AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PROLOGUE
The Breaking Point
December 13, 2019
Stephanie
Coming off another long shift at Owls Books and Cafe, I’m glad to be almost home. The heat inside the transport van feels wonderful. I’m not looking forward to getting out and making my way to the doorway of my building because the cold makes everything on my body hurt worse. I’m already tired and in a lot of pain. Today’s been a typical Friday the thirteenth; crazy. Being the social media coordinator for one of Toronto’s most successful independent bookstores, is a dream come true. Working for my friend, Elora, helping her gain more exposure, and growing her business is a big bonus. The not so -pleasant part is being stuck in my Quantum chair for nine hours straight. With my disability, my muscles tense up into cramps easily and often, causing my whole body to get achy and sore quickly. Over the years, I’ve learned to tolerate the pain as best I can. I try not to complain, but it would be a lie if I said I didn’t still struggle with controlling the discomfort, especially on days like this.
On my way out of work, I ordered an extra-large mocha latte from the cafe and said goodnight to the evening baristas. Later tonight, I’ll appreciate the extra caffeine while working on my current work in progress. I’m working on a novella-length second chance cowboy romance to be added to an anthology, and it’s been a bit of a struggle.What do I know about American cowboys and ranching?I normally write sports romance novels, hockey is my sport of choice, though I’ve written a few books about some sexy soccer players. This new-to-me trope is way out of my comfort zone. The outline, the plot points, and the scenes are all figured out. I have pages of notes and a playlist of songs to fit every mood. I even have the sexy scenes already written. My problem is the characters, they will not cooperate in telling their story; they’re being so quiet my brain hurts.
My publisher picked out the theme for this anthology. Each year, she organizes a special anthology project for her authors to collaborate in. The deadline for this piece is quickly creeping up and has me stressing out a bit. Deadlines always suck, but this one has been a real pain in the butt. Taylor and Jade - fellow authors, writing sprint partners, and my dearly beloved best friends - challenged me to sign up with them on this venture. I can hardly wait to see what they come up with. From now on, I think I’ll stick to my regular sports trope. It’s what I know best. From the time I was in high school, I have followed all the Niagara Knight games that are televised, and attend a few each year with my friend Mia or my sister Ashlynne. I understand the game and use the players as my inspiration. One more than the others, my high school best friend and biggest secret crush ever. Logan Petersen, the captain of the team, will always be my favorite athlete and muse. My biggest heartache as well.
After arriving in the parking lot of my apartment building, I thank my driver and wish her a good night. I secure my hot coffee and a large bag of Mexican food carefully in my lap before I meticulously back down the wheelchair ramp of the van. Every Friday night, I pick up takeout on my way home, so neither Nick nor I have to cook. Nick Sinclair, my dear fiancé, may be amazing in some ways, but his cooking skills leave much to be desired. I’ll never tell him that though because he tries so hard.
Turning my chair around to align myself with the small ramp of the walkway is harder than I expect. My wheels don’t want to turn in the icy slush of the parking lot. Maneuvering my power chair in this weather is very difficult, not to mention how cold it is out here. My fingers are freezing inside my gloves. I slide backward twice, trying to make it up the icy ramp that accesses the cement sidewalk. Looking out over the walking path, which is covered in a thick layer of ice-crusted snow, I wonder where Nick is. He should be home by now. On a normal day, he gets home a few hours before I do. I hope he is alright. This winter storm is making me worry about him driving in terrible conditions. Black ice and snow are everywhere, and foot traffic in town is heavy. It’s close to Christmas and people are more than a little wild out there. He may have texted after I left the bookstore, and I didn’t hear the chime ding. I’ll have to check my phone once I get inside our place.
Normally, having the sidewalk cleared for me would be a top priority for Nick. In the past, if he couldn’t get in touch with the groundskeeper to come out, he would grab a shovel and do it himself. He is good like that, always doing stuff that will help make things easier for me. I appreciate how thoughtful he is and I’m thankful for all he does. He is a good man and I’m a lucky girl to have found someone who doesn’t let my disability hinder our relationship.
Making my way along the icy walkway is quite the adventure with my electric chair not wanting to roll and then sliding in the snow to the left when it moves. Repeatedly, I try to make traction, only moving about a foot at a time. It takes a good ten minutes for me to reach the entrance to our complex. My nerves are on the brink of being shot and I’m so cold my whole body is shaking. With numb fingers, I enter the security code for our building, and listen for the acceptance chime, before pushing the electronic door button. I’m so exhausted, hurt all over, and want this shit-show of a day over with. I yawn as the door swings open, the warm air from inside hits me, and it feels wonderful. Giving my chair a forward thrust, I get inside quickly so the door can shut behind me. I sit for a few minutes to warm myself before I move on.
Once I can feel my fingers again, I dig my keys out of my side pouch, careful not to spill my now cold drink. Inserting the smallest key on my ring into our mailbox and opening it, I find it is full. Gathering the bundle, I sift through the envelopes quickly. Finding the bright orange envelope containing last month’s writing reward stickers is a little bright spot I need to help lift my spirits.I’ll have to message my sprinting partners to see if they’ve received theirs yet.
Luckily, our apartment is on the first floor due to it being handicap accessible and it’s just down the hall. I’m so ready to be inside my home. I need to unwind and relax. It’s not been a good day. Just a few more minutes and I’ll be able to have a hot shower, stretch out my muscles, get comfortable on the couch, and have dinner with my love while we catch up on each other’s day.
The smell of the food I picked up from our favorite taco shop hits me as I maneuver down the hallway. It’s enough to send my stomach growling with renewed excitement as I stick my key into the lock. Opening the door, I’m surprised to see Nick perched on the edge of the couch. He has his head buried in his hands and his right leg shaking up and down. He doesn’t acknowledge me when I enter.
That’s not a good sign. Is he nervous or aggravated?
Closing and locking the door behind me, I put the food, the mail, and my coffee on the counter that divides the living area from the kitchen. I roll myself to the end of the couch and turn to face him. Still no acknowledgement.
“Babe? Are you okay?” I ask with concern.
Nick’s head lifts in a jerk and his eyes go wide. He must have been deep in thought because my voice startled him, as if he hadn’t heard me come in. “How long have you been sitting there?” He asked, reaching for the beer sitting in front of him on the coffee table.
“I just got here,” I told him. “I stopped to pick up dinner before getting a ride. Babe, is something wrong?”
Knocking back the rest of his beer, he slams the bottle down with force. “Yeah. Everything is wrong, Stephanie! I can’t do this anymore.” I flinch at his sudden outburst.
Woah!I skim the apartment to see if there are any clues to his attitude. Spotting boxes and his luggage by the other end of the couch, I send up a silent prayer for our relationship.What’s happening?I’m afraid to ask him, “Nick, what’s going on?”
He gets up from the couch and starts pacing. He won’t make eye contact with me. Observing his nervous movements, I give him time to respond. I wish he’d say something. The silence is allowing too many thoughts to race through my head. I feel a panic attack coming on. Five minutes pass and he is still pacing, not saying anything.
Whatever he needs to say must be a big deal. I can’t help but think he is getting ready to leave me. My anxieties are hitting hard with all the self-doubts. Keeping the tears from falling by batting my eyes quickly; I search my mind to come up with any reason he’d be upset with me, but I can’t think of anything.
I try again to prompt him into a conversation. “Okay, let’s try this. How about you start by telling me why you packed all your bags?” I suggest, pointing at his luggage. Again, he doesn’t look at me or say anything.
“Babe, please talk to me. What’s going on?” I ask, my voice cracking with the emotions I’m trying to hold back. Still nothing.
“Dammit, Nick!” I shout, then in a softer voice, “You’re scaring me. Are you planning to go somewhere?” I can’t bring myself to ask if he is leaving me. It’s too direct… too painful.
Suddenly, Nick’s pacing stops and he whirls around to face me. Raising his voice louder than necessary, “I can’t do this anymore, Stephanie. It’s all just too much.” He tells me again while running his hands violently through his hair; his face hard, tight with anger.
The way he is acting has me on edge. I’m not sure if I want to hear his answers, but I press on. “Okay, I hear you, babe. Will you tell me what is too much?” Dragging his hands over his face, he grinds his teeth together. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Steph. I can’t do this with you anymore.”Bracing myself for the hurt I was just about to endure, I pressed him for the information that would break me. “Do you still love me?” The sound of my weak, pleading voice didn’t offer my trembling body one bit of desperately needed strength.
“Don’t do this, okay?”
“Answer me!” I scream at him.
