The Lost Fisherman

  The Lost Fisherman

  Book Two

  Jewel E. Ann

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Jewel E. Ann

  ISBN 978-1-955520-04-1

  Ebook Edition

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Estella Vukovic

  Formatting: Jenn Beach

  Contents

  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

  Preview of Transcend

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Jewel E. Ann

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Six months in Thailand turned into twelve months in Thailand with Brendon. Rory was right. Friendships had a way of turning into more.

  Playful nudges.

  Teasing.

  Flirty glances.

  Hand-holding.

  Stolen kisses.

  All the little things checked off the boxes. If the boxes were checked, it had to be love. Right?

  A stop in Tokyo and another in Los Angeles was all that stood between me and my mom—between me and the naked fisherman.

  Brendon spent the month prior to our trip home hinting about marriage.

  Did I see myself having a destination wedding or a church wedding?

  How many kids did I want?

  Would I choose to live in the city or in the mountains?

  A dog and two cats? Or no cats and two dogs?

  Brendon still had his job waiting for him at the law firm in Denver. He would make good money with room for advancement, maybe even make partner one day.

  I had the chance to do … nothing. Well, not true. There would be kids to raise, dogs to walk, and cakes to bake.

  Fisher made good money. If I was destined for the life of a wife and stay-at-home mom, why did I leave him? I thought about Fisher more in the days leading up to our departure than I had done for the previous twelve months.

  Brendon convinced me to prolong our trip by a few days so we could spend a few nights in Tokyo.

  “Reese, slow down,” he mumbled over my mouth—my anxious mouth—as we took the elevator to the hotel room.

  I had this clawing feeling that Brendon’s reason for the extra days in Tokyo had everything to do with a marriage proposal.

  Proposal.

  Wedding.

  Sex.

  That was his plan.

  I had other plans. For some reason, I didn’t want to lose my virginity, or what was left of it, on my wedding night. What if I married Brendon and the sex wasn’t good? What if I spent every second comparing him to Fisher?

  I had to know.

  “Whoa … seriously, what’s up with you?” Brendon pulled my hand away from his crotch just as the elevator doors opened.

  “I don’t want to wait. I know … I know it’s wrong, but I don’t want to wait.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Reese, I think you’re just experiencing some mixed feelings over going home after being away for a year. Go take a shower, drink some water, and sleep on it. Okay?” He stopped at the door to my room.

  His answer to sex was shower, hydrate, and sleep on it? Would every man I met reject me? Would I ever have sex?

  “Okay.” I nodded. “You’re right. Night.”

  That night, I showered, thought about Fisher, and I touched myself.

  The next morning, we were first in line to go to the observation tower of the Tokyo Skytree. With Mt. Fuji visible in the distance on the clear day, Brendon got on one knee and proposed to me with his grandmother’s diamond ring.

  Onlookers smiled and gasped, all eyes on us. No … all eyes on me.

  “You’re the woman of my dreams, Therese Capshaw, and I think I knew it from the day we met. Do me the honor of being my wife.”

  My brain was paralyzed. But in the moment, all I could do to make everyone stop staring at me, including Brendon, was nod.

  “Yes!” He slipped the ring on my finger and stood, pulling me in for a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  I was engaged, and I got a kiss on the cheek.

  On the way back to our hotel, I pulled on his arm, tugging him into a drugstore.

  “What are you doing?” He laughed.

  I led him up one aisle and down the next, stopping at the condoms.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Reese …”

  “It doesn’t mean we have to; it just means … we’re prepared.”

  “Prepared to sin?”

  “Prepared to not have to explain why we need to rush our wedding if we do happen to sin.”

  Brendon shook his head, and I knew he wasn’t comfortable with it, but I wasn’t comfortable marrying him and not having sex with him first. And that should have been the only sign I needed.

  But I was still that teenaged adult with so much to learn, and my favorite teacher happened to be half a world away and retired from teaching me any more than tough love and the oh-so-important “sink or swim.”

  With a miserable grimace and his teeth digging into his lip, Brendon nodded.

  That nod led to anticipation.

  Anticipation led to the allure of the forbidden.

  He might not have initiated it on his own, but when we found ourselves in his hotel room after dinner that night, things quickly moved in the direction of that box of condoms.

  “I love you so much,” Brendon chanted over and over between kisses and amid discarding our clothes. Maybe he thought God wouldn’t be so critical of our decision if he kept reminding me (and God) how much he loved me. It wasn’t merely a physical need—and hopefully not an immoral act; we were in love and committed to each other.

  And by “we” I meant Brendon more than me.

  I just wanted to know what it felt like to have sex with him. And I loved him; it just didn’t feel like it did with Fisher. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to feel like it did with Fisher.

  “I’m so nervous my hands won’t stop shaking,” Brendon said as he fumbled the condom.

  After he rolled it on, I closed my eyes—another sign things weren’t great with Brendon. He touched me, and I imagined it was Fisher.

  He started to push into me, and I replayed moments with Fisher. But Brendon didn’t touch me like Fisher had touched me. He didn’t really touch me at all, just his cock suited up between my legs and his lips nervously hovering over my lips.

  Did he not notice my breasts? Maybe he wasn’t a breast man.

  Did he not want to kiss me between my legs? Locate my clit? Run his tongue along the length of my neck before biting my earlobe?

  It was all so different.

  I winced when he pushed all th
e way into me. It didn’t feel great, maybe because he wasn’t doing anything to make it feel at least a little less than awful and painful.

  For the next five minutes, maybe not even, he jabbed me with an erratic rhythm. He missed my clit every time while his heavy breaths washed over my face—grunting and occasionally pressing a limp, sloppy kiss to my mouth.

  “Oh my …” Brendon squeezed his eyes shut and stilled for a few seconds before a full-body shiver shook him. He opened his eyes and grinned. “That was…” he blew out a breath “…amazing. I love you so very much.”

  When he rolled off me, I slowly sat up with my back to him and tears in my eyes. I gave him my virginity, and I didn’t regret it, not on my part. Brendon deserved it because it meant something to him. I think it meant more to him than it meant to me.

  The tears?

  Guilt?

  Not because I’d sinned.

  Because I tempted him. He sinned for me. He did it because he loved me. He did it because it seemed a little less wrong since I agreed to marry him.

  Tears … I couldn’t stop the tears because I knew I couldn’t marry him.

  And I couldn’t go home to Rory … to Fisher.

  It was time to do something for myself. It was time to fall in love with endless possibilities. Time to walk alone. Time to grow up.

  Time to “fucking think for yourself.”

  Chapter Two

  Four years later …

  “Oh my BABY GIRL!” Rory threw her hands in the air and charged me like she did at the airport in Denver after getting out of prison.

  I was a teenaged adult then. Deer in the headlights. And no clue where my journey even began, let alone where it might take me.

  It took me to Fisher, then it took me to Thailand, then it took me to Ann Arbor, Michigan. In Thailand, I volunteered to help a woman named Alesha. She was fifty-three. A midwife. Much like working for Fisher, I was grunt labor. No experience needed. And much like Fisher, Alesha taught me a lot. I watched (sometimes helped) her deliver thirty-three babies during my year in Thailand. But I knew after the very first delivery, that she had the best job in the world.

  After breaking Brendon’s heart that night in Tokyo, I changed my travel plans. Instead of going back to Colorado, I returned to Houston. My grandparents helped me make financial arrangements for college.

  Nursing school at the University of Michigan.

  A new place where I didn’t know a soul. The perfect place to follow my dream.

  “Your dad would be so proud.” Rory hugged me the day I received my bachelor’s degree.

  I loved her for acknowledging Dad. He really would have been proud of me.

  My mom’s parents were overjoyed for me too. My dad’s parents plastered on their fake smiles, watching Rory and Rose congratulate me. They were not okay with my mom and her lesbian partner. I loved my mom, and I loved Rose too. During my four years in Ann Arbor, they averaged three visits a year. I never made it to Denver, but they didn’t mind coming to me.

  The sour looks on my dad’s parents’ faces didn’t bother me. They were old. Set in their ways. And their opinions no longer shaped mine.

  I thought for myself. I found a way to love God without fear or guilt—the most liberating feeling ever.

  Sex? Yes … I’d had a handful of boyfriends during my four years in Michigan. And they were all better lovers than Brendon. To be fair … it was his first time too.

  Alcohol? I wasn’t a binge drinker, but I enjoyed a fun night out with friends.

  Friends … I had so many friends from nursing school. They felt more like sisters and brothers to me.

  I even got a tattoo … but no one, aside from my lovers, had seen it. Fisher wasn’t the only one who deserved a harem.

  “Lunch?” Rory asked.

  “Sounds perfect!” I hugged my grandparents just before we headed toward the parking lot. Mom and Rose rode with me while my grandparents drove their rental cars.

  “So when do you start your new job?” Rose asked.

  I laughed. “First I have to pass my NCLEX exam. Then I’ll find a job.”

  “Then you’ll be able to start your master’s degree next fall, correct?”

  I nodded. “That’s the plan.”

  “We’re moving out of the basement. Getting our own place. There will be plenty of room for you if you decide to come back to Denver,” Mom said.

  “Moving out of Fisher’s basement?” I shot her a quick side-glance. It felt weird saying his name. I’d thought about him a lot, but I hadn’t actually said his name.

  “Did you ever get to meet Angie?” Rory asked.

  I swallowed hard and nodded. “Um, I think so. His childhood sweetheart?”

  “Yes. Well, she moved back to Denver last year for good because her mom wasn’t doing well. In fact, she recently passed. She and Fisher just got engaged.”

  It didn’t matter. I said this to myself over and over again. My brain got it, but the translation got messed up somewhere between my brain and my heart, causing unnecessary pain.

  Five years … it had been five years since I’d seen or talked to Fisher. I thought I made a nice clean break. So why did the edges of that hole in my heart feel so jagged, like they hadn’t healed? Like they would never heal.

  “So it’s time to move out. Angie is nice, but I think they want the house to themselves to start a family,” Rory said.

  I nodded slowly. “Yeah,” I whispered past the lump in my throat.

  At the restaurant, Rose grabbed my hand after I got out of the car. She gave it a quick squeeze and offered me a soft smile, an “are you okay” smile.

  All those years … and she never told my mom about Fisher and me. It was another reason I loved Rose. Another reason why I knew my mom fell in love with her.

  Channeling the happiness from the morning’s events, from my special day, I squeezed her hand in return and smiled.

  Rose winked and released my hand, leaving Rory none the wiser.

  Fisher and I ended in the best possible way. I felt his love, and I always believed he felt mine. It just wasn’t our time.

  Life took over.

  I didn’t wait for him.

  He didn’t wait for me.

  And that was okay. That was life.

  With the news of his engagement, it solidified what I had always feared. There would never be a time for us.

  “Oh …” Rory turned around just before we entered the restaurant. “Speaking of Fisher, he sent a card.” She dug through her bag and pulled out an envelope.

  “Thanks.” I took it and slipped it into my bag. I couldn’t read it until I was alone. Even if it was nothing more than a generic graduation card with his signature, I needed privacy to deal with anything Fisher Mann.

  It took me three days to open his card. My family went home. And my two roommates (fellow nursing school graduates) were gone for the day.

  As I slowly unsealed it by wedging my finger into the corner, I took a deep breath. It was, in fact, a generic card, but there was more than just his signature. He’d left me a long note taking up the entire left side of the card.

  Reese,

  Can I say how proud of you I am without it sounding condescending? Without you thinking it’s an age reference? I am. More than that, I’m happy for you. Rory said you plan to be a midwife and deliver babies. I knew you’d change the world, touch lives … like you touched mine.

  I’m sure Rory’s told you that I’m getting married. It feels like the smart choice at this point in my life. My family is thrilled, and I’m good, in case you do care, which you might not. Go be the amazing woman I knew you would be. Find your place, your people, the life you deserve.

  Congratulations,

  The Naked Fisherman

  I laughed through my tears. So many tears. He signed it The Naked Fisherman. It made me happy and incredibly heartbroken at the same time. Was he waiting for me? Did he, one day, decide to stop waiting and please his family by proposing to Angie? Good �
�� he was good.

  Chapter Three

  I passed my NCLEX.

  I got my own apartment.

  And I had an interview scheduled with a pediatric office.

  Life continued to give me sunny days despite the Fisher Mann engagement news.

  The morning of my interview, Rory called me.

  “I haven’t had the interview yet,” I said as I made my way to my car. “I’m on my way there now.”

  “Reese,” her voice hit my ear with a chilling gravity.

  It stopped me in my tracks. “What is it?”

  “Fisher was in an accident on his motorcycle. He’s in surgery now. We don’t know the extent of his injuries yet. I just thought I’d let you know in case you wanted to say a prayer for him.”

  “W-what?” I covered my mouth with my hand as tears instantly filled my eyes.

  “I’ll let you know when he’s out of surgery … if he comes out of surgery.”

  If …

  “Okay?” she asked.

  I nodded and pushed a tiny “okay” past the boulder in my throat.

  After Rory ended the call, my phone and keys fell to the ground, cracking my screen. Sobs racked my body, one wave after another.

  All I could see was his face. Those eyes. That wink. The smile he gave me just before he said something that made me blush.

  “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “A-are you m-mine?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “I’m trying so hard to not fall in love with you.”