Whole Again (Hometown Hero's Book 1) Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2017

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  DEDICATION

  To Eric, my muse, my puzzle piece.

  Go Team ACE!

  BOOKS BY COLLEEN S. MYERS

  Solum Series

  Must Remember

  Can’t Forget

  Distant Memory (2017)

  Rael (Short in the Solum universe)

  Hometown Heroes Series

  Whole Again

  Each Other’s Only (tba)

  Burning Bright (tba)

  Anthologies

  Beyond the Friend Zone

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  So many people contributed to my writing this book that I’m afraid to name all of them. I’m bound to forget someone and then I’ll be sad. So on that note, thank you to everyone who helped form this book and for your continued love and support. You know who you are. *hugs*

  CONTENTS

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  One

  Vicki carefully placed the gaudy pink pig statue next to a lamp and smiled. Heck yeah! About dang time she finished. She’d lived here for almost a month and hadn’t managed to unpack. But now the last box was empty, and her new place finally felt like home.

  She gazed around the living room, satisfied. The bright abstract paintings clashed starkly with the deep teak of the traditional German end tables. The cushy magenta couch, piled high with a plethora of velvet throw pillows, formed an L-shape in the corner. The carpet appeared well worn, and the walls were warm beige. Green ferns covered the windowsill and basked in what little light filtered in on this cold September day, while various crystal knickknacks and fashion magazines littered the apothecary table in the middle of the room.

  She sank her toes into the tan geometric carpet and let out a gusty sigh. The apartment was perfect and messy and muddled and hers. Her things decorated it the way she wanted. Not based on the latest trends to keep up with the so-and-so’s house. God, she hated art deco and modernism. As for feng shui, she never got it, never got the flow. Her style leaned toward “lived in,” and this place was all her own. She loved it.

  Vicki whooped and danced in a circle with her arms wide until dizziness stopped her. She slicked back her hair and glanced around again, her throat clenching. If only she had someone to celebrate with―that would make this moment better.

  On that thought, Vicki fell onto the plush sofa and dialed her grandmother. Joonie was the only one in the family who would appreciate her accomplishment, who would understand why she was so happy. Her mother remained stuck on getting her and David back together. Vicki pulled a face at the thought of reconciling with her unfaithful ex-husband.

  Yeah, that’s never going to happen.

  After four rings, Joonie answered, her voice sounding far away. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Grams.”

  Joonie’s voice got louder and echoed oddly. The sound of a car door slamming zipped down the phone line. “Oh, is that you, Vee? Where are you?”

  Vicki heard the sound of an engine starting. “I’m at home, and I’ve officially unpacked the last box. You should be proud of me. I planned to suggest we celebrate, but it sounds like you’re already going somewhere.”

  “I’m about to go on a hot date with a sixty-five-year-old widower with all his hair. Couldn’t ask for anything better except maybe a large—”

  “Grandma!” Vicki rolled her eyes and rested her head on the arm of the couch.

  “I was going to say mustache. Don’t be a fuddy-duddy. Want me to see if he has any relatives?”

  Vicki cringed at the idea of her grandmother playing matchmaker. No, thank you. She could only imagine what kind of man that would end up being—some Tom Selleck look-alike probably. She wrinkled her nose, picked up a cushion, and hugged it to her chest. “Ah, no, I’m good, Grams.”

  The traffic noises increased. A car honked. Her grandmother swore, then asked in a softer voice, “You okay, butter bean?”

  “Yeah, Grams.” Vicki twisted a finger in the tassels of the vivid yellow throw pillow.

  “You don’t sound okay.” Her grandmother’s voice changed from wheedling to yelling. “Why are you in the left lane? You’re going the speed limit, you jackass.” Honking echoed in Vicki’s ear. “Uh. Not you, Vicki, this Saturn. People need to learn how to drive. Anyway, tell your grandma all about it.”

  “You’re heading out.” God, was that her voice? Even she heard the whine. When had she become a complainer? She was an independent woman, strong and capable, so why the sadness?

  “So? I got a few minutes until I get there. I’m meeting him at the restaurant. You can never be too careful these days. That way, if the date ends up being a dud, I can take off.”

  Ha. Vicki grinned at the thought of her grandmother skulking away from her suitor, bouffant hairdo in whatever color Joonie favored at the moment sticking up and giving away her position. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life. I have the settlement, and thank you for that, by the way.”

  Joonie cackled with glee. “No worries. No grandchild of mine is going to be rooked. My lawyers cleaned their clocks. Glorious victory.”

  Vicki’s lips twisted at the memory. “Yeah, it was. He didn’t want to give me anything.” And wasn’t that saying something after all their years together? “Not the best moment in my life. But yeah.”

  “I know that tone. Don’t get sad. The man was a pompous jackass. He was never good enough for you. I still don’t understand how you ever ended up with him. You two had that tiff around homecoming your senior year, and I thought that would be the end of it, but no.”

  Vicki remembered that fight, too, and afterward, her one true kiss. Heck, her only other kiss, from John Lawrence . . . She brushed her fingers over her lips. He’d looked so earnest with his military cut, going off to war. How could she not kiss him? What had ever happened to him?

  “Vicki? Are you there?”

  Vicki jumped and sat up straight. “Yeah, Grams, sorry. I drifted off. What were you saying?”

  “I said you never should have gotten back with David after high school. No, you had to give him another chance. Bah. Forget being a doormat. It’s about time you stood up to him and your mother. What I ever did wrong with that girl of mine I will never know.”

  “There is nothing wrong with Mom,” Vicki said automatically, the words hollow. One, because her grandmother was right, and two, because she and Joonie had this argument so many times it was hard to get excited, and three, she spotted her little ra
g doll kitten, Zelda, attacking a fallen tassel on the floor.

  “Anyway, I have the perfect solution.”

  Wait, what? That didn’t sound good. Vicki glanced up from the cat’s antics and asked carefully, “Solution to what?”

  “To you not knowing what you want to do, of course. Come work for me. The company is doing fabulous. You can get on-the-job training, start in one of the smaller branches, work in the store, go out and do some assessments, see how the business runs. You love landscaping, just like me. It will be great.”

  Hrm. Vicki’s ears perked up. “That does sound good, Grams.”

  “Well, of course it does, sweetie. And here I am. I’m going to have to go. Going to get me some.”

  Vicki pictured her grandma’s cherubic face smiling, eyebrows wiggling at the innuendo. “Grandma!”

  “Well, at my age, that is always a celebration. You need to have your own celebration before all your girlie bits fall off.”

  “Grandma!”

  Joonie clicked her tongue. “Just saying.”

  Vicki snorted, tossed the mutilated pillow across the room, and picked up the kitty. “You use more slang than I do.”

  “That’s because you have been hanging around your mother too much. You’re twenty-five going on two hundred. You need to live a little. Oh, and there he is. Yummy. Toodles.”

  The ringtone sounded in Vicki’s ear, and she put the phone down, her gut churning.

  Yeah, go out and use my girlie bits.

  Easier said than done, Grandma. Other than that one kiss, she’d only ever been with David. Not that that had been much to write home about. Not that she would have written home about that.

  But well, anyway, it felt wrong to go out and pick up someone. And all her so-called friends now looked away when she entered the room. A few brave souls had come up and offered condolences on the divorce and then wandered away. They didn’t want to associate with the pariah.

  Bitty, that bitch, even had the gall to ask for David’s number. No, she didn’t really have anyone close to her. Wasn’t that a sad thing to realize at her age? She absently rubbed the sweet spot behind the kitten’s ear, making her purr.

  She’d been so busy pleasing her family and faux friends that she’d forgotten how to please herself—mentally, not physically. That, she definitely knew how to do after six years of marriage.

  Was that what life was really about? No. She knew that, but her former friends only saw the old Vicki. It was about time to show them the new one. The one she had been working on for the past year. She could do this. She could make a life for herself, a career, and accomplish something. Her grandma was right. Vicki was going to take that job, and she was going to succeed, darn it. Zelda meowed as if in agreement.

  I can do this.

  ****

  Whoever invented the pull-up should be shot. Sure, when in high school and going through a growth spurt, piece of cake. Thirty, forty reps, no problem. After a decade of wear and tear, it wasn’t so easy anymore. John grunted and strained to get his chin up over the bar. And . . .

  “Fifty.”

  Shit.

  John let his body drop and staggered against the doorway before righting himself on his prosthetic leg. A few shakes of his arms, some triceps and biceps stretches, then down for his push-ups and sit-ups. The best way to start the day, even if it burned. Ooh-rah.

  Workout done, John grabbed a Gatorade and downed it before scanning the rest of his bare apartment. The place itself was decent enough. It had two bedrooms with one full bathroom in between on one side, a large kitchen and living room on the other, with a good-size deck off the kitchen. Everything a bachelor could want, right? He looked around at the blank white walls and tried to envision living here. His shoulders slumped. It felt so damn empty. And a few pieces of furniture wouldn’t change that.

  He really should get to the boxes piled in the corner. Then maybe the place wouldn’t feel so generic. Especially since it looked like the rest of the weekend would be occupied with unpacking. Tonight, Sara and his mother were coming over to make sure he did, in fact, empty at least some of those crates. John groaned and covered his eyes with his palm. God save him from his mom’s good intentions. Before he knew it, he’d be living in a Victorian tearoom if she had her way. John shuddered at the thought. Never happening. He’d get these boxes opened himself. But he had the whole weekend for that.

  For now, he focused on work. He was only twenty credits away from his MBA. All he needed was an internship for the next six months, and he’d be done, finished, graduated, and educated. And for that to happen, he needed to make some calls this afternoon and start the ball rolling.

  John sat on the couch and picked up the list of internships provided by the dean of his business school. When he studied the paper, the last entry stood out. Growing Strong, a well-established landscaping supply store, which had a central office located right here in the Pittsburgh area. That sounded good. He wanted to stay local and close to his family. No more traveling for this marine. Plus, he checked the address, and it was a short commute, only about fifteen minutes away. Even better. He circled the number under the listing and put a star next to it, his Spidey senses tingling. Something about the name of the company seemed familiar as well. What was it? He’d heard it somewhere before.

  He picked up his cell. Ten digits later, the phone rang. His palms sweat, and he rubbed them along the sofa.

  A smooth feminine voice answered. “Hello, Growing Strong. This is Stephanie. How can I assist you today?”

  John froze at the perky words, the voice reminding him of Vicki Masterson. Not that it took much to remind him of Vicki. Blonde hair, long legs, beautiful brown eyes . . .

  Stephanie’s voice sounded again. “Hello?”

  John jerked. He needed to keep his head in the game already. Now or never. He blew out a breath and adjusted the phone against his ear. “Hi. I’m looking for Mr. Reynolds. Is he in please?”

  Stephanie’s voice dropped an octave. “May I ask who is inquiring?”

  John looked up at the ceiling. “This is John Lawrence. I’m hoping to apply for the internship position with the president, Mrs. Betty June Steiner. Mr. Reynolds is listed as the contact. Is he in?”

  “Mr. Reynolds is out right now. I can take a message and have him call you back if you would like,” Stephanie responded.

  Damn it. He’d hoped to set up a few interviews before the end of the day. And this one was the most promising of the lot. He struggled to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “That would be great. Thank you.”

  She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “Um, I know he is doing some interviews later today for that exact position at one o’clock. If you would like, I can add you to the list myself.”

  His heart thudded. Oh yeah. John craned his head to sneak a glance at the alarm. Ten a.m. Excellent. That gave him plenty of time to get his ducks in a row. “That sounds perfect, Stephanie. I would appreciate that. Thank you so much.”

  Her smooth voice purred. “Oh, my pleasure, John. See you soon.”

  A smile creased his face as he hung up the phone. Step one down. Now he had to get ready for an interview. He hopped to the bathroom, too impatient to pull on his plastic leg. Then he remembered he hadn’t unpacked his razor or anything for that matter.

  With a groan, he faced the rows of unopened crates.

  Well, fuck.

  This was going to take a while. Maybe he should have had Mr. Reynolds call him back.

  Two

  Vicki walked toward Growing Strong in her best outfit, a chocolate-brown Ralph Lauren suit with a burned-umber silk tank. She’d blown her hair out and combed it until it formed a gleaming blonde curtain down her back. She’d taken extra pains with her makeup, so her skin glowed. Why, she’d even brushed the kitten hair off her shirt. She added a swagger to her step. The first steps toward an independent life felt good—until she saw the squat brown building, her destination, and stopped. Her hands shook, and
she clenched them at her sides and took a deep breath.

  I can do this.

  Her interview with Mr. Reynolds, her grandmother’s human resources person, started in about fifteen minutes. She couldn’t screw this up. She didn’t want the job based on her relations; she wanted to work for it. And that meant she had to nail this interview.

  “Vee!” her grandmother called out from behind her.

  Vicki groaned and turned to see Betty June Steiner in all her natural glory, waving at her.

  Grams wore a smart wool suit even though it was still warm for fall, with a flowery scarf tied around her neck and her hair styled in big blonde curls. She hurried up to Vicki. “There you are, dear.”

  “Grams, what are you doing here?” Vicki raised an eyebrow.

  Joonie flushed, her soft hands fluttering at Vicki’s collar, smoothing it. “I own the company, dear. They told me about your application, of course. I told you I would arrange this. An interview is unnecessary. You’re a sure thing.”

  Vicki groaned. “Grams, I told you I didn’t want that. I want to get this job on my own, not because my grandmother owns the place.”

  “But, sweetie, the job is yours. You always knew I wanted to leave the company to you. You are the only one who has shown any interest in it, other than for the money it generates. I want it to go to someone who will take care of it, who knows what it means to me.” Her grandmother’s voice faltered.

  Vicki covered her grandmother’s hands with her own and held on tight. “I know, Grams.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. This company—” Grams gestured at the door of the office building, surprisingly bare of any vegetation given it was a landscaping firm. “I founded it years ago, when your grandfather was working so hard to get his real estate business off the ground. We didn’t have much. But there was love, such love. And when I started gardening and cutting my own plants, he was the one who encouraged me to charge people for my time and effort in growing them. Not many would have done that, especially in our day and age. He helped me start my first greenhouse, and his own business acumen guaranteed my success. We worked hard.” Her voice trailed off. “I should have taken better care of him.”