Micalea Smeltzer's Blog, page 4

Cover Reveal

Release Date: March 25th

Preorder Wide: Coming Soon

Amazon: Live release

Cover Design: Emily Wittig Designs 

Dandelion Meadows is cursed.

Horrible name.

Horrible luck.

At eighteen she should be headed off to college, all smiles and naivety.

Instead, a victim of a school shooting, she’s starting her senior year in a new city and living with her brother.

Nightmares of that terrible day haunt her, affecting her daily life and the relationships around her.

Forced to meet with the school counselor, Dani finds him chipping away at the walls she’s built around herself, and even her heart.

Lachlan Taylor doesn’t know what to make at first of the broken student he’s tasked with helping. She’s survived a trauma he’s not sure he can save her from, but he knows he has to try.

The more time they spend together, the more they learn about what it really means to live. 

Some things are forbidden.

Some things are necessary for survival.

Their love is both. 

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48745819-sweet-dandelion

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EXCERPT

(unedited and subject to change)

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and reaches out, placing a hand on my waist. His touch is gentle as he tugs me closer until I stand between the halo of his arms. With his other hand he cups the right side of my cheek. “Why do you feel like a dream?”

“A dream? I’m more like a nightmare.”

He tosses his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with laughter. 

When he stops, his teeth dig into his bottom lip while his eyes bore into me. He looks like he wants to say something, but holds the words inside. 

Tell me, Lachlan, I silently beg. Give me all your thoughts, your words, your fears, dreams and ambitions. Give it all to me. I’ll cherish it, I promise.

He swallows and instead takes my hand, tugging me into the living room. 

Zeppelin lifts his mighty head, watching us from the floor as Lachlan sinks onto the couch and pulls me down with him, fitting my small frame between his legs so I collapse on top of him with my front to his. The dog settles back down, clearly used to my presence now.

I cross my hands on his chest and rest my chin on them. Blinking up at him I wait for him to do or say something. He stares right back at me. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. 

Do I look as broken as I feel most of the time? Does he see the hopelessness beginning to fade from my eyes? Is it plastered all over my face how fucking enamored I am with him? 

“You know,” he begins, clearing his throat, “when I figured you’d show up yesterday, I told myself to tell you that you had to go back home, that you couldn’t be here with me. But then, I opened the door and saw you. All those words … they no longer existed. When it comes to you, I’m incapable of common sense. I don’t understand it, but I think … I think I’m tired of fighting. I think about you when I shouldn’t, I have dreams of you that are immoral, I worry about you, I wonder what you’re thinking, and more than anything I want to make everything better for you and I’m so fucking torn up inside because I’m terrified I never can.” 

He rubs his thumb over my cheek. I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it. 

“You already are.”

His blue eyes lighten at the same time he smiles—and that smile?

It’s like a brand across my heart, a fiery piercing feeling as he signs his name across it in ownership. 

He doesn’t even realize it, but it belongs to him.

The post Cover Reveal appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

My Favorite Books of 2019

I thought it would be a fun wrap up to make a post about my favorite books I read this year. It doesn’t mean it released this year, just that I read it. I’m narrowing it down to 10 but I’m also linking to my pinterest board I use to pin ALL my favorite books I’ve read for a particular year.

The Wall of Winnipeg and Me / Mariana Zapata Underneath the Sycamore Tree / B. Celeste The Kiss Thief / L.J. ShenLook The Part / Jewel E. AnnMarriage For One / Ella MaiseFrom Lukov With Love / Mariana Zapata War / Laura Thalassa Ghosted / J.M. DarhowerTwist / Lucia FrancoThe Hating Game / Sally Thorne

Take a look at all of my faves I read this year on Pinterest.

The post My Favorite Books of 2019 appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

Sweet Dandelion First Chapter Reveal

First off, thank you guys SO much for the excitement I’ve received already. This book is new and fresh for me, out of my comfort zone, and words cannot express how in love with it I am. I keep saying this, because it’s true, that I’m not just writing this book–I’m living it, and that right there makes it so incredibly special. Sweet Dandelion might be a “student/teacher” romance but it’s much more than that and I hope even if you think this trope isn’t for you you’ll give it a chance.

The following excerpt is unedited and subject to change prior to release.

Dandelion Meadows is
cursed.

Horrible name.

Horrible luck.

At eighteen she should be
headed off to college, all smiles and naivety.

Instead, a victim of a
school shooting, she’s starting her senior year in a new city and living with
her brother.

Nightmares of that terrible
day haunt her, affecting her daily life and the relationships around her.

Forced to meet with the
school counselor, Dani finds him chipping away at the walls she’s built around
herself, and even her heart.

Lachlan Taylor doesn’t know
what to make at first of the broken student he’s tasked with helping. She’s
survived a trauma he’s not sure he can save her from, but he knows he has to
try.

The more time they spend
together, the more they learn about what it really means to live.

Some things are forbidden.

Some things are necessary
for survival.

Their love is both.

Prologue

“My sweet,
Dandelion. May you always be as free as the birds, as wild as the flowers, and
untamed as the sea.”

I close my
eyes, feeling my mother’s fingers glide through the strands of my hair.

It’s a
familiar sensation.

“I love
you,” she whispers, pressing her lips gently to my forehead.

Her tears
fall onto my skin.

I love you too.

Shots ring
out again.

A thump.

And then
nothing.

Chapter One

I pick at
the chipped yellow nail polish left on the edge of my fingernail.

I can’t
even remember when I painted them. There’s barely any left.

Across
from me there’s one window in the room. It should open easy enough, and if not
I can throw the chair against it, hopefully shattering it quickly.

There’s a
door at my back, but the window … that’s where I would escape.

“Are you
listening?” My brother’s tone is nothing if not exasperated with me.

I feel bad
for him.

He’s only
twenty-five.

And now
he’s my guardian.

“S-Sorry,”
I stutter, forcing my eyes away from the window.

Clearing
his throat, the principal leans forward. “This is your schedule.” He slides the
paper to me and I rub my finger against the smooth surface. He’s an older man,
his face lined with wrinkles but the kind like he’s laughed and smiled a lot.
His hair is speckled heavily with gray, but with the underlying hint of brown
still there. He laces his fingers together, laying them on the wooden table in
front of him. The gesture disturbs the perfect straight line a stack of folders
was in. I itch to perfect it once more. “We’re aware of your situation, so
we’ve made provisions for you to spend your fifty minute daily period with our
school counselor, Mr. Taylor.”

I look at
the wall, at the thick-framed college diploma, the icky dull colored painted
vase of flowers. What a dull room to have to work in. I would lose my mind.

“Dani,” my
brother prompts, desperation in his tone. “Is that okay with you?”

It’s not,
but in the last nine months I’ve learned to do what makes everyone else feel
better. I don’t think anything can heal me, but if it’ll make Sage happy I’ll
do it. Even if all the therapists and counselors I spoke to in the hospital
didn’t help at all. They tried, but they didn’t know how to get through to me,
while I didn’t know how to tell them I didn’t think it was possible.

I nod,
resting my elbow on the arm of the chair.

“That’s
fine.” My voice is soft, deeper than it used to be. There’s something missing
from it and I haven’t been able to figure out what it is.

Perhaps
it’s innocence. 

The
principal, Mr. Gordon according to the plaque sitting dangerously close to the
edge of his desk, starts going over more things but I’m not listening.

It’s not
that I mean to ignore him, but I find myself retreating more and more into my
head. It feels safer here, but it’s not. It’s not safe anywhere. My brain is
full of terrible memories. The world is full of terrible people who do horrible
things, every single day.

Principal
Gordon finishes his speech and holds out a stack of papers to me.

I don’t
lift my hand to take them.

Sage grabs
them instead, shaking the principal’s hand. He stands and I follow suit.

“We hope
you’ll enjoy your time here at Aspen Lake High.”

I don’t
respond. I don’t even force myself to give a tiny smile. Frankly, I don’t have
the energy to.

Out in the
empty hall Sage shuffles through the papers, reading them over. His light brown
hair is longer than normal. He hasn’t had time to get it cut because of me.

I’ve often
wondered what he thought when he got the call I was in the hospital and our mom
was dead.

She died
protecting me and other students, doing what she could to save lives. She was a
teacher and in her final moments she went above and beyond what a teacher is
supposed to do.

We lost
our father when we were young to pancreatic cancer. I don’t remember him much,
but Sage is older than me so I’m sure he does.

In less
than eighteen years four has become two.

I don’t
know what I’d do if I lost Sage too.

“Looks
like your locker is this way.”

“I
probably won’t use it.” I toe the dirtied white edge of my red pair of Converse
against the tile floor.

His exhale
echoes through the hall. “Do you want to see where your classes are?”

“I can
figure it out on Monday.”

His hazel
eyes are tired when they meet mine—nearly the color of his, though mine are
more green and his more gold.

“Dani, I’m
trying here.”

I know he
is. He’s trying so hard. The problem is I hate him trying so much when I know
he has a life.

He moved
to Salt Lake City, Utah for college, stayed for a job and a girl. The girl
didn’t work out, but he says he likes the job. I don’t believe him, not when he
comes home looking weary and older than his years. We grew up in Portland,
Oregon and I had plans to stay there, until someone else with a gun decided my
fate for me.

Now I’m
the girl who survived a school shooting. Who walks with a limp. Who barely
speaks.

“I know
you are, but you’re missing work.” I barely give breath to the words, my eyes
reluctantly meeting his.

He
softens, grasping a piece of my long light brown hair and giving it a playful
tug. I used to get mad at him for pulling on my hair when we were little, but
now I relish in the familiar gesture.

“I’m right
where I want to be. Come on.”

As much as
I want to protest, I know he’s trying.

My fingers
twist in the bottom of my shirt as I follow Sage. He looks intently at the
schedule, then the map, before heading off in whatever direction he thinks we
need to go like some bloodhound.

I think
this helps him feel in control.

While I
was in the hospital there wasn’t much he could do to help me other than to
encourage me not to give up.

God, I
wanted to.

I often
got angry, wondering why God took my mother but not me. Why did I have to
endure the pain of getting shot and nearly being paralyzed?

I wasn’t
sure I’d ever walk again.

The
doctors, too, were doubtful.

But Sage …
he was determined to see me walk again.

But
running?

I think
running is out of the question for me.

Once upon
a time it had been my life. I thought I’d go to college with a scholarship. But
things change and now I walk with a limp. I try not to let it bother me, after
all I’m very lucky to be on my own two feet, but sometimes I feel like a bird
with a broken wing, destined to never fly again and it hurts all over again.

It takes
the better part of an hour for Sage to locate every classroom and point out the
quickest routes there.

Back at
our starting area at the front of the school next to the administration
section, Sage clears his throat. “Do you remember where everything is?”

I don’t.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

And I will
be.

I always
am.

Fine
seems to be my permanent state of being anymore. I’m growing quite comfortable
with its dullness.

Sage blows
out a breath, rubbing his fingers over the golden stubble on his jaw. His brown
locks have always had that caramel-golden tint and his facial hair matches. My
brown hair on the other hand has always been lighter, a little duller compared
to his.

“I want
this to go well for you.” His voice lowers, shoulders drooping. “You … God,
Dani … you’ve been through so much.” His hazel eyes glisten with unshed tears.
My big brother has had to keep his shit together for so long, to be the rock to
protect me against the storm, and the wear of it is beginning to show.

I take a
step forward, wrapping my arms around his middle. “We both have.”

I might’ve
had to heal physically, but we both had to deal with the grief of losing our
mother and in such a tragic way.

He hugs me
back, his arms warm and strong. I don’t think he’ll ever know how grateful I am
for him coming to my aid. He stayed with me in the hospital, able to work
remotely so he could be there, before I healed enough to come to Salt Lake
City.

“You
could’ve died, Dani.” His gruff whisper tears at my heart, especially when my
thoughts spear through me.

Sometimes I still wish I had.

Add to Goodreads

The post Sweet Dandelion First Chapter Reveal appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

Title/Blurb Reveal

Dandelion Meadows is
cursed.

Horrible name.

Horrible luck.

At eighteen she should be
headed off to college, all smiles and naivety.

Instead, a victim of a
school shooting, she’s starting her senior year in a new city and living with
her brother.

Nightmares of that terrible
day haunt her, affecting her daily life and the relationships around her.

Forced to meet with the
school counselor, Dani finds him chipping away at the walls she’s built around
herself, and even her heart.

Lachlan Taylor doesn’t know
what to make at first of the broken student he’s tasked with helping. She’s
survived a trauma he’s not sure he can save her from, but he knows he has to
try.

The more time they spend
together, the more they learn about what it really means to live.

Some things are forbidden.

Some things are necessary
for survival.

Their love is both.

Add on Goodreads

Sign up for the cover reveal

Release date: March 25th

The post Title/Blurb Reveal appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

Home For Christmas (A Willow Creek Novella) Cover Reveal!

I’m so excited to bring you the cover for Home For Christmas today. This is a Willow Creek Christmas novella.

Spotted:

Everyone’s favorite band, Willow Creek, was seen boarding a private jet early this morning. It looks like they’re headed home for the holidays. Any guesses on what the world’s biggest rock stars are going to be up to? Stay tuned, we’ll be bringing you updates.

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48962957-home-for-christmas

Release date: Coming December

A little about the novella. It takes place a year after Take A Chance ended and it also includes all 4 main POVs. Meaning you hear from Emma, Remy, Sadie, and Arden. You’ll get to spend time with each couple, which is so fun–nobody’s favorite is left out!

I hope you guys are excited for this!

The post Home For Christmas (A Willow Creek Novella) Cover Reveal! appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

Updates!

Hey, guys! Like always, I’m severely lacking in updating here on my blog which is a total bummer. I always say I’ll get better and then I fail.

Desperately Seeking Landlord Chapter One

Chapter One

Miranda

The
picture comes to life before my eyes with each stroke of my paintbrush. In the
past, I haven’t taken commissions because I don’t like to be paid to create someone
else’s vision, but recently I changed my mind so I could make more money to put
back and save. With my senior year of college a month away from starting, it’s
crunch time. Real life is staring me in the face. Soon, I’ll be clamoring for a
position as an art teacher, while a pile of student loan debt gets dumped in my
lap.

Fun times.

The snowy
owl stares back at me, my tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.
Feathers are a bitch to paint. It’s a good thing I like a challenge.

A loud
knock at the door makes me jump. Normally I have my headphones on, but they
broke, and I haven’t had a chance to grab new ones.

I lay down
my palette and brush, wiping my hands on a towel before I make my way to the
door.

The
knocking starts up again and I roll my eyes. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Calm your
tits.”

Swinging
open the door I stop in surprise. The last thing I expect to see on the other
side is this man. I haven’t seen him
in months, eight months to be exact, and my first instinct is to slam the door
in his face.

As it flies
closed, he reaches out like a ninja and captures the edge in his hand,
preventing me from closing it.

“Go away.”
My eyes narrow and my lip snarls. Everything about me screams aggressive.

“No can
do, doll.” Jamie grins back at me, ever the cocky asshole. You’d think for
being thirty-four years old he’d have more maturity. But no, not James Miller.
He’s a dick through and through.

“Why are you
here?” I blurt as it suddenly
connects in my head that Jamie is here,
at my apartment building, in front of my door, nearly a year after we stopped
hooking up.

Having sex
with my best friend’s landlord probably wasn’t my brightest idea, but we both
wanted a casual hook up. That’s all it was, and it should’ve ended amicably,
but there’s nothing amicable about
Jamie. He has a great cock and knows what to do with it, but that’s about all
he has going for him. It’s not like he’s sexy as sin or anything.

He totally is.

All the
trash that leaves his mouth should have been enough to keep me away, but I’ve
never been that smart.

It still
doesn’t explain why he’s here after his asshole move the last time I saw him.
He’d been ignoring me, which was fine, he’s not my boyfriend—but what set me
off was running into him at the bar, our
bar we always went to, to find him snaking his hand up some woman’s skirt. He
made sure I saw too and when I marched up to him, to demand an apology or I
don’t know what, the dick face laughed and told me I was an easy lay and he was
looking for more of a challenge.  

He stares
at me, those hazel eyes of his doing things to me they shouldn’t. His lips
quirk into the cockiest of half-smiles and then he says something I’m not
prepared for.

“Not happy
to see your new landlord?”

Unable to
control my reaction, my arm coils back and my fist slams into his perfect nose.
It’s what I should’ve done in the bar months ago. Guess I’m making up for lost
time.

He
stumbles back in surprise, his hands coming up to cover his nose.

His
shocked eyes flicker to mine. “You hit me!”

“Why do
you sound so surprised?” I fire back indignantly. “You’re an asshole and
deserve much worse. I could’ve dick-punched you.”

He wipes a
tiny trickle of blood. It’s not much, but I smile anyway because I still made
him bleed.

He narrows
his eyes and wiggles his nose. “You like my cock too much for that.”

I roll my
eyes at his outrageous comment. Yeah, Jamie’s great in bed but it’s not like
he’s the only fish in the sea.

But he might be the best you’ve ever had.

I tell my
brain to shut up.

“Are you
going to let me in?” He arches one brow and I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms
over my chest.

His eyes
zero in on my breasts, pushed up against my t-shirt and I snap my fingers.
“Eyes up here, asshole. And no, why would I ask you inside?”

“Because
I’m your landlord, you punched me, and I need to clean myself up.” He waves a
finger at his face where blood is smeared under his nose.

“You’re not my landlord. You’re Lou’s landlord,”
I remind him unnecessarily.

His
shit-eating grin spreads. “Oh, doll, I’m yours now too.”

Color
drains from my face. “B-But Howard?”
I stammer, thinking of my sweet-faced elderly landlord I’ve had for the last
two years. He owns several apartments in this complex for the specific purpose
of renting them to college kids. He even brings cookies when he comes to
collect the rent or check on things, like he’s trying to soften the blow or
something. Am I never going to have Howard’s cookies ever again? Okay, I didn’t
know cookies could sound dirty but now I’m questioning everything. Wait… “He’s not dead is he?”

Jamie
shakes his head, taking a step closer to me. Everything in me tells me to step
back, but if I do he’ll have easy access to my apartment—and possibly my vagina
since I have no self-control when it comes to him.

“He’s not
dead.” He pulls his full bottom lip between his teeth and lets it go. “But he
was looking to sell and I was looking to buy.” He shrugs like it’s
oh-so-simple.

“So … now
you’re my landlord.” It’s slowly beginning to sink in that Jamie, is in fact,
my landlord. Which means…

“Oh my
God, I punched my landlord!” I cover my mouth, trying to hide my horror.

He grins
wickedly and looks me up and down. It’s not a slimy look, just pure seduction,
and dammit if I don’t tingle all over from it. “Guess you owe me a favor then.”

I don’t
know whether to be scared or giddy about what a favor might entail.

“Now, can
I come in?” He arches one brown brow at me.

I step
aside. Jamie walks in and immediately heads for the sink. He rolls off a paper
towel, dampens it and holds it to his nose before he turns around to face me.

Standing
at the edge of the kitchen, trying to keep distance between us, I cross my arms
over my chest once more. It’s feeble protection. I don’t think even middle age
armor would be enough coverage. It’s not my heart I need to protect either,
it’s my body, because Jamie brings out my inner hoe and she loves to say hello
when he’s around.

He tosses
the paper towel in my trashcan and stalks closer. He’s tall, but lean, with
enough muscle that I know he takes care of himself but not too much that he
looks like a juiced up meathead.

His eyes
narrow and my breath catches as he leans closer. I hold my breath, convinced
he’s going to kiss me. I war with whether or not I want him to or if I should
punch him again.

Neither
comes to fruition.

“Is that cum in your hair?” His tone is almost
angry—no, it is angry, which makes no
sense at all.

That was not what I was expecting.

“What?” I
blurt, jumping away from him. “Are you crazy? No.”

“Are you
sure I didn’t interrupt a sex fest?”

My jaw
drops. “Are you kidding me? I said no—and
even if you did, it’s none of your business. I really don’t know why you’re
even here. I’m sure the news of your ownership could’ve been shared via email,
or maybe, I don’t know, through the mail.”

“I wanted
to tell you personally.” He tries to hide a smirk.

“Oh.” I
place the back of my hand to my forehead and pretend to swoon. “Don’t I just
feel so special, that the James
Miller, came to tell little ole me personally.”

He
suppresses a laugh at my dramatic and fake southern accent.

“What’s in
your hair then?”

“Seriously,
bud? We’re back to this?” He gives me a look that says he isn’t going to drop
the subject until I answer. “It shouldn’t make any difference to you, but it’s paint.”

“Paint?”

I nod my
head down the hall and he follows me. I sweep my arm into the spare room and he
pokes his head inside to see the canvas resting on the easel.

Turning to
face him with my hands on my hips, he reluctantly looks at me.

“Now, tell
me Jamie, how would it be any of your business if I was having sex when you
arrived? I haven’t seen you or heard from you in eight months.”

“It’s
not.” He makes it sound so simple, like he doesn’t actually care, but he can’t
erase the relief in his eyes. It doesn’t make any sense to me, but men are
confusing creatures. They can never just say what they think or feel. It’s all
a big secret.

Maybe that’s why Jamie’s dick is so big. It’s full
of secrets.

We stand
there awkwardly in the hall, and I try to ignore the fact that my bedroom is at
his back. We’ve spent a hell of a lot of time there in the past.

I wait for
him to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Well,” I
step aside, “now that you’ve informed me you’re my…” I pause, choking on the
word, “landlord, you can go.”

He stares
down at me, his blue button-down shirt taut across his chest. It’s been way too
long since I’ve gotten laid. I might be pissed at Jamie, but my lady bits
didn’t get the memo.

I try to
ignore how seriously he stares at me. It’s strange. Our relationship was
completely physical. We barely spoke, but now he’s looking at me like he has a
lot to say and it’s … baffling.

Finally,
he tips his head. “Later, doll.”

He brushes
past me, his arm grazing my breasts, and my treacherous nipples tighten in
response at the memory of what he’s done to my body.

He looks back one last time, smirking when his
eyes zero in on my chest. Before I can tell him to look elsewhere he swings the
door open and is gone.

Amazon: http://hyperurl.co/k1mjqt

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46033172-desperately-seeking-landlord

The post Desperately Seeking Landlord Chapter One appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

Whatever Happens Chapters 1-3

Chapter One

Stepping
out of the massive SUV, my worn purple Vans touch down on the crumbling asphalt
outside my new home.

The new
house, unlike the road in front, isn’t falling apart.

It’s a
pristine, newly renovated, modern looking farmhouse.

It looks
too sparkly and lifeless to me. It’s beautiful, sure, but it’s not my home.

My home is
miles and miles away in the rearview mirror.

My parents
wanted to escape the memories. I wanted to drown in them.

Now, we’d
moved all the way from Texas to a small town not far from Cambridge,
Massachusetts. The bank my dad worked for as the head of IT paid for the move,
and the massive moving truck rolled to a stop behind the Escalade.

“What do
you think?” The passenger door closes softly and my mom steps up beside me,
sizing up the house. Her voice is soft, not filled with any sort of joy at all,
mostly just a tone of resignation.

“It’s a
house,” I answer resolutely, exhaling a small sigh.

A house is
four walls encapsulating emptiness. A home is the people, the laughter, the
memories. This home doesn’t have any of that. It’s merely a shell.

“It’s a
house,” she echoes.

My dad
joins us at my other side. None of us speak to the notable absence between us.

It’s been
three months, nearly four, since my little sister took her own life. The
tragedy still dangles over the three of us like the guillotine I learned about
in my history and French classes.

We barely
speak of her nonexistence, all grieving in our own ways and unable to talk
about it. I’ve tried, but my dad shuts down and my mom bursts into tears at the
mention of Luna.

“Should we
check it out?” Dad cocks his head to the side, his hands on his hips. His dark
blue pants and white button down are loose on his normally broad frame. He’s
lost weight since my sister died. “What do you say, Vi?” He forces a smile, but
it’s not like the wide one he used to sport.

“Lead the
way.” I plaster on a smile as well.

All of us
are puppets right now. We don’t know how to function without Luna. She was the
light, life, the stars itself. She shined brighter than anyone I knew.

Before
following my parents up the driveway, I open the car door and grab the small
travel cage holding my beloved pet ferret. I get him out, cradling him in my
arms.

“Well,
Will Ferret, welcome to our new home.”

He looks
back at me with his small black eyes and I swear he even cocks his head to the
side like he knows what I’m saying.

“Vi, hurry
up.” Dad waves from the steps of the front porch and I hurry to catch up.

When I
join them he swings the front door open, revealing a foyer with vaulted
ceilings, an L-shaped staircase, and dark wood floors spanning from the foyer
to the rest of the house.

Tilting my
head back, I take in the chandelier above. It’s black, wrought iron maybe, and
reminds me of something you might see in a Spanish style home.

I follow
my parents from room to room as they point out each and every one, talking
about where they plan to put pieces of furniture from our old house.

It’s all
so normal, but not.

We
wouldn’t even be here if Luna was still alive.

Will
wiggles in my arms and I let him down. He thinks he’s a dog and runs around the
house most of the time when I’m home anyway.

Dad steps
up to the row of windows overlooking the backyard and a field beyond. His hands
are on his hips and he lets out a heavy breath. My heart clenches, because I
know he’s thinking of Luna. We all always are.

I stop
beside him, and he tilts his chin down to me before wrapping an arm around my
shoulders. “What do you think, kiddo? Think you’ll like it here?”

I miss
home, this place is a stranger to me, but suddenly I understand why my parents
were so adamant about this. Maybe it’s exactly what we all need. A fresh start.

I smile at
him. “I think it’ll be perfect, Dad.”

He wraps
me in a hug and I bury my face against his chest, inhaling the scent of our
laundry detergent.

I never
want to let go, because I’m afraid if I do my feet might never touch the earth
again.

Chapter Two

Hours
later all the furniture is in the house and boxes are strewn about.

Sitting at
the top of the stairs I can hear my parents arguing in the kitchen about some
vase my mom is freaking out didn’t get packed, while my dad insists he
personally packed it himself and it’s just been mislabeled or placed in the
wrong room.

My parents
have never fought often, and they were always open with Luna and I when they
did. They wanted us to know marriage isn’t easy and you’re not always going to
agree, but you do have to love each other enough to get through it.

I hope
they can love each other enough to get through this. I lost a sister, but they
lost a child. Come next year, I’ll be gone too. College looms over me like a
heavy cloud. I used to be excited to start that chapter of my life, but not
anymore. It seems so trivial when living is so important.

Standing
up, I turn around and head down the hall to my room. The walls are white, but I
don’t mind. Soon enough they’ll be covered in posters and photos.

My bed
sits against the back wall and the window to the left overlooks the backyard
and has a portion of roof I can open the window and climb out on to sit. I’m
thankful for that. My room back home had it, and I always liked sitting out
there looking at the stars. When my emotions get too big I like to look at the
stars, the universe, and be reminded of how small we really are.

Will
Ferret’s large playhouse sits on the floor for the time being.

My dresser
is across from the bed with a mirror above and my desk is tucked into the
corner. The table Will Ferret’s cage goes on is stationed between the doors to
my closet and bathroom.

A gray
fluffy rug is rolled up in the corner of the room with ample boxes scattered
around.

“Well,
Will, I better get started on this.” Or
else I’ll be sleeping on a bare mattress.

I grab the
box cutter I brought up with me an hour ago when I intended to start unpacking
my room, but things got overwhelming and I had to take a breather.

Starting
with the box labeled BEDDING I unpack my sheets and quilt. Another box contains
my pillows. Once I have everything I need, I make my bed and already the room
looks more like an actual bedroom.

Will
watches me from the floor and I wish I could lift his cage myself up onto the
table, but it’s large and awkward, which means I’ll need my dad’s help.

 After my bed’s made and looks halfway decent I
start on the boxes containing my clothes. It takes a good two hours to get all
of my clothes put into the closet and stuffed in my dresser.

I slide
one of the dresser drawers closed and as it clatters into place my mom calls
out my name. “Violet! Pizza is here!”

I didn’t
even know they’d ordered pizza, but my stomach comes to life, growling like a
little gremlin lives there.

“Be good,
Will.” His black little eyes follow me as I leave the room.

My feet
pound down the steps and I ignore the fact there isn’t an echoing of them
behind me.

In the
bright modern kitchen—white cabinets and white granite—I find two boxes of
pizza on the bar top. Three barstools are already fixed in front.

Three, not four. My heart seizes in my chest and tears prick the back of my eyes. I
cried every day after she died. Everything reminded me of Luna. Now, I’m
better, but the strangest things will cause the pain to come flooding back.

I force
myself to look away and realize they’ve almost completely unpacked the kitchen
items. There are only two boxes left, with what looks like a million already
taken down and stacked in the corner for recycling.

“Pizza,
Vi.” My mom breezes by me, shaking me from my thoughts. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Y-Yeah.”
My hands shake as I tuck a piece of long brown hair behind my ear. Grabbing a
plate stacked on the counter, I swipe two slices of pepperoni pizza and join my
parents at the kitchen table to the right. It’s surrounded by two walls of
windows overlooking the backyard and the neighbor’s house.

“Getting
anything done?” Mom asks me, sprinkling red pepper flakes onto her pizza. Her
hair is the same shade as mine. We actually look a lot alike. I have her pouty
mouth and small nose, but my eyes are all my dad from their shape to icy blue
color. With my dad’s dark hair and olive skin his eyes really pop. I, however,
inherited my mom’s pale skin.

“Yeah, my
clothes are unpacked and I made my bed. It’s basically just books and odds and
ends left.”

“That’s
good.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners with a smile.  I nod along, not knowing what to say.
Thankfully, for me, she carries on the conversation. “Do you think you’ll try
out for the cheer team here?”

I’ve been
a cheerleader since seventh grade and before that I was in gymnastics from the
time I was three. I always loved tumbling and flipping.

“No.” The
one word leaves me in adamant refusal.

Her eyes
widen in surprise. “No? Why? This is your senior year. Surely, you want to do
it your final year of high school. It seems a shame to give it all up.”

“I don’t
want to,” I bite out, my words cutting.

Her brows
furrow and she opens her mouth to argue, but my dad clears his throat.

“I think
it’s fine you don’t want to do it this year. Focus on your grades and college.”
He gives my mom a significant look to drop it and when his eyes connect with
mine I know he understands there’s more to it than me not wanting to do it.

“School
starts in three weeks, what do you think you’ll do between now and then?”

I pick
apart the crust of my first slice of pizza. “I don’t know. Explore the town.
Maybe get a job.”

“A job?”
Her eyebrows raise.

“Yeah, I
can save for a car.”

“Honey, we
told you we’d get you a car for graduation.”

“I think
if you want a job, that’s a great idea. As long as it doesn’t interfere with
school.”

I flash my
dad a grateful smile for once again saving me. “It’s just an idea. I might not
have time. Maybe I’ll join a club at school or something.”

A wrinkle
forms in Mom’s forehead. “A job? Club? But not cheerleading like you’ve done
for years. I don’t under—”

“The pizza
was great.” I stand up with my plate. “I’m going to try to finish unpacking my
room before I go to bed.”

“Violet—”

I hear my
dad whisper something to her as I dump the remains of my dinner in a trash bag
lying on the floor, full of miscellaneous crap from the move.

Escaping
upstairs I close the door to my room. It’s seven in the evening but since it’s
summer, the sun hasn’t even set yet.

Sitting
down, I start on another box. I go through the photos in it, sighing as I look
at pictures of me with girls I called my friends for years. Friends who I
haven’t heard from all summer. It’s not like I couldn’t have reached out, but
it sucks when people don’t know how to deal with your loss. I needed my friends
to be there for me, to get me out of the house and remind me life goes on, but
they didn’t. People are terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing when
you’re grieving, when all you really want is to just have someone be there for
you.

I debate
on throwing the photos away, but decide against it and toss the photos in a
desk drawer, piling more items on top.

I do stick
other Polaroid’s and photos on my walls. Photos of my parents, Luna, vacation
beach trips, and even a funny one of Will and I when I was holding him in the
air and he sneezed on me. My face is priceless. I touch the tips of my fingers
to one of my favorite pictures. It’s Luna and I when we’re little, dressed in
Disney Princess costumes—I’m Ariel and she’s Aurora—and our faces are lit with
happiness. The photo was taken at the exact moment my parents told us we were
going to Disney World. Luna’s small fists are clasped under her chin, her eyes
alight with happiness, and the binky that was in her mouth is forever suspended
in mid-air.

Tears burn
my eyes and I dam them back.

I’m not
sure I can ever forgive myself for not seeing the pain and sadness in my
sister’s eyes in those final months leading up to her suicide. Luna and I were
always close, but that year we’d drifted apart. We still spoke and hung out
some, but not like we used to. I was too focused on my friends, boys, parties,
and cheer.

Now she’s
gone and I can’t rewind time to make it right.

I close my
eyes, remembering her last text message to me.

It’s not your fault.

I’d been
confused when I received the text message, wondering what wasn’t my fault.

I got my
answer when I arrived home an hour later to an ambulance, my mom wailing as my
dad held her, and a body bag being wheeled out of the house.

Chapter Three

Sleep
evades me as I toss and turn in my bed, thinking if I find just the right spot
sleep will magically take me.

Picking up
my phone the time flashes back at me.

It’s
barely three in the morning and I’ve slept maybe five minutes.

I shove
the blankets off and tiptoe over to the window. The windows are brand new and
don’t make a sound as I unlock and raise one so I can step out onto the roof.

I sit
down, drawing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

Tilting my
head back I take in the night sky above.

Stars wink
back at me and I look until I find the brightest one in the heavens.

Luna,
I think to myself. Ever since she passed I make a point to find the brightest
star every chance I can, because she shined more than anyone I know and it
makes me feel closer to her.

“I failed
you, Moon.” It was my nickname for my little sister.

I failed
her, but I also failed myself. I became obsessed with popularity and being with
the in crowd. So much so that I forgot what’s really important.

I’ll never
make that mistake again.

I hear a
noise and look down, searching.

I spot
movement on the neighbor’s patio and look down to see a dark head bent over a
large telescope, one that looks like something a professional would use. 

I watch
the person, curious what it is that draws them to the stars like me.

As if
sensing me, the person looks up and my lips part as the boy finds me. Floppy
brown hair tumbles over his forehead and black-rimmed glasses slip down his
nose. When his eyes find mine in the dark they quickly dart away.

He looks
to be my age, but since it’s dark I can’t be quite sure.

He focuses
on the telescope, but his shoulders are tight now, not relaxed like before.
After a moment, he shakes his head, and without looking my way again he heads
into his house.

With one
last look at the sky, I decide I should do the same. I slip inside, closing and
locking the window.

When I
turn, I look out the window beside my bed and a light blinks on in the house
next door as the boy enters his room.

Even
though my room is dark, it’s like he can sense me as he looks through the
window. His gaze drops and he reaches for the blinds, rolling them down.

My mouth
downturns, wondering what his problem is, but I have other things to worry
about than my new un-named neighbor.

Knowing I
won’t be getting any sleep tonight, I sneak from my room and get a head start
on more unpacking.

At least
it’s something my parents won’t have to do come morning.

***

“You did
all this?”

I jolt
upright from the spot I passed out, on the floor of the family room.

“Y-Yeah,”
I stutter, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The sun has completely risen and I smell
coffee coming from the kitchen. My mom stands at the entrance to the room with
her robe wrapped around her slender body. Her eyes shift around the room,
taking in the décor items added to the built in shelves, her beloved fake
plants I tell her only gathers dust, among other odds and ends. This isn’t the
only room that saw my touch during the early hours. I’m surprisingly productive
when I’m running on adrenaline.

“Did you
sleep?” Her eyes narrow on me and I know she doesn’t need me to answer. “You
need to rest, Vi.”

“I’m fine,
Mom.” I stand up from the floor, placing my palms on the couch to give me
leverage. “Can I have some of that coffee?”

She tosses
her arm over her shoulder. “Go to bed.”

“It’s
morning,” I argue.

She
pinches the bridge of her nose. “You have to sleep.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

“I’ll
sleep when I’m dead.”

She
flinches and my mouth parts in horror, realizing what I’ve said. In my
tiredness my ill-placed joke slipped out of my mouth.

“Mom, I
didn’t mean—”

She holds
up a hand, her silent command for me to shut up. She walks away without a word
and I know I’ve hurt her. It was unintentional but that doesn’t fix the
mistake.

Wringing
my worn pajama shirt in my hands I bite my lip in an effort to hold back tears.
I can’t do anything right anymore.

As quietly
as I can, I slip upstairs to my bedroom and then the attached bath. I get into
the shower, not even marveling over the shiny pearlescent looking tiles. When I
finish I blow-dry my hair hastily, braiding it sloppily down my right shoulder.
Dressing in a simple pair of jean shorts and a striped tank top I grab my
purse, sliding it across my body before slipping my feet into a pair of
flip-flops.

“Where are
you going?” My dad questions as I pass him in the hall on the way to the
stairs.

“Thought
I’d go explore.”

He tilts
his head. “I thought I could make my world famous French toast for breakfast. I
have a few days before I start work. I wanted to make the most of it.”

“Thanks,
Dad. I’ll have some when I get back.”

His face
falls and he reaches for my arm when I start to walk away. I pause, my eyes
reluctantly meeting his.

“I love
you, you know that, right?”

“Of
course, Dad. I love you, too.”

His lips
are downturned and his light hold on my arm doesn’t lessen. A war rages in his
eyes and finally he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

I flinch
and he lets me go, hastily turning away but not before I see the pain on his
face.

The pain
we all keep hiding, pushing down into the deepest pits of our souls, until one
day it’s bound to turn into a black hole and swallow all of us alive.

I reach
the bottom of the stairs and feel like I’m suffocating.

“I’ll be
back in an hour,” I yell out, and don’t wait for a response as I make a break
for the garage. Inside I find my yellow bike with wicker basket tucked beside
the wall amid boxes. I fish it out and one of the boxes falls. I hear a crash,
but I don’t stop to see what’s broken.

Pressing
the button on the garage door I make my escape.

I wanted
to leave anyway, but now I have to.

Hopping on
my bike I pedal as fast as I can away from the house and neighborhood of cookie
cutter perfect homes.

It doesn’t matter how many feet, and eventually miles, I put behind me. I can’t escape what I’m running from, because it’s the memories and they live inside me.

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The post Whatever Happens Chapters 1-3 appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

Whatever Happens Cover Reveal

Violet Page is having a rough time. This former
popular girl is lost. Her parents uproot everything after her younger sister’s
suicide, moving states away to escape the lingering pain of loss. She doesn’t
fit in anywhere, but finds herself strangely drawn to the boy she watches view
the world through a telescope.

Finnley Crawford isn’t your typical boy next
door. Being autistic has always set him apart from kids his age. None of them
quite knows how to approach him or interact, leaving him only one friend in the
form of his support dog. His lack of friendships lead him to a unique love of
space and aspirations of one day reaching the stars. For in the stars, he sees
a peace and beauty he can’t find on Earth.

The more time these two seemingly opposite teenagers
spend together, the more they learn it isn’t what’s on the outside that counts.
So much can be found on the inside if you only care to look.

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The post Whatever Happens Cover Reveal appeared first on Author Micalea Smeltzer.

Post Kidney Transplant Life

I haven’t spoken a whole lot since transplant on the topic. I’ve been focused on trying to get my life back on track and regain control when it felt like I had lost it all.

This post is going to deal with mostly the emotional aspect I was not expecting after transplant, but I’ll also speak about other things for anyone getting a transplant or going through the process.

Initially after transplant I was at the hospital every week for checks. It didn’t bother me, because I had a kidney and that was the most exciting thing ever and having to drive two hours each way felt like nothing in comparison to my health. But it DOES take a toll. After a major surgery like that you’re tired, you’re sore, you’re healing. Honestly, I didn’t experience too much pain. (My surgery was on a Saturday and I literally went home Monday)

Shortly after surgery (only a few weeks) things started looking funny in my blood work and my doctors started speaking about possible rejection. (I had a living donor, perfect match, so these weren’t words I was expecting to hear at all) They assured me they didn’t believe it was rejection, but something to do with my medicine, but being told something like that is upsetting. I’ll probably make a more detailed post on this later on, but long story short, I was admitted, had a biopsy, got pumped full of steroids, and then got the all clear that the kidney was fine and my body was sensitive to one of the immune suppressants and I needed a lower dose.

In this time (transplant was August 2018, so less than a year ago as of me writing this) I’ve done blood work every week, and now every other week.

My energy levels post transplant are nothing like I’ve ever had before. I understand now how my lethargy I had for years and years was cause by my (unknown) kidney failure. I remember being so hard on myself, thinking I was lazy, or it was just because I was overweight. Little did I know both were caused by what was happening inside my body.

Now, I want to focus on what this post was originally about. The emotional impact of transplant I wasn’t prepared for. Through my diagnosis and dialysis I stayed very strong, maybe too strong, and was determined to get to the point of transplant. When I got down I pushed those thoughts and feelings away. My mantra to myself became, “I can’t let it beat me.” Those words entered my head all day every day. Dialysis was exhausting. My body hurt. My bones hurt. I was weak. Tired. But I kept pushing through. “Get to the other side. The other side will be better,” I told myself repeatedly. And God, is it. Nothing compares to having this kidney. I’ve NEVER been this healthy in my entire life. My aunt saved my life with her selfless decision to be my donor. I can’t stress enough how thankful I am every day to have this kidney. To breathe without feeling like my body weighs 500 pounds. To go up and down the stairs without getting winded. To be able to think clearly again. (Good riddance brain fog. Fuck you.)

For the first 5-6 months post transplant I was happy, on cloud 9, and felt like I could conquer the world.

What I didn’t expect was the … I’m going to label it depression, but I don’t feel like it was quite to that point. But I became sad, angry, resentful. My body failed me. If it had just worked I wouldn’t have needed this transplant. My aunt wouldn’t have had to do this for me.

The trauma of everything I’d endured came crashing down on me as I finally began to cope with all that had happened since my diagnosis. Procedure after procedure. Infection. Allergic reactions. (I fucking hate tape now and don’t come near me with it, haha) Thing after thing I had brushed aside at the time, only focused on transplant, suddenly came crashing down on me. Holy hell, it’s been a lot to process. Things I suppressed in my memory was suddenly at the forefront of my mind. I began crying. A lot. And anyone who knows me knows I’m not a big crier. (Unless an animal dies in a book or movie. Then pass the tissues, m’kay.) And when I say cry, I don’t mean I teared up. No, I’m talking like sobbing, can’t breathe, face drenched in tears. It was ugly, lol. Like total Kim K ugly cry face. I felt like I was losing my mind.

Now, before you all jump in my comments or DM’s telling me I need to talk to someone, I AM considering seeing a therapist, but I also brought this up to my doctor. It’s not something I’ve kept to myself. I was told this was perfectly normal, especially at the time it hit me because 6 months post is when you hit your peak of health post transplant, and your hormones are coming back because they’ve been knocked out by the disease and dialysis. I also want to add here, I’m doing much better now. I still have my moments, but I’m not crying all the time, or constantly feeling like I NEED to cry. So, progress.

But this was something I was completely unprepared for. I thought, “Oh, I have a kidney now, life is going to be great.” But I think we always seem to underestimate trauma. At least I do. I was scared to say anything at first about my thoughts, because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, or speak about my fears.

One of the things I’ve struggled with fear-wise is complete and utter panic about the future. It’s drilled into your head that a transplant is not a cure, just another treatment. On dialysis, getting to the other side meant transplant? The other side of this looks like hell. Thank God, I’ve been having less of those thoughts lately. But I think that was aggravated at the time with so many people being like, “Oh you have a transplant now, you’re good for life.” And then having to be like, “No, Karen, that’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.” Explaining it to people, and watching their faces pale and turn from delight to pity, sucks. But I’m not going to be like, “Oh yeah, I’m set for life.” That’s not the reality, and the general population is clueless when it comes to transplant. (Side eyes Hollywood with their idealistic portrayals)

The other fear has been, “Who’s going to want me? I’m damaged goods.” I’m single and I feel like no guy out there is going to want to sign up for something like this. My life will never be normal. I’m always going to have to have check ups. Blood work. And one day, most likely, I’m going to need another transplant. I am doing everything in my power to prolong the life of this kidney. I take my medicine religiously (I’m psychotic about it, to be honest), I’ve been exercising, and eating healthy. But even with all of that, I can’t control my future. Realistically, I know somewhere out there, is a man who will love me for me, scars and all, disease and all, unknown future and all, but sometimes it’s hard to quiet fear. That being said, I’m glad I wasn’t in a relationship going through this. While I had a great support system in family and friends, I had to rely on ME the most. It helped me grow as a person, become more confident, and see things in a new light. I’m not sure that would’ve happened otherwise. I had to be my rock, my pillar, my strength, not someone else.

If anyone out there is going through these same thoughts and feelings after transplant, please know you’re not alone, and it’s normal. It doesn’t matter what kind of transplant it is, it’s an extremely emotional and traumatic thing. It’s not something most people experience or even have any knowledge of. It’s okay to be sad about it. To get angry. I’ve learned through this that as much as you might suppress those feelings, they demand to be felt and they WILL get their way. Ride the wave, don’t let it crush you.

I’m definitely doing SO much better now than I was a few months ago. I’m feeling pretty happy again, I’m excited about life, about the future. I want to go on adventures and try new things. I want to cherish time with my family and friends. Life’s precious and too damn fragile. My eyes have been opened and I’m learning to appreciate every moment and be PRESENT. When I’m with my friends and family now I rarely look at my phone, where before I would be trying to stay ahead of work stuff, I’m more engaging and not hiding in shadows, I’m living.

I’m hoping to be able to do some fun, short, day trips this summer and get out there. Maybe my next update post will be talking about my adventures.