All My Life Read online

  ALL MY LIFE

  by

  PRESCOTT LANE

  Copyright © 2018 Prescott Lane

  Kindle Edition

  Cover design © Michele Catalano Creative

  Cover image from deposit photos by EpicStockMedia

  Editing by Nikki Rushbrook

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Also by Prescott Lane

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  MIA HOLLIS

  Graduation Speech

  I’m not going to do the usual graduation speech. No Dr. Seuss book or quote from Robert Frost about the road less traveled. I’m going to quote someone greater—my dad. He likes to say that we don’t always want what we need in this life. He loved to throw that one at me when I wanted chocolate cake but needed vegetables. Think about it—we don’t often want what we truly need. We want the big house, but all we need is a simple shelter. We want designer clothes, but off-brands work just as well. The examples are endless.

  Everyone here knows my dad, Garrett Hollis. He never got this moment. His GED arrived in the mail, and he opened it with me in his arms. He calls me his unexpected blessing.

  This is yours, too, Daddy. For teaching me how to read, taking that road trip to the museum when I was obsessed with dinosaurs, all the nights you stayed up late with me studying, the teacher conferences, the trips to the bookstore, the college tours. This piece of paper, who I am, doesn’t happen without you. So while I really wanted a car when I was sixteen, I already had what I needed—you.

  Not sure what he’s going to do without me. Thirty-four years old and an empty nester. Anyone know a nice, single woman who can date my dad? You know where to find him. Hardware store in the town square. Just tell him Mia sent you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  GARRETT

  There’s a woman in that bed. How did that happen? Most thirty-four-year-old guys probably have that thought for entirely different reasons than me. Because somehow that young woman is my daughter, my baby girl has grown up. How did that happen? Where did the time go?

  She’s traded braids for a straightening iron. Teddy bears for earbuds. Sippy cups for coffee mugs. Graduated from high school and off to college in a couple months, soon I’ll have an empty house. An empty nester at thirty-four, as Mia so eloquently put it in her valedictorian speech yesterday.

  She looked so damn beautiful on that stage. It seemed like the whole town was there. They should be. Me and Eden Valley raised her. While I was a single teenage dad, I was never really alone.

  Leaning my head on the doorframe to her bedroom, I listen to my daughter’s soft breathing, knowing there won’t be many more mornings like this, and remember her words.

  “Unexpected blessing,” I whisper.

  Yes, she was the result of a teenage pregnancy, but she wasn’t a mistake, an accident. She was what I needed. I didn’t know it at the time. I’m not sure she always believes it. There were no tears on her face yesterday, only a big-ass smile, but I had to wipe my eyes listening to her.

  I couldn’t even be mad about her plea for my dating life. The crowd loved it, and I just rolled my eyes. Mia’s always had this fear about me, this urge to take care of me. Maybe because it was just the two of us. She used to have these god-awful nightmares about me dying, wake up in fits of terror, or I’d be startled awake by her checking my pulse in the night. She hounds me constantly about eating my vegetables. Guess she’s afraid now that she’s going off to college, I won’t have anyone to look after me. There are several things I can think of that I need a woman for, and making me eat salad isn’t one of them.

  Mia rolls over, and I see her shiny car keys gripped in her fingers, her graduation present. I finally got her a car—a used, little white sedan. It might as well have been a brand-new luxury car for the scream that came out of her tiny frame.

  Glancing around her room, I remember when it used to be filled with princesses, castles, pink frilly things, and fairytales. She’s always loved reading, and her room now looks more like a library than a bedroom, everything from her childhood favorites to classic British literature covering her floors and shelves.

  At seventeen, she looks exactly like her mother did at her age—petite and blonde with deep brown eyes. Not at all like me, tall with blue eyes and brown hair. While I hate her mother, Sheena, I only have love for Mia. Life’s been hard, but Mia is soft, tender. Not at all like that . . .

  “Daddy,” Mia says softly, giving me a sleepy smile.

  “Got in pretty late last night,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Or should I say, early this morning?”

  She yawns and rolls her brown eyes at me. “I was just at the Falls with everyone else.”

  I know exactly where she was, but it’s my job to give her a little bit of a rough time. Our town, Eden Valley, sits right outside the Blue Ridge Mountains in Georgia, and is bordered on one side by a waterfall and natural springs. They throw a big party out there every year at graduation. Our town probably wouldn’t be on the map except for that spot. It has more recorded rainbows each year than any other spot in the continental United States. People travel from all over to be married there. Folk legend has it that if you kiss someone while a rainbow cascades over the Falls, they will always be yours.

  Personally, I think that’s a crock of shit. Rainbows, waterfalls, and forevers sound like something in those Hallmark movies Mia makes me watch with her at Christmastime.

  She sits up slightly in bed, and I take a seat next to her. “Did you have fun last night?”

  She nods and tells me about her night. Who kissed who. Who broke up because they don’t want to be tied down going off to college. Who got drunk and threw up. Mia tells me everything. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a young dad, but she always has. It’s not always easy to hear. When she had her first kiss a little over a year ago, I wanted to threaten the boy’s life. When he broke up with her, I wanted to ram my fist threw a wall. Still, she’s seventeen, eighteen in a couple weeks, and I guess I’m lucky kissing is the extent of it. I was a dad at her age.

  “I’m starving,” she says, stretching her arms high over her head then hopping up out of bed. “Dad, did you wash my . . .”

  I simply point to her dresser, w
here I left her clothes, folded and waiting for her to put away. She pulls out her favorite t-shirt from the pile then motions for me to leave. Thank God, Mia is modest. I see some of the girls from her school with their asses hanging out, stomachs showing. No fucking way would Mia walk out of the house like that. She hates it when her bra strap shows. Made it interesting the first few times I had to take her shopping for bras or products for that time of the month. By the time Mia started with all that, my mom had passed away. So poor girl was left with me to try to explain the ins and outs of the female menstrual cycle. There was no one else to do the job. No aunts, no sisters, no grandmother. Not that it would’ve mattered, Mia would have died of embarrassment if she knew I told a soul when she first started. Even her pediatrician was a dude. We tried signing up for one of those classes you take at the hospital explaining puberty, but no men were allowed.

  By that point, I was used to it. I wasn’t allowed backstage at her dance recitals with the moms because I’ve got a dick. When she was little, I had to cover her face with my hand any time she had to use the restroom in public, so she didn’t see anything in the men’s restroom. It’s par for the course. So a few library books and a video or two, and we got through the female reproductive system.

  We even had a system for when she needed tampons or pads. She’d leave the empty box by my keys. No discussion. Then I’d buy the stuff and leave it in her bathroom. Of course, now when she needs new bras or something, I just give her the money and she handles it herself.

  “Out the door in five, kiddo,” I say, heading out of her room and closing the door behind me. Whoever the lucky man is that marries her, a long, long time from now, will have me to thank for my daughter’s ability to be dressed and out the door in record time. No hours of primping and makeup with Mia.

  Before I have my keys in my hand, she’s meeting me in our kitchen, pulling her hair through the back of a baseball cap. “Wanna drive?” I ask.

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. I get that look a lot from her. “We always walk.”

  She’s right. We’ve made this walk almost every day of her life. Our house is just a few streets over from the town square. It’s one of the reasons she didn’t get a car until now. She simply didn’t need one. Most mornings, we’d walk the few blocks, grab breakfast at the local diner, then she’d head to school, and I’d head to the hardware store.

  I open the backdoor for her, locking it behind us, seeing her staring up at our house. Mia’s sentimental, and I know she’s thinking about the day she won’t live here anymore.

  “I still think yellow would’ve been better,” Mia says, ragging me over painting the house white with dark green shutters like my grandparents always had it. This time, it’s me that rolls my eyes at her. “At least paint the door red,” she says.

  “Not gonna happen.”

  I brought her home from the hospital to this house. It was my grandparents’ old place. They were both gone and the place was empty, so my parents let Mia and I move in here. They lived next door, so they thought it was the perfect arrangement. It forced me to grow up and be a dad, but they were close enough to help.

  Those first few years, there’s no way I would’ve made it without them. I continued my part-time job at the hardware store, same place as today. Only now, I own it. It’s been a far cry from my dream of playing college football and becoming an architect, but I can’t complain—the store lets me do projects for people around town. I’m not designing skyscrapers, but the church now has the best damn outdoor worship center, and the new mayor’s sons’ tree house is a fucking work of art.

  “Morning,” my dad calls out across our yards. “Off to Biscuit Girl?”

  “Yep, you’re at it early this morning,” I say, seeing his hands stuck in the dirt. Not sure why the man retired from his law practice, he’s always tinkering around with something, gardening, building stuff. I get that from him. I love building stuff. Got an old motorcycle in the shop behind our houses that I’ll finish one of these days. He seems busier now than he did when he was working, even during his stint as mayor of our small town. With my mom gone, I worry about him getting lonely. He and Mia are really close. He’s taught her to love sports, poker, car racing. Some guy is going to thank him one day. With Mia leaving for college in the fall, I’m going to have to make sure dad hangs out with me more.

  “Granddad, want to come to breakfast?” Mia asks, running over and throwing her arms around his neck.

  He holds his hands up. “Thanks, but not today, buttercup.”

  Edward Hollis is the epitome of a good dad. Strong when he needs to be and understanding as all hell. He and Mom had to be disappointed as shit when Mia’s mother showed up pregnant on our doorstep, but not once did it show on his face. Anger—yes. But he never let his feelings overshadow mine. I was scared shitless. He knew it, and he was there. His hand on my shoulder, looking down and telling me that he wouldn’t leave my side. He and Mom never did.

  “Bring you back something?” I call out.

  “Nah,” he says, waving his hand. “Going to visit your mother.”

  I knew that. He goes to my mother’s grave every day, rain or shine.

  “I’ve got to tell her all about Mia’s speech!” he says, picking at me. The man does love to goad me. “Maybe she’s got some pull with the Big Guy and can send some ladies your way.”

  Mia flashes me a smile over her shoulder, still basking in her public plea for my non-existent dating life. Women have never been my strong suit. After the teenage pregnancy, dating just wasn’t easy. You have to remember for most of Mia’s childhood, I was in my twenties. Not many single women in their twenties looking to date a guy with a young kid. Rightly so, they want romance, nights out, to be the center of some guy’s life. I couldn’t offer that. I tried here and there, but it just wasn’t in the cards. I can count on one hand how many women there have been over the years. None of them wanted to be a stepmother so young in life. From my perspective, none of them were really worthy of being a stepmother to my daughter, either.

  *

  Walking through Eden Valley is like walking through a gingerbread village. The buildings all have detailed latticework, porches. Verandahs are a staple in our town. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the sidewalk was made from candy. The carpenter in me appreciates the craftsmanship, but growing up, this town bored the shit out of me. Raising my daughter here gave me new appreciation. Everyone knows everyone, but better yet, everyone watches out for everyone. That’s the part Mia hates. She can’t get away with anything. That’s just the way I like it. Unlike me, she grew up slow.

  I open the door to our daily breakfast hangout, Biscuit Girl, holding it open for Mia. We’ve been coming here since before Mia could sit in a high chair. In fact, she said her first word right at our usual table by the window. It was Dada, of course.

  Like a lot of businesses in town, this one is family-owned and passed down from generation to generation. This one is named after the current owner. Her parents opened it when she was just a toddler, and named it after their own little biscuit girl. Devlyn Drake, DD when we were kids, grew up in this diner, just like Mia did.

  We take our seat at our regular spot, the usual smell of bacon, biscuits, and fresh baked breads surrounding us. This place is the epitome of Eden Valley, family-friendly, comfortable, and charming as hell. Decorated in vintage, distressed white furniture and bright flowers, it’s as quirky as the owner.

  Devlyn gives us a wave, indicating she’ll be right over. She no longer brings us menus, knowing how we both take our coffee. Mine, black as night. Mia’s, with so much cream and frilly shit it’s not really coffee anymore.

  Mia’s phone dings, and she reaches for it. I beat her to it, flipping it screen down on the table. She knows the rules. No phone during meals. “But it could be Penny . . .” Before I can stop her, it dings again and again. “Seriously, Dad, it could be an emergency.”

  “Boys are not considered an emergency,” I say, grinni
ng at her.

  “Boys are always an emergency,” Devlyn says, placing our mugs down in front of us. “Emergencies are unexpected and dangerous. I’d say that’s the definition of most boys.”

  Mia wraps her arm around Devlyn’s waist. A year younger than me, Devlyn has watched Mia grow up in this diner. From my lap, to the highchair, to the booster seat. From braces to a beautiful young lady. Devlyn, like the rest of Eden Valley, has witnessed it all. Honestly, she’s done more than that. Devlyn and Mia are close. Devlyn’s the one Mia turns to when she needs advice on boys, clothes, hair. All the stuff that Mia thinks I’m an imbecile about.

  “You have to take me shopping,” Mia says, flicking up Devlyn’s tutu.

  “This is the uniform, honey,” she says, giving us a twirl. She always did have a quirky fashion sense. When she took over the diner, she took to wearing different color tutus each day with a simple t-shirt that reads Butter my biscuits.

  “So what are we having this morning?” Devlyn asks, playing with Mia’s hair a little bit.

  While our coffee orders are a constant, our food choices are anything but. “Yogurt and granola,” Mia says.

  “I’ll have the bacon . . .”

  “Fruit cup,” Mia says, interrupting my need for grease. “Cholesterol, Daddy.” Told you, she’s got some weird fears about losing me. I’m hardly the picture of bad health. “Devlyn, help me out,” Mia begs. “Tell him.”

  She squeezes my bicep and gives me a little wink. “He looks in good shape to me.”

  Mia groans, throwing her head down on the table. Devlyn begins to giggle at the dramatic nature gifted to all teenage girls. Devlyn’s eyes catch mine. She immediately shakes her head, and I can tell she’s giving herself an internal tongue lashing for saying that. No harm, no foul. I know she didn’t mean anything by it. Devlyn and I are friends. The best of friends. Another day, another life, maybe.

  Don’t get me wrong, Devlyn’s playful and fun, and she has killer curves. Her blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair don’t hurt either, but there’s never been anything between us. I’ve made it a point not to date anyone from Eden Valley. It would just be too hard when it ended. The whole damn town would be taking sides. It’s a nosy bunch here. Besides, she’s got a long-distance boyfriend.