Forever Family (Forever #5) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Corabelle

  Chapter 2: Jenny

  Chapter 3: Tina

  Chapter 4: Jenny

  Chapter 5: Corabelle

  Chapter 6: Tina

  Chapter 7: Jenny

  Chapter 8: Corabelle

  Chapter 9: Tina

  Chapter 10: Jenny

  Chapter 11: Tina

  Chapter 12: Corabelle

  Chapter 13: Tina

  Chapter 14: Jenny

  Chapter 15: Corabelle

  Chapter 16: Tina

  Chapter 17: Jenny

  Chapter 18: Corabelle

  Chapter 19: Tina

  Chapter 20: Corabelle

  Chapter 21: Tina

  Chapter 22: Jenny

  Chapter 23: Tina

  Chapter 24: Corabelle

  Chapter 25: Tina

  Chapter 26. Corabelle

  Chapter 27: Tina

  Epilogue: Gavin

  Also by Deanna Roy on Amazon

  About Deanna Roy

  Dedications

  Forever Family

  The Final Book of the Forever Series

  By Deanna Roy

  www.deannaroy.com

  Join her mailing list for new releases and freebies at

  Deanna’s List

  Other books in the series

  Forever Innocent (Corabelle and Gavin’s story)

  Forever Loved (Corabelle and Gavin’s story, continued)

  Forever Sheltered (Tina and Dr. Darion’s story)

  Forever Bound (Jenny and Chance’s story)

  Copyright © 2016 by Deanna Roy. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Casey Shay Press

  PO Box 160116

  Austin, TX 78716

  www.caseyshaypress.com

  E-ISBN: 9781938150524

  Also available in paperback: ISBN: 9781938150517

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016932204

  v1

  For my fans

  My happily ever after

  is with you

  Go see all your dedications

  •*´`*•♥•*´`*•

  Chapter 1: Corabelle

  My father used to have a T-shirt that read “If it’s too loud, you’re too old.”

  Maybe I was getting too old.

  I stood at the very front of an outrageous screaming crowd in a concert arena that I would swear held the entire student body of UC San Diego.

  Next to me was Jenny, huge pregnant belly and all. I winced every time she jumped up and down, sure she was going to bounce the baby right out. Her happy voice squealed like a teenager. She kept bumping up against the chest-high metal wall that separated us from the stage.

  The noise made my ears ring. Girls screaming. Guys shouting. The occasional screech of a lead guitar set to the wrong level.

  Nobody was actually playing a song yet. The new wave of excitement came from some hunky guy in black who was testing a guitar. He had it cradled against his thigh, one shoulder thrown back, his fingers picking out an unbelievably fast set of notes that everyone else seemed to recognize. Or maybe they’d just scream for anything. The concert was already a half hour late. The crowd just wanted something to happen and encouraged anything that made it seem like the show was starting.

  The lights blacked out onstage and a million colored beams rolled from the ceiling to the floor. It was just a test, but the cheers crescendoed one more time.

  I tried to feel the magic of being amid all this energy. But it was so — pushy. Literally. I was getting shoved and manhandled from every direction. I wished Gavin were with us. I could have used the strong, broad protection of his body from the crush of the crowd. I didn’t know how Jenny was doing it. When I was as pregnant as her, I barely ever left the sofa.

  Except…I’d never been as pregnant as her. She’d passed the mark when I’d gone into early labor with Finn two weeks ago.

  I squashed those thoughts immediately. I was not going to let my past intrude on this crazy night. Her husband-to-be, Chance, would be playing an opening number, not directly for megastar Dylan Wolf, not yet, but for the band that would open for Dylan. Chance was not on the fast track, for sure, but he had a record in production that everyone was pinning their hopes on.

  Jenny didn’t mind either way. Her face glowed happy in the blue light, waiting for Chance to come on. This was his last performance before their wedding next weekend. Then the baby would come in a few weeks.

  I refused to harbor any jealousy over her happiness. It took willpower and control to keep my thoughts positive and happy, but I had managed so far, even when Jenny raced into my apartment with her DVD sonogram to show me the heartbeat. These were all moments I also remembered fondly. The real test would be when she brought her baby home.

  I never got to do that.

  The hunk with the guitar set it carefully in a stand and strode offstage. The crowd settled again. A few attempts to shout “Dylan, Dylan, Dylan!” started, then died out.

  I glanced around. The floor of the arena was packed with the hard-core fans who had close-up tickets, and the first tier was pretty full. Up top, though, fans who didn’t care about the opening singer were still filtering in.

  I checked my watch. So behind schedule.

  “Are they always late?” I asked Jenny.

  She shrugged. “They watch how many are still coming in the gates.”

  We’d hung out backstage with Chance and the Sonic Kings until a security guard came for us. Since Chance played first, we had to be out there before the concert began. When Dylan came on later, his wife, Jessie, would join us in the front row.

  The crowd was our first indication that something was about to happen. The roar surged again. They must see something we couldn’t, up so close.

  Then I caught movement at the back of the stage. Jenny clutched my hand as Chance came out. The response was tremendous, then faltered a little as the crowd realized it wasn’t Dylan. But Chance was old hat at this by now, and started with a quip in his best southern drawl. “Y’all are waiting on the Dixie Chicks, right? Cuz I put on a bra for this.”

  The crowd laughed and settled in. He didn’t introduce himself, not yet, but jumped right into the opening licks of one of his rock songs. On his own, he tended to stay a little closer to the country end of the spectrum, but he knew what Dylan’s fans were looking for.

  I held on to Jenny as she jumped in place. I tried not to picture the baby sloshing in there. Her ankles and wrists were something to behold, swollen to the point that she could only wear flip-flops, and her six-inch tangle of bracelets was a thing of the past.

  Luckily, San Diego didn’t get all that cold, even in November. So she was getting away with her summer footwear. Although she might lose a shoe if she kept jumping like she was.

  Chance looked our direction and beamed. The song wasn’t romantic, just a rock anthem about partying on a Saturday night, but Jenny was feeling it. I was happy for her. I really was.

  I squeezed her hand and moved along with her. “He’s so great!” I shouted in her ear.

  She nodded at me. “I know!”

  The lights shifted and turned as Chance moved across the stage. He didn’t get the big treatment like Dylan w
ould later, but it was a nice set. I moved with the music and let the party atmosphere take me away from my piles of work back home. Papers to grade as a lowly first-year teaching assistant at UCSD. My own courses to study for. A thesis to think about. I was just glad to have my bachelor’s degree behind me. Life was moving forward. Most of it.

  Chance finished out strong and the crowd roared. They had been won over. I knew Jenny always held her breath at this moment, worried they would start chanting for Dylan instead.

  He didn’t pause but went straight into the next number. Jenny relaxed and pressed her hand to her chest. “I think I might have jiggled my pee out,” she said with a frown. “No more jumping.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  She moved her hand to her belly. “He’s kicking up a storm, though. The baby always gets riled at concerts.”

  My willpower faltered, and I swallowed the envy that threatened to rise up. I’d been lucky these past few years to avoid pregnant people. College was generally good like that. But here it was, right beside me, about to pop right out. I drew in a deep breath and focused on the music.

  My life was happy. I had Manuelito, Gavin’s five-year-old son, and he was good for me, just the most amazing kid. He was spending an extended holiday in Mexico with his mother. She would have him for Thanksgiving and Christmas and wouldn’t be back until after the first of the year.

  And Gavin would be graduating soon. We’d be able to build some savings soon, and maybe, just maybe, we could get his vasectomy reversed.

  I couldn’t act like my life hadn’t gotten started. It wasn’t true.

  I was at a concert with my best friend, who was about to marry the hunky singer onstage.

  I had the love of my life back and a sweet little family.

  I had graduated — finally — and made my goal of becoming a TA in graduate school.

  Everything was fine. I would not be shaken.

  I would live each moment as it came. I’d keep believing that the thing I wanted most of all, a baby of my own, would happen eventually. I would have faith.

  Chapter 2: Jenny

  I swear I could feel each drumbeat in my belly.

  The sound crashed over me, thumping through my waterlogged middle like a rock-and-roll sonogram.

  I swayed with it, hoping I was keeping the baby chilled out despite the noise. Sometimes the little bub would startle at a loud noise, making a swift little lurch.

  I kept my hands on the metal gate that held us back several feet from the stage. This was the first time I’d encountered it. But after a few girls had climbed up and gotten way too frisky with Dylan at a concert in Atlanta, the security guards decided to limit direct access to the stage floor.

  I didn’t like it. The wall caused a couple of problems for me. One, it bummed me out because this was the last concert I’d be able to attend for Chance before the baby came. And I couldn’t get up to him. He often reached down and took my hand during our favorite song, and this time, he couldn’t.

  But also, these creepy girls were pushing against me. Hard. As they jostled, I had to hold on to the gate and keep my arms strong so that I wouldn’t crush my belly.

  Another overly energetic woman fell into me, and I snapped. “Watch where you’re gyrating!” I yelled. “Baby.” I pointed to my belly.

  She rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  That was it. I’d had it. I turned in to her and shoved my elbow straight into her gut. Corabelle grabbed my arm. “Jenny!”

  “You’re crazy!” the girl said, but had the sense to head away from us.

  Corabelle kept her grip on me. “You all right?” she asked. Her eyes darted nervously up to the stage.

  Chance was on the other end, making his way back, singing his heart out. And I was missing it. “I’m fine,” I said, and lifted my chin.

  The song rollicked along. My anger drained out of me, and suddenly I was super exhausted. I clutched at the gate. Maybe we should have stayed in the stage wings instead of coming out on the floor. I’d have been more comfortable.

  But it just wasn’t the same back there. For his last concert, I wanted to be out here.

  I took deep breaths and steeled myself to make it through. We wouldn’t stay for the other bands, not even Dylan. Just hang out in the dressing rooms with Chance and listen to the concert piped in. There was always a buffet and lots of fun talk. I could put my feet up and soak up the last of the fun life before the baby came.

  It was a great life, and I enjoyed it.

  The drummer blasted the final three cymbal strikes for the end of the song, and Chance took a moment to introduce himself and the band. He picked at his guitar, strumming a few single notes that I recognized. Yes, he was going to slow it down now. I let out a long exhale in relief. He was going to play our special one.

  “I wrote this little ditty a few months ago,” he said, “when that lovely lady agreed to be my wife.” He pointed at me and the crowd turned.

  I saw with great satisfaction that the rude girl noticed and frowned. Ha.

  “So, this here is an original of mine, called ‘Forever.’”

  The opening chords flooded me with calmness. I held on tight to the top of the wall as Chance’s rich voice filled the arena.

  There ain’t nothing you can say

  To make me turn away

  There ain’t nothing you can do

  To ever take my love away from you

  Because I said forever

  And that’s just what I’m gonna do

  I tried to always listen to the song like it was the first time I heard it. I wanted always to believe it. Corabelle squeezed my arm. She got it. She had found her forever too.

  I swayed along with the music. The crowd didn’t know the words. It had never been released. Maybe it would someday, if Chance got a break. Right now, he could sing to a crowd like this, but if they searched for him later, they couldn’t get his work.

  Soon. Hopefully. If this record deal worked out.

  I wanted to revel in the music. It was so different in a huge arena than in a small bar or private party, where Chance played most of the time.

  But my bladder wasn’t cooperating.

  The pressure was low and heavy. I knew it well. I wouldn’t be able to hold it long, and now I was in the danger zone. If I sneezed or coughed or even laughed too hard, it would leak.

  God, the stuff about pregnancy nobody told you.

  Chance looked my direction, like he was singing to me. I knew he couldn’t see me easily, as the stage lights were blinding as you looked out. But he always knew where I was.

  I tried to feel it, really let it sink in.

  But my bladder. The pressure.

  I felt a tickle in my throat from all the cheering. No no no. I was going to cough.

  The urge was strong, but I clamped it down. I tried to gather spit so I could swallow and make my throat calm. It seemed to work. I thought I had it under control. Then it just burst out. My insides clamped down, and I coughed.

  Crap. The pee was going to let go.

  I felt the water come out. Then run down my legs. And keep coming.

  Shit. Really? All of it? That bad?

  My face flooded crimson. I was wearing a long skirt, thank God, so nobody could really see. But it was running down to my ankles and making my shoes squishy.

  So gross.

  I smiled at Chance and thought — let me get through this song and we’ll go. Forget the concert, the after-party. Just get home and get cleaned up.

  Chance belted out the chorus, but I could barely hear him for the roar in my ears. Something was different. Wrong. I let go of the gate and clutched my belly.

  I felt emptier. I couldn’t explain it. But I was less taut or something. Less full.

  Then it hit.

  The contraction rippled across my body like someone had wrung out a cloth. I felt squeezed. I forgot all about the concert and turned to Corabelle. “Something’s wrong,” I said, but my voice
barely worked. It was like I didn’t have any breath.

  “What?” Corabelle asked, leaning in. But then she turned to look at me and saw my face. “Oh my God,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  I glanced back up at Chance. I knew he couldn’t make us out clearly, not with the lights. He wouldn’t see my expression or my fear. I waved at him. He could see the movement and nodded with a smile.

  But I was panicked.

  Corabelle pulled me through the crowd. I kept my eyes on Chance. He probably thought I had to pee. I had no way to tell him.

  We made it through the throng to the backstage security guard to the left of the stage. By the time we got there, I was feeling worse, sick, and in pain.

  “We need help,” Corabelle said. “Is there an ambulance here?”

  “NO!” I told her. “Not without Chance!” But just that much talking made something happen, another strong cramp gripping me tight. I doubled over. Even without my trying, my body started a huffing sort of breath.

  One of the stage managers, a broad teddy-bear-sized man named Todd, came up and wrapped his arm around me. “You okay?”

  I tried to get words out. “I…think…my…water broke.”

  “What?” Corabelle exclaimed. “When?”

  “During…the song.” The contraction slowed down and I gasped for breath.

  She looked down at my feet. “Get the EMTs,” she told Todd. “She’s not due for another five weeks.”

  This made Todd move. He dashed over to the security guard and yanked a radio from his belt. He mashed a button and shouted into it. I didn’t pay a lot of attention, staring at the floor, trying to bring down my panic.

  Corabelle gripped me, holding me up. “Can you walk?” she asked.

  “In a second,” I managed to say. It was easing up. After a couple more breaths, I was able to stand up straight again. “Maybe it’s just those Braxton Hicks or whatever?”