Leap of Faith (La Flor #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“We have all night . . .”

    I return to the present as I reach the stoplight. I stop and shake my head. All those memories—so haunting and beautiful. How will I ever be able to let go? When will I be able to move on? Miranda Lambert’s “Over You” plays on my stereo as I wait for the light to turn.
    I listen to the lyrics and realize how true they are. He went away, leaving me alone—how dared he? I know he didn’t mean to leave, but he did. He went away and now I’m here raising our daughters. Alone. God, why did you have to take him from us? Why . . .
    I’ve gone through the stages of grief but nothing takes away the pain, the loss of him. After hearing the news, I pretended he was deployed and just couldn’t call me. When I couldn’t pretend anymore, I became so angry—angry at the person responsible and angry that Jake would never meet our unborn child. I was angry at everything he’d miss. I also turned my anger and blame to the job he loved and the responsibilities he held. Later, I just wanted to wake from the nightmare of reality. I prayed for the nightmare to go away and I lost myself in a sea of “what ifs” and “only ifs.” The only things keeping me from going into a full and dark depression were our children: Rylee and our new little miracle. I needed to be strong for them. And then, there was Phoenix. I couldn’t let Jake’s dream die with him. I had to toughen up and take charge. Julia was going through her own loss, so my pregnancy not only gave me strength, but it also helped bring back my best friend.
    Finally, I pulled myself together and came to accept the loss of my husband. I began to live my life for our children and his dream. I existed, but I didn’t live. My smile never reached my eyes, but I made sure to put on a strong face for my loved ones. I lived during the days and I cried myself to sleep at night. I had to learn how to live without him—I’ve accepted his loss but I don’t like it. At times, with everything that occurred, I wonder if there was a higher power at work—guiding us, giving us strength, and making things happen.
    In the distance, I hear the roar of a motorcycle, getting louder as it nears. I hear it stop beside me. I turn to my left and see this huge, beautiful black-and-chrome motorcycle. I think to myself how much Jake would like that bike and would totally want it.
    My eyes leave the bike and move up to its rider. I see the side profile of a man wearing sunglasses and one of those black helmets without a visor. He looks handsome, I think, surprising myself—I haven’t looked at another man since Jake. He’s dressed in black from head to boots, his shirt molded to his muscular chest and his pants covering amazing-looking thighs—a work of art. I stare at him for what seems like an eternity. I know I need to stop, but for some strange reason, I can’t bring myself to look away.
    He must feel my stare because he turns toward me. We stare at each other. I can’t turn away and I can’t see his eyes. I feel a strange force refusing to let go. His right hand slowly comes up and he removes his glasses.
    I gasp.
    I feel that jolt, like lightning.
    Oh my . . . his eyes—can they be?
    From our short distance, I’m mesmerized. I’ve never seen eyes that color in person. So unique and beautiful. They hold me captive—I stare and get my fill. And his face . . .
    Holy freaking crap!
    He looks like a model. His skin is tan, his eyebrows are perfectly arched, his cheekbones are high and defined, his nose looks slightly crooked (like it was broken at one time—so he can’t be a model), his lips are full but not feminine, and he’s grinning.
    He knows his effect on women. He’s a walking dream—all deliciousness on a stick. But it’s his eyes that hold me captive. They’re unique to the point of being strange, and yet amazing. I can only describe them as violet. His eyes are freaking purple!
    By now, I’m almost drooling, but also uncomfortable.