She saw me first series, p.1
She Saw Me: First Series, page 1
She Saw Me
Book Two
By:
Melody Anne
Dedication
This is dedicated to Ava, my beautiful, wonderful, talented, and kind niece. May the world be your oyster as you enter the next chapter of your life. I’m so very, very, very proud of you.
Copyright © 2023 Melody Anne
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed and published in the United States of America.
Published by Falling Star Publications
Editing by Karen Lawson, and Janet Hitchcock and Amanda Coleman
Note from the Author
I’m absolutely loving writing these women’s fiction stories. Of course there’s a lot of romance, but I love the deeper story of the trauma my characters have gone through, and how they rise up to face it, then find their happily ever afters. In the real world we don’t always get a happy ending, but that’s why I love the world of books. As a writer I get to craft my story just the way I want it to bring out those feel-good emotions. As a reader, I choose books to read that make me feel how I want to feel. When the world is crazy, we can always step into a fantasyland and read to our heart’s content.
I’m a grandma!!!! My first grandchild was born while I was working on this book, making it very difficult to write. The happy scenes were easy, but the more heart-wrenching ones were difficult because I haven’t stopped smiling from the moment I held this precious grandson of mine. Each time I have to give him back to my daughter, I pout just a bit. It’s amazing how much I adore this child!! Anyone who knows me, knows how much I love babies. If my world is crazy all you have to do is put a baby in my arms and I’m instantly calm and happy. There’s nothing like the innocence of a child. But, holding my grandson takes it to a whole other level. This child, this beautiful baby, is my grandson, the son of my daughter.
It’s such an amazing, miraculous journey in the circle of life. He has his mother’s toes, which come from my grandmother’s toes. The second and third digit are webbed to the first joint. It’s so dang cute! I’m going to be posting a lot of baby pics and videos from here on out. There’s nothing like a new baby to remind all of us why this life is worth living. Holding my grandson in my arms reminds me of why I’m here on earth and why there’s more good in the world than bad. Hang in there to all of you suffering right now in hard times. The sun will always rise even if we can’t see it through the clouds. But when the clouds part we get a rainbow, and we get joy. I forget this at times . . . until a miracle happens like the life of a new child.
Much Love,
Melody Anne
Books by Melody Anne
Romance
FIRST SERIES
He Saw Me First
She Saw Me
At First Sight
The Andersons
Wins The Game
The Dance
The Fall
The Proposal
The Blackmail
The Runaway
The Final Stand
Unexpected Treasure
Hidden Treasure
Holiday Treasure
Priceless Treasure
The Ultimate Treasure
The Anderson Heirs
Book One: Sweet Noel
Book Two: Jacob’s story
Book Three: Jasmine’s Homecoming
ANDERSON SPECIAL OPS
Shadows
Rising
Barriers
Shattered
Reborn
THE ANDERSON BILLIONAIRES
Finn
Noah
Brandon
Hudson
Crew
TWELVE HORIZONS OF CHARLIE
Diamond
Sapphire
Opal
Emerald
SURRENDER SERIES
Surrender
Seduced
Scorched
Saved
UNDERCOVER BILLIONAIRES
Kian
Arden
Owen
Declan
TRUTH IN LIES
One too Many
Two Secrets Kept
Three Outs
Four Seconds Gone
BILLIONAIRE AVIATORS
Turbulent Intentions – Book One (Cooper)
Turbulent Desires – Book Two (Maverick)
Turbulent Waters – Book Three (Nick)
Turbulent Intrigue – Book Four (Ace)
The Titans
The Tycoon’s Revenge
The Tycoon’s Vacation
The Tycoon’s Proposal
The Tycoon’s Secret
The Lost Tycoon
Rescue Me
BECOMING ELENA
Stolen Innocence
Forever Lost
New Desires
FORBIDDEN SERIES
Bound
Betrayed
Burned
HEROES SERIES
Safe in his arms – Novella
Baby it’s Cold Outside
Her Unexpected Hero – Book One
Who I am with you – Book Two – Novella
Her Hometown Hero – Book Three
Following Her – Book Four – Novella
Her Forever Hero – Book Five
Her Found Hero – Book Six
TORN SERIES
Torn
TAKEN BY THE TRILLIONAIRE
#1 Xander – Ruth Cardello
#2 Bryan – J.S. Scott
#3 Chris – Melody Anne
#4 Virgin for the Trillionaire – Ruth Cardello
#5 Virgin for the Prince – J.S. Scott
#6 Virgin to Conquer – Melody Anne
7 BRIDES FOR 7 BROTHERS
#1 Luke – Barbara Freethy
#2 Gabe – Ruth Cardello
#3 Hunter – Melody Anne
Young Adult / Fantasy
PHOENIX SERIES
Phoenix Falling
Phoenix Burning
Phoenix Ashes
Phoenix Rising
Table of Contents
Dedication
Note from the Author
Books by Melody Anne
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Epilogue
Prologue
Dillan
Ten Years Old
My head’s spinning and I can’t get up no matter how hard I try. I’m beyond feeling pain anymore . . . it’s now just one big throb. My body lifts in the air as a foot slams into my side and throws me into the air. I land with a thump, and for a moment I see stars.
Interesting . . . I didn’t know a person could actually see stars. I always thought that was something people simply said, but I’ve been hit so many times, I’m actually seeing flashes of light in my vision that looks like little twinkling stars. It almost makes me feel better. Maybe the pain’s about to stop . . . maybe my time on earth is coming to an end. I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing. What good is my life anyway? It’s filled with pain and sorrow, which I’m smart enough to realize a ten-year-old shouldn’t be feeling on a daily basis.
“Do you think you can talk to me that way you piece of shit?” the man screams. I feel the impact on my ribs as he slams his thick boot into my side again. I think I hear something break, but I’m not even sure anymore.
“Stop! You have to stop . . . you’re killing him,” my mother screams. Then I hear a gurgle as she coughs as I’m sure he’s just slammed his meaty fist into her. I try to lift my head, try to raise my hand. I have to help her . . . but I can’t move.
I know he’s just punched her again and again. I’ll take the pain over her getting hit. She isn’t bouncing back like she used to, and
He apparently doesn’t care what marks are left on me. To tell the truth, I don’t either. I don’t care about anything anymore.
“Please, Tom, please stop,” my mother sobs again.
I wait for another kick from his steel-toed boots, but it doesn’t come. All goes quiet for a moment . . . and then I hear the front door slam. My mother screams, and again I try to get up, but I can’t move.
He’s beaten me before, but never this badly, never to the point where I’m wondering if I’m paralyzed. My mother yells again and I’m finally able to turn my head the tiniest bit. I look at the house as rain falls on my beaten body. The light in the bedroom goes on and the window shakes. He’s probably just thrown her against the wall . . . just as he’s done hundreds of times before.
It doesn’t matter how many times he hurts her, though, she always forgives him. She tells me he’s sorry and that we need him. She cleans up her wounds, bandages mine, then she pretends everything will be okay . . . like it never happened . . . and then the process begins all over again.
It won’t be okay anymore. It was never okay in the first place. I don’t hate my mom, I’m not even mad at her. I feel sorry for her. She’s a very broken woman, and this man has exploited that in her. He won’t exploit it in me anymore . . . never again.
I must pass out because when I open my eyes again all is quiet. My body is soaked, but I don’t feel the cold. It’s probably good it’s chilly out. It’s not quite cold enough for me to die of hypothermia, but it’s cool enough to ease the burning in my body. I drift in and out of sleep through the night, unable to move from where he left me on the ground. No one comes to my rescue. It’s as if the neighbors don’t see or hear anymore. It’s been happening so long they’d probably think it stranger if there was no yelling or crying. How sad for them and their chosen sightlessness.
Just as dawn begins to break, the front door opens. I keep my eyes shut. I hear the bastard’s laugh as he passes by me. For all he knows, I’m dead . . . but he doesn’t care. He’s beyond caring if the neighbors find me. Maybe he’s truly lost it now. Maybe he thinks he’ll never get into trouble . . . which, in his defense, he never has, or maybe he thinks this is the way the world is supposed to be.
I sigh with relief as I hear his truck door slam shut and the engine rev. Within a few seconds, he pulls from the driveway and tears of relief wash down my face when I no longer hear the loud vehicle. Just that quick he’s gone. I’m surprised I have any tears left.
The house door opens again and then my mother is at my side.
“Oh, Dillan, I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I tried to sneak out earlier, but he caught me and wouldn’t let me come to you,” she says as she sobs next to me, her hand caressing my wet cheek. I open my eyes and look at this woman I love so much.
“We have to go, Mom. We can’t stay with him anymore or he’s going to kill us both,” I say, my voice hoarse. I try to sit up, but that small move causes pain to shoot all the way through me. “Help me up, Mom.”
She places her hands beneath me and helps me sit. It takes all I have not to scream at the agony shooting through me as I rise to a sitting position. I’m sweating . . . and it’s damn cold out so it’s not from the temperature. I’ve never been in this much pain in my life . . . and that’s saying something with how many times I’ve been beaten.
“We can’t leave, baby. We have nowhere to go,” she tells me.
I’m not even disappointed in her words. I was expecting them, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up helping her see reason.
“Mom, I can barely move, and I don’t know how your entire body isn’t broken from the number of beatings he’s given you. We can’t stay. Please, let’s just go. We’ll figure it out. I’m old enough to work now. I’ll take care of you, and neither of us will ever have to be hit again,” I promise.
She gently pulls me to her, and somehow I know this is the last time she’ll hold me. I don’t know how I know this, but I feel it in my gut. Even though I’m hurting, I push it aside and wrap my arms around my incredibly petite mother. She’s nothing but skin and bones . . . just how the bastard likes her.
She doesn’t respond to my words, and I know this is her answer. I don’t have any tears left, I simply bask in the comfort of her arms, knowing I’m being forced to grow up beyond my ten years of life I’ve already lived. The two of us stay on the front lawn as the sun rises. I think we’re both well aware this is goodbye. “I love you, Mom,” I tell her.
She quietly sobs as she holds me. “I love you too, baby,” she replies after a while. She finally lets me go. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” She gives me what she hopes is a reassuring smile.
There’s nothing in the house I need, nothing I want. “Help me to my feet, Mom.”
She stands to help — it takes a lot of effort as she doesn’t have much strength herself and I’m not light even with my skinny body — and after a couple of sweat-inducing moments, I rise. I give my mother another hug before I pull away and step back.
“I love you, Mom,” I repeat. “I’m going to go now, but I’ll come back for you when I’m stronger.” My mother starts sobbing harder, but she doesn’t even try to stop me as I begin limping away from her. It wouldn’t be hard to stop me; I’m not moving very fast at all. But she doesn’t have the will to chase after her son . . . that’s how broken she is.
It kills me to leave her behind, but I can’t stay anymore. If I do, there’s no doubt he’ll kill us both. With me gone, my mother might stand a chance . . . a slim chance. There isn’t anything I can do right now at the age of ten . . . but that doesn’t mean there’s never going to be anything I can do. I won’t always be this small. I don’t turn around as I walk away. It won’t do any good. It might even make me stay . . . and I can’t. So I keep limping away into the unknown . . .
Chapter One
Dillan
After a busy Friday night, I’m enjoying the quiet of an early Saturday afternoon. I wipe my pristine bar and smile as I look around the large room. It looks rugged, exactly how it’s supposed to appear, but it’s all perfectly planned, right down to the scratches on the solid wood tables that are virtually unbreakable.
This place was a mess when I bought it. I built this bar and I’m damn proud of it. I created every little detail of the place, from the design of the notched oak floors to the copper pipe lights hanging from the ceiling, and I chose every sign, picture, and piece of décor. It was never a dream of mine to own a bar, but once I decided to step into this unknown world of being a business owner, I put my heart and soul into this place.
Who am I? If you ask twenty people this question, you’ll get twenty different answers. Some might be good . . . while others might not put me in such a good light. I guess it depends on which point of my life you met me.
I’ve done some things in life I’m not so proud of, and other things I’m happy to sign my name to. One thing I’ll say about myself: I’ve lived a life of adventure, and though it might not be ideal, it’s my life and I refuse to feel an ounce of regret. It’s not like regret can change anything, so why should any of us feel remorse for what we have or haven’t done? In the end all of life’s experiences create who we are. If we take away a single piece of our lives, it might send us on another path that will be worse or better than where we’ve found ourselves. I like my path . . . I choose my path.
There are those in this world who take one look at me and think they know who I am. They’re wrong . . . that’s a certainty I can guarantee. I’m big, I’ve got scars, and I have to admit I scowl more than normal, but that’s because I’ve been through much more than most people and though I smile when I feel it, I don’t fake emotion.
I have no complaints; I’ve been through hell . . . and I’ve made it to the other side, which makes me a survivor . . . and that can’t be said for everyone.
I’m Dillan Scott and I’ve been alive for thirty-five years, but I’ve actually lived ten lifetimes making my soul so much older than my number of years on this planet. I love solitude and I won’t ever stop succeeding; what makes me happiest is to have busybodies stay the hell away from me . . . which is virtually impossible in this small town of Ravish, Oregon where I now am.
