Whiskey Lullabye (Southern Heartbeats, Vol. 2)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Whiskey Lullaby-Playlist

  Excerpt from Just a Dream (Southern Heartbeats, Vol. 3)

  Excerpt from Dead and Buried (A Funerals and Obituaries Mystery)

  About the Author

  Also By Jennifer Rebecca

  Acknowledgements

  Whiskey Lullabye

  Southern Heartbeats Vol. 2

  Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Rebecca

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover and Interior Design by Uplifting Designs

  Editing by Vicki Luftig Pierce

  DEDICATION

  To mom and dad,

  Thank you for raising Josh and me, for loving us, and for showing us that family is far more than blood and biology, but love and heart and kindness. You are the standard for marriage and family by which I steady myself.

  Always and forever,

  To the moon and back,

  Jenny

  And also for S, who continues to live life with kindness and an open heart. And who so bravely found love, not once but twice. I am blessed to call you my friend.

  UCAFLIAS

  TFJ

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear reader,

  I know you might be surprised to find out that Whiskey Lullabye has a different tone than Stand did, but in my heart, I knew that whiskey could only be told this way. It wouldn’t have felt right to me to have Aliza bounce back so quickly from such a tragic loss.

  I can promise that other installments in this series will be lighter. But to me, this is life. Reality is not always silly or sad but a mixture of everything and that was always my goal for the Southern Heartbeats series. After all, life is silly, happy, sad--beautifully tragic and wonderful all at the same time.

  Thank you for sticking with me on this journey, I am forever grateful.

  XOXO,

  Jen

  PROLOGUE

  Aliza

  May

  The warm, late spring sun is shining through the window when I wake up softly this morning. Sam is pressed up behind me. Close enough, I can tell he’s feeling playful. His left hand is at my breast and I feel his morning beard across my cheek as he leans down to kiss the side of my neck, just under my ear. I hear the soft smile in Sam’s morning scratchy voice as he says, “Morning, baby,” I love quiet moments like this.

  “Good morning, handsome,” I give back as Sam’s hand trails over my belly. Softer than it was when we first met when I was young and in college, but it did carry his two babies, so he loves it, and moves down to greener pastures. I rock into him. Not once in the last fifteen years, have I gotten tired of him. Sam grabs my long, dark blonde ponytail tipping my head back so he can thoroughly kiss me. I love his kisses. The soft sweet ones, the teasing ones, and the ones like this that get down to business. I moan into his mouth and Sam meets it with a growl of his own.

  Things are just starting to get good when I hear two little voices chanting down the hallway, “Let’s go Blazers. Let’s go Blazers. Let’s Goooooo!!!! The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. We don’t need no water let the mother effer burn!!!!” Sam’s forehead is pressed down on my shoulder and his arms are wrapped tight around my belly. So tight, I can feel him shaking with laughter.

  “Sam!” I screech when the shock of my precious angels chanting an inappropriate song from the 80’s. I know exactly where they got it, that rat! I reach over to swat the stinker with a pillow from my side of the bed, but he’s already moving. Throwing his shorts on the floor as he struts to the shower. Letting me see exactly what I will be missing today and I will be missing it. Damn, my man is good looking.

  “What?!” Sam says on the run. “Soccer waits for no one!!!” he’s laughing as he runs into the shower.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, my girls are pounding pancakes and bacon with tall glasses of orange juice. Fueling up for the big game. Six and under soccer is no joke. Sam walks in and I feel my breath catch in my throat. These are the moments I live for. My kids doing normal everyday things, the sexiest man I know, who after all this time, still looks at me like he won the lottery.

  I catch Sam’s secret smile as he walks over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. I catch a kiss on the cheek as he passes.

  “I’m sure going to miss you guys today,” I say and it’s true. I never miss a game, but my best girlfriend from college is coming in today and I need to get to the market and prep dinner, put clean linens on the guest bed, and pick up any wayward toys that have made their way back out of the girls’ rooms. Really, the things I need to do without a five and a three year old under foot.

  “Don’t even worry about it,” Sam reassures me. “We’ll be fine today, right girls?” who throw their fists in the air with a “Heck, yeah!” Sam’s influence and personality are all over those two. Sometimes, I think I was just the oven that baked the cake. “Plus, it’ll be totally worth it at supper time when I get to dive into your famous pot roast and green beans,” He says while patting his stomach which is just as flat as it was at twenty one when I got my first glimpse of him.

  “All right girls, you about done?” I ask them. “You don’t want to be late for the big game,” I smile at the three most important people in the world to me. This moment, like so many others, is why I breathe, why I wake up in the morning.

  Sam gives me one more, soft kiss and the girls each hug me fiercely on their way out the door. Those three are going to have such a fun day.

  I shut the door behind them and go back to the kitchen to clean up my mess from breakfast. I love to cook and I am not the cleanest cook either, but my family loves it. And is there really anything better than cooking for the people you love? Nope, I didn’t think so. At least not to me.

  After I have put the last of the dishes away, I clean up the girls’ toys and pajamas they’ve left all over in their wake for soccer glory. I make the beds and wipe down the bathroom counters. I throw on jeans and my favorite slouchy sweater. I have just enough time to run to the market and get home before Hannah gets here when there is a knock at the door. I ru
n down the stairs with a smile on my face. Sam is amazing, but he’s a mess sometimes. Always forgetting something.

  “What did you guys forget this time?” I shout as I throw open the door. But it’s not Sam I see standing there. It’s his best friend, Holt, and by the devastated look on his face, I know why. Everything changes in a moment.

  CHAPTER 1

  Holt

  It’s late Saturday morning, early afternoon, about eleven o’clock and I’m just reaching for the jar of salsa and bag of chips out of the cupboards in the kitchen of my small house, when my phone rings. It’s almost tipoff time and it was for sure in my prayers last night, if God sees fit, to let Kentucky beat Ohio State. Amen.

  “Stone,” my answer clipped. It’s my off day and I am about to enjoy some down time. I think Sam and I finally got Cody to pull his head out of his ass. Now, if only I could get Katy on the right track, life will be complete. In my head, I can’t help but still call her the nickname that my brother, Will, always called her. To me, she will always be his girl.

  “We have a situation, Sheriff,” one of my deputies informs me.

  “Talk to me, Deputy.”

  “We have a multi-fatality on I-45,” he tells me.

  “Do I have to remind you of the protocols, Deputy?” I bark. Seriously, do I have to hold everyone’s hand this week? “Call DPS and get them on the scene.”

  “It’s Sam Wilson,” he whispers over the line.

  “Say again,” I demand.

  “It’s Sam Wilson and his daughters. They were hit by a drunk driver,” he tells me as my world zeros in on one small point. Blood is roaring in my ears. My heart is hammering away.

  “Survivors.”

  “Just the drunk, Sir,” he says solemnly.

  “I’m on my way,” I end the call.

  I stand up and walk into my bedroom. Into my closet. I grab a pair of socks and my favorite running shoes. I was already wearing my favorite pair of worn out jeans with the tears in the knees and a gray Kentucky t-shirt that’s been so washed, you can barely read the words on it.

  I finish lacing up my sneakers when grief overtakes me and the shock has worn off. I barely make it to the bathroom when I toss my breakfast of oatmeal and coffee into the toilet. I have never been sick at the scene of a wreck before, but the thought of Sam and the girls that way has me emptying the contents of my stomach.

  I rinse my mouth out with cool water from the tap and then splash some on my face. I brace myself against the counter and take a deep breath before willing myself to walk out of the bathroom. I grab my favorite USMC sweatshirt and throw the hoodie over my head. I clip my badge to my belt and remember how big Sam’s smile was the day I won the election. I grab my side arm in its holster and hook it to my hip before shoving my cellphone in my pocket and palming the keys to my department SUV.

  The drive from my house to the accident site is short in distance but feels like it took years. The thoughts swirling in my head are not ones I should be left alone with. I can’t help but go back to when we all served together. Sam, and my brother, Will, and I. The things we made it through unscathed, only to have a drunk driver take him out. My thoughts jump back to the day my brother died. Cut down in some sandy shit hole halfway around the world. Now, it’s just me. I’m the last one standing.

  I see the flashing red and blue lights up ahead and my stomach drops. This is real. This is happening. When I pull up on the scene the wreckage is unreal. There is nothing left of Sam’s SUV, which is mostly wrapped around a tree off the side of the highway and pieces of the vehicle glitter around in deadly sparkles. I drop to my knees when I see the yellow tarps peeking through what’s left of the windows of the vehicle. My deputies and the DPS officers stand guard over me and my friend. Giving me this moment to lose my shit. To grieve.

  “We’re going to give them the utmost respect as we move them, Sheriff,” the DPS area Captain tells me as he grips my shoulder tightly. All I can do is nod my head.

  When he walks back to the vehicle, I wipe my eyes and slowly stand up. The first time in my thirty six years, my body creaks and groans. As the weight of this crushes down on me, I can’t help but think of Aliza and how this will devastate her.

  I watch as the fire truck pulls up and Hunter, the Captain, leads his men to cut our mutual friend’s body from the wreck. I see Charlie, a local judge we work closely with and her constable Ben, both look over at me with pained faces and I know she made the death call. Poor Charlie. This has to be hard on her after all she’s been through.

  My stomach drops. I take a step forward but my feet feel like lead. I see a yellow tarp sticking out of the wreckage here and there. Another tiny lump under another tarp a few feet away at the base of a tree. No! I want to scream out. Another heavy step forward takes me closer. I don’t want to go, but I have to. I have to see.

  “You don’t have to do this, Holt,” Charlie says. She and Ben are just to my right. If I reached out, I could touch either of them. Shit. I’m losing my touch. Ben was fucking Navy. There’s no way he should of gotten the drop on me. My head isn’t in the game.

  “She’s right,” Ben says. “I’ve already identified them. Charlie already pronounced them,” he finishes softly.

  “I have to,” I choke out.

  “Okay,” Charlie says as she grips my arm. Ben just offers a swift nod.

  I walk over to the SUV and peer in through the shattered windows. The girls aren’t there. Sam’s body is through the windshield, his upper body resting against the hood. I lift up the tarp and his sightless eyes look back. Acid burns in my belly. I walk over to the tree and lift the tarp to see Sarah’s broken body lying still in the dirt. I look around and can’t see Harper, Sam and Aliza’s youngest, anywhere.

  “Where’s Harper?” I shout. “We have to find her. Now, people. What are you waiting for?” I scream.

  Everyone just stands there, staring at me. No one knows what to say to me and I know then. They already know where Harper is. I look up and meet Hunter’s dark eyes. He gives me a short jerk of his head to tell me she’s gone. No joy. I turn and look over my shoulder and follow the eyes of those around me. Up and over. And she her tiny body limp in a tree. I look for one…two….three seconds, before I turn and lose my lunch. Again.

  I stand up and run my hand over my mouth. My eyes burn. But I ignore the sting. I won’t cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone. But later, when I’m alone. I will live this all over again.

  “Holt,” Hunter starts.

  “Get her down,” I say.

  “Sheriff,” He says again.

  “Just. Get. Her. The fuck. Down. You hear me?” I growl.

  “Yes, Sir,” he says. “You heard the Sheriff, get our girl down,” he shouts to his men who immediately start moving.

  “What happened here?” I ask. When no one answers, “Who the fuck did this?” I roar.

  “A thirty four year old woman, Josie Lang, has been taken to the hospital, she is under the supervision of Deputy Westover,” the state trooper tells me.

  “I want a full panel. BAC. Narcotics. I want the works,” I shout.

  “It’s already been ordered at the hospital and it being processed now.” He tells me. “We’re going to solve this.” He swears to me. Everyone in this area knows Sam and I are close friends.

  “It still won’t bring them back,” I say softly.

  “No, Sir, it will not,” he says just as softly.

  “Has anyone notified Aliza?” I ask the crowd.

  “We were waiting on you,” Charlie tells me.

  “We figured it should come from you,” Ben says. He gives me a knowing look and I wince knowing that a year ago, after a bad case and too much tequila I told him all my best kept secrets. I offer him a tight nod.

  “It should. I’ll go to her now,” I say. “Let’s keep a tight lid on this until their families have been officially notified,” I say as the coroner’s van pulls up.

  I walk back to my truck as a cold I have never felt bef
ore settles into my bones. I open the door and slide behind the wheel. Eyes forward, I head back towards town so I can irrevocably break the heart of the only girl I have ever loved. My best friend’s wife. Well, widow now.

  CHAPTER 2

  Aliza

  I scrub the kitchen of the flour and egg disaster that is my everyday breakfast routine. I swear, I’m a natural disaster in the kitchen. I have to run to the market and get a few extras for dinner before our visitor arrives. I run up the same stairs I have run up thousands of times and straighten up the girls rooms. I love them, but really, they’re tiny slobs. They are like your worst door room roommate horror stories. Old cups of milk under their beds, stinky, decaying soccer socks shoved in the backs of their closets instead of dumped in the hamper like I ask, and toys of all varieties around the floor.

  I head to the girls rooms and pick up the stray toys and make the beds. I smile as I pick up Harper’s stuffed bunny, Mrs. Floppy Ears. Sam was so mad when I bought that bunny. It was so expensive, but Harper, my baby can’t sleep without it. I place it gently on the bed.

  With the last of their disaster zones squirreled away, I hurry through my shower and throw on clothes while I throw back my morning coffee. Nothing gets done if I haven’t had my coffee. Today is a busy day.

  I soap up my dishwater blonde hair and rinse it out. My hair is getting too long, but I haven’t found time to get a trim yet. Between my work as a web designer, Sam and the girls, there just hasn’t been any free time. I like it a nice shoulder length, but Sam says he likes it when it hits my bra strap or longer. He says it reminds him of when we were younger. I said the hair might be longer, but it doesn’t hide the crows feet, smile lines, and twenty extra pounds I’ve been carrying since I carried Harper.

  I have just enough time to run upstairs and take a quick shower before I need to leave to run a few errands. Sam and the girls should be home soon, so I need to get a move on. I run upstairs and toss the clothes I pilfered from my beloved husband into the hamper and jump in the shower. I quickly soap up my body as my thoughts turn to my wayward husband’s naughty morning moves. He always makes me smile. And all this time and two kids later, he still wants me. A girl can’t ask for more than that.