Running Away

  Copyright © 2015 Jen Andrews

  ISBN: 978-1-941380-09-3

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  While this is book four of the Just Say Yes series, it can be read as a standalone. This book is a spin-off from Andy and Zoey’s story, which takes place in books 1–3. Characters from the first three books will be mentioned throughout, but Running Away is written in such a way that there are no questions as to who everyone is. If you’d like to delve deeper into the James family dynamic and the wonderful characters, I recommend reading the first three books. Thank you!

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  To every person who has had their dreams squashed, ignored, laughed at, and degraded. Anything is possible when you learn to ignore the hate and jealousy and live YOUR life the way you want to. You’re only given one life, live it like there’s no tomorrow.

  Lorrie Anson, Editor, Flaming Pen Editing

  www.flamingpenediting.com

  Sarah Foster, Cover Designer, Sprinkles On Top Studios

  http://sprinklesontopstudios.com

  Tami Norman, Formatter, Integrity Formatting

  http://integrityformatting.wix.com/integrity-formatting

  To my lone beta reader, Becca Dawn from Prisoners of Print Book Blog. Thank you so much for the time you took away from your busy schedule to read this book for me. Your medical feedback is much appreciated.

  April Stanley, you delivered in a big way when I randomly posted on Facebook asking friends to name a naughty sounding drink that you’d get at a bar. When you commented with “Redheaded Slut” I knew that second you’d hit the nail on the head. The name of the drink could not have fit any better for the scene where it’s used in this book. Thank you!

  Thank you to Enticing Journey Book Promotions for handling my blog tour and release day blitz!

  The Indie Erogenous Zone ladies! I would not be sane(ish) without you and I love you all.

  My blogger friends! Thank you for everything you do for me. I wouldn’t be here without every single one of you!

  Special thanks to every single person who has purchased the books in this series. I wish I could write a book about all the characters you loved, and maybe someday I will. ~ Jen

  This was the absolute worst part of my job. Mr. Johnson’s pulse was getting weaker by the hour. His time was definitely near. As a registered nurse, currently working in home hospice, I was only two hours in to my twelve-hour graveyard shift with my patient who was dying from pancreatic cancer.

  I loved my midnight to noon job through Denver Home Hospice, in Colorado, but my feelings about mortality were beginning to take a toll on me. I’d lost two patients in the last three weeks. Mr. Johnson would be my third.

  Before waking his wife, I straightened his blankets, combed his hair to the side, and left his room. A minute after I knocked, she eased open her door. Her drooping shoulders and heartbreaking expression confirmed she was aware of the reason I was here.

  “Is it time, Teagan?” Her weary eyes closed briefly as she drew in a ragged breath, waiting for my response.

  My lips pursed and I gave her a nod. “I believe he’s close, Mrs. Johnson. I’m sorry. You might want to gather your children as quickly as possible.”

  She pulled her robe from the hook on the back of the door, slipping it around her shoulders. A wracking sob broke free from her as she returned to the bedside table for her phone.

  While she contacted her children, I packed away all the spare medical supplies in Mr. Johnson’s room to make extra space for them once they’d arrived. Still alone with Mr. Johnson, I pulled a chair close to his bedside, and sat resting my hand on top of his.

  “Mr. Johnson, it’s been a pleasure taking care of you these last few months. You are a good man, a good husband, and an amazing father. Your wife is calling your family now. Please hold on just a bit longer for them. They’ll be here soon.”

  The bedroom door opened without a sound, and Mrs. Johnson took a hesitant step into the room. I went to her. She was grief-stricken with tears in her eyes and seemed scared to death. My heart clenched inside my chest for her and the pain she was going through.

  She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed uncontrollably on my shoulder. At that moment, I was all she had and held on to her as her tears soaked my scrubs top. She was about to lose her husband, the father of her children, and the love of her life. I had no idea what that felt like, nor did I want to imagine.

  “H-how long do you think he has l-left, Teagan?” She gasped between each sharp intake of breath.

  I pulled back slightly, and rubbed my hands up and down her arms. “I can’t say for sure, but based on my experience—maybe a day or two at most.” Fortunately, all of their children lived in Colorado and would be here within a few hours to support her.

  “Sally?” The ragged voice of Mr. Johnson calling for his wife echoed quietly through the room.

  A knot formed in my throat, knowing this might be the last time she would hear his voice. He had been in and out of consciousness for the last few days, occasionally waking up and calling for his wife or one of his children.

  Stepping away, I slipped into the hallway and shut the door behind me, giving them privacy. In the kitchen, I transferred dirty dishes from the sink to the dishwasher to keep busy. Washing dishes wasn’t part of my job, but I didn’t want the Johnsons to worry about unimportant chores like this for the next few days.

  They were going to have a hard enough time while Mr. Johnson passed from this life to the next.

  In some ways, I wanted my patients to live longer to spare their families the agony of losing them forever, but at the same time, I wanted their pain to end. I hated to think that way, but who wanted to see someone suffer continuously?

  Thus the reason for my job choice: I aided my patients in hopes of easing their pain, and tried my best to help the families who were watching their loved one die. It was a double-edged sword. Both parties were suffering, from either physical pain, or emotional pain.

  As I scrubbed a few dried-on bits of food from a plate, a soft knock sounded at the front door. Drying my hands, I glanced through the peephole, finding the Johnsons’ daughter, Evie, on the step. She
attended the University of Colorado, living in a dorm on campus, and was their only daughter who lived close by. I swung the door open and she stepped in hesitantly then hugged me.

  “Thank you, Teagan, I was in such a rush when my mom called I forgot my house key.” Evie’s bottom lip quivered and tears filled her eyes while she shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack beside the door. “Thanks for taking such good care of my dad. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  “You’re welcome. I understand this isn’t easy for your family, but I’m here to help any way I can.”

  Evie offered me a crestfallen smile before making her way to her father.

  Even though I couldn’t fully relate, I knew the sense of helplessness when someone you loved dearly was fighting for their life. My own father, who was technically my stepfather, but had raised me from age three, had been diagnosed with colon cancer when I was in my teens. We hadn’t been sure if he would survive, so I’d spent every spare second with him—just in case. Fortunately, my dad had survived and was back in my hometown of Sacramento, California, with my mom, sister Shannen, and my nanna. The way the doctors and nurses had cared for him during his treatment had inspired me to choose a career in nursing. As a nursing intern, I had specifically asked to work with an oncologist and found myself drawn to the families with loved ones losing their battles with various types of cancer. I found that I wanted to ease the pain of my patients, as much as I wanted to take care of their families.

  Once I had nothing left to do around the house, I sent a text to my best friend and coworker, Katie. She was Mr. Johnson’s day nurse and I wanted her to be prepared before she came to work.

  We worked five days per week, and each of us worked three twelve-hour shifts with Mr. Johnson. On our other two workdays, we were on call and filled in for other nurses who had the day off from their patients. That was how I’d lost two other patients in three weeks. I had been assigned to work at their homes while their regular nurses were off duty.

  One of the patients who had passed away on my shift was a young man diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and the other patient was a six-year-old girl with a brain tumor. Those particular deaths had hit me hard because both patients were so young and hadn’t even begun to live their lives yet. I had attended both funerals, as I would Mr. Johnson’s.

  Katie texted back saying to call her if anything had changed before her shift, and she would come to help me. We were supportive of each other when it came to our jobs. Only another hospice nurse would know how much of an emotional toll the job took on us.

  My boyfriend, Gary, couldn’t understand why I loved my job so much when all of my patients were going to die. He thought I should work on helping to save people instead of caring for the dying, but he’d never had anyone close to him get sick or die, so he didn’t grasp the helpless feelings one went through when a loved one was deathly ill.

  During the last several months, Gary and I had hit a rough patch, and I was almost positive he was cheating on me again.

  I’d been working the day shift until three months ago, when I was transferred to care for Mr. Johnson. Gary worked Monday through Friday, from eight to five, with weekends off. We barely spent time together anymore, and hadn’t slept in the same bed together in months. I slept during the day while he was at work, and woke in time to get ready for work as he was heading off to bed.

  I hated to admit, but living with Gary felt more like a convenience now, than because of love.

  I headed back to check on Mr. Johnson. When I finished notating the changes in his condition, I asked Mrs. Johnson and Evie, “Can I get either of you a cup of hot tea or anything?”

  Evie jumped quickly from her chair, shaking her head. “I can get it Teagan. Thank you, though.” She turned to her mom. “I need a minute, Mom. I’ll bring some tea when I come back.” Evie exited the room with tears in her eyes.

  As soon as she stepped into the hallway, she broke down crying. Mrs. Johnson stared down at her hands folded in her lap, and in a comforting gesture, I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Do you want to talk about anything Mrs. Johnson? Do you have any questions for me?”

  Her tired eyes met mine and she began rambling. “It wasn’t meant to end this way, Teagan. We were supposed to grow old together.” Tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  I squeezed her hand again and listened as she told me how she and her husband met, fell in love, and married all within a year.

  Evie came back into the room with a tray full of teacups and a teapot. She poured us each a cup, and I added sugar to mine. While Mrs. Johnson was sipping her tea, she reminisced with her daughter about their family life.

  “Do you remember the camping trip we took to Patrick’s Point in California, Evie? We froze our butts off. It rained all night, and we were in tents! That was the worst vacation ever. All we wanted to do was see the ocean.” Her eyes lit up as she recalled the memory. Evie nodded along and giggled as they shared their favorite stories.

  Just after six a.m., the Johnsons’ three other children arrived after traveling together from Boulder. Once I’d given them an update on their father, I excused myself from the room. Gary should be awake by now, and getting ready for work. I scrolled through the contact list on my phone and called him.

  “Hey,” he said when he answered. His voice sounded strange with a slight hint of annoyance.

  “Good morning, babe. How did you sleep?”

  He sighed. “I slept well, actually. I was getting out of bed when you called. Look, Teagan, I need to get in the shower because I have to be to work early for a meeting. Can I speak to you later?”

  “Um, sure . . . I guess. I wanted to call and say hi and that I missed you. My patient had a bad night and I just needed to hear your voice.”

  “Okay, sure. I’ll talk to you later, then.”

  He ended the call without giving me a chance to say anything else. What happened here? He seemed distracted and blew me off when I needed him. I sat on the couch trying to figure out if I had done something wrong.

  Well, something other than his usual complaints about me. Thoughts from earlier came back to me. Was he cheating again? Why did I continue to be his doormat and stay with him? Because I have nowhere to go, no family nearby to help me, and I don’t have the guts or confidence to leave.

  The rest of the morning, I weighed all of my options with Gary, and still ended up not knowing what to do.

  Right before noon, Katie came in to relieve me. “Hey, Teags, how’d the rest of your shift go?”

  “Fine, I suppose.” I was a little grouchy after spending the morning stewing over my call to Gary, in addition to being worried about the Johnsons. I took out Mr. Johnson’s chart and went over the changes in his condition I had noted throughout the night.

  “All their kids are here now too, so you’ll have a house full of people all day.” I handed his chart over to her.

  The family was gathered in the kitchen to make lunch, so I was able to sit and chat with Katie for a while.

  “What’s going on with you? You’re acting strange,” Katie said. “Are you upset about Mr. Johnson?”

  “I think something’s going on with Gary again. I called him earlier and he acted like he didn’t want to talk to me.”

  Katie’s eyebrows rose and she looked away. “Maybe he was busy or something, Teagan.”

  I frowned at her. Was she defending him?

  “Whatever. I’m going home. I’m tired and hungry. I’ll be back tonight. Call me if anything changes with Mr. Johnson.” I left Katie and went into the kitchen to say goodbye to the family.

  I gathered my purse and headed out into the cold Denver winter to my poor old car. I stuck the key in the ignition of my Dodge Neon and prayed to the car gods the engine would start. Fortunately, it did. I shifted into gear and began my slow drive home.

  On the way, I stopped at a fast food drive-thru and ordered a combo meal. When I pulled into the driveway at home,
I noticed a pile of that stuff that looked like kitty litter covering the large oil spot in my parking space. I made a mental note to schedule an appointment to get the leak fixed on my next day off during the week.

  I took my food, purse, and my soda and headed inside the house. I pulled out a barstool at the kitchen island and sat to eat my bacon cheeseburger and fries. On the countertop, I found a note from Gary. He was kind enough to say he would be home late and he’d appreciate it if I would find the time to get my car fixed so it would stop leaking all over his driveway.

  My car was a high school graduation present from my parents, which I refused to part with. The odometer recently turned over one hundred sixty seven thousand miles. I took great care of it, but my Neon was going downhill fast.

  Gary griped constantly about me spending money on repairs. Since he was an accountant, he handled all the finances and with my crazy work schedule, I was more than okay with the arrangement. Gary paid my bills on time, but I wished he would cut me a break when it came to my car.

  When he’d asked me to move to Denver with him two years ago, I’d had to wait a few months to join him because I’d been under contract with my previous employer. By the time I arrived in Denver, he’d already bought the house we lived in. The only thing that was truly mine was my Neon.

  As I ate my food, I called and made an appointment for the following day to drop my car off after my work shift ended. I dragged my tired butt up the stairs, stripped down, and pulled on flannel pants and a thermal shirt. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out cold.

  My alarm went off at ten that night. I rolled over and slammed my hand down on the snooze button. After showering and dressing in clean scrubs, I twisted my long, wavy red hair in to a knot, and headed downstairs to find something to eat before I left for the Johnsons.

  The house was dark inside, and I realized Gary still wasn’t home. Although his note had said he’d be working late, he’d never worked this late before. I pulled my phone from my purse and since there were no messages, I called him.