If Only...

“Why didn’t you ever kiss me, Josh?”

Her words came out like a whisper, caressing his skin as he hovered over her.

“I always wanted you to.”

Desire coursed through him at the sound of her admission.

“I haven’t been kissed in years.”

Her voice held a sensual quality, washing over him, weakening his resolve.

“I need to be kissed.”

Her small hand reached up, cupped the side of his face. He found himself leaning into it even as her hand moved up and around his neck. He closed his eyes as her fingers combed through his hair, not realizing until it was too late that she was pulling him closer.

Her soft, tentative lips moved against his, leaving him powerless. He responded to her kiss, and the tiny thread on which his control was hanging snapped in an instant.

Dear Reader

This story began fifteen years ago, long before I was aware of just how it could be used. I was a young teenager, experiencing first love, when my boyfriend was tragically killed in an accident. What followed was nothing short of heartbreak and pain, before I was eventually able to see that life went on regardless.

It was in 2013 that I finally realised my healing process had come to an end. In that moment, on what would have been his thirty-third birthday, I began to ask myself the question every writer asks: What if …? I wondered what life would have been like if only he hadn’t died that day. And so this novel was born.

It is not a biography by any means, but the story of two characters on a journey of grief and healing similar to my own. It was cathartic, writing Micah and Josh’s story. You can watch them grow together as they struggle with the pain of their past and manoeuvre their way through unknown territory and burgeoning new emotions.

Even when I felt it shouldn’t, life went on—the world kept spinning. It wasn’t the pain that defined me, but rather the way I handled it.

I have been writing for many years, but lacked the confidence to pursue my dreams. My first step after finishing my manuscript was to get it out there. Such was my motivation for entering So You Think You Can Write. You can imagine my surprise when I found out that the story so near and dear to my heart had won the public’s vote, awarding me a publishing contract.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And that you walk away inspired and encouraged by Micah’s story.

Tanya

If Only…

Tanya Wright

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TANYA WRIGHT knew from an early age that she wanted to write, but it wasn’t until this year that she decided to take it more seriously. In January she completed her first manuscript, and in March IF ONLY …, her second, was born. This year marks the fifteenth anniversary of the death of her own real-life Drew. That experience is what inspired her and gave her the courage and drive to write this story.

She wants to write real stories for real people who experience real struggles, and to offer them an escape from the mundane and a little bit of hope and a happily-ever-after.

Tanya is originally from Florida, but after completing her college degree in Boston she decided to stay. She’s close to her family, and their antics are what inspire many traits in her characters. She is in a constant state of creativity: writing, cake-decorating, painting and sewing. She loves serving in her church, where she sings in the worship band.

This is Tanya Wright’s first book for Modern Tempted™ and is also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the women in my life …

Mom, my #1 fan. Your strength and perseverance saw me through the toughest moments.

To my sisters, Jess and Shay. Outside of the moments of uncontrollable laughter and borderline insanity that provide me with excellent material you are my best friends and I could not have done any of this without you.

To my grandma for instilling in me the importance of dreaming big and going after those dreams.

To the heroes in my life—the men who set the bar high …

Dad, my anchor; my brothers, Aaron and Brandon, and Kade, my beautiful and amazing nephew.

And to my cousin Mark and my friend Chet for your help, regardless of time of day or the question’s stupidity.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Wasn’t fire supposed to be fierce, unpredictable or even dangerous? Micah twirled a strand of her flame-colored hair, wondering how she had lost the spark associated with its vibrant strands. Had the flame been extinguished years ago, or had it been a slow, gradual fade?

She wasn’t even sure anymore. It was as if the last ten years had all been a lie. She had gone through the motions of healing, of moving on, only fooling herself into believing she was past it. But this semblance of a life was all a facade. It was obvious to her now. She had only buried the pain, denied its existence.

Until now.

Half a day spent lying in her bed had done nothing to comfort her like it should. She held the teddy bear Drew had given her close to her body, trying to capture any of its comforting magic, but sadly that too was failing to comfort her. On this dreary day in October, it seemed nothing could assuage the pain. It was like a fresh wound all over again.

Her phone signaled an incoming text message. Josh’s name appeared on the screen.

Just wanted to check in on you. Make sure you’re doing ok. Text me back <3

She ignored it, just as she had ignored all the others she had received today. She didn’t want to talk to him yet. As her closest friend, Josh had been her distraction, the one who pulled her from depression and back to the land of the living. She knew he would try to shake her from her reverie and she didn’t want that. Instead she chose to stay lost in her memories for just a little longer.

Throwing her phone aside, Micah decided this pity party needed to be taken up a notch. She rolled out of bed, slipped into a pair of obnoxious but oh-so-comfortable slippers and made her way to the kitchen. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the way, she stopped to take note of her once flawless, porcelain skin, now a ghostly shade of white. She looked hollow and empty. Dark circles surrounded her sad eyes. She was in a pathetic state. The last two months of depression had taken a toll on her. Her recent weight gain and carelessness with her appearance did not help the picture before her, but it was an accurate reflection of what she felt on the inside.

Continuing to the kitchen, she headed straight to the freezer, where a pint of her favorite ice cream was stashed behind bags of frozen vegetables. She had known in advance the ice cream would be needed. Sabina, her roommate, was out running errands and would be gone for a little while longer—just enough time to start a crime-drama marathon while enjoying her frozen vice without judgment.

But based on the disapproving look on Sabina’s face two hours later, judgment was what she received.

“What’s going on?” Sabina’s eyes took in everything, her finger hooking the rim of the empty carton of ice cream, lifting it for further examination. “Please tell me you didn’t eat this entire thing by yourself. And what’s with the pajamas? Did you just get out of bed?”

Micah searched her mind for something to say to defend herself against the barrage of accusations, but she had nothing. She was guilty of all the above.

“You’ve got to snap out of it, Micah. I know you’re hurting right now. But this has got to end, and preferably soon.”

“Well, it won’t be today. How can I not think about him on a day like this?”

“There’s a difference, though. The rest of us are celebrating his life, while you...while you’ve been acting like he just died. It’s been ten years.” Sabina threw her hand up in exasperation. “Come on. We don’t have time to debate this now. You’re in desperate need of a shower and we’re supposed to meet everyone in two hours.”

* * *

The bright city lights, wailing sirens, honking horns, aggressive drivers fighting through traffic, the slight fish smell left over from market—things that others might complain about. But for Micah it all signified one thing—Boston, her home. She loved every single bit of it: every angry Irishman, Italian mobster, historical landmark and, not to be forgotten, blessed lobstah.

Micah and her four friends—Josh, Sabina, Hanna and Jamie—walked the streets of Boston as if they owned the city. Of course, Sabina, a model, probably thought she did. And Hanna probably could in a few years, at the rate she was going. Micah was definitely the odd one out in this successful, good-looking group, but she had put her best foot forward tonight in a worthy attempt to fit in with them.

It was a Friday night and the city was alive despite the dropping temperatures. As they crossed the busy street together, sounds of Boston’s nightlife came out to greet them. Already-drunk college students littered the streets. One girl in particular stood out as she yelled at every passing taxi, “Do you have a breath mint? Does anyone have a freakin’ breath mint?” What the heck? People were just downright crazy!

This wasn’t Micah’s scene, but it was a sacred night, hence the heels, fancy top and false eyelashes she’d been talked into wearing. It was probably the first time she had dressed up since last October. Her feet were already killing her in these shoes. Sabina always had a way of talking her into something she knew she would regret later.

When going out in public with someone as beautiful as her roommate, you had two choices. You could dress up, join her and pray you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, or give up entirely and throw on the yoga pants that had never actually been to a yoga class. Three hundred and sixty-four days of the year Micah chose to give up before she started and donned the yoga pants.

“Gawd, I love this city at night! Why don’t we do this anymore?” Sabina twirled as she walked, arms wide open, head thrown back. She stumbled a little in her four-inch heels on the uneven cobblestone, but Jamie was quick to catch her.

“Because we have jobs and lives and because only college students and creepy old people hit up this part of Boston on a Friday night.”

“If you are going to have any hope of fun tonight, you’re going to have to change that attitude of yours,” Hanna said as she pursed her lips and quirked her eyebrows.

“My attitude? I don’t have an at—” Okay, maybe she did. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t plan on having any fun tonight. So there.” What was she? Five?

“It’s Drew’s night. Fun is a requirement.”

“I never agreed to that rule.” She looked over at Jamie. Although he was Drew’s cousin, they had been more like brothers. She knew out of everyone that he would understand. But in his typical quiet-guy fashion, he shrugged his shoulders, telling her she was on her own.

“C’mon, Micah. Drew lived for stuff like this, so if we’re really going to honor his memory like we have for years, then we need to have fun. You included. This is what he would have wanted and you know it.”

“He would not want a droopy-faced, depressed version of his Micah,” Josh said as he put his arm around her to soften his words. “I know these anniversaries are hard on you, but you’ve made it through nine already. What’s so different about this one? You can do it. I know you can.”

Micah couldn’t refute that. She had done just fine these last ten years. So why was this one so hard on her?

The crisp Boston air sent a chill through her body. She pulled her coat up higher around her neck and buried in closer to Josh, allowing his sheer size to block the cold October winds whipping between the buildings.

“Cold?” Josh asked as he pulled her closer and moved his hand up and down her arm in an effort to warm her. “You care to explain why you ignored all my texts today?”

“Not really.”

“So you don’t deny it?”

“No. I was ignoring you.”

“How much ice cream did you eat today?”

“None of your business.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He kept his arm around her and flashed her one of his smiles.

“I may need to rethink my vice, though. I think I’ve put on five pounds in the last couple months. Even my stretchy pants are starting to feel snug.”

“Now that’s just bad.”

“Shut up. It’s a sensitive subject.”

Josh’s deep laughter rumbled through his chest, but he got the hint and stopped talking about it.

Every sixth of October the five of them went to the same pub in downtown Boston. They would toast to the memory of Drew and talk about favorite memories, but Micah sensed this year would be different. She couldn’t quite figure out what had changed until they sat down around their usual table and ordered a round of drinks. Scanning the faces of her closest friends, she knew then that Sabina had been right. They had moved on while she was still stuck—stuck in her painful memories.

The truth hit her like a ton of bricks. She had been living in denial. It was a comfortable and easy place to live. Never addressing reality. Never addressing the pain. Never allowing herself to truly grieve the loss of her first love—her only love.

Jamie raised his glass. “Here’s to Drew.”

Five glasses lifted in unison as she wondered if they all knew what she had just come to realize. Did they know she hadn’t dealt with her grief? Were they okay with that? She continued to watch them. It was if they were all thinking the same thing: What now?

The guys turned their attention to the game playing on the TVs around them. The girls were playing with their phones. For a moment Micah wondered if this might be the last of the tradition she held so sacred.

Hanna’s phone buzzed. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.”

Sabina had been whisked away by a group of guys, while Josh had seen some friends at the bar, leaving Jamie and Micah alone. Silence stretched between them. Running her finger across the top of her glass, she wasn’t sure what to say. Her mind was still trying to grasp its latest discovery.

Her mother had taken her to a counselor when the tragedy first happened. The counselor hadn’t said much, just listened while Micah talked through the emotions that were affecting every area of her life. She’d walked away from the session deciding she wouldn’t let the pain control her anymore.

Micah had been certain that her grief could be controlled and normalcy restored. So every year, she allowed herself a period of time to grieve. There was no point in thinking about it or dwelling on it all the time. By limiting herself she was able to ignore the pain until eventually she became numb to it. That was how she had survived.

But as the ten-year anniversary approached, she’d sensed this one would be a more difficult to get through, and allowed herself some extra time. However, she’d failed to anticipate the extent of just how difficult it would be. Thoughts of what her life could have been, what she and Drew might have been doing now.

Micah caught Jamie looking down at his watch. “You have somewhere to be?”

“Actually, yeah. I’ve got a ton of work to do back at the house.” He dragged his hand down his face. He looked physically and emotionally drained.

“On a Friday night?”

“Yeah. On a farm, my job is never ending. Sorry to do this to you, but I really should go.”

“Fine. Go.”

He pressed a quick kiss on her cheek and headed out. Micah shook her head. Jamie was the last one she’d expected to cut out on this ritual. If Jamie could give up on it so easily, then maybe this faithful five wasn’t as indestructible as she had once thought.

The fact that he had bailed on this commitment, this promise they had made, poured anger into her cocktail of raging emotions. Sure, by now they should all have moved on. But show some respect. This was a tradition among friends. Sacred. It was honoring the memory of a friend they all held dear. But now they acted as if Drew didn’t matter to them anymore. Was she the only one who felt this cavernous hole where he’d once existed?

Of course, she had been oblivious to it until recently. Numb to the pain that had festered over time. And just when she had let it out, it was like a snowball, building and building until her grief was out of control. She took a deep swallow of her drink and finished it off, then reached for the ones Hanna and Sabina had left behind.

Years ago, her sadness had seemed like something she could handle with a modicum of ease. So where had she gone wrong? Somewhere along the way, her desire to control the pain had stifled her grieving process. Things that should have been dealt with years ago had been left unaddressed.

Everything was out of hand. She had lost control. Control of her grief, her emotions, her life.

Enough was enough. It had been ten years. Tomorrow it would end. She would make it. Maybe finally addressing the denial and the postponed grief was a good thing. She needed to clear it from her system. She would allow herself one more night of sadness, top it off with a lot of drinking, and tomorrow she would put a stop to this once and for all. No more. Tomorrow she would take her life back.

Her eyes scanned the pub for her other friends. Sabina and Josh were the group’s token flirts. They had captivated the room, their good looks and irresistible charm creating quite a stir. Sabina’s exotic beauty demanded attention everywhere they went.

Josh didn’t have to move. He stood next to the bar and the women flocked all around him like vultures sinking their claws into their prey. Little did they know, Josh was far from being prey. Beware, ladies. Beware.

When the waitress brought the appetizers to the table, Micah ordered another drink. People always said you could drown your sorrows in alcohol, and tonight seemed like a good enough time to try.

Josh came back over to the table. “Where did everyone go?”

“Hanna had to take a call. Sabina is over there, and Jamie left.”

“He left?” Josh appeared to be just as upset as she was.

“Yup.”

“Real cool.” Josh seemed to study her. He had a way of doing that. He could have her figured out in minutes and she hated it. “What’s with you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. There just wasn’t an easy answer. She had a tendency to bottle up her emotions, and tonight it seemed as though the bottle was full and running over.

She envied her friends. They seemed to have their acts together, and were experiencing so much more in life than she was. She hadn’t seen it until now. Everything in her life was safe—her job, her friends. She steered away from new friendships, new relationships, new opportunities. Outside of her comfort zone she was susceptible, vulnerable. Her friends had been experiencing life while she was safe in her comfortable cocoon, far from things that could hurt her.

Now all that she had overlooked or failed to deal with had come back to haunt her. She wanted to feel alive again, not the life of denial she had been living, but like her friends had.

“You should probably slow down on the drinks. I’ve never seen you drink this much. I wouldn’t even know how to handle you if you got drunk.”

Micah looked down at another empty glass. How many had it been? Who was counting, anyway? “Well, you’re about to find out. I cannot be held responsible for my actions tonight.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“Hey, that girl over there keeps checking you out.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, I’ve seen you look at her, too. You should go talk to her.”

“Can’t. I’m talking to you.”

“So I’m the lucky one tonight?”

“Guess so.” His piercing gray eyes were trained on her. Evaluating her. She must have passed. “Wanna play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a game.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s try and read people based off of what they’re drinking.”

She hoped he could read the perplexity on her face. Was he being serious?

“Come on. It will be fun.”

“Okay. You start.”

“Okay, see that guy over there? The one in the red shirt? Watch him. He was just looking at the list of margaritas, but put it away after he noticed the hot bartender. Fifty dollars says he orders whiskey straight.”

“Oh, so now this is turning into a money game? Okay, you’re on.”

Micah watched as the bartender handed the man in the red shirt a shot glass filled with amber liquid. He sat it down in front of him, where it remained untouched.

“Why isn’t he drinking it?”

“He can’t handle it. That’s why he was looking at the margarita list.”

She rolled her eyes. This is dumb.

Josh took a long draw from his beer as a beautiful woman sauntered past their table, flashing him a come-and-get-me smile. Micah sat there with her mouth hanging open at the audacity of the woman. Was Micah really so irrelevant that the woman didn’t consider her to be with Josh? She wasn’t, but still. Seriously? Josh smiled back but moved on. His eyes moved back to the bar, past the man with the untouched shot of whiskey, scanning the other patrons.

“Okay, it’s your turn.”

“No. I’m not any good at this.”

“Okay...see the bombshell at the end of the bar?” Micah’s eyes narrowed as he accentuated the word bombshell. “She’s been nursing that Corona for about half an hour now. She’s alone, looking good and drinking light? I can almost guarantee that she has no intentions of leaving this bar alone tonight. She’ll start throwing them back more heavily once some guy starts buying them for her. Then she’ll pretend she doesn’t want to go anywhere, but if some lucky guy reads the signs right he’ll know that Miss Corona-with-Lime is ready to roll.”

“You are crazy. Do you always do this?” She watched as he shrugged his broad shoulders and nursed his Sam Adams. “What about me? What do my drinks say?”

“Well...your drinks tell me a couple of things. One, the variety of your drinks tells me that you steal people’s drinks and don’t pay for your own. And second, they say you won’t remember any of what I just said, anyway.”

“Well, then...why don’t you go buy one for Miss Corona-with-Lime? She’s already looked over here twice.” She was feeling saucy tonight. Josh noticed. Quirked his eyebrow, and gave her a smile.

“Someone has to keep you from making bad decisions tonight.”

“And you’re volunteering?”

“For now. As soon as you start to drive me nuts, I’m bailing.”

“Good to know I have such a great friend to count on in my time of need.”

“Any time.”

The alcohol was definitely starting to go to her head, making her feel all tingly and disjointed. Josh was starting to look a little hazy as he sat across from her giving her the most puzzling looks. He really was beautiful, reminded her of an iron sculpture in a way—masculine, rough, hard edges, but beautiful nonetheless. Even his eyes were metallic in essence: an odd shade of gray, sometimes taking on blue, sometimes green. Women seemed to love them. She found them piercing and cold. She had always preferred blue eyes, like Drew’s were.