When Forever Ended Read online

  When Forever Ended

  Cara Dee

  Copyright © 2016 by Cara Dee

  All rights reserved

  Kindle Edition

  Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.

  Disclaimer: This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All references to ancient or historical events, persons living or dead, locations, and places are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s own imagination. Similarities to persons living or dead, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Warning: This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for adults, 18+. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.

  Formatted and proofread by Rachel Lawrence.

  Camassia Cove is a town in northern Washington created to be the home of some exciting love stories. Each novel taking place here is standalone, and they will vary in genre and pairing. What they all have in common is the town they live in. Some are friends and family. Others are complete strangers. Some have vastly different backgrounds. Some grew up together. It's a small world, and many characters will cross over and pay a visit or two in several books. But, again, each novel stands on its own, and spoilers will be avoided.

  When Forever Ended is the second novel taking place in Camassia Cove. If you're interested in keeping up with the characters, the town, the timeline, and future novels, check out Camassia Cove's own page at Cara's website.

  www.caradeewrites.com

  ;

  Dedicated to my little sister. For the moments I'll never forget, for when you fell apart in my hallway and screamed that you didn’t know what you were doing wrong, for when you begged to be okay and normal, for when you grew numb and apathetic, for when anxiety rose and you escaped by using drugs. I'll fight when you can't.

  A special thank you goes out to the amazing people who told me of their journeys through depression. I admire the strengths misconstrued as weaknesses, and you're all warriors in my eyes.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  "You're Matt, right?"

  I nodded, knowing he was Brady. He was one of the camp counselors on Big Chinook, so he had to be older than me. I was just sixteen. I kept to the background, sitting on some rock like a loser while the camp kids played in the water. I wasn’t here with them.

  Being new sucked. Not as much as Texas, but almost.

  "I know you're Keep's kid," he said, "but you're welcome to join the activities, and you could come over to the big island and say hello."

  "Thanks." I tipped my head. I wouldn’t be joining them. Most of those who attended the camp were kids. I was more interested in making friends with the counselors, but they probably saw me as the kid. "Are you from here?"

  He nodded and sat down next to me. "Yup. I'm Brady. Born and raised in Camassia."

  We shook hands.

  "Matt. Or Matthew, but friends call me Matt. Not that I'm saying we're friends—" Oh my God, shut up. I sighed and dragged a hand down my face. "Can you tell I'm new and havin' a spaztastic time trying to get to know people?"

  Brady laughed and slapped me on the back. "Don’t try so hard. Join a campfire one night, and you'll have buddies for life." He paused and watched me curiously. "Can I ask you a weird question?"

  I half nodded, half shrugged.

  "What's your middle name?"

  That was a weird question. "Uh, William."

  He blew out a breath and nodded sharply. "I'm not surprised. That’s my dad's name." He peered out over the bay and looked like he was trying to solve a math problem. "Funny thing is, I talked to your dad a little while ago."

  "Okay." I didn’t know why that was funny.

  Brady slid his light gray gaze back my way. "Something's been going on with my dad for years, and I found—" He stopped speaking and shook his head. "I won't bore you with the details. We're strangers."

  I lifted a shoulder. "No worries."

  "I've learned one thing today, though." He stood up and brushed a couple pine needles from his trunks. "I'm named after your dad, and you're named after mine. But my dad's never mentioned yours."

  Chapter 1

  William Calvert

  It's been a month. Open the drawer.

  I stubbornly refused, narrowing my eyes at the empty document. Rain drizzled outside the window. Brady was listening to some god-awful music on the other side of the wall. My foot tapped restlessly.

  "Dad?" There was a knock on the door to my study, and Aurora poked her head in. "Dinner's almost ready."

  "Thanks, honey. I'll be right there." I leaned back, the swivel chair squeaking, and scrubbed my hands down my face. I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t remember the last time I was.

  You remember having an immense appetite for life.

  I couldn’t write that down in the journal my therapist had assigned me to work on, though. I couldn’t be truthful without risking everything I called home and family.

  From a drawer—not that one—I took out my antidepressants and swallowed one dry. Like clockwork, every night before dinner. Then I left my study and trailed down the stairs. Photos of the kids hung on the wall, keeping me company on each step toward the kitchen.

  At some point, our modest Victorian house had stopped feeling like home. I'd become a stranger. It wasn’t the warm colors my wife had chosen to decorate with that'd faded. It was me. Every nook and cranny still whispered of memories and good times, but the whispers were farther away. I was farther away, more correctly. I struggled to remember the simplest things.

  I did recall standing in front of the house when Lissa and I had signed the papers. I'd had a big smile on my face. We'd discussed repainting the shutters. She didn’t think the yellow went well with the light blue of the house, so now they were white.

  Life had lost saturation since then. Color went unnoticed most days.

  Brady rushed past me and exclaimed that it smelled fucking delicious.

  Did it?

  "Language," I chided halfheartedly.

  I took my seat at the table and rubbed my forehead. Lately, I'd been having more headaches. My therapist said it was common, which I knew very well. I lived in my head. Not the most pleasant place at the moment.

  "Did you take your meds?" Lissa asked me, gently weaving her fingers through my hair. I nodded once, enjoying her relaxing touch. "You're due for a cut. You too, Brady. I'll bring out the trimmer this weekend."

  "Okay, but I have my information thing on Saturday." Brady began shoveling meat loaf and potatoes into his mouth as if he feared the food was going to disappear. "Can I take the boat?"

  Lissa looked to me for an answer, and I shrugged.

  "Sure." The camp counselors had boats, and the trip over to Chinook Islands was planned out already. But if he wanted to get to the islands on his own, I was fine with that. He was
born with sea legs and could handle my bowrider better than I could.

  "Did you get your schedule yet?" Lissa asked him. "I hope you'll be able to come home every now and then so I can give you proper food. Otherwise, you'll just live on s'mores this summer."

  I picked at my food.

  "Mom, I'm eighteen." Brady waved his fork at her. "I'm a man. I can take care of myself."

  While Aurora giggled, I snorted quietly and forced myself to eat. It was a good thing, I supposed, that I'd needed to lose a few pounds before this most recent bout of depression set in. No more, though. If I lost more weight, my jeans wouldn’t fit. It was bad enough I'd lost all muscle definition somewhere between graduate school and becoming a dad for the second time.

  Lissa had always been good in the kitchen, yet this was tasteless. I was uncomfortable in my seat, in my clothes, in my fucking skin. I'd mourn the somewhat assertive man I used to be if I could muster up the energy.

  I sank deeper. The guilt crushed heavier. I was a fortunate man. I had two imperfectly perfect children, a caring wife, a career I'd busted my ass to achieve, a nice house, and I wanted to hide. They deserved better.

  "William." Lissa placed a hand on my arm.

  "Sorry." I cleared my throat, noticing they were watching me. Waiting for me to respond to…? Hell. "Lost in thought. Go on."

  *

  I retreated to my study after dinner, this time with the mail. Bills, junk, bills, Lissa was one lucky ticket away from winning a cruise, bills, Aurora's welcome letter from the camp she was attending after July Fourth.

  Same camp where her brother would be working.

  The last letter was for me, my name written by a child who liked purple. It made my gut clench, and I glanced up at the wall in front of me. I didn’t have any diplomas there. I had drawings and notes from the kids I worked with, which my wife had framed.

  I opened the letter and saw it was from Thea, an autistic girl who was slowly adjusting to the school. Despite her young age, she was bright and highly intelligent, and she'd joined our playgroup a couple times a week last semester.

  It was my job to determine if she was ready to begin kindergarten after the summer. Most of our students spent two or three years preparing for first grade, and I had no doubt she would thrive.

  Hello, Mister Calvert!

  My daddies said you hit a wall. I hate bumps on the forehead. Feel better and come back soon!

  My vision became blurry, and I smiled. She must've been attending summer school activities if she knew about my leave of absence. Hit a wall. Rumors circulating was as given as her adorable way of taking things literally.

  I released a breath and tried to collect myself, failing miserably. The note landed on the desk, and I covered my face with my hands. Never before had I felt so fucking weak and pathetic. There was no fight in me. I cried at nothing. Or I was careless and stoic. Or I was riddled with guilt and anxiety.

  Self-control used to be important to me. Now I didn’t have an ounce of it left, and it was tearing me apart.

  It's been a month. You said once a month was okay.

  It wasn’t okay. I just couldn’t resist for longer than a month.

  Unlocking the drawer, I blinked away the tears and stared at the stack of photos I kept hidden. Childhood memories. I fanned them out and saw the grin I was sporting in most pictures. I was Brady's age there. Pale in the beginning of summer, tan at the end. Camps, bonfires, beach fun, stealing Dad's boat…

  Kelly.

  Where I was, he was. His grins were cocky and full of attitude. A reckless kid. I was calm where he was wild. Born on the same day.

  "Hey, happy birthday, idiot." He leaned against the locker next to mine and smirked.

  "You too, dick." I shut my locker, turning to him. "Why do you look like you've just done something stupid I'll have to bail you out for later?"

  "Oh, that's hurtful!" He clutched his heart, only to snort and throw an arm around my shoulders. "I don't think my best friend should be so cruel to me."

  I tried not to smile. "Some best friend, eh?"

  He nodded. "The worst. But at least he promised me forever." He took off down the hall before I could whack him with my history book.

  "We said that when we were ten, jackass!" I hollered after him.

  "Still counts!" His laughter echoed as he disappeared around the corner. "Forever, Will! Forever my bitch!"

  I crumpled and wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. Twenty-four years since he left, and I still missed him so much it hurt. If only I could take back what I did.

  One of my favorites was the photo his mother took of us on graduation day. Kelly had lost his cap; I was holding mine. We wore the same stupid smiles, equally excited about summer.

  It was supposed to be the best one yet, until I fucked it all up.

  "I thought you were my friend!" he shouted angrily. I reeled back in horror. I'd never seen him look so disgusted. I swallowed hard while he wiped his mouth and gave me a death glare. "You fucking kissed me, you sick freak!"

  I flinched. My fingers shook as I piled the photos together, tucked them away, and promptly slammed the drawer shut. It'd be another month before I went there again.

  Breathe.

  I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

  I clutched my stomach and shut my eyes, and I rode out the waves of grief and shame that ultimately blurred the memories. Grins faded, dreams evaporated, fantasies were doused in gasoline and set on fire, and the past was buried once more.

  So much for that forever.

  Chapter 2

  Kelly Oakley

  "Dad, you're staring."

  I looked away and frowned, refocusing on the task at hand. A storm was rolling in, and if we didn’t get the kayaks farther up land, they'd drift off. Two camp counselors had come over to Little Chinook to help me and my boy, and one of them was new. Seeing him was like being punched in the gut by the past.

  Could it be Will's nephew…? Maybe his son. I couldn’t be sure, though that seemed unlikely if Will was gay. Then again, I had a kid, and… Ah, fuck.

  "Did you secure the jet skis?" I asked over the howling wind.

  Washington wasn’t giving me a warm welcome back.

  Matt nodded and threw the rope over the kayak stand, and I tied it around the nearest tree. The rain came down with a whipping force, smattering across exposed skin like needles.

  When we were done, Matt disappeared inside to seek shelter, and I followed the counselors down to the dock. The camp was on the big island and had just this week begun filling up for the season. I hadn't had the chance to learn their names yet.

  "Do y'all want me to take you back to Big?" I offered.

  "Nah, it's okay. This is nothing," the other one said. "By the way, I like what you've done with this place. Last Keeper didn’t even utilize the bay."

  Keeper.

  That gave me mixed feelings. Pride and a sense of accomplishment mingled with nerves and dread. It brought me back to my childhood.

  There was a bit of a mystery to the person who lived on Little Chinook in the summers. They were in charge of water activities for the camp across the narrow sound, and for as long as I could remember, he'd been called Keep.

  In my day, it was a grumpy old man who hated children and ruckus. I'd had visions of what I'd do with the island if I were the Keeper.

  Now I was.

  After seeing the boys off and making sure they made it to the dock on the main island, I returned up the hill toward the cabin. It was pouring down to the point where I couldn’t see the other islands. Five in total, though the other three were too small to do much with.

  Our new home—for the summers, at least—was nestled along the tree line of the small forest that covered most of the island. It was only last week we finished painting and repairing. Everything was dark and sufficiently cozy for evenings on the porch with an Irish coffee or two. Considering how small the cabin was, it hadn't taken much effort, but the weather liked to delay any outsi
de work.

  I got rid of my sweater and threw it on the porch, where it landed with a splat. My boots and pants followed, and then I entered the cabin in boxers.

  The cold was only skin-deep. A fire sure as fuck wasn’t necessary, but I guessed raising my kid in the South had made him less resilient.

  "I miss Texas." He huddled closer to the fireplace in the corner and wrapped a blanket around himself.

  I managed a grin, knowing he was full of shit, and went into the bedroom. There really only was a front and a back to the place. Like in a college dorm, we each had a side of the bedroom, and I admitted I had splurged a bit on our mattresses. After leaving our dump outside of Houston, I'd vowed to make our next place homey and comfortable.

  I changed into sweats and a T-shirt before I rejoined Matt. He'd abandoned the floor to sit on the couch, and he had a map of Camassia Cove spread out across the coffee table. Along with printouts and a notepad.

  "Any luck?" I poured a cup of coffee and opened the fridge to see what we could have for dinner. My stomach was giving me grief, and I wasn’t very hungry, so it was mostly for Matt. I grabbed an apple, though. I dug those. "I might head into town tomorrow, too. We need more food." Spaghetti carbonara would have to do.

  "I don't know the area very well…" He scratched his head, his curly hair sun-kissed and a few shades lighter than mine. Not to mention longer. "The lady was all patronizin' when I asked for listings from every district. 'Are you sure you're interested in Ponderosa, honey?'" He grimaced.

  I smirked and rested my forearms on the counter that divided the room. "That sucks, but she has a point. We can't afford Ponderosa." When the weather was clear, we could see the hillside district from here—and its mansions. "Do you remember coming here for Grandma's funeral?"

  My mother had been a Southern girl and preferred to visit with us, rather than our coming up here. But she'd refused to live anywhere else. My dad grew up here, lived here, married Mom here, and died here. I'd been too young to remember, though Mom's stories about him kinda kept him alive for years.