Not You Again! | Sample Only

Chapter One

Just a word of caution. This novel does contain mild language and sexual scenes, which may not be suitable for younger readers.

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It was him!

Emma Praught fumbled with her phone, catching it before it hit the ground. She turned it over and looked at the screen again, her stomach flip-flopping.

Out of every person in the world that could have messaged her on Facebook, it had to be him. They hadn't really talked in over twenty years, but now his name sat there, staring right at her, highlighted in bold in her private inbox.

'I read about what happened, are you okay?' - Devon Mathews.

Tears filled her eyes. She didn't even know how to begin to answer him. He was the last person she expected to hear from, let alone care about what she was going through.

After typing a few sentences and then deleting them without sending, she put the phone down. This was the man who had held a piece of her heart in high school before he walked away from her. Another ding made her pick up the phone to check her notifications.

'Please talk to me. Let me know you're okay.'

She typed, 'I'm as good as can be expected,' and clicked send.

"Please don't write back," she mumbled, yet a part of her hoped he would. The most they'd ever said to each other was happy birthday over the years, and her heart would pitter patter the moment she saw his name. Her verbal plea was refused when her phone dinged again.

'My heart really goes out to you. I just want you to know that you can talk to me anytime. You don't have to be alone in this.'

Alone? That's been her word of the week. She hadn't even been able to get it together enough to get groceries and she was down to her last litre of milk. She'd stayed cooped up in her house, hugging his pillow, breathing in her husband's sweet scent.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat and an all too familiar pain stabbed her in the chest, digging itself deep within her bowels. Putting the phone down, she climbed into her bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin, desperate to forget everything. But she couldn't.

Picked up their wedding photo, Emma held it close to her chest. Nineteen years were gone, disappearing into oblivion in the blink of an eye.

As she ran her finger over the photo, a soft knock caught her attention.

"Come in."

Her red-teary eyed daughter, Mya, walked into the room and curled up on the bed beside her. Emma wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. "I'm sorry, baby."

"I didn't even tell him I loved him before he left," she cried into her mother's shoulder, hiccupping with each sob.

"He knew you loved him, sweetheart," she said, kissing the top of Mya's head.

"I didn't even hug him."

Neither of them hugged him, they'd been too busy having a disagreement with each other over her chores. Emma did give him a quick kiss good-bye, but then went back to their argument about having to do dishes.

She'd wasted their last few minutes together, minutes they could never get back. Ones she should have spent hugging him, kissing him, and wishing him a good day.

A life-time full of regrets came crashing down on her. All their arguments over stupid petty things surfaced like a crashing wave. Things that shouldn't have mattered had taken precedence over things that were actually important.

A heavy weight wrapped around her chest, threatening to pull her under. In silence, she cried out to God, praying that this was all just a bad dream. Maybe she'd wake up in the morning and he'd be in the bed beside her, snoring.

"Did you want to sleep in my bed tonight, sweetie?" she asked her daughter.

Blowing her nose, Mya nodded. Emma pulled the sheets up around them both and held her tight. Her baby girl shouldn't have to be going through this. She was much too young to be facing the sting of death. At fourteen years old, it was supposed to be all fun and boys, not death and gloom. Depression hung like a dark cloud over their lives.

Her phone dinged again in the dark. Picking it up, she saw Devon's name again.

'Here's my number, call me. It might help to hear a familiar voice,' the message said.

'Thank you,' she wrote back, staring at the phone number.

Did he really want her to call him? He was probably just trying to be nice and really didn't want her to call. Shaking her head, she put down the phone and cuddled with her teen, whose sobs had finally quietened down again.

She hoped tomorrow would be a better day, but that was still up for debate. For now, maybe sleep could give her a break from life for a few hours.

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A/N

Thanks for reading the first chapter of my book. I hope you are enjoying it so far. Please note this is a first draft, but hopefully it is enticing enough for you to keep the pages turning. :)