Never Change Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  (FAITHFULLY YOURS #1)

  “Loved the romance beyond the ocean to this lovely country of England—a must-read to rekindle the feelings you had for your first love, as well as your current ‘love of your life.’” ~ Pam

  “It’s a bit of rock-n-roll, British charm, and a lovable romance all rolled into a love one never forgets!” ~ Karen

  “In a world full of iPhones, texting, and email, it was refreshing to be whisked away to a simpler time of the sweet anticipation between two young loves!” ~ Mary

  “…from start to finish, you will not be able to put this book down.” ~ Claire

  “…fun to read. It has an air of innocence.” ~ Shamika

  “I loved every page of Beth and David’s story. This book took me back to a much simpler time where I didn’t have a care in the world. Oh to be young and in love! This book will not disappoint you!!!” ~ Polly

  “The sweetest, most romantic and passionate story I have read.” ~ Snuggle Books

  “…a breath of fresh air. It’s sweet, funny, and ROMANTIC!” ~ B. Smith

  PRAISE FOR

  (FAITHFULLY YOURS #2)

  “Every second of this novel had me captivated and in love with the characters and plot line. A definite must read!” ~ My Slanted Bookish Ramblings

  “Stunning love story written with real emotion.” ~ CJ

  “A rock star romance that will tug at your heart!” ~ Dani from Alpha Book Club

  “What an epic love story.” ~ Andrea

  “I cannot even believe the love between Beth and David in this book!!!!!” ~ Mary

  “This saga gets even better in Book 2. The characters are so real to me that I’m going to have a hard time leaving them until Book 3 comes out.” ~ Mae

  “There are many twists and turns but what David and Beth always remember is that in the end love is all that matters...” ~ Kaitie

  Table of Contents

  PRAISE

  Title Page

  BOOKS BY ANNE CAROL

  DEDICATION

  FORTUNE’S KIND FOOL

  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

  EPILOGUE

  SPECIAL MENTION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  NEVER CHANGE PLAYLIST

  Copyright © 2018 Anne Carol

  The Faithfully Yours Series

  Never Let Go

  Never Fall

  Never Change

  Never Give Up (Coming in 2019)

  This book is dedicated to my friends in the Faithfully Anne’s Reader Group. Your loyalty, support, patience, and kindness helped carry me through the last two years. You inspired me to continue with this series, even when I felt like giving up.

  ~ Anne

  FORTUNE’S KIND FOOL

  I took your palm

  Like fortune’s kind fool

  Held it to my heart

  forgot all my rules

  traced every line

  followed every splintered crack

  you found my soul

  cowering, broken, bruised and chapped

  time was kind

  though we thought it cruel

  worlds apart

  but always close to you

  Now I watch the clock

  its ticking hands

  my heart stays with you

  no longer in distant lands

  our lives may wander

  sweaty palms may slip

  my love for you

  will never lose grip

  ~ Morgan Henderson

  Sonoma Valley

  June 1983

  “Private Hell”

  I nicked a song title from The Jam for this journal entry, but it quite accurately describes my life at the moment. We’ve been encouraged to journal every day, so here I am. It feels odd speaking to a piece of paper, so I’m going to write this in the form of a letter to you, Beth. Who knows if I’ll ever be brave enough to show you this journal? I’d hate for you to know the pain I’m going through. I know rehab is for my own good—for our own good—but I’ll be honest, there have been moments when I wished I were dead. I hurt everywhere, and I can’t sleep a blasted wink. The only thing that helps is thinking about you—your lovely smile, your dazzling eyes, your soft lips, your sweet scent, and even the sound of your laughter. Whenever I feel hopeless, I think about how much we’ve already been through, and how much life we have ahead of us.

  I’m quite sure I’ve loved you since the day I met you in “our” pub four years ago. When you reached out your hand to shake mine, I felt a zap run through my body. I’ll never forget that feeling. Falling in love with you that summer of ‘79 was the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Joining hands with you in marriage three years ago was the most natural thing in the world. We didn’t need a posh ceremony; we just needed each other and our closest family and friends. Our honeymoon, however short, was the greatest weekend of my life. Being with you for the first time is a memory that will forever be imprinted on my mind. You were so beautiful and graceful that night. After becoming one with you, I finally felt whole, as if I’d waited my entire life to be with you.

  I’ll admit I was scared when you told me you were pregnant, but it only took a few moments before I was excited about our baby. And then when we lost him, I was so grief-stricken I hardly knew what to do with myself. Seeing you go through a miscarriage was torture for me. I still think about our little Michael and imagine what he’d be like had he lived. I wonder what I’d be like had he lived.

  Bugger, it hurts to write with my left hand. Time for a smoke break.

  I’m back. At least my wrist is fast on the mend. By the time I see you, I may be out of the arm sling, which will make things easier. In spite of the inconvenience, I don’t regret punching Tony. I needed to protect your honor. What a disaster that night was. I’m trying not to think about the fact you spent the night in another man’s room, but I’m coming to grips with it. I’ve actually chatted with my therapist about it, and he’s managed to get me to see your side of things. I suppose I don’t blame you for your irrational thoughts and actions. I screwed up, and you simply reacted.

  How are you doing, my angel? I hope you’re getting help for your anxiety. You’ve experienced so many traumatic events over the past few years, I think seeing a professional is a good idea.

  Did you know I pray for you every night? You’re praying for me as well, I can feel it. Yes, I’m in agony, but I’ve seen others here, and compared with them, I’m coping rather well. Some blokes look like they’ve been to hell and back. A few can barely leave their beds. It’s awful.

  I have a long way to go, though, so please keep praying. It will take me weeks and months to overcome my addictions, maybe years. I’m so sorry I let this happen. I regret it more than anything. I promise to change and become a better man for you, sweet girl.

  But one thing will never change, and that’s my love for you.

  I love you so much.

  Garden Valley

  June 1983

  “Without You”

&nbs
p; I’ve been playing this song by Asia over and over again. It’s only been a few days since I dropped David off at the rehab facility, and I already miss him like crazy. I can’t believe how furious I was with him last week, and now I can’t stand being away from him. I want to hold him and run my fingers through his dark hair and stare into his chestnut eyes. My gorgeous Brown Eyes. I can almost sense his pain. Withdrawals are probably hell for him. I hate that he’s suffering, and I’ve been praying constantly for his relief.

  I’m glad my mom set me up with a shrink. I desperately needed therapy. Going through so much junk over the past few years, it’s no wonder my head is such a mess. I’m the ultimate picture of PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). Lovely. Anyway, I think I’ve shoved my feelings down long enough. I’m tired of feeling depressed and anxious.

  When I told my parents what happened to me on campus two years ago, they freaked out, but at least they understood why I quit college to go on the road with David. Then, of course, Mom asked if I’d ever gone to counseling. I told her the closest I’d gotten to talk therapy was my one conversation with the priest in Boston last winter. So, here I am, facing my problems. But it’s okay. David is dealing with his issues, and I’m dealing with mine, and we should be good as new in a few weeks, right? (Whatever, I know it’ll take longer, Diary).

  For now, I’m just looking forward to seeing David in four days. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he thinking of me? I hope he knows how much I love him and, no matter what happens, that will never change.

  The pad of my thumb trailed along his soft lips. “I don’t think you’ve been kissed enough yet,” I whispered, my mouth lingering near his.

  He swallowed hard. “Not quite.”

  Taking that as permission, I claimed his lips with a passion I’d held inside all week. A week that had seemed torturous in the wake of my loneliness. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how I yearned for the affections of my husband. My body melted into his, and I became so lost in his arms, I’d almost forgotten where we were.

  Rehab.

  Regardless, we were alone in the room and wasted no opportunity to enjoy heated kisses to the point neither of us could catch a breath. Reluctantly backing away, David exhaled. “Wow, you really know how to make up for lost time, Mrs. Somers.”

  “I hope I didn’t overdo it. It’s so hard being away from you.” I draped my arm across his chest and nestled closer as I bathed myself in his distinct fragrance.

  His fingers, calloused from years of guitar playing, slipped through the strands of my blonde hair. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He sighed.

  “I think I have some idea.” I giggled. “I mean, I haven’t seen much of your room yet.” When I’d arrived at the rehab facility for my first visit, he was in the reception area awaiting my arrival. I flew to him, circling my arms around his shoulders and giving him an urgent kiss. He was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on—his clean-shaven face and straight-from-the-shower smell did a number on my heart rate. On the walk down the narrow hallway, he informed me we’d have the room to ourselves for a while. With today being our anniversary, it was exactly what I’d prayed for. The snuggling session I was getting now was icing on the cake.

  “There isn’t much to see here. It’s no different from a dodgy hotel room,” he said, surveying the plain-looking room: white walls, two double beds with cream-colored sheets, two end tables, a shared closet, and a door to the bathroom. A few generic paintings of snow-capped mountains hung above each bed.

  “It’s definitely got a rustic flavor,” I said, “but I think somebody’s been spoiled by too many fancy digs while on tour.” I poked him playfully.

  “Probably. But none top the room we stayed at three years ago this night.”

  My insides warmed at the memory. “I agree.” I reached up and planted a sweet kiss on his lips. “Happy anniversary, brown eyes.”

  “Happy anniversary.”

  The creak of a door made me gasp and cower under the sheets. David’s laughter irritated me. “David!”

  “Love, that was across the hall. Jeff, my roommate, isn’t due back for another half hour.” He gently tucked the thin sheet around me. “I’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “I know. I’m just used to a bit more privacy, I guess.”

  “We can get out of here. You fancy a walk with your husband?”

  “Always.”

  As I helped him into his shirt, a challenge with his arm still in a cast, my gaze wandered to the bedside table. Our wedding picture was placed beside the digital clock. This eased my mind. With my overactive imagination, I’d come up with several scenarios of what life was like in rehab. I guess I’d pictured it more like prison, not a college dorm room. I was relieved David appeared to be settling in since he’d be here for another three weeks.

  As I finished buttoning him up, I nearly lost my balance when I stepped on a notebook that’d been left on the floor. “Whoa.” I knelt down to pick it up. “What is this? Are you writing?”

  He snatched it from me and tossed it under the bed. “Yeah. I’ll tell you about it on our walk.”

  “Ooh, I want to hear about this.” Tingles ran through me. I loved it when he told me about his songwriting.

  He held out his hand for me. “Come on then.”

  A warm breeze carrying a floral fragrance put me in a peaceful state as we made our way along the walking path. Tucked away in the hills of Sonoma County, the rehab center came highly recommended and catered to patients like David, who required anonymity.

  “You seem to be on the mend,” I remarked as we strolled hand-in-hand. His demeanor was nothing like I’d expected, not with the mood he’d been in just a week ago. The image of his dour face was burned into my memory, but now he graced me with his infamous goofy grin.

  “You’re here.”

  “So you’re only good because I’m here?” I hope not.

  “It’s not been easy, Beth. Aches and pains keep me up at night. Not to mention my racing mind. And, of course, I crave what I can’t have.”

  My heart sunk, knowing I couldn’t remove his pain. “I’m sorry, honey.” I stroked his arm. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him what happened the other day.

  As if reading my mind, he stopped walking and asked, “What’s wrong? Something bothering you?” He reached up to caress my cheek.

  I shrugged. “Is there someplace we can go sit? There is something I need to tell you.”

  His hand dropped suddenly, and I noticed his jaw tick. “Yes,” he said, studying me. “Should I be worried?”

  My stomach fluttered. “Let’s just sit.”

  Drawing out an exhale, he nodded.

  “Relax, brown eyes. It’s not that bad.”

  We continued on in silence until we reached an iron bench set conveniently next to an ashtray. He took a seat and patted the space beside him. Gathering the bottom of my sundress, I sat next to him and put my head on his shoulder. “I come here when I need space,” he said. ”My roommate is fine, but he’s going through a lot, and he loves to chat. So this is where I get my peace and quiet. And don’t laugh, but…” He paused. “This is where I chat with you.”

  “What?” I raised my head and faced him. “Do I chat back?” I giggled, praying he didn’t take offense.

  “Beth, I’m serious.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I’ve been journaling, and when I write, I sort of…address you. Is that odd?”

  “No, not at all. I feel honored.” I plastered a smile on my face, dreading what I was about to tell him.

  He puffed out a breath. “Go ahead, tell me this news.”

  “Well, it happened a few days ago…”

  Last year at this time, I never could have imagined myself doing this—pushing baby Ricky in a stroller. I had to admit, it was kind of fun; I was even getting a little “baby fever” here. But I knew it took a lot more work than strolling them around on a picture-perfect June afternoon. An
d the babies weren’t always this well-behaved. I knew that from being around Emma, Don and Brooke’s eight-month-old daughter.

  Suddenly I heard a loud clatter on the sidewalk, so I locked the stroller wheels and jogged to the front. With the dimples of a doll, the brown-haired, blue-eyed little guy grinned up at me, pointing to the ground. “Cup!”

  Following his gesture, I swiveled around and spotted his turquoise blue sippy cup about two feet away. “Wow! That’s quite a throw, young man.” I reached down to pick it up. “You should’ve seen your daddy throw a football in high school. He was pretty good.”

  When I handed him the cup, he immediately tossed it to the ground again, giggling like this was the funniest joke. “No, no,” I said, wagging my finger at him. “We’re not playing this game, little man.”

  Just as I bent down to retrieve the cup, I heard the click of a camera. In protective mode, I scrambled over to Ricky, who was now pointing at something next to me. “Man,” he said.

  “Huh?” I responded, and gasped when I saw a man standing at my elbow, wearing a camera around his neck. I waved him away and started pushing Ricky’s stroller, my limbs shaking.

  “Bye-bye!” Ricky called out, ever the young charmer.

  But the strange man, to my horror, didn’t let me out of his sight. “Excuse me, Mrs. Somers?”

  I whirled around and glared at the young photographer. “What do you want?” I barked.

  “Is it true that your husband is in rehab for drug and alcohol abuse?” he asked, producing a yellow tablet and poising his pen.

  “Get out of here,” I growled, pushing him away. “We’re here to visit family, that’s it. Now leave us alone.”