Southern Sunrise Read online

  Southern Sunrise

  Natasha Madison

  Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  ONLY ONE KISS SNEAK PEEK

  FREE BOOK!

  Books By Natasha Madison

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2020 Natasha Madison. E-Book and Print Edition

  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 permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark 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 owner.

  All rights reserved

  Cover Design: Jay Aheer https://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Editing done by Jenny Sims Editing4Indies

  Proofing Julie Deaton by Deaton Author Services https://www.facebook.com/jdproofs/

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  Dedicated:

  To Jan who just dropped the little crumb to make this book a reality!

  Chapter One

  Ethan

  “Class dismissed,” the teacher says, and I’m the first one out of my seat and out the door. The bright sunshine causes me to squint as I jog down the steps of the campus building. I’m on the way to my truck when the phone rings in my pocket.

  Taking it out, I smile when I see it’s Emily. “Hello, Sunrise.” I greet her with the nickname I gave her when she was fourteen, and we stayed out all night. Her parents didn’t know and neither did mine. We watched the stars all night long, and when the sunrise finally came, she looked at me with sleepy eyes, and said, “Hello, Sunrise.” It was the day she turned fifteen, and I finally kissed her. We’ve been together for almost five years. We grew together in a small town, and she is two years younger than me, which is why I waited until she was fifteen to kiss her. But the minute I kissed her, I knew she was the one.

  I want to say that it started gradually with the two of us hanging out together, but no one knew we spent every single day together by the creek. One day, I saw her sitting in the middle of a rock at the creek, just watching the water. We got to talking, and well, the rest is history. It started with us meeting “by accident” in town at the diner, and then it got to be where there was no Ethan without Emily by his side. It’s why I chose to go to college only an hour and a half away. I couldn’t leave her, and it’s why I go back to see her four times a week.

  “Hey there, Birthday Boy!” she squeals. “Happy Birthday! Am I the first one?”

  “Considering where I was with you at midnight”—I laugh—“you were the first one.”

  She laughs. “Oh, good. What time are you coming into town?”

  “My last class just finished, and at this time of day, it takes about two hours to get back to town.” I look around at all the people on the campus lawn. It’s usually crowded on bright, sunny days because people want to get out.

  “Okay, perfect,” she says. “Are we going straight to your mom’s place?”

  “Yeah,” I say, stopping in the middle of the huge lawn when I feel as though I’m being followed. I turn around, looking to see if someone is watching me, but no one stands out. “I also figured tonight would be a good time to tell them the big news.”

  “But it’s your birthday,” she says. “I don’t want to take the spotlight off you.” And this is another reason I love her. She is selfless in every sense of the word and puts everyone else’s needs in front of hers.

  “Trust me, my mother is going to be over the moon with the news that we are getting married,” I say, smiling as I think of her wearing my ring. “Just don’t forget to wear the ring.”

  “I told you I don’t wear it in case someone sees me,” she huffs out. “Anyway, I have to go. Class is starting, so I’ll meet you at your mom’s place. Love you,” she says, hanging up, and my chest feels full when she says this. I look down at the screen saver of the two of us, taken after I asked her to marry me. Her face was still stained with tears while I kissed her.

  “Excuse me?” I turn around when a man’s voice interrupts my memories. “Are you Ethan McIntyre?”

  “I am,” I say to the man, looking him up and down. He doesn’t look like he fits here, that’s for sure. His beard is almost white, and his three-piece suit clearly tailored. “How can I help you?”

  He shakes his head, and it’s then I realize he’s holding a manila envelope. “You can’t help me with anything.” He looks down at his hands and then looks back up at me. “But I can help you.” He extends his hand to me. “This is for you.”

  My hand moves to grab it before my brain registers. “What is this?”

  “Your truth,” he says, and just like that, he turns and walks away. Leaving me confused, I call out to him again, but he doesn’t turn around. When I look down at the envelope in my hand, I see my name written on the front. When I look back up, he’s already disappeared in the crowd.

  Opening the envelope, I pull out the papers and start reading. The letter is addressed with just my name. As my eyes scan the papers, I feel like my head is spinning around in a circle. It’s almost as if my life is spiraling out of control, and all I can do is watch. My heart speeds up so fast in my chest that I hear the thumping in my ears. I flip the pages over and then come back and read it again. This can’t be happening; this is not happening. My legs give out on me, and I sit on the grass. If anyone walks past me, it just looks like I’m sitting down reading papers when, in reality, my life and the foundation I grew up on is crumbling to the ground. I read the paper maybe seven times before I have the energy to get up.

  I walk to my truck, and only when I’m behind the wheel do I let the anger rage out of me. I punch the steering wheel until my knuckles are bloody. My body is numb, my mind all over the place with the questions I want to ask and the answers I need to know as I start the truck. The tears just leak down my face as I make my way home.

  Home. I laugh bitterly. What the fuck does that word even mean? Do I have a home? Where do I belong? I ignore the ringing of the phone on the passenger seat beside me. It sits right on the papers that have just destroyed my life.

  Pulling up to the house, I don’t know what’s going on inside. I grab the papers in my hand, gripping them so hard the cuts on my knuckles open again and some blood drips out. I walk up the steps that I called home since Uncle Beau and Mom got married. With every step I take, I feel my feet get heavier and heavier.

  Opening the door, I hear the hush of whispers. I forgot they were go
ing to surprise me. I walk into the room, and Uncle Beau spots me right away. I look at him, and anger just rips through me. My chest starts to heave as though I’ve run a marathon.

  “He’s not my father?” I point at Jacob who I thought was my father. I look at the four people who I trusted with my life—Jacob, Kallie, Beau, and Mom—but none of them say anything, so I ask them again, this time my voice getting higher. “He’s not my father?”

  My mother looks at me with tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s a lie,” I tell them and finally look around to see that most of the town has come out to celebrate my birthday, but I don’t care. “It’s all been a fucking lie.” The words cut me as I say them.

  “Ethan.” My mother is the first one to say something. “Let’s go somewhere and we can talk.”

  I laugh now, but no one is actually laughing, and my chest hurts. “So what, we can bury the truth some more?” I yell.

  “Ethan.” Beau says my name, and I turn to him. “I think you need to calm down.”

  “Uncle Beau,” I say. “Well, at least that part is true, right?”

  I then look at my father. “You took the fall for someone else.” I shake my head. “Why? Why would you do that?” I ask, and all of it clicks into place. “You lost Kallie because of this. When I’m not even your son.”

  “You might not have my blood running through your veins, but you are mine,” he says loudly and through clenched teeth.

  “I am not yours!” I scream as the tears fall. “My whole life has been a lie.”

  “No,” my mother sobs out. “Nothing was a lie. You grew up surrounded by love,” she says, opening her arms to motion to all the people who stand around, most of them in shock. “It doesn’t matter what your DNA is.”

  “Of course, you would say that,” I say. “You had the chance to tell me the truth my whole life,” I say. “You had the choice to tell me the truth, and all you did was lie to my face. Every single time you said you loved me, it was a lie.” I look around the room. “Take it in, people, take it all in. Ethan McIntyre is not even a McIntyre. I’m a Huntington.”

  “Ethan, that is enough.” Beau steps forward, trying to touch me, but I move out of his reach.

  “Why is it enough?” I ask, shaking my head. “You know what is enough? Enough with all the lies and secrets. Enough with pretending that I’m one person when at the end of the day I am no one.” I turn and walk away.

  “You.” I point at my mother. “You destroyed me.” She gasps out and falls, but Beau catches her. “I never want to see or hear from you again. It’s over.” I walk out of the house to the sounds of sobs and crying echoing, and I make it far enough before I feel a hand on my arm.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, son,” my father says.

  “I’m not your son,” I say. “You are nothing to me. Just like her.” I point at my mother, who’s now standing on the porch.

  I get behind the wheel and peel away from the house. Someone shouts my name, but I block it out. I block everything out, even when the phone rings on the seat, and it’s Emily calling. She deserves better, I think to myself. She deserves to have a man who knows who he is. So I do the only thing I can do. I roll down the window and toss the phone as I drive out of town, never once looking back.

  Chapter Two

  Ethan

  Five years later

  A beeping sound gets louder and louder, and then I hear voices. I try to open my eyes, but the pain rips through me. I groan, not sure whether they will hear me, but I do it anyway.

  “I think he’s waking up,” someone says, and I try to move my hands to give them a signal. “He moved his finger.” I take a deep breath and concentrate on opening my eyes. The bright light feels as if someone stabbed me in the eye, so I slam them shut again.

  “Hello, Mr. Smith.” I hear them call my name. I try to open my eyes again, only to cringe and close them again.

  “Light,” I say, trying to talk, but there is a tube down my throat.

  “You have been intubated, Lt. Smith. Don’t try to talk,” she says, and I want to rip the tube out of my throat. “We are going to take the tube out,” she says, and my eyes stay closed while I feel the tube down my throat being taken out. I inhale deeply and cough.

  “Get him some water.” I hear the door open and then close. “I’m going to close the blinds.” My senses take over as I picture someone walking to the window, and I count their steps to see how big the room is. The blinds are closing, and then I hear her voice again. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

  I open one eye just a sliver this time and find the room almost dark. The light from the machines gives off a soft glow, and light from the hallway streams in from the three windows I’m facing. Before I say anything to her, I look around just in case I need to prepare myself. The machines are all behind me, and I spot an IV in my arm. Finally, I look at the doctor with blond hair piled high on her head, wearing a doctor’s lab coat with a stethoscope slung around her neck.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Mallard,” she says softly, “and you’re in Germany.” She answers my next question. “You’re lucky to be alive, Lt. Smith.” Closing my eyes, I try not to think of everyone I left behind. “You were captured for close to fifteen days.” She’s obviously done this before. “And you were rescued last week.” My memories are coming back full force, and I cringe. “You made it all the way here and then went into cardiac arrest. You also flatlined on the table,” she says, and I look at her. “Twice. You had internal bleeding, not to mention a ruptured spleen.”

  The door opens, and the nurse comes in with a plastic glass in her hand with a white straw. “Take little sips,” she says gently, and the cool liquid burns all the way down. “Just little sips.”

  “How long was I out for?” I ask, my voice harsh.

  “We had to place you in a medically induced coma for the past two days.” She smiles. “I’m happy to say that after some physical therapy, you should make a complete recovery.”

  “Good to know,” I say, closing my eyes again, my body suddenly feeling drained. “How many?”

  I open my eyes, looking at her. “How many of us survived?”

  I look to see if she has any reaction, and just as I realized before, she’s done this way too many times because nothing prepares me for her answer. Even if I knew deep down in my heart that I was the only one, hearing it is a totally separate thing. “You’re the only one.” I nod at her, not saying another word. I’ll blame it on the burning in my throat, but in reality, it’s the lump in my throat. I served beside these men who were my brothers, and I would have died for them just as they died for me. “Your commander will be coming by in the morning. Get some rest, Lt. Smith.”

  The first thing I did when I ran away five years ago was enlist in the military, and the second was to request a name change. I didn’t want anything to do with McIntyre or Huntington as my last name, so six weeks after I entered the military, I had my name changed to Ethan Smith. It was also the same day my heart turned to stone.

  I glance down at the cuts starting to heal on my arms. Looking at my hands, I see the nails that broke while I tried to claw my way to freedom. I close my eyes and hear the voices again.

  “We’ve been compromised.” It was the last thing I heard before a bomb exploded right beside us.

  When I open my eyes again, I see that I’m safe and in a hospital room. Ripping the cover off my legs, I look down to make sure both limbs are there. I move my toes first and then bend my knees. Then I try to move to a sitting position, but my body screams out, making me stop. When I look down, I see blood starting to soak through the hospital gown. I hiss out when I move, and this time, I feel the blood dripping. I press the button beside me, and the nurse comes in. “Lt. Smith?”

  “I’m bleeding,” I say. She looks down, lifting the gown, and I see dark purple welts and where the blood has now soaked through the gauze over the wound. “That doesn’t look good,” I joke. She just looks down at me over the eyeglasses prop
ped on the end of her nose.

  “Should I even ask how this happened?” She reminds me of my grandmother, Cristine, straight and to the point. I shake my head, erasing it from my memory.

  “I was trying to see if I had both my legs, and if they worked,” I say, and she shakes her head.

  “You guys. I’m surprised you didn’t try to get off to make sure that worked, too.” I laugh now but then look down.

  “It’ll work,” I say, “right?” She laughs, walking over to grab a pair of gloves and new gauze to change the bandage.

  “All fixed,” she says. “You’re lucky the stitches didn’t break open.” She tosses the gloves and the bloody gauze into the garbage. “Why don’t you do yourself a favor and get some rest?” She takes off her glasses. “And please don’t try to see if your other member works.”

  I laugh as she walks out, and I watch her go to the nurses’ station. She gets my clipboard and starts writing notes. I fight sleep as much as I can, but when it becomes too much, I close my eyes. My training kicks in, and I relax my body, but my ears stay alert, and I hear footsteps. I wait to see if the steps get closer, and when they stop right in front of my bed, I open my eyes, but nothing could prepare me for who is there.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Came to give you a ride home,” he says. I just look at him because I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him dressed in a suit. He stands with both hands tucked into his pants pockets.