Letting Go (Rock Romance #6)
Read Letting Go (Rock Romance #6) Online
Authors: A.L. Wood
@2014 A.L. Wood (Andrea Wood)
Published in 2014. All rights reserved. This book is copyright. Apart from the fair purpose of the study, research, or review as permitted by the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced without written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to the actual, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, and not intended by the author.
This book is licensed for your purposeful enjoyment only. This book 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, please return it and purchase your copy.
Thank you Tammy Lindey at Butterfly Dreams Proofing & Editing.
Written By
A.L. Wood
Contents
For you, the reader, I dedicate this book.
Chances are that if you’re reading this book, then you’ve most likely been on the journey with me. You started with First Chance, on to Last Chance, then Find Me. You’ve probably read Forever, Hold On and now Letting Go.
I chose the title Letting Go, because there wasn’t a title that could have fit this book, this series more.
I can tell you right now that Letting Go, will not end indefinitely, I’m not writing an epilogue three or even ten years in the future, I can’t do that. Because I don’t want to let go.
Steele’s Army began my career as a writer, I began my journey with them. No, they are not real people, only characters that live inside my head. However, they feel real. I can’t say goodbye to them. I can’t let go.
I couldn’t be more thankful to my subconscious that created these guys, or more grateful to have readers such as you.
January 25th will mark one year since First Chance was published, December 2nd is the day I decided to put pen to paper and chase my dreams.
One year of insanely huge support from blogs, readers and fellow authors. One year ago I couldn’t fathom having such a following as I do now.
I remember hitting that publish button on Amazon, my stomach nauseas, with 5 people at home behind me full of support and maybe 100 followers on Facebook. I was nerve-wracked. But I thought that is one person, just one read my book, I made it.
When the one turned into to twenty, then one hundred, then thousands, I was in shock.
That so many people would want to read something I wrote.
I was humbled and flattered, I was grateful and damn near terrified.
You’ve made my year. I couldn’t have asked for a better one in this career.
“I can only hope that as I open the next door, you’ll follow in behind me. “The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward.”
– Steve Maraboli
Blinded by the sun, I place my hand on my forehead blocking the bright rays shining into my eyes so I can see her, Rush, my sister. My parents were born in the early sixties, teens by the seventies and shared a passion for rock music, ironically meeting at a concert and falling in love.
As you can tell, so the story goes that when I was conceived many, many years later in the nineties that’s what my parents were still listening to. Embarrassingly so they once told me of how my name came to be Zeppelin, after Led Zeppelin. Stairway to heaven was playing in the background on the night I was most likely conceived, and Tom Sawyer on the night Rush was most likely conceived.
They weren’t creative, they could have chosen a band member to name us after, but no, they chose the entire band.
Rush is four years younger than I, at only eight. We’re on a family vacation in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Choosing to stay in bed a little longer my parents gave Rush and I permission to walk along the ocean, located behind our hotel. It’s not even noon and the humidity has hit its peak, and the ocean is packed with beach goers.
“Zepp, I want to go swimming.” Rush comes running up to me shouting with excitement.
“Mom said we couldn’t, remember that’s the only reason they let us come down. We have to wait until they’re with us.”
“Oh, come on don’t spoil all the fun, just a quick dip. It’s hot and I’m starting to sweat, I won’t tell I promise, pinky promise.” She holds her pinky out to mine and pouts.
She knows I’m a sucker for the pouty face. I’m the big brother, always protecting and spoiling.
“Fine, but only for a few minutes, that way we can dry before going back upstairs.”
“Yes!” She shouts while kicking her sandals off.
I find a place to throw my shirt on the sand where no one else will be walking over it, Rush adds her clothes too and soon we’re bathing in cold ocean water.
“We can’t go out that far, don’t let the water go past your knees Rush.”
What was supposed to be only a few minutes turns into longer, maybe an hour. We take turns running away from the wave’s right onto the sand of the beach, seeing who could outrun the waves the best.
Eventually she cons me into letting her bury me beneath the sand, we borrow another kid’s shovel and she starts to dig, I use my hands to help make a shallow hole, big enough for my body to be buried in.
“Okay, help me get out of here.”
“Nope. Get out of it yourself.” Rush walks away, close to the edge of the ocean allowing the water to pool at her feet. I yell to her, “Rush, help me out of this.” She turns toward me and laughs, the quickly runs away.
I try twisting my arms and kicking my feet in the sand that’s currently holding me hostage, and not wanting to budge. I squint my eyes and search for Rush, to no avail with the mass of people playing in the water I can’t find her.
A kid walks by me and I ask for help, as he digs me out the dirt becomes loose enough for me to move my limbs around and free myself. That’s when I hear it.
A loud and aching cry from a woman. “Help! Help! She’s drowning!”
I follow the voice, telling myself that there’s no way it could be Rush, she knows better, she knows not to go out that far, and that the ocean is dangerous and unrelenting.
I find the woman who is still screaming, she’s holding herself, crying in fear. Fear for the drowning victim. There’s three men trying to reach the victim in time, before the ocean claims another life, all I can see is hands smacking at the water with force, they disappear and then reappear as the waves roll. Until I don’t see the hands any longer.
And all I can think is it can’t be Rush.
The hands disappear for minutes, but one of the guys finds them and tows those small hands back to shore.
Its Rush.
I jump, awakened by my alarm,
thank God
. Tears are pooling at my eyes, I swipe the away before tossing my blanket off the bed. Sitting up I walk over to the bathroom and flick the light on, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness but when it does I stare at myself in the mirror.
I always wonder if others can see the pain hidden in the depths of me, if I’m easily read. This dream, a nightmare in reality, and in truth comes every year, right around this time. In the weeks, the days following the date of the event that really did take place.
The day Rush drowned, the day I couldn’t help her, the day I let her wander away from me. The day that crushed my parents, stole their dreams never to be found, the day I was in charge of my younger sister and I allowed her to swim in the ocean. All because of a pouty face and a pinky promise, something so juvenile even for me at age twelve.
Brown eyes scrunched up in sadness, pink lips puckered in a pout, a look she made all the time, holding me under her thumb, a look I’ll never see her express.
Rush didn’t die that day, no, she was saved, by a stranger that was later to become a hero in my eyes. I threw accountability on myself and him, even my parents for letting us go outside without them that day, I made us responsible for what happened to Rush.
Do you know what happens to people who lose oxygen for that amount of time? Cerebral Anoxia, that’s what doctors call it, decreased oxygen in the brain. It can be as little as three minutes and brain damage is imminent. Doctor’s predicted that oxygen was nonexistent for seven minutes.
Rush is alive, no longer the person she was or could have become. Without oxygen, brain cells die, and that’s what happened to Rush. She endured massive brain damage, she was in a coma for six weeks after that, four of which we stayed South Carolina, until it was safe enough for her to be flown by medical helicopter back home. When she finally awoke, two weeks after, she woke in a vegetative state. My hope for her survival dwindled, down to nothing, my parent’s eyes were full of regret, and anger toward me.
Nothing short of a miracle, she came out of the vegetative state a week later, but she wasn’t the same. When she woke, they ran MRI’s and CT scans to monitor her brain and its healing process, she sustained brain damage because of the incident. Rush has long-term memory loss, she had to learn how to speak again and walk, she had to learn how to do everything that an eight year old should know how to do, some things she couldn’t latch on to right away, she speaks slowly, and had trouble walking still. She’ll never be allowed to live on her own, she can’t care for herself, nor does she have the possibility of ever having her own independent life.
She lost everything, within minutes, she lost her future.
Today is the day, fourteen years ago, Rush’s future was ripped away, because of a decision I made. The nightmare always comes back, the reality of what happened and what I could’ve done to make the outcome not be what it is. Music is my escape from life. Escape from every situation I’ve had to deal with, escape from Rush herself, from my parents. Escaping the guilt that it wasn’t me who had drown.
