So, I've decided not to add an epilogue to this story because I love the way it ended. I think it brought a nice closure to the end of the Jessa and Will's story! Thank you for sticking around and reading it, it means the world to me!
This is my newest story which also happens to be the beginning of a series! I'm so excited to write it all! Below is the first chapter of A Thousand Reasons is down below so I hope you take the time to read it!
A few chapters have been or will be uploaded so go to my page and you'll find A Thousand Reasons! Or you could just look up the title! :)
Here's the description:
"He brought light into one of my darkest days once, and I couldn't even notice he had turned his lights off."
____
Sawyer Raines only wants to help the sweet, kind, and caring boy who had once helped her.
The problem is, Travis Shay isn't that same boy.
After trying to end his so called perfect life, Travis Shay finds himself at the end of his rope. What he didn't expect was to be saved by his best friend and on top of that, be saved again by a girl he barely knows.
With Sawyer's rough past full of different foster homes and repeatedly broken hearts, she somehow finds the strength inside her that was always there to save Travis.
Sawyer has to bring light back into Travis's darkness using one special trick - but will Travis allow her to? And will her world return to that same darkness?
This is the first book in the Lost & Found series.
ONE
"We don't have any other way to tell you this, Sawyer..."
They sat me down right after I finished getting ready for school. I clutch the throw pillow against my side as I sink further down into the couch.
I've heard it all before. I've seen that look; the one that says I hope you can forgive us someday... but we have send you back into the system.
But they would never say it like that.
"Okay" is always my response. I nod my head to everything they say and comply with their every word. Yes, I will keep my head up. Yes, I will forgive you eventually. Yes, I will remember that the right family is out there for me.
And then I push myself up, give them each a hug, and smile like I hadn't just had my heart crushed.
I head back the hallway to the room I've been living in for the past three months. It's the same room that I sat in and prayed to God that this would be my forever home; that I would never have to learn everything about another set of foster parents again.
I guess this wasn't the plan.
Once I get to school, I try to hold my head high as my classmates pass me. We're all still practically strangers except for the ones I've done group projects with.
It should be easier now. I should be used to this by now after being rejected at least five times in the last five years. I have a feeling that this will be my life. It's not going to get easier.
"Are you okay?" Someone asks me. I'm staring off into space and quickly bring myself back down to earth.
My face must be scrunched up in anger and frustration. I force myself to relax as I look up at him.
Travis Shay: Baseball player, popular (of course), and sweetest person you'll ever talk to.
My face heats up while I rack my brain for something to say. I shake my head and look down at my feet. What am I supposed to say? I know that isn't going to be good enough to get him to go away, though.
"Um, yeah. I'm good. Thanks." I don't care if my voice is monotone. I don't care anymore.
Travis smiles down at me. Why is he even talking to me?
"Are you sure?" He asks again, raising an eyebrow playfully. I can tell he's trying to make me smile, and any other time it would have worked, but not today.
"Yeah," I whisper. He shoves his hands into his pockets and nods his head.
"Okay... see you later, Sawyer."
I wait for him to pass by me before I turn around. Just his random act of kindness is making me crack inside. I can't do this anymore.
In a panic, I search for somewhere to escape to. The closest place is the janitor's closet, so that's where I go.
The doors shut behind me with a thud and leave me in complete darkness. I don't mind it much. There were so many things about this family that I loved; their huge extended family, their loving, young daughter that loved to have me read to her. What did I do so wrong? Why did no one want me?
I try to hold the tears back, but they come to quickly for me to even have time for that.
I'm sitting on the ground with my knees pulled tightly to my chest when the door slowly creaks open. I jump to my feet in fear that it's the janitor ready to kick me out.
Instead, a boy comes in quickly – too quickly for me to tell who it is – and all I hear is fumbling around until eventually a light above us is flicked on. I'm now face-to-face with Travis. I'm not sure what to say at first. I want to yell at him – I told him I was fine. He had no right to come after me, I just wanted to be alone.
Then I grew embarrassed... again. My tear-streaked face would for sure give me away now.
"You lied, Sawyer," he says to me. There's a bit of playfulness in his voice despite the look of concern on his face. "You said you were okay."
"What's it matter to you anyway?" I ask him quietly. I don't mean for it to sound so harsh, but it does. I sit back down in the spot I had been in and he does the same, taking a spot beside me.
"Is it so bad for someone to ask you if you're okay?" His voice is gentle, just like the look he's giving me. How could I not notice just how brown his eyes are?
I don't say anything to him.
"I didn't mean to barge in here like that. Or seem like I'm prying. Which, you know, I totally am. Sorry." Even with his apology, he doesn't get up to leave. We sit there in an almost-awkward silence.
"I'm sorry that I lied to you," I tell him. This is my thought process: he's not going to leave until he believes that I'm actually okay. So I need to play the part.
"It's okay, just don't do it again." He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes with a smirk on his face. I crack a smile and it isn't even forced. "Just kidding."
I purse my lips and lean my head back against the wall. I swipe at my cheeks a few more times nonchalantly.
"So, how'd you get the name Sawyer?" He asks. He's completely oblivious to the mere fact that he's asking me to talk about the most painful part of my past. I can feel the lump in my throat growing and my heartbeat picking up.
"Well," I start. "I guess my dad just really loved Tom Sawyer."
It's the truth; when I asked my mom about it when I was younger, she always said that it was Dad who picked it. He knew by the way that I kicked around inside of my mom's stomach that I'd be adventurous and strong-headed. So, why not name me after a figure that was just that? Thus the name Sawyer Elizabeth Raines was given to me. The more I think about it now, the more I can't help but think how wrong the name is for me. I am everything but adventurous and strong-headed.
"That's pretty cool actually. Sawyer. Tom's pretty cool." Travis laughs.
"Yeah," I reply quietly. I try not to get lost in my own memories.
"You know, it's not good to keep everything in. You might be hurting now, but there is always someone ready to listen." Why did I get the feeling that he was talking about someone greater than himself? Someone who may or may not even exist? Someone that Mom and Dad believed in so heavily?
"God?" I ask him, trying to hide my surprise.
Travis just smiles. "Don't you think so?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Honestly? I don't really know what to think anymore."
Travis stands and offers me his hand. I take it and he helps me up, but doesn't let go of my hand. He reaches up and pulls the string that is attached to the light above us. The light goes out and I feel him tugging me towards the door. Once we're in the hallway, I know it's time for us to split up.
"I hope that you figure things out, Sawyer." He lets go of my hand and it falls limply to my side. "I'll see you around."
"See you," I say as he's walking away.
three years later.
The news hits me faster than any type of sickness ever could. It's crazy how much it affects me, but it does. It makes my heart feel as if it could explode. I don't even have to ask questions about how or when or what. I just want to why. Why did he do it?
It was the first thing I heard when I walked through the doors of Ashland Valley High School. It seemed like it was echoing off the lockers, coming out of everyone's mouths, and the one thing on everyone's minds.
The talk in the hallway seems like screaming more than anything – even the whispers can be heard over the rain pounding on the roof of the school. I want more than anything to ignore it and pretend like something like this can't happen to this town.
Girls are leaning in close to gossip undoubtedly about the same things going through my mind. Opposite them, a group of guys don't bother to keep their voices down. They don't mind having the entire hallway eavesdropping on the same news I've heard since I walked in the front doors.
"He attempted suicide?" One girl asks another. She tries to make it quiet, but it doesn't work.
"Yeah," the other replies. "I heard it was because of his dad."
People are talking about their friend, their teammate, their classmate. Everyone knows him – pitcher on the baseball team, top of our class, and friend to everyone.
That's why hearing the words "Travis Shay" and "suicide" in the same sentence is like walking into a doctor's office and hearing "cancer" – completely shocking. I can't accept that one of the happiest people I know tried to end his own life; what does that mean for the rest of us?
I walk into French class and find my seat. I'm the only one in here for now because I didn't feel like listening to the gossip in the hallway anymore. Slowly, the rest of the class files in. The atmosphere is significantly different; even the people who weren't close to Travis look distraught.
Travis's seat is left empty by the window, staring me in the face like the blank first page of a five-page paper I need to write. Other kids look at it as if it's foreign. Especially Jonah Woods; a junior in a French class full of seniors, a full-time trouble maker, and the side-kick and best friend of Travis Shay himself. He bites down on his lip, avoiding all eye contact with anyone, and doesn't give the empty desk a glance as he sits down behind it.
He drops his backpack down beside him and rests his head on his arms. The rest of the class remains silent as we all settle in and wait for Miss Monreau. When she arrives at the front of the classroom, she stands silently with her hands twined together. She observes us all as we sit and look right back at her, waiting for her to give us some sort of explanation for the way we feel.
Miss Monreau gives us a small smile and turns to write something on the board. I glance around to see my classmates returning to their normal states of chitchat and blabbering to one another.
When I look back at the board, I see Miss Monreau has written how to deal with depression.
And I cringe inwardly.
*
When the bell rings, I take my time getting out of my seat. The plan formulated in my head the entire time Miss Monreau went on and on about making sure we shared our thoughts and feelings more often than we do.
I wait for Jonah to get up before I follow him out of the classroom.
He trudges up the hallway with his hood pulled over his head as if the whole world didn't matter anymore. I'm almost sure that he was sleeping during Miss Monreau's lecture. I try to move my shorter legs to keep up with him as he practically sprints down the hallway.
When he pulls off his hood due to a stare down from a teacher, his sandy blonde hair is disheveled and sticking up in different directions. He quickly flattens it out.
"Jonah," I say as I approach him. He sighs when he turns just enough to see it's me. His blue eyes seems to see straight through me, but still he turns his back to me. I shake my head and take a deep breath to build up my courage.
"Whatever you heard, it's probably not true." He breathes a sigh as if he's had to retell that same thing all day. He stops at his locker and quickly opens it, roughly and carelessly tossing his books inside which earns us a few stares from passing students.
"Actually, I-"
"Look, Sawyer," he says, turning to me before running a hand through his hair. "I'm not in the mood for this. Everyone needs to mind their own business." He slams his locker door shut and starts walking away from me. I stay right behind him, now feeling my patience slowly slipping away.
"All these stories," he goes on, not even sure if I'm still back here. "Why can't people just stop? You know, show some sympathy? Is that too much to ask?"
"Jonah!" I say loudly. He immediately shuts up and turns to look at me. I'm sure my face mirrors his – full of surprise. I didn't expect that out of myself. "I just want to know if he's okay."
Jonah gives me a skeptic look for a second, not answering me. This bad attitude doesn't surprise me. In the group projects we've been partnered up for in French class, he's proved to me that this is his normal attitude.
We are now stopped in the middle of the hallway with kids dodging us and rolling their eyes as they try to get to class. A few take their time going by so they can listen to our conversation.
I agree with Jonah, I wish they'd mind their own business.
"Why do you care?" He asks a little more quietly. I think he notices our listeners, too.
It's no secret that he can be intimidating. With his arms crossed over his chest and that mean look on his face, he makes me want to hide.
I avert my eyes from his. "Because I do. Is that any of your business?" He narrows his eyes at me.
"I've never seen you talk so much," Jonah says. "Especially with an attitude. Didn't know you had it in you."
I suck in a deep breath and stare at him, waiting for him to give me some type of information.
He finally sighs. "He's in the AV hospital if you want to go see him, okay? Go find out for yourself."
With that, he stalks off toward the exit doors and shoves through them like they don't weigh anything.
The thought of going to visit Travis in the hospital terrifies me. Are we close enough for that? The last time we had a real conversation was when we were 14 and 15 years old and he was attempting to comfort me in a janitor's closet.
How could I not see the signs? Why didn't I act like he did when I saw that he was having a bad day? I could have helped him – and so could his friends, his family. Why didn't we?
*
When I walk in, the house smells like cinnamon. It's perfect for the late September weather outside. I drop my bag off at the bottom of the stairs as I walk into the foyer. To my left is the living room where I find Eve standing on one of the dining room table chairs on her tiptoes, trying her best to dust the top shelf of a built-in wall shelf that takes up an entire wall. I watch for a second, wondering just how she's managing.
"How was school?" She suddenly asks and I look behind me. How did she know I was here? "I heard you come in, hun."
I smile to myself. "It was..." I think about everything that went on. All the things that I wished had never happened. "It was school." I shrug my shoulders when she looks at me over her own.
Eve is my 45-year-old adoptive mother, the only woman on this earth who has ever made me feel as loved as I do. Along with her salt-and-peppered-haired, aspiring comedian, and Jesus-loving husband, Richard, I can now say that I have the coolest parents ever.
They found me not long after my last family had dumped me when I was 14. I was a messy kid – emotionally and physically. I always wanted to tell them that they should just stop trying to tell me what to do. No matter they say to me, it isn't going to matter in a few months. It never did.
But within the first few months of living with them, I learned what true family was. And after six months, they adopted me as their own. The only thing keeping me from being their biological daughter was my blood – and my last name.
"That doesn't sound promising," Eve says as she climbs down off the kitchen chair. I cross my arms over my chest.
"There have been better days."
We walk into the kitchen where she's already got supper started. On the stove is a pan filled with potatoes, cheese, and cabbage mixed together. Rich always likes to remind us that it's his favorite, so we eat it often.
"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about-" Eve starts.
"Travis?" I finish for her. I take a seat at the barstool and get ready for this conversation.
"Yeah..." She says, defeated. "I'm sorry to hear this kind of stuff, especially if you were close to him. How are you feeling?"
"I don't really know," I answer honestly. "Travis was always so sweet and nice. You never would have guessed that he felt that way."
"That's how it is most of the time. I was thinking that we could go visit him. You're dad and I really do like his father, Brandon Shay? Maybe you've heard Rich talk about him before..."
She goes on and on about how great of a real estate agent Mr. Shay is, but I can only focus on the first thing she said. She wants to go visit him? Visit Travis – like, talk to him?
"Um, I have homework to do, so maybe another day?" I say, abruptly cutting her off as I gather my stuff and head to my room.
"Wait!" Eve says, stopping me in my tracks. "I have to work late tomorrow. How about we go tonight and I'll help with your homework when we get back?"
I try my best to hide my worry, but I don't think it's working. I quickly make up for it. "It's just a few math problems I can do before school. Let's go."