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Two years after her accident Lynn will Lynn find her happy ever after?

Erotica / Romance
5.0 27 reviews
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

This a follow up to The Storm. It is unedited.

It’s been two years, a hard two years, since my accident. I have a rod in my leg and had to learn to walk again. It took me three months and I was back at work, with a cane, but I was there.

At first I was angry, angry with the world. I didn’t understand why this happened to me. Is happiness something that I don’t deserve? Max recommended counseling so I went for while at first, it didn’t make me feel better. If anything, it made me feel worse, always talking about it but then it really started to help. I'm trying to get back to the person I was before but, I think this is the new me.
Nearly every night I dream of what my baby girl would be like, would she look like me? She'd be almost two, walking and talking. Some nights there's a man in my dreams as well, I can't really see his face but his voice sounds familiar and comforting.
My work family have been wonderful to me during all of this. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them. When my building manager was trying to evict me, they helped. Nic went over his head to the owner, it worked. She understood and moved me to a better building, plus gave me free rent for as long as I live there.
I’m closer to work and it’s a secure building, not that I had any issues with that before. I’m comfortable with the amount that I have in the bank.
“How are you doing?” Max walks up to me.
Forcing a smile, “I’m good,” though I’m really not. Today is two years. Two years since I lost my baby. Lost everything I loved.
I’ve gotten better, I still lock myself in the storage room and cry after I treat any baby girl.
“Why don’t you take few days off?”
“I’m off until Wednesday, I’ll be fine.”
“Go away for the five days, recharge,” hugs me and walks away.
It was a long night and I was thankful to be home and in my bed. After a nap, I’m up and showered, as much as I would like to spend the entire weekend in bed, I can’t.
I spent the rest of the morning at my daughters grave, Isabella Grace. The sun is out and we haven’t had any snow for a week, I decided to take a drive and clear my head. I end up at the same spot as always, where I crashed.
The bark has grown back on the trees, it makes me happy to know I didn’t kill them. I did enough damage. I walk down the steep embankment, looking around at how much worse it could’ve been. Another five yards and I would've went over the edge, the tree stopped me.
Once the sun starts to sink into the sky, I decide it’s time to go back home. I don’t though. I keep driving until I find a little hole in the wall diner that I never knew was here. I park and decide to get something to eat.
It’s small but quaint, a nice homey feeling about it. An elderly woman greets me, “take a seat honey, I’ll be right with you.”
Bringing me a cup of coffee, “you look like you could use this.”
“Thank you.”
“What will it be?” pulling out her pad of paper.
“Meatloaf sounds good,” glancing at the menu.
“Coming right up.”
She returns a short time later with a plate full of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. It looks good, more than I could eat.
Bringing me a container and slice of pie, “on the house honey.”
I paid my bill, tipped and made a mental note to go back, it was good food. Deciding to take Max’s advice I drove until I found a hotel and checked in. It was only a few hours away from but, still it was away.
Making a cup of coffee I stared out the window, deciding what I should do. A part of me wants to move away, get a fresh start and pretend this never happened. I can’t. I can’t leave my family. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I would’ve never woken up.
I feel like a failure as a person and a mother. I couldn’t keep my baby safe. If I hadn’t been so head strong, this would’ve never happened.
I still have four days off and am debating on whether or not I should go further away. I don’t think I could ever find a place where I would feel like me again. That head strong, social, outspoken person I was is gone. In her place is a timid, quiet shell of a woman.
“Breakfast?” the man working the buffet table asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’m fine with coffee, thanks.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. Our biscuits and gravy are pretty good.”
“Thank you,” smiling at him. It’s not a full smile though.
He walks away and I continue staring out the window, trying not to go down the hole again.
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