Nursing Myself Back Read online

  Nursing Myself Back

  (A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 3)

  By Kara Liane

  Copyright

  Text Copyright © 2018 Kara Liane

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products that may be referenced in this work of fiction.

  Cover design by Francessca’s PR & Designs. Cover image by Shutterstock.com.

  Clipart chapter images by Pixabay.com.

  Author logo designed by the author through Canva.com.

  Edited by Mountains Wanted Indie Author Services.

  Disclaimer: This book is intended for an adult audience. This work of fiction contains strong language and explicit sexual scenes, with mature content, that may not be appropriate for anyone under the age of eighteen.

  Also By Kara Liane

  ***

  Playing Heart to Get—A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 1

  Every Heart Inch—A Tryst of Fate Series—Novella 1

  A Force of Nature—A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 2

  Heart to Follow—A Tryst of Fate Series—Novella 2

  ***

  Stay connected with Kara Liane by visiting her web site:

  www.karaliane.com

  Dedication

  To my family, friends, and faithful readers. My thanks are many and infinite. But this one is especially dedicated to my husband for taking a chance on a gal like me all those years ago. I love a good romance, and I believe Matthew and I are incredibly fortunate to have one—he’s my everything!

  Synopsis

  How does one escape the ghosts of the past and still find a way to heal the wounds left in their wake?

  This is the third and final installment in A Tryst of Fate Series, from breakthrough writer Kara Liane. However, this steamy, contemporary romance book can also be read as a stand-alone novel.

  Nursing Myself Back is an exciting and heartwarming story about finding love in the last place you’d look—right in front of you. Cardiology registered nurse, Liezel “Liz” Carter, is a recent widow. She has three teenage children and the untimely death of her alcoholic husband to contend with. Liz never thought she’d be a forty-four-year-old single mother with a broken spirit. She envisioned a different life for herself, but events from her past that could ultimately affect her future have surfaced. What she doesn’t know is that the new companionship she’s forged with her boss’s best friend could be her saving grace.

  Caleb Daniels is a thirty-four-year-old divorce lawyer who is definitely ready to settle down. He’s been on the prowl for many years, searching for the right woman. His immense attraction to cougars makes things equally interesting and frustrating for him. Chance encounters with Liz have more than sparked his interest—and sparked his libido unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Liz thinks she’s gaining a friend in Caleb, but he’s only biding his time until he can strike a deal with her heart, body, and mind. Will Liz let him nurse her back, or will she sentence Caleb to a broken heart? See what happens when court is in session for these two!

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Synopsis

  Table of Contents

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Dead End

  Chapter 2: One Boner Fide Cougar

  Chapter 3: He Gets the Ex and the Axe

  Chapter 4: Cookies and Cream

  Chapter 5: Seal the Deal

  Chapter 6: Cookie or Nookie?

  Chapter 7: In the Right Context

  Chapter 8: You Forgot the “R”

  Chapter 9: A Case of Virgo

  Chapter 10: The Sweetest Torture

  Chapter 11: Make the Call

  Chapter 12: I’m Owl About You

  Chapter 13: Something Old, Something New

  Chapter 14: Perfucktion

  Chapter 15: Table the Idea

  Chapter 16: The Waiting Game

  Chapter 17: Not Predicktable

  Chapter 18: Water You Waiting for?

  Chapter 19: Has a Nice Ring to it

  Chapter 20: Horrorscope

  Chapter 21: Oh So Charming

  Chapter 22: Game On

  Chapter 23: Living with Ghosts

  Chapter 24: The Fourth is Strong in This One

  Chapter 25: Freezing Hot

  Chapter 26: Getting Hitched

  Chapter 27: Double-Take

  Epilogue

  Nursing Myself Back—Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Epigraph

  Watching the Fire

  “Catching every sparkle that comes with watching the fire,

  I can’t think of anything that could ever take me higher

  reflections bouncing off the embers onto me,

  the fire lets me see things, the way I want to see.

  So quiet and solemn, the night that runs forever,

  the solitude I’m finding, I’m wishing it forever

  and when the fire is just about to die,

  I’ll throw another log on, so I can sit just awhile.”

  —Dain Carlton Mergenthaler

  Prologue

  Caleb

  July 24, 1998

  Pfft! Life is tough these days being a dorky fourteen-year-old like I am. Well, actually I’m fourteen and a half because my birthday is in September; and that half shit means something to us kids. Besides being a dork, I hate that I’m smart. I also hate that I’m rich; I’ll get to explaining that one later. I hate that I don’t look like the other guys my age. They seem to be getting bigger and more dude-like, and I’m…well, I’m me. Glasses, skinny, acne, and no muscle definition to save my life!

  No girls will talk to me. I guess I wouldn’t bother with me either if I were in their shoes when I have competition that looks better. I hope it changes when I get older. I hope when I get older I’ll be somebody. I hope I’ll have tons of girls to choose from and ones who will like me back. I guess I don’t like the girls at my school anyway. They’re too shallow. If any do seem to talk to me, it’s usually because of my parents’ bank account, or because they need help with homework.

  Finding genuine people is difficult. I want to be with a girl who gives me something deep and meaningful. I want a girl who appreciates things like I do and has the same interests. I guess I’m the sensitive, romantic type. The sweet one, as they say, which is the kiss of death for guys because once you’re labeled, well, you’re stuck with it. Girls like assholes. I can’t be like that. I respect women too much. My grandma calls me an old soul.

  My one and only friend at the moment, Nick, has practically grown up overnight. He didn’t ditch me like some of my other friends did. None of us were really a tight-knit group to begin with, but we were cafeteria tablemates and would at least eat lunch together at school. Once school ended, though, they all seemed to bulk up—I stayed the same. When I ran into them here and there over the last few weeks, it was like they didn’t even see me.

  I knew right then that this coming school year would be total shit. But that’s when I also swore I’d have an incredible circle of friends when I got older, and they would be more like brothers than anything. I had a brother once, but I was too young at the time to be able to remember him now. His name was Christopher. He apparently died from SIDS as an infant, and my parents were never
really the same. After that, Dad threw himself into his IT work as computers took off, and Mom pretty much medicated herself into oblivion. She functions, but just barely.

  That’s why I have to get good grades, so I can get the hell out of here. Like I said, I hate being smart because it isn’t cool—eventually it will work to my advantage. And yeah, my family may have money, but I want to work my way up. I’ve seen what money does to families, and I’m willing to work for things in life. I don’t ask for much, but I’m praying that by some miracle—before school starts in five and a half weeks—I’ll be blessed by the muscle gods.

  I’m currently sitting on the curb outside our nearby Wawa convenience store, waiting for Nick to finish up his conversation with Jenny Stevens—the most popular soon-to-be sophomore girl. Wawa is our hang-out spot; they’re everywhere in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, where we live—I’m from Yardley, more specifically.

  I roll my eyes at the way she’s throwing herself at him. From my vantage point at the curb, I can clearly see them through the glass windows. I’m making up the dialogue to their conversation in my head. I imagine it’s ridiculous in nature, and I’m pretending they’re some cheesy couple in a low-budget, D-list actor movie.

  I get bored with theater time between Nick and Jenny after a few minutes, and start kicking pebbles with my Nike sneakers to pass the time. As I kick the fifth rock, a shadow falls upon me. I look up, squinting against the blaring rays of the sun.

  The figure moves in a little closer, successfully blocking the overpowering light. I can finally make out what is above me. What is not the proper word, as it is a who. And the who is a goddess. She’s a woman who looks to be in her late thirties, early forties, I’m guessing; that would make her about my mom’s age.

  This woman is beautiful. She’s wearing a white cotton sundress with sandals displaying her pink toenail polish and an ankle bracelet showing off her nude legs even more. Her hair is long and blonde. Her face is perfection with sparkling blue eyes and full pouty lips that remind me of that hot Cameron Diaz actress. Ya know, the one all the guys are talking about this summer from There’s Something About Mary. I haven’t seen the movie because my parents would never, ever, agree to it. But apparently there’s this scene involving hair gel and some dude’s spunk. Whatever.

  Anyway, back to this woman above me. I think I’m falling in love at this moment. She smiles at me in the next second.

  And, yup. I. Fall. In. Love.

  Or as in love as a fourteen-and-a-half-year-old’s brain will allow. I don’t think her smile is flirty or inappropriate—even if I wished it were the case. Because, duh, I’m a kid, and she’s not, and she’s hot! It’s more like a motherly thing, the way she’s smiling. And I can’t help it that I’m crushing hard. Hormones in teenage boys are the worst thing because there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Well, I should speak for myself because I’m sure plenty of the other guys get action—I don’t. I can take care of it myself, but that’s something I’m only willing to do once my mom passes out for the night and my dad leaves for work in the early hours of the morning to commute to the city.

  At this very moment, though, well, I can’t do anything about my boyish fantasies. I have no game. Even if she were smiling at me like that, it doesn’t matter. I’m stupefied and mystified by this being. It’s like seeing a unicorn. You hear stories that they exist, but you’ve never seen one, so you’re automatically a non-believer. I’ve never laid eyes upon a woman like this and certainly not ever one who gave me the time of day. Yet here she is! Damn, I’m a believer!

  “Hey there, handsome,” the unicorn speaks.

  No response from me as my mouth is hanging wide open, and I stare blankly. A fly may land in there if I don’t close my trap.

  She laughs and goes on to say, “Have you seen my daughter, Jenny? I’m assuming you go to school with her. You look about her age. She was supposed to run inside for just a minute, but that was like ten minutes ago. I’m tired of waiting in the car. It’s so hot out here.”

  She begins fanning herself for emphasis. Every damn thing this woman is doing puts me under some kind of a freakish spell. I couldn’t even tell you my name if you asked me. I think it starts with a “C,” but that’s about all I can manage. The sweat that had beaded at my hairline while sitting out here for the last fifteen minutes is now pouring down my face thanks to certain hormones raging like I’ve been set on fire.

  Before she can ask me anything further, and before I can finally manage to say anything, I hear footsteps behind me. Then a girl begins talking. I catch the tail end of what she’s saying as I snap back to reality and realize it’s Jenny speaking.

  “…we got to talking, and I lost track of time. Sorry, Mom,” Jenny says to the unicorn.

  “No problem, sweetie. I understand. I just got worried. Well, it was nice to meet you, Nick. Come on, Jenny, let’s go grab some lunch,” Jenny’s mom responds.

  Then, as the unicorn struts away, she turns around and calls back to me, “Bye, hun. I never caught your name, but you have a nice summer. And stay cool.”

  She continues to smile and laughs over her shoulder. A part of me wants to die of mortification, and another part of me wants to live forever in this moment. But once again, I can’t find my voice to come up with a response. I can only nod at her retreating form. When she disappears around the corner from view, I’m assuming to go to her car, I finally close my mouth.

  Nick is laughing so hard, he has tears rolling down his model-like cheeks. I want to kick him in the stones like I did the pebbles, but I still can’t fully function.

  After a few minutes, I’m able to ask, more to myself than to Nick, “What was that?”

  But he answers anyway, “That, my friend, is what ya call a cougar.”

  I don’t know what the hell that term means, but I’m sure going to have to look it up. With my dad being an IT genius, we have more computers at home than any kid I know. Dad is teaching me about the World Wide Web, and AOL is becoming my second best friend.

  “Wow!” Is all I reply to Nick.

  ***

  Later that day, I looked up what the term means. And much later in life, I would discover that that encounter with the unicorn sparked my obsession with cougars, or as I also like to refer to them: goddesses among us.

  Chapter 1: Dead End

  Liezel

  February 22, 2018

  He’s dead. My husband is dead. I know I’m supposed to feel something, but I don’t. Maybe if I analyzed my feelings a little more, I could try to feel some sort of guilt, remorse, or sorrow. I would mourn the loss of the father my children no longer have, but he wasn’t a good father, so that’s a moot point. Come to think of it, he wasn’t a good husband either. He was nothing. Just took up space in our house. I made it a home; he made it unbearable.

  God, I probably sound like the most evil woman, but I swear I’m not. I feel guilty for not missing him. I feel remorse for not trying to help him more, even though he dug that grave long before the end came for him. And the sorrow? Well, I’m sad that I’m lonely despite having my kids; I have been lonely for years. I don’t remember what it’s like to feel a man’s touch—to feel a man’s anything, for that matter.

  I’ve watched a love that continues to grow and strengthen between my boss and his wife for the past few years, and I have been torn sitting on the sidelines. Torn because, on one hand, I am beyond thrilled that he found happiness with the most amazing woman and forged a life he deserves. But on the other hand, I’m jealous of the life he has. For I could not—cannot—give that happy life to myself or my teenage children, and it’s eating me alive.

  I just attended my husband’s funeral, and here I sit on my bed while I imagine everyone is downstairs snacking on the food I prepared for the reception. They probably think I came up here to my bedroom to collect myself because of the grief, but that’s not really correct. I’m a monster for not mourning the man himself. But William is not a man I will miss. He left me
long ago, not the other way around. He is the monster.

  The damn bottle became his mistress. The bottle became his only love. The bottle became his life. I was never anything to him. So why did we get married? Good question. I got pregnant, and years ago we thought it was the right thing to do. What I once thought was love was nothing more than infatuation. Our relationship was simply new and exciting. We both quickly realized it was ugly, wrong, and miserable. I coped with work and my kids, and he coped with his mistress.

  Our children were nothing to him either. But they are great kids, and even though my self-esteem is in the shitter, I do take credit for their upbringing. All three are teens now, and I can’t get over how the time has flown by. Tyler is seventeen and my brightest boy. I’m so in awe of him. Even with his autism, he makes me proud each and every day because of the way he excels in life and perseveres. Kurt is my fifteen-year-old, and he is one tough youngster; shit, does anyone say youngster these days? I’m so out of the loop with the youth, even though three teens live in my house. My daughter, Leah, is such an angel at thirteen. I don’t feel I deserve to have such a patient, kind, caring, and witty girl. As she gets older, I can see us becoming best friends. However, right now, I have to be more mom than anything.

  Yup, my kids still have a lot of growing up to do, but they’re well on their way. They teach me a lot along the way too. I’m surprised William and I ended up with three kids, actually, considering he and I barely had a relationship—and that applied to sex or any other marital activity. I guess after I had my daughter, that pretty much was it for us. I can’t ever remember making love after that. Well, it was never lovemaking anyway; it was always screwing. It was a way to blow off steam and stress, and we used each other. But one day, we stopped using each other for even that.