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  Reid’s Redemption

  Copyright © 2019 by Sara Celi

  Published by Lowe Interactive Media, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants 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 owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For Ohio

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  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

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Other Titles by Sara Celi

  Five Years Ago

  “You’re out of your mind, Logan. You’ve gone crazy,” Reid Powell said from the foyer. “What did you take? What have you been taking?”

  “Nothing.” Logan shoved his balled fists into the pockets of dirty jeans. Once, the pair had been a tight fit. Now, he was so skinny they threatened to slide down his hips. “Okay, just the Adderall. I have a prescription for that. You know how I am with my ADHD, and—”

  “Bullshit.” Reid stepped closer to Logan. “Tell me what you did.”

  “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m so tired of your lies.”

  Reid’s jaw locked in anger. He had enabled Logan for too long, and that needed to end. Immediately. No more, no matter how much it hurt. One of their father’s dying wishes had been that Reid take care of Logan, and that meant stopping his brother’s codependency. Today.

  “I want to know what you took, Logan. Now.”

  Reid’s younger brother shifted back and forth on two wobbly legs. “Some vodka, okay? And I’ve been smoking.”

  “Heroin. You’ve been smoking heroin again, haven’t you?”

  The word “heroin” tasted unnaturally bitter on Reid’s tongue, but each time it escaped his lips, it tasted less foreign than the last. Saying it made it real, and Reid needed the clarity that came from that fact. Junkie. My brother is a junkie. He’s been one for months—almost a year. That sounded unnatural, too, but they were long past the point of anything in their lives being natural. Natural died over a decade earlier, on the day their dad padlocked Powell Steel. Natural died brain cancer took their father, and then a heart attack took their mother, all within the past three tumultuous years. And natural died when Logan began avoiding his problems by using hard drugs.

  “Did you mix the heroin with anything else?” Reid asked.

  Anything like meth?

  Logan shrugged, and Reid knew his answer. Yes. “I just want what’s mine, okay?”

  This. Always money. Always greed. Always a failure to see anything outside his own pain. When the hell will he grow up?

  “Christ, you’re a Powell, for fuck’s sake.” Reid’s frustration with his younger brother grew with every hollow breath. “You don’t have to worry about money.”

  Logan ‘s gaze shifted toward the open front door, which let in the stale, crisp air that came with the waning days of an Ohio autumn. “You don’t understand. You never did.” He looked at his brother. “I need some cash. Now.”

  Need. There it was. Again.

  Reid sighed as he felt the heaviness of that moment surround them both. No matter how many books he read, how many articles he scanned, he’d never accept the naked selfishness that came with his brother using drugs. It shamed him to see how much Logan put his cravings above everything else. What a mess their lives had become.

  “What about that two fifty I gave you three days ago?”

  “That was a start.” Sweat beaded on Logan’s brow. He was shaky, clammy, and pale. He breathed like a man who’d run three miles at his fastest pace. “But I have a few other—”

  “No.” Reid didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to suppress the ball of frustration in his stomach. “I’m tired of doing this. Tired of bailing you out of whatever trouble you get into.”

  “I’m just asking—”

  “You’re not asking. You’re demanding.”

  “Come on, man.” Logan’s eyelids looked heavy, and he spoke slowly. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “I’m not.”

  “We’re brothers. Family.”

  “You don’t act like we are anymore. All you do is take.”

  Reid braced his hand on the open-door frame that divided the living room from the foyer. The smooth wood was a throwback to another era, when the Powells entertained the wealthiest people in Allen, Ohio, and threw dinner parties that rivaled any in Cleveland or Pittsburgh. But that had all been eons ago. The parties, champagne, and steak dinners all disappeared when the steel mill shut its doors. Now the brothers only had the aging beaux-arts mansion, an inheritance, some dusty antiques, a strip of ancient farmland on the edge of town, and each other.

  Most people would have called it more than enough, but not Logan. He’d tossed away what remained in favor of needles, pills, and whatever chemical escapes he could find. Reid suspected it made the burden of being a Powell easier for his younger brother. If Logan dulled the sharpness of the family failures, he could get through the day. Survive.

  “I don’t need much, Reid. Just a small—”

  “No. I’m trying to hold you accountable for your actions,” Reid added. “Someone needs to.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Logan replied through gritted teeth.

  The brothers stood in the hall, locked in a stalemate for a breath that felt like it lasted a year. Stubbornness was a Powell trait, and both had a strong dose of it flowing through their veins. As the moments passed, Reid wondered what version of “taking care of myself” meant showing up at your brother’s door for handouts. All Reid wanted was for Logan to quit the drugs for good, and to admit he’d made a lifetime of mistakes. Once again, his younger brother was letting him down.
br />   I don’t care. I won’t give in, Logan.

  “Fine,” Logan said. “If you won’t give me any money, I’ll find someone who will.” He glared at his brother one last time, turned on a booted heel, and moved toward the front door. “I hate you,” he grumbled over his shoulder.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  Logan didn’t answer. Reid watched his brother bound down the porch steps into the cold afternoon wearing no coat, no scarf, and no hat. When he hit the pavement, Reid made a split-second decision.

  He grabbed his navy puffer coat and scarf from the hall bench, then his keys from the glass bowl on the console table. “Don’t leave,” Reid yelled as he pulled the heavy door shut and locked it. “Logan, stop this.”

  In the driveway, Logan started his sedan, and Reid called out again. “Don’t go.”

  Still yelling, Reid raced down the front steps in time to stop the car from leaving. He beat on the driver-side window until Logan rolled it down. “What do you want?” He had wide eyes and shaky hands.

  “You shouldn’t drive.” Reid grabbed his brother’s diminishing bicep. “You’re not in the right frame of mind.”

  “Too bad,” Logan replied. “And you can go fuck yourself. I don’t give a damn what you think.”

  Without rolling up the window, Logan punched the accelerator and sped down the driveway. With one eye on his brother’s car, Reid sprinted to his own truck, parked a short distance away. His brother may be a screwed-up junkie, but Reid loved him.

  He was family, after all. The only family Reid had left.

  A half hour later, a twisted lump of metal that had once been a school bus straddled all four lanes of State Route 23. Eleven people were dead—one adult, ten children. The acrid smell of smoke filled Reid’s nostrils. Screams punctuated his ears. In the distance came the sound of an approaching ambulance.

  Reid wondered if he was dead, too—and if this was hell.

  In a lot of ways, it already was.

  Present Day

  Two days after I moved to Allen, Ohio, I strode into Country Market searching for four things: protein drinks, milk, eggs, and bread. It was early January, frigid, and in a way, I was on a mission. Getting these items was the one task my father had allowed me to do for him since I’d arrived in town. Despite my insistence that Dad needed family around to help him recover from the stroke he’d suffered in December, he was still trying to convince me to return to Ohio State for the spring semester. He hated that his health had taken such a turn, and that I’d decided to interrupt my studies once he’d been released from the hospital. Even that morning, he’d told me to pack up and head back to school.

  But I wasn’t going to leave him. Dad needed me, so Allen was where I needed to be. Family first.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” called a friendly voice as I entered the quiet store. I looked up from my list to find Marlena Moss, the longtime owner. She was older, heavier, and more wrinkled than the last time I saw her. But I shouldn’t have been that surprised. It had been too long.

  “I didn’t realize you still owned this place,” I exclaimed. I crossed to Marlena and gave her a quick hug.

  “Some things don’t change,” she said after we pulled apart. “I guess the rumors were right about you. Still, I can’t really believe you’re back in town.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you were at Ohio State.”

  “So?” Leaving school to take care of my dad for a semester hadn’t been that hard of a decision. A stroke was serious, especially at his age. I spread a hand. “School can wait.”

  “What about your scholarship?”

  “It will all work itself out. Right now, my family is more important.”

  “Look at you. So loyal.” Marlena studied me. “I keep trying to remember the last time you visited here. It’s been forever.”

  “Well, I’m happy to be here now. Allen has a lot of good memories for me.”

  She snorted. “Sounds so weird to hear someone say that. These days, no one moves to Allen.” She shrugged, and sadness pulled at her eyes. “They move away.”

  Marlena was right.

  As a kid, Allen had been a bustling place, full of close-knit life and small-town comradery. My parents divorced when I was six, and while I lived with her in Cincinnati during the school year, I spent every summer in Allen, visiting my dad. I liked playing in the rolling hills and dense forests that made up the outskirts of Victor County too. But I hadn’t been to Allen, or the surrounding county for over five years.

  Not since…

  Now, only the local dairy bar, a few churches, one bar, a diner, two banks, a funeral home, and Country Market remained. The rest of downtown consisted of abandoned buildings, crumbling pavement, and vacant lots full of weeds. The surrounding county didn’t look much better. How different it all was.

  I put a hand on Marlena’s shoulder. “Dad’s health is important to me, so I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

  She smiled but didn’t show what remained of her teeth. “How is he today?”

  “Been better. Some days he’s almost fine. Other days, it’s like the reality of it all sets in and he gets so frustrated.” I took a few more steps into the store, then pivoted back to her. “You know how it is. The stroke was…”

  I trailed off because I didn’t know what to say. Shocking? Scary? A wake-up call for me about my father’s mortality?

  All those descriptions would have fit.

  The doctors in Cleveland insisted that Dad should consider himself lucky, that it could have all been far worse. Still, while his condition improved a bit every day, one side of his body was a weakened shell he struggled to control. Fifty-four years old and facing a major life change. He couldn’t run his beloved half marathons. Or hunt deer on weekends in the blind he owned in the southern part of the state. And he’d taken an extended leave of absence from his job as the Victor County prosecutor. We weren’t sure if he’d ever go back to work. No, not if. When.

  “All of us were sad to hear about it,” Marlena mumbled. “Been praying.”

  I’d heard it before, from other people in town. I knew I’d hear it again. Praying was something the people of Victor County did a lot of those days. Praying, and holding on to something—a remnant of the past.

  “Thank you.” I held up my list. “Gotta get these real quick then get back to the house. Nora’s about to leave for the day.”

  “Of course.” Marlena nodded. “It’s been good of Nora to help your dad out with all his rehab. I’ll let you get to it.”

  She moved back to the first of two registers at the front of the store, and I grabbed a wire basket before heading down the center aisles. Country Market might not have been a big business, but Marlena and her husband Kurt did their best to keep it stocked with all the necessities. The low lighting and simple layout gave it a homey feel, and I savored the casual comfort that came with this being a center of life in the community. If Country Market ever closed, it would be an irreparable blow.

  I’d just taken the milk out of the dairy case when the door jangled, and another shopper walked into the store. At first, I didn’t look up from my task, but then I heard a sharpness in Marlena’s voice at the front.

  “We’re out of peanut butter. Truck with the shipment comes next week.”

  I turned my head and found a man with chin-length hair and a threadbare coat standing almost in the place where I’d been moments before. He said something to Marlena I couldn’t hear, but she gritted out a tense reply.

  “Whatever you need, go ahead and get it. And then get going.”

  He mumbled an answer, then moved down the first aisle, where he picked up a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly. I stared at him as he moved toward the checkout. There was something about his olive-green jacket, the thick stubble that covered his jaw, and the shaggy brown hair he wore underneath an old orange trucker hat, which obscured his face. He wasn’t dirty, but he wasn’t clean either. And Marlena’s voice had been a warning.
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  She doesn’t like him.

  I watched them go through the motions of payment then speak a few more strained words to each other. She kept her attention on him as he left, and her gaze followed him as he walked outside to a dark Ford F-150 truck parked alongside my own Toyota Camry. Once he drove out of the parking lot, she made a clucking sound with her tongue.

  “Who was that?” I asked when I arrived at the checkout.

  Marlena sneered. “No one.”

  I put the bread on the counter. “He was someone.”

  “No one worth a damn.” She looked at me. “Trash.”

  The word echoed in my head; she had said it like a curse. Trash. I’d always known Marlena Moss as a friendly woman, a person who had a cheery smile for everyone, no matter what. I may not have grown up in Allen, but I’d always thought of Marlena as the town grandmother. She’d never been the type to look down on anyone.

  But there she stood, looking down on this man. Whoever he was, he must have deserved it.

  “I’m sorry I asked,” I said. “You seemed so upset he was here.”

  “You might not have realized this, but Allen really changed in your absence,” she replied, and for the first time, I saw a steely hardness behind her eyes. “We’ve been through a lot.”

  “I know.” I gulped. “The accident—”

  “No one here likes to talk about that. Too many bad memories.” She held up a hand. “Besides, it’s not just that. People here… well, let me just say this. Some people don’t belong.”

  “Some people like him?”

  “You’ve been away a long time, Tarryn. You wouldn’t understand.” She cleared her throat and reached for the egg carton still in my basket. “We just got these in. Very fresh. Your dad will like them.”

  I knew better than to press her anymore. Instead, I finished the sale and left the store. But the whole drive home, I thought about the man.

  Why did people hate him so much?

  Breath pushed in and out of my lungs in a steady rhythm as I ran. In. Out. In. Out. In. The crisp air sliced my throat, a reminder that winter had come to rule the Appalachian Mountains and Victor County. The cold weaved around Allen and its outskirts. Snow covered everything in a white blanket.