Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series Read online

  Saratoga Falls

  The Complete Love Story Series

  By Lindsey Pogue

  Books 1, 2, 3 & The Memory Book

  Saratoga Falls - The Complete Love Story Series

  Saratoga Falls Love Story Series

  By Lindsey Pogue

  Copyright © 2018 Lindsey Pogue

  All Rights Reserved

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author, except as used in book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events or incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to places or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Editing by Sarah Kolb-Williams

  Editing by Lauren McNerney

  Cover Design by Covers by Combs

  Written and Published by Lindsey Pogue

  101 W. American Canyon Road, Ste. 508-262

  American Canyon, CA 94503

  Contents

  Also By Lindsey Pogue

  1. Whatever It Takes

  Prologue

  Three years later

  1. Sam

  2. Sam

  3. Reilly

  4. Sam

  5. Sam

  6. Sam

  7. Reilly

  8. Sam

  9. Reilly

  10. Sam

  11. Reilly

  12. Sam

  13. Sam

  14. Reilly

  15. Sam

  16. Reilly

  17. Sam

  18. Reilly

  19. Reilly

  20. Reilly

  21. Sam

  22. Reilly

  23. Sam

  24. Sam

  25. Sam

  26. Reilly

  27. Sam

  28. Sam

  29. Reilly

  30. Sam

  31. Sam

  32. Reilly

  33. Sam

  34. Reilly

  35. Sam

  36. Sam

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  2. Nothing But Trouble

  Prologue

  Five Months Later

  1. Mac

  2. Colton

  3. Colton

  4. Mac

  5. Mac

  6. Mac

  7. Colton

  8. Mac

  9. Mac

  10. Mac

  11. Colton

  12. Mac

  13. Colton

  14. Mac

  15. Mac

  16. Mac

  17. Mac

  18. Mac

  19. Colton

  20. Mac

  21. Mac

  22. Mac

  23. Mac

  24. Colton

  25. Colton

  26. Mac

  27. Mac

  28. Mac

  29. Mac

  30. Colton

  31. Mac

  32. Mac

  33. Mac

  34. Colton

  35. Mac

  36. Colton

  37. Colton

  38. Mac

  39. Colton

  40. Mac

  41. Colton

  42. Mac

  43. Mac

  44. Colton

  45. Colton

  46. Mac

  47. Mac

  48. Colton

  49. Mac

  50. Colton

  51. Mac

  52. Mac

  53. Mac

  54. Colton

  55. Mac

  56. Colton

  57. Colton

  58. Mac

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  3. Told You So

  Prologue

  Four Months After New Year’s

  1. Bethany

  2. Nick

  3. Nick

  4. Nick

  5. Bethany’s Journal

  6. Bethany

  7. Bethany

  8. Nick

  9. Bethany

  10. Bethany’s Journal

  11. Bethany

  12. Nick

  13. Nick

  14. Nick

  15. Bethany’s Journal

  16. Nick

  17. Bethany

  18. Nick

  19. Bethany

  20. Bethany’s Journal

  21. Bethany

  22. Nick

  23. Bethany

  24. Nick

  25. Bethany

  26. Nick

  27. Bethany

  28. Nick

  29. Bethany

  30. Bethany’s Journal

  31. Nick

  32. Nick

  33. Nick

  34. Bethany

  35. Bethany

  36. Bethany’s Journal

  37. Nick

  38. Bethany

  39. Nick

  40. Bethany

  41. Nick

  42. Bethany

  43. Nick

  44. Bethany

  45. Nick

  46. Bethany

  47. Bethany

  48. Nick

  49. Bethany

  50. Bethany

  51. Nick

  52. Bethany

  53. Bethany’s Journal

  54. Bethany

  55. Nick

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  4. Memory Book Collection

  Author Introduction

  AUTUMN

  1. The Playground

  2. Birthday Surprise

  WINTER

  3. The Winter Formal

  SPRING

  4. Something More

  5. Kiss and Tell

  SUMMER

  6. Truth or Dare

  7. The Kissing Booth

  8. The Decision

  9. Friends Forever

  Also by By Lindsey Pogue

  A Sneak Peek at Forgotten Lands

  About The Author

  Also By Lindsey Pogue

  Saratoga Falls Love Stories

  Whatever It Takes

  Nothing But Trouble

  Told You So

  Forgotten Lands

  Dust and Shadow

  Borne of Sand and Scorn - Prequel Novella

  Wilt and Ruin (TBR)

  Borne of Earth and Ember (TBR)

  The Ending Series

  After The Ending

  Into The Fire

  Out Of The Ashes

  Before The Dawn

  The Ending Beginnings Omnibus

  The Ending Series: World Before

  For more information visit: www.lindseypogue.com

  Prologue

  Sam

  The drive is silent, the road wet, and the wind howls as the rusted F-150 accelerates up the mountain. I’ve driven up and down this road all my life, each bend and bump predictable and mostly unnoticed. But never has the drive been so long and damning as it is this night, with Papa silent in the driver’s seat.

  Mike had changed right before my eyes, turned into someone horrible and nasty. I still can’t believe his scathing words; it was like he was someone else entirely. My mind—my heart—screams at me as I remember his bitter laughter and taunting words: “This was never real, anyway.” But that’s not true, it can’t be true. He’s all I have.

  Had.

  Then Reilly’s face flashes to mind and something hardens inside me. I replay the words I’d overheard—the threatening tone of Reilly’s voice when Mike asked him when he’d become such an asshole. “When you decided to steal my girlfriend. End it.” Reilly’s reply still stings. If his intention was to hurt me the way I’d hurt him, he
succeeded—he’d ruined everything.

  I begin to shake. What now?

  My mind is clouded with disbelief. I’m too stunned to see life beyond the rain-streaked windshield. It all feels like a dream—a nightmare. But I know it’s real. Papa’s disappointment is earsplitting in his silence. I’m afraid to know what thoughts keep his jaw tightened and his hands clenched so tight around the steering wheel. I watch his knuckles whiten. I’m afraid of the meaningful void of what he doesn’t say.

  My late-night call wasn’t one Papa was expecting and definitely wasn’t one he’d soon forget. It’s not his anger that makes my gut sour and my eyes sting with tears; it’s his disappointment in me for lying. It’s thick and suffocating in the air around us, and each passing minute seems slower and more torturous than the last.

  I turn away from him and follow the steady stream of raindrops across my window. I wish I could disappear into nothingness, like they do. I wish I could forget this night, that I could go back and never allow Mike to answer the door.

  My cheeks burn, and I swipe the tears away before I lose myself headfirst into the black hole of my own creation.

  A broken heart is only half the problem. I force myself to grab hold of what scraps of self-respect I have left. Alison’s loving this. I know she is. And that turns my simmering resentment for her, for Mike, for Reilly, into white-hot rage that feels better than the pain.

  Straightening in the passenger’s seat, I try to focus on something other than the pregnant silence, the expectance I know hangs between Papa and me. I’m eighteen, I’m an adult. I don’t care if he’s disappointed. This is my life. These are all things that I know are bullshit, but I grasp onto them anyway. I stare out at the road as we drive around each curve, out at the darkness illuminated by the headlights, at the windshield wipers as they work frantically against the raindrops pelting the glass. I focus on anything and everything else until Papa lets out a deep breath.

  My eyes met his for a fraction of a second, but that’s all the invite he needs. “I thought we agreed Mike is bad news,” he says quietly, his voice nearly lost in the cacophony of rubber blades against the glass, the truck’s noisy engine, and the sound of my own snivels.

  Somehow, the hurt in his voice makes me feel worse than I already do. I glance sideways at him. He looks haggard, like he’s done nothing but worry about me since I woke him with my sobbing telephone call.

  Guilt mixed with anger makes it difficult to manage an explanation. “I know,” I whisper.

  The wind worsens outside the truck the further into the mountain we drive, shaking with each gust. But Papa’s lost in concentration, or perhaps distraction, as he continues to navigate through the rain, and he doesn’t seem to notice. Sitting in an unfamiliar quietness, I stare out the passenger’s side window again and watch the raindrops continue to race away down the glass. Racing where, I’m not sure, but away sounds nice.

  “Alison warned me—”

  “Of course she did.” I make a choked sound of disbelief and cross my arms over my chest. She’s done nothing but push Papa and I apart since they married.

  “Samantha,” he warns, though his voice is exhausted, or despondent, maybe, and I hate that it’s me who’s making him feel like this. “This is about you.”

  “Maybe, but you can’t tell me she wasn’t smiling from ear to ear when she handed the phone over to you.” Although I know I’m being a brat, I know it’s probably true, too.

  “Enough!” he bellows, and I wince. Papa shakes his head. “You two need to get past whatever this is between you.” He pauses a moment, steadying his breath. “Can’t you at least try, for me? I can’t take this anymore.”

  Sobs well in my throat, close to erupting, and prevent me from answering him.

  “I thought you and I were truthful with one another. I know I don’t like the guy, Sam, but lying to my face?” I know that’s what upsets him the most. I’d broken something between us we might never be able to come back from.

  Although I hate myself, I grasp tighter to my anger and shame. “I’m eighteen, I’m not your little girl anymore,” I say. Although I notice him straighten at the sound of my tone, I can’t stop myself. “At least I’m not out doing drugs and selling myself on the street corner. I’m—”

  “Living under my roof! If you don’t go to college then we do things my way, remember?” And then he asks the one question I’ve been praying he never would. “Is he why you decided to postpone school?” When Papa shakes his head again, I know he’s putting the pieces together, and I can see how angry he is, how much I’ve hurt him. He lets out a despondent sigh. “How long, Samantha?” It’s as if he’s talking to the dead, his voice is so vacant and detached.

  This time, I look at him because his tone is commanding me to.

  “How long have you been lying to me—saying you were with Mac but really . . . how long?”

  After a few more squeaks of the wiper blades, I finally answer, “Since the beginning of senior year.” Just over a year.

  Papa scratches his graying beard, something he does when he and Alison are having an argument, mostly about me or money, or the ranch. I finally see how distant we’ve grown over the past couple years, how little he knows me. And even though I want to blame Alison for that, I know, deep down, that it’s my fault, too.

  Papa’s quiet for an unbearably long moment until finally, after we’ve accelerated around another bend, he asks, “Do you hate Alison so much?” His eyes never leave the road, though it’s obvious his thoughts are miles away.

  “No,” I say easily, and it’s true, I don’t hate her—but I don’t understand her. I don’t like the way she treats me, the way she scowls at me and watches me, waiting for me to slip up. I know that if it were up to Alison, I’d be kicked out. It would just be the two of them. It already feels that way most of the time.

  “Maybe I’m doing all the wrong things here,” he says, and I can barely hear his voice above the road noise. “I thought having a mother figure would be good for you. That you would have someone else to talk to and confide in.” His voice drifts away with his thoughts. “I should’ve waited for you to leave for school before I remarried.”

  I sniffle, hating how horrid and despicable I feel. “Everything was fine before,” I croak, not understanding why he thought anything needed to change in the first place. We had the ranch, we had our routines and our camping trips, we had fun, but not anymore.

  I’m not sure if it’s because he’s thinking or because he disagrees with me, but Papa doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, wiping my nose. I just want this terrible night to be over already. I don’t want to think about Papa or Alison, about Mike or Reilly or the downward spiral my life is headed in. It could be worse, I tell myself, though I know I couldn’t possibly feel any worse.

  I stare down at my hands that are trembling in my lap, balling them up to steady them. “I don’t want to hurt you, Papa,” I squeak. “I just didn’t want to argue. I needed Mike,” I admit, shocking myself. “I thought he loved me.” And Mike didn’t even want me—he “outgrew” us. Once more, I battle the urge to scream.

  A gust of wind shakes the truck, forcing Papa to drive slower as we draw closer to home. I don’t want to go there, to see Alison’s self-satisfied expression. I don’t want to face Papa in the daylight.

  “I don’t agree with what you did, Sam. In fact, I’m angry as hell at you for it. But I love you, no matter what, and if you want me to clean and load my 12-gauge, I’ll do it, for you.”