Back To Good

Jason Carter does not believe in second chances, not in music and not in love, not after the choices he has made.

A gifted musician scarred by addiction and loss, he has learned to survive by closing himself off and pouring everything into his music.

One day, he meets Jenny Jones— a sharp, soulful writer with her own haunted past. She sees the pain Jason hides, and in her, he finds an unexpected connection he cannot ignore.

As passion ignites, so do the shadows they have tried to outrun. Still, old habits threaten to resurface, and the fragile bond between them is tested by the weight of everything they have survived.

Healing is not linear, and love is never simple. But sometimes... the hardest road—the one back to good—is the only one worth taking.

CHAPTER ONE - SAMPLE READ

In Miami Beach, Florida, Jason Carter sat silent on a veranda outside Ollie's café, sipping coffee and people-watching, a pastime he'd enjoyed most of his adult life.

Seated at a nearby table, a group of women relished a morning business meeting and gossiped about love, life, and diets. The three younger girls captivated his thoughts with their scathing confessions about men and superficial people, and he couldn't help but chuckle as he eavesdropped on their conversation.

Jason understood the perils of dieting, particularly his deceased wife's challenges, as she had struggled daily to lose weight throughout her thirties.

In his early forties, the handsome man was dressed casually in tan chinos, a white linen shirt, a lightweight navy jacket, and brown loafers. He accessorized his look with a brown backpack, which he carelessly slung over his right shoulder. Like him, the bag symbolized a readiness to take flight should he decide breakfast guest, Anna Williams, wanted more than he was prepared to give.

Leaning on the arm of his chair, he sat poised, his face partially hidden behind a pair of vintage Armani sunglasses. He puffed away with a cigarette in one hand and his iPhone in the other while glancing at photos of days gone by, amused by the women's banter about life's difficulties.

Just then, a blonde woman rose from her seat. "I've tried dieting one too many times. I start the day off strong, determined to beat my food cravings, but by early afternoon, my cravings start, and I'm screaming for sugar. I just cannot live without it," she cried in dismay before sitting back down.

"My longings for donuts fester in my mind every time I try to diet." A brunette added, pausing to sip coffee. "Most days, I just give up."

Jason nodded to the women and offered a sympathetic smile. Then his eyes lingered on his guest, pensive and oblivious to all, consumed with only herself.

Resolutely, he stretched over the iron table to comfort the forlorn girl and whispered, "Everything will turn out fine. You'll see."

The petite woman raised her head and sighed. "I hope you're right," she said softly. "I can't handle much more. The uncertainty is killing me, Jason."

His brows rose, and he squeezed her tiny hand. "Trust me, Anna. I promise you will recover from this anguish."

"But how…" her voice trailed. She toyed with her napkin, poured cream into her coffee cup, but no sugar, and sipped slowly.

"Why do you no longer take sugar in your coffee?"

"I like to think I'm sweet enough."

Uneasy, Jason frowned and glanced at his watch.

It was mid-week, mid-morning, and already this woeful Wednesday was going from bad to worse. In the past half hour, he had experienced enough vicissitudes to last to the turn of the century. Tired of the drama, he turned away from Anna and focused on his surroundings.

The streets were bustling with automobiles and tourists, enjoying the high season, which was soon to end in mid-April.

The March sun shone above, and while he longed to go boating, he had agreed to meet Anna to discuss his late wife's items—a get-together to return old passions to the past where they belong. However, as much as he fancied Anna, he still yearned for Beth. Despite her efforts, Beth's younger sister could not sway his emotions from his loyalty to his former wife.

The group of women seated to his right burst into laughter, and suddenly swept by emotion, Jason retracted his hand. A somber look crossed his face as he recollected the seven years he had spent married to Anna's sister, Beth.

Sadly, his wife succumbed to her illness and shortly thereafter died, leaving him to care for their two dogs. Regrettably, they did not have children, and looking back, it hurt him deeply, as he had always wanted a son. A daughter, too, but mostly a boy, as he longed to have offspring to carry his family name.

Jason eyed Anna, who appeared bothered by the women seated nearby. While they joked about failed relationships, it was clear that they all longed for so much more, just as Anna did. Though twelve years younger than Beth, twenty-three-year-old Anna had chased Jason at first sight.

Now that he was free, he suspected his sister-in-law was hoping they would or could connect and become a couple, a yearning she had secretly confessed many times over the years. However, he loved Beth dearly, and on their wedding night, he promised his wife that regardless of the curveball's life threw their way, he would never date Anna, whom he was only nice to because she was her younger sister.

He stands by his word to this day despite his desire to comfort the younger woman. Besides, he knew Anna fell in and out of love with every man she met, and her frivolous emotions were just that, a time passer until the next suitable male came along. In addition, knowing he could have her whenever he wanted was not a turn-on for him; he liked the challenges Beth had presented to him so many years ago.

Suddenly, the women's early morning business meeting ended, and all three women vacated their table and left the café. Jason admired each girl's curvaceous body as the saucy women walked out of the orchard floral entryway and onto the city street. Despite their frank complaints, he saw they each had a voluptuous figure, which he appreciated, as stick-thin women never aroused his desires.

Still, he understood their dilemma, the perils of dieting, and the difficulties of weight loss and weight gain.

He also understood the complications that arose when starting a new relationship. The pretentious games were daunting and something he no longer craved.

The quiet life suited him better, and now that Beth was gone, he was okay with living alone in the same house they had shared. It was his oasis, tucked away from the outside world, with only two dogs for company, Charlie and Bella, Beth's rescues.

There was something magical about waking up to both dogs. Their wagging tails and sloppy kisses were a delightful escape from the ever-looming reality he shied away from. Beth brought the dogs home one sunny evening several years ago, and he was grateful for their company. However, he could not decide whether their innocent eyes, drooling, or need to tinkle had him hooked. Years before, he had given up trying to figure out what it was about the canines that tugged his heartstrings. He loved Charlie and Bella; they came first, and now that Beth was gone, they came before everything else. Initially, when they were puppies and not potty trained, he had banned the rambunctious duo from his home, favoring the garden shed as their kennel. Once trained, they roamed freely around the house, and nowadays Jason could hardly imagine his pets living anywhere else. He adored and loved their company and relished time at home with his music studio and pets. In his mind, no other woman, not even Anna Williams, could replace the warmth or the love he received from both.

A female guest squealed, interrupting his thoughts, and he smirked at a table of five women as they feigned adoration for a passing lothario dressed in tiny biker shorts and a white tank top. Jason was sure the women must know the young man strolling by was barely nineteen, yet he laughed loudly at their pretentious game. He watched as the younger male began walking a little taller, his back a little straighter, and his stomach sucked in from the attention he'd received, which was the way of all men he knew including himself.

"I'm scared to be alone," Anna confessed, reaching for his hand. "I'm having the most awful nightmares…" She paused, stirred her coffee, and lit a cigarette. "Jason, I'm terrified."

Paying no heed to Anna or her nightmares, he stubbed his cigarette inside an ashtray and stretched his arms above his head. "I see you're smoking again. I thought you'd quit for good. That's what you told me last week."

"Well, you're one to talk. You're smoking too, and after quitting, God knows how many times. And only our lord knows just what other of your nasty habits have resurfaced since Beth's death."

"Don't be a brat, Anna. This morning's meeting is about you, and not me." He watched as she inhaled and exhaled smoke before feeling remorseful for his critical tone.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "But, Jason, did you hear me? I often dream Beth is watching me, especially when I'm asleep. What do you suppose it means?"

He shrugged. “I don't know."

"But I need your help. You're my only family. Can't you stay at my place tonight? Please say yes, Jason, please."

He shook his head.

"No, Anna. I can't."

"But I need you… I'm so lonely."

He flinched.

"I cannot help you with the fears that roam throughout your mind. You need to find stability and begin a long-lasting relationship with a man closer to your heart than I am. I married your sister because I loved her, not you! Please don't put added stress on me because I'm also going through a lot of turmoil."

Tall and slender, Anna Williams was a beautiful young woman with a sexy back and full lips. She wore her long, blonde hair in a coiffed style to accentuate her blue eyes and high cheekbones. Her muscular legs and toned shoulders were perfect for swimming, an exercise routine she enjoyed daily since her early teens.

"But I'm younger than you, Jay," she moaned. "You're supposed to help me through this ordeal, and you're also supposed to be my emotional support."

Jason Carter fidgeted in his seat. "I have already told you I can't help you, Anna." He looked toward the beach and sighed. "I'm also struggling and can't seem to move forward because I'm taking too many steps back down memory lane. You must be strong! You must," he said, exasperated. "I have to pick up the pieces as well. She may have been your sister, but she was my wife."

Suddenly, Anna pulled his hand close to her breast. "But Jason," she crooned seductively. "Beth would want us to support each other, lean on each other, perhaps reenact what you both shared. If you catch my drift?"

He eyed his annoyingly brazen sister-in-law and groaned, pulling his hand back. “No, Anna," he snapped. "Beth would never want us to engage in any relationship other than the platonic one we have now. She detested the thought of us together as she never recovered from when you…"

"When I what, Jason?" Anna interrupted.

"Well, you know?" he replied shyly.

"No. I don't."

"Come on, Anna. You know what you did."

Anna flushed, and her full lips curved into a tantalizing smile. "Remind me, Jason, because that timestamp is foggy in my memory," she said, licking her lips. "I know I can count on you to remember the details. Although… I do remember clearly, you became flustered, obviously, more affected at the sight of my nakedness than I was in all my nudity."

"You're wrong, Anna. Besides my sympathy for your youth, I was embarrassed by your attempts to sway me in a girlish manner. My heart… Well, it has always belonged to Beth. You're foolish to believe otherwise."

"Whatever," Anna replied, rising from her seat. "I'm done having coffee with you. I need to get back to work. Besides, my darling brother-in-law, you're an incredibly dull man." She yawned, reached for her designer handbag, and stormed off.

Jason remained seated, bewildered.

He toyed with the idea that perhaps all Anna needed was sex.

Yes, he surmised. A romp in her bed, or any bed, would do wonders for her self-centered attitude. He thought of suggesting it, but worried she might take his observation as an invitation. Besides, it was too late now. She was gone, just like Beth, and once again, he was all alone.

He debated leaving the café, favoring a run along the beach that was beckoning from across the heavily trafficked road, and he might, but right now, he had a score to settle.

Seated on a bench opposite the swanky row of cafés and boutique-style shops catering to Miami's elite crowd and tourists, his eyes glazed over a woman oblivious to all that Miami Beach offered. She was engrossed in her tablet, typing away at lightning speed, and while she took no pictures, she reminded him of a reporter. He worried she might be a paparazzi on assignment to capture his whereabouts. If only to reveal his personal life to the public once again.

The blazing sun shifted behind a cloud, allowing him full access to assess the young woman. He challenged the idea of walking over and introducing himself, as he had always enjoyed the element of surprise. Still deciding against it, he ordered another coffee from a passing waiter.

"Hey!" A passerby said, tapping his shoulder.

Alarmed, he lowered his Armani sunglasses and glanced at the middle-aged woman. She looked stern and stood beside an equally mature male, whom he assumed was her husband.

"Excuse me?" He asked, surprised by her straightforward rudeness. "Do I know you?"

The brazen tourist scoffed at his embarrassment.

"No! I was curious if you are Jason Carter from the pop group Heaven?" She paused, squinting against the bright sunlight. "I told my brother, Barry, it was you, but he doesn't know much about pop stars. He's a heavy rock fan and thinks boy band members are all gay."

Aha! Jason grinned. So, the poor bastard is your brother and not your husband. God bless him. He's a better man than I for putting up with your rudeness. He may not appreciate pop music, but I bet he's happy having two steel balls hanging between his legs

Bollocks to that, Jason thought.

The brother may need to grow bigger balls to bitch-slap your unruly buttocks the next time you utter a rude comment.

Jason glanced at the chubby male, whose fire engine red face expressed a forgive her demeanor, and pitied the chap's association with the uncouth female. "I'm sorry, but I'm not him," he lied. "Though I will admit it happens all the time. I have lots of people asking me the same question. Perhaps I'm his long-lost twin or long-distance family member and a poorer relative, at that." He added, reaching for a fresh cup of coffee.

"Well, you look identical to him."

"But I'm not him."

"No need to get your knickers in a twist. We'll continue our dander."

"What?"

"Are you referencing the word dander?"

"Yes! What does that mean?"

"It's in the dictionary. Look it up. You prick." She snapped, grabbing her brother's arm and marching off.

Aggravated, he silently cursed the rude fan before turning to watch a volleyball tournament on the beach.

Moments later, the restaurant's owner, Carlos Garcia, stopped at his table and offered condolences.

Jason liked Carlos.

The Cuban man. He was a former refugee who had sailed the high seas, arriving in Miami on a boat overflowing with his compatriots.

He also admired the Cubans' decision to follow the law, embrace the lifestyle, and earn an honest living.

It may have taken Carlos seventeen years to raise the funding to open his own restaurant, but he did it, and his achievement was commendable.

Jason respected Carlos. He was a good person and an excellent storyteller who delighted his patrons with exquisite stories from days gone by. As he focused on the Cuban's tale, he listened intently as the stocky Latino explained the story behind Oliver's Café and grinned.

Carlos' vivid description amused him, as most Miami businesses had Spanish names, and he chuckled heartily. However, undeterred by his outburst of giggles, Carlos described his boisterous cat's story and admitted to naming his restaurant after his favorite feline.

Some minutes later, Jason calmed down and apologized to Carlos for laughing. He rose from his seat and held his hand to signal a truce. Both men shook and continued with small talk until Carlos spotted a lone man, obviously upset by his lack of attention, and quickly excused himself to aid the unhappy customer.

Jason was thankful their conversation had ended.

He was tired of hearing people's pleasantries, and the understanding looks they gave him. Nobody understood the pain he was going through, and nobody could… unless they, too, had experienced the sudden loss of a loved one.

It was lonely now, on the beach, in March, when all the snowbirds had left, and only tourists roamed the city streets.

He wanted the autumn and spring seasons that followed it, when the chilly air would cool his feverish brow, and America's wealthiest and most respectable seasonal transplants from New York, Connecticut, and Rhode Island would relish in the warm sunny days. As it seemed he always had, he wanted one more month with Beth.

Jason perspired under the blazing sun. He considered moving to a table in the shade where a ceiling fan blew, but decided against it after seeing a bunch of thirsty patrons prowling the outside tables. With that in mind, he removed his light jacket and stayed seated.

He drank more coffee, nodded at curious patrons, and strummed his restless fingers atop a napkin. Through his mind, he envisioned images of a deep blue ocean, his wife Beth swimming in the water, and himself diving in, pretending to rescue her from an imaginary shark. Of Heaven, the band that catapulted his name and face to superstardom, whose members, like he, were barely legal. Only their fame-hungry manager was greedy enough to pimp out the band's five boy members to the highest bidder; in return for talent and good behavior, they made millions. Still, Heaven's manager, Paul Creek, made five times as much. His insatiable appetite bounced from one band member's skull to another until he collected all his dues.