not to get too attached because we can switch locations at any given time and with communications the way they are here, keeping in touch is just about impossible.

  “Would you like to get something to eat?” I slap my hand to my forehead. That was stupid. Not asking her out because that seemed normal, but the ‘something to eat’ part. It’s not like we can drive down to the nearest diner and eat a decent meal.

  “I’d love to,” she responds. I pull my hand away, noticing that she’s not kidding. Her eyes are expressive, telling me that she wants this.

  I look around, clearly trying to make restaurants and markets appear out of thin air. I shrug and shake my head. “I think my mouth got the better of me. I’m not sure where to take you.”

  She laughs and it’s the most melodic sound I’ve ever heard. “Tell you what, Dr. Ashford, you go take a shower and when you’re done, you can come to my place. I’ll make us something to eat.”

  I look up and down the road and start laughing. How romantic will it be to eat in the mess hall of our humble abode?

  “Your place, huh?”

  She nods, clearly excited. “Yes, I have a very spacious kitchen where we can stretch out and not feel cramped as if we were in a tiny bistro on the streets of Italy.”

  I chuckle and give her kudos for her wicked imagination. She gives me an idea and for the first time I think I want to try something.

  “Tell you what. You get dinner ready and I’ll meet you in your fancy kitchen, but we’ll eat someplace else.”

  She looks at me, fear evident in her eyes. We all know it’s not safe to be out at night, but I would never do anything to put her in harm’s way.