The long way home, p.1
The Long Way Home, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by E. Sloan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the author.
This book is intended for mature adults only.
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Editing by Jenny Sims with Editing4Indies
Formatting by Champagne Book Design
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Contact Information
Other Books by Harper Sloan
Disclaimer
Playlist
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
Epilogue
Message to the readers
Acknowledgments
To Andrew …
I’m not sure this book would be here without your encouragement and love.
You help make me a better person daily.
I am oh so lucky to be yours.
To Contact Harper:
Email: Authorharpersloan@gmail.com
Website: www.authorharpersloan.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/harpersloanbooks
Corps Security Series:
Axel
Cage
Beck
Uncaged
Cooper
Locke
Hope Town Series:
Unexpected Fate
Bleeding Love
When I’m with You
Drunk on You
Loaded Replay Series:
Jaded Hearts
Standalone Novel:
Perfectly Imperfect
Coming Home Series:
Lost Rider
Kiss My Boots
Cowboy Up
Hearts of Vegas Series:
Unconscious Hearts
This book is not suitable for younger readers due to strong language and adult situations.
“Only Everything” by Quinn Lewis
“Here, Right Now” by Joshua Radin
“P”lay it Cool” by Monsta X ft. Steve Aoki
Make You Feel My Love” by Adele
“You Were Meant For Me” by Jewel
“Show Me What I’m Looking For” by Carolina Liar
“Simple Things” by Alexander Cardinale ft. Christina Perri
“Unbelievable” by Why Don’t We
“Hurt” by Johnny Cash
“Save Me” by BTS
“The Bones” by Maren Morris
“It’s You” by Henry
“Broken” by Seether and Amy Lee
“Bad Intentions” by Niykee Heaton
“Mercy” by Shawn Mendes
“Hold Back the River” by James Bay
“Please Notice” by Christian Leave
“How to Breathe” by Matthew Mayfield
“In My Veins” by Andrew Belle ft Erin Mccarley
“Disappear” by eli.
“I.F.L.Y.” by Bazzi
“With Arms Wide Open” by Creed
“Faraway Tree” by Boatkeeper
“Cuz I Love You” by Lizzo
“Nobody” by Keith Sweat ft. Athena Cage
“Shallow” by Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga
“Ocean” by Lady A
“Someone’s Someone” by Monsta X
“Days Like This” by Van Morrison
“Salt and the Sea” by The Lumineers
“Anyone” by Demi Lovato
“Feels Like This” by Maisie Peters
“I Was Made For Loving You” by Tori Kelly and Ed Sheeran
“Hold My Hand” by Lady Gaga
“You” by Louyah
“Wandering Child” by Wild Rivers
“Broken” by Seether
“Be my Forever” by Christina Perri and Ed Sheeran
“Starting Over” by Chris Stapleton
“Golden Hour” by JVKE
“Run” by Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran
“Stone” by Whiskey Myers
Find the playlist on Spotify
“Save Me” by BTS
“Livi.” My beautiful niece’s sing-song voice breaks through the silence in our condo, pulling my attention away from cleaning the kitchen island clutter and over to her inquisitive gaze. “You’re going to be super-duper unhappy when you see what the sky looks like today.” She cocks her head to the side in an overexaggerated jerk of the chin toward the full-length wall of windows showcasing our spacious balcony and the stunning city view beyond.
“That bad, hmm?” I question with a smile, loving that she still does this as a part of her routine in the mornings. Every morning since she could stand, she’s pressed her adorable little chubby cheeked face against the glass to check the weather. She’s so cute … even though the smudges on the glass she leaves behind will drive me insane, I can’t imagine my morning not starting off with a Riley weather report.
To this day, it still shocks me that she is such an intuitive five-year-old. Much more so than my sister and I ever were at her age. If I didn’t know better, I would say she could feel my moods almost as if they were her own. However, it wouldn’t take an empathic soul to know and understand how much her aunt’s moods are affected by weather like this. Thankfully, she doesn’t understand just how much it impacts me or the actual cause. To her young and innocent eyes, it makes me all the more lovable.
“I’ll have you know, little bean of mine, I have the best reason to be upset with my pal Mother Nature. Her rainy day messes up our plans.”
Her little button nose turns up, and she purses her lips.
“Never fret, pet … I have a feeling that, together, we’ll be able to find all sorts of fun adventures to go on. We may miss a day outside, but who wants to walk around with boots full of puddles and wrinkly toes? You don’t like wrinkly toes, do you?” Her giggles bubble up her throat, and she covers her mouth.
I give her a wink and think back to my morning when I realized it would be a gloomy, depressing day. My energy always seems to wane on days like this, making it almost impossible to motivate myself. I heard the sounds of raindrops dancing across the glass windows well before I was even fully awake this morning. For a moment, I couldn’t even force myself to open my eyes, let alone get out of bed. If it wasn’t for Riley being in my life and the need to get her to school on time without getting yelled at again, I likely would have just accepted defeat and waved the white flag. Unfortunately, responsibility won out, so here we are.
It’s been a slow-moving morning ever since. It will take some effort for this not to be a down in the grump’s kind of day.
She laughs softly, my serious little Riley bean, and turns away from the window. Her eyes assess me the whole walk across the room, seemingly slicing right through me and seeing way too much. I’ve always thought she was an old soul, wise beyond her years, stuck inside her tiny little body.
I watch out of the corner of my eye with a smile tipping my lips as she huffs while climbing up on the stool at the island. She sits back with her arms crossed over her chest, watching me with an expression laced with pure exasperation.
Wearing a small smile, I move around the kitchen island toward the wall of cabinets next to the fridge and reach up to open the one where we store the bowls.
As much as I prefer her getting a warm and well-balanced meal to start the day, you can count on one thing with rainy days like this … we always have cereal for breakfast. However, the overthinker in me pauses before I can get my fingers on the bowl, realizing she doesn’t hate rainy days like I do and might prefer a nice warm breakfast of her favorites instead: cheesy scrambled eggs and cinnamon sugar toast.
“What are you in the mood for this morning, bean? Cereal or would you prefer something warmer on this bleak morning to soothe that wee little wild dancing soul of yours?” I ask, turning my head sli
I almost lose control and laugh when she contemplates my question with a fever pitch of seriousness, forgetting her judging eyes moments before changing plans, and decisively nods to herself after making up her mind. I wait patiently for the little wise one to inform me of her vast knowledge of life, which I’m sure is coming.
“I would have picked cereal, but I suppose cheesy eggs might be nice this morning, Livi. You know, you shouldn’t be thinking about cereal if you want to stay warm in the rain. Which is why eggs and toast should be our pick,” she responds, her proper demeanor that of someone way older and more mature than the five-year-old little princess that she is. How she’s able to channel so much sass and seriousness at the same time is beyond me. It does take a herculean effort to keep my smile to myself, though.
I didn’t have a great childhood, so it’s always been important that Riley’s not be anything close to what her mom and I endured. When I was growing up, in my family, any kind of behavior that wasn’t silent was frowned upon. From the moment my sister and I spoke our first word, we were in finishing school training with the strictest of teachers. Poise and perfection, that was the key. It was drilled into our heads that we must never be children, but mature always, even at Riley’s age. Riley’s childhood experience, compared to her mother and me, has been nothing even remotely close to resembling what we lived through.
Her mother, my late sister, and I weren’t raised by loving parents who were present during our lives at all. We were raised by a continuously changing wave of staff and nannies—seven days a week and twenty-four hours a day. Our parents didn’t want their prime years to be consumed by doing the actual parenting thing. Instead, they chose to travel the world. They had one thing they truly did care about—making appearances at every high-society gala they could find and making sure that our family name and standing never dropped below the upper crust.
Riley, though, has never spent a day in her life outside of the care of her mother or me. That is, until this year. Now that she’s in kindergarten for a handful of hours each weekday, she’s getting another thing that was a big no-no for our family. An education outside of carefully chosen upper-class private schools with the best of the best tutoring us after each day.
The day that I opened my coffee shop—Olde Mug by Bean and Co.—I struggled for a bit getting my groove going. It’s important to me, beyond all words, that Riley never experience the harsh upbringing her mother and I had to endure. Just like that day three years ago, when she came to live with me, she’s been by my side every step of every day. Which is exactly why, when choosing the name of my shop, I made sure my sweet Riley girl had the biggest stamp smack dab on the heart and soul of the business. There will never be a day when she will ever have to doubt her importance over everything in my life. It doesn’t hurt that she runs that place with an iron fist of the toughest dictators. My employees think it’s the cutest thing in the world, which is good because otherwise, I would have to fire all of them. My little bean will always be my number one priority. It’s Riley and me against the world.
I think about my sweet Riley as I place slices of sourdough bread into the toaster oven, smiling at the vision of her flitting through the shop with her raven hair in pigtails as she demands that things get done her way. I continue cooking breakfast, stirring the eggs. My Riley girl soothes the restless soul inside me that this weather always precipitates. The best medicine, that girl.
I jump, realizing that I must have been completely lost in thought, stuck in my own head and mentally zoned out, when I hear Riley shouting a demand to that know-it-all robot she said we just must have. I’m convinced that a little stalker gremlin lives inside the screen that I’ve come to disdain greatly at times. Who knew a machine that was only supposed to offer simple conveniences could also be used as an annoying torture device as well once a very bright little girl taught herself how to use technology to her advantage?
“Alexa, please play BTS!” she yells with a burst of joy only slightly higher than her normal pitch.
I turn my head in question, watching her bounce in her seat with excitement.
And of course, that little know-it-all machine responds immediately, and I’m convinced that brat Alexa directs her mocking tone at me when she does.
“Okay. Shuffling songs by BTS on Amazon Music.”
And just as suddenly as my calm appeared, it vanishes as the stillness of my beautiful kitchen becomes riddled with music at an ungodly level. My little bean begins to sing along, complete with what sounds like perfectly spoken Korean lyrics. Riley doesn’t even know Korean, so it’s got me transfixed as she just keeps going and going.
“Save me! Save me!” Riley yells.
Yes, someone please save me.
“I need your love before I fall!” she continues. “Save me! Save me!”
The music picks up, and even in my shock, I have to admit they’re good. She keeps dancing, clearly knowing a good dance break when she hears one.
“Beep, beep!” she yells, her smile getting bigger, and I feel one creeping up on my face, despite my complete confusion. “Save me! Save me!”
“Kim Namjoon! Kim Seokjin! Min Yoongi! Jung Hoseok! Park Jimin! Kim Taehyung! Jeon Jungkook! BTS! BTS!” She shocks the crap out of me with the weird chant at the top of her lungs, sounding completely possessed as her little eyes are closed tight, smile huge, face pointing at the ceiling. She repeats herself, pumping her little fist in the air when she yells, “BTS!”
What on earth is going on?
Of course, I know who BTS is. You’d have to be living under a rock not to have at least heard about the Korean pop megastars. They’re her favorite group at the moment. It still gives me pause when she, having no prior connection to the Korean language or culture, can sing along to every word in every one of their songs she falls in love with. They don’t have to be my favorite band for me to value the joy that their music brings to her, but maybe I can value them just as much for her with a touch lower volume. I smile, letting her have a little more time with the music playing way too loud. She doesn’t pay me any mind while I keep cooking, completely lost in her BTS-loving world. I’ll never admit it, but I enjoy them almost as much as she does. I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of their fandom, complete with my own bias and wrecker. But it will forever remain my secret, and they’ll never steal the top spot from my favorite band, Queen.
I watch her with a smile while plating her breakfast, tapping my foot to the beat. It takes me longer to cover her eggs with her favorite cheese and put the toast on her plate, too content to watch her close out her performance until the very last line of the song. I love watching this girl shine. As soon as the song finishes, I act quickly before the next song has a chance to queue up.
“Alexa, volume four,” I order her nicely, pretty proud of myself for not outwardly showing how much I dislike that know-it-all bitch of a robot. I see Riley’s lip twitch, and I wait for her to remind me to say please to Alexa. She skips it, though, scowling at the device that’s no longer giving her a mini concert, making me contemplate electronic murder again.
Today, setting an example for the child that will undoubtedly repeat anything I say stops me. The possibility of that happening and showing the prim and proper teachers at St. John’s Day School some of my gold-star parenting is the last thing I want to deal with. No doubt I would be called into the headmaster’s office to be reprimanded … again. I thought my days of being on the naughty list in school were in my past, that is until Riley decided to yell “shit” when she broke her pencil one day. Now I’m right back on the very top, only on the parent list instead of the student one.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when I hear my phone’s text notification sound, and I glance around the kitchen to see where I placed my phone. It could only be one person this early in the morning, and a burst of happiness hits me, despite the mood the weather has me in. Everyone else would wait until they know the other person is at least halfway through their morning routine and available. Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic for seven in the morning, but come on! Sleeping in is the best thing ever. There isn’t a day that I wouldn’t prefer to sleep until noon and then start my day.
