Crazy For You AUDIOBOOK/EBOOK Bundle

One boy looking for salvation. One girl yearning for hope.

Colton Caldwell is hotter than I remember—broad chest,
muscles in all the right places, wavy brown hair, and eyes that suck me in.

 All private-school perfection.

Pity he can’t drive worth a damn.

He hit me with his truck, just backed out without looking,
leaving me bruised, aching... and well aware of him.

But things have changed since he left. A lot of things.

He’s no longer the budding football star, and I’m no longer
the gawky kid he never noticed.

We have one thing in common now… our tortured past.

When I witness a fight between Colton and his dad, I realize
just how much we’re alike. The only problem is, he doesn’t seem to think so.

But as the darkness we try to leave behind pushes us together…

We realize one thing is certain.

Yesterday is gone.

Tomorrow isn’t given.

So what if we live today as if it’s our last?

“Dad,” I called as I wound my way into the family room from the kitchen. In the year since finding out he had ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease, he had severely declined.

I was blown away by how quickly the disease had taken hold of him. I was blown away by how our life had changed in a blink of an eye. I was blown away by how
Dad was on the fast track to another life. And as crazy as it might sound, I often wondered if Mom wanted him to join her in heaven.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I shook off the thoughts of death, of losing another parent, of being alone. I couldn’t sleep at night, I could hardly eat, and if I sat and stared at Dad, I ended up crying like a newborn.

I was only seventeen, and if he died before I became an adult, I would end up with his sister. I’d only met her maybe three times when she visited for a holiday here and there. She and Dad had a strained relationship, a falling out when she was in college over some dude Dad didn’t like. He hadn’t shared the whole story. Over the years, they’d reconciled, but they still didn’t keep in touch on a regular basis.

Despite that, I didn’t want to move to California, and I sure as hell didn’t want to live with my aunt. The last time she’d visited, a year before Mom passed, Aunt Clara was snooty to me. Maybe she’d changed. Maybe she was a nice lady. I’d gotten the feeling she didn’t like kids, and to my knowledge, she didn’t have any.

My mom had been an only child, and her parents had died years before, so that was out.

Even if Dad passed after my eighteenth birthday, I had no idea how I would survive. He’d tried to talk to me about what was to come, but I always ran out of the room in tears. I just couldn’t bring myself to even think about the future without him.

Regardless, watching him decline tore my heart right out of my chest. He’d gone from walking one day to a wheelchair the next and from speaking one day to having no voice the next.

I wished upon a star that I could hear his voice, his laugh, or even a reprimand if the need arose. I missed him calling me “sweet pea” or “sweetheart.” I missed carrying on a conversation with him about anything and everything. He had a computer to relay his thoughts for him, but its robotic voice wasn’t the same.

Dad sat in his wheelchair in front of the TV, wearing a large blue bib over a hospital gown, while Nan, his caregiver of six months, fed him breakfast. Dad had been through three caregivers before finding Nan. I was praying she would work out and stay for the long haul.
She had a great personality, soft and patient. She had a big heart and a caring soul. She reminded me of Mom in some ways.

She and Dad had hit it off from the moment she’d walked through our front door with her easy smile and gentle touch. In a different time, I was certain they could’ve been more than friends. They weren’t that far apart in age. Dad was approaching fifty, and Nan was in her mid-forties.
Above all else, she never complained when Dad was moody or burst into tears, and with ALS, instant emotional changes were the norm, particularly for Bulbar ALS, the rare form that started at the neck and took his voice first.

Tears threatened as I settled behind the leather couch that faced the fireplace, holding in the mountain of emotion that was ready to explode.

Nan pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up on her nose. “Good morning, Skye. Are you ready for your first day of senior year?”

I put on the most genuine smile I could. I didn’t want to show Dad I was unhappy about leaving him all day or how much I hated school in general. High school was a petri dish of drama. The only saving grace for me was hanging with my BFF, Georgia, and our new friend Mia, who’d moved into our sleepy, North Carolina beach town last year.

A laugh broke out in my head. I had to hand it to Mia. She was super comfortable with her body and her sexuality. Me, not so much.

Nan shoved a spoonful of yogurt and oatmeal into Dad’s mouth. “I like the outfit, and your new haircut brings out your pretty features.”

I blushed. “Thanks.” I wasn’t wearing anything special—a pair of jean shorts, a new V-neck that I’d gotten at the Jonas Brothers concert on my birthday last month, and my Vans. I’d also chopped off my long, light-brown hair the day before. I needed a change, something to pick me up and make me feel like I wasn’t being weighed down.
Anything to change the sour mood I’d been in for the last year. The change was helping so far. I did feel lighter, and I loved my new style, which I’d found on Instagram.

Even Georgia thought my new look fit me perfectly. “That A-line bob is so skater-girl-esque for you.”

Dad’s blue gaze glistened as he gave me an infectious smile. Then he turned to his computer screen, which was attached to a pole on his wheelchair, and typed with his eyes.

He had the coolest gadgets, compliments of his medical insurance. The infrared bar below the screen tracked his eye movement and allowed him to blink once on a letter, and then it would show up on the screen.

I had a love-hate relationship with technology. In one breath, I was glad he had the tools. His high-powered wheelchair got him from room to room and even outside to enjoy the warm Southern sunshine. I had been ecstatic when he received his computer so he could communicate easily. Before that, he’d had to type with his hands, but he’d struggled with his fingers giving out quickly.

Nan set the spoon down and dipped into the pocket of her scrubs. She had just about every color. That day, she was dressed in a flowered top that hung over dark purple bottoms. She pulled out a hair clip, wound her brown hair into a bun, and secured it while Dad typed.

The sound from the TV over the fireplace floated in the room. We’d eliminated the bulky furniture so Dad could get around in his wheelchair. Aside from the TV and the couch, a table lined the window that peeked out to our porch, with a hand-carved wooden lamp on top Dad had made, and that was it.

The newscaster said something Nan didn’t like—she shook her head. I’d learned to tune her and Dad out when the news was on. They were into politics, which was not my jam.

All I needed was my skateboard, the wind, my earbuds, and music, and I was more than happy.

My therapist had said I should find an outlet to take my mind away from my troubles. After Mom died, Dad had bought me the skateboard, and ever since, the sport had been my salvation, at least in those moments when I was catching air or doing acid drops at the local skate park.

“Skye,” Nan said. “Did you hear your dad?”

I blinked once then twice. “I’m sorry.”

Dad briefly looked at his screen before the computer-generated male voice he’d chosen spoke. “You look beautiful. Nan’s right, the new cut makes your big brown eyes pop. Your mom would love it too.”

I gave him a picture-perfect grin. Otherwise, he might start sobbing if we talked about Mom.

Nan resumed feeding Dad. The spoon clinked against the glass bowl. “Are you nervous about your first day of senior year?”

I had no reason to be. “I’m good.” My goal was to graduate, plain and simple. But I had to do a better job than I had the year before. I’d barely passed my classes because my mind had been on Dad, and I knew I was in for another challenge that year with Dad getting worse. I wasn’t planning on attending college, though. All I had to do was listen, do my homework, and study for tests.

Dad typed again, and after a minute, the computer voice spoke. “I want you to have the best year of school, sweetheart.” Dad’s warm expression was thin at best, and deep within, I could see the sadness oozing out. No doubt he was wishing and praying that he would be around to see me graduate.

Don’t cry, girl. Just don’t cry. You don’t want swollen eyes on your first day. I didn’t want to give Grady Dyson a reason to spread another rumor about me. Still, I wasn’t the perfect student and didn’t toe the line. The only rules I followed were given out by Dad.

I mostly kept to myself, except for Georgia and Mia. We were the three amigos when Mia wasn’t spreading her legs for some guy. She had an appetite for sex, which worked for her. I had yet to go down that road. Georgia hadn’t, either. We weren’t as forward as Mia.

I wanted my first time to be with someone I liked, not someone who would drop me for his next conquest with big breasts and long legs. In my opinion, most guys in high school were on the prowl, searching for an easy time.

My phone pinged as I skirted the couch to give Dad a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” Without a backward glance, I answered.

“Where are you?” Georgia screamed. “I’ve been waiting for, like, ever for you to get here.”

Crap. I’d forgotten we were meeting at the local coffee hangout near school. “I’m on my way.”

“Drive. Do not take your skateboard,” she ordered in the high-pitched tone she used when she was frustrated.
“I’ll be there in ten.” Grabbing my backpack and skateboard, I waved to Nan and Dad and walked out into the late-August sunshine.

“Skyler Lawson,” she said. “Drive for Pete’s sake.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Then I hung up, put my earbuds in, turned on my music, and hopped on my skateboard.

Again, I didn’t listen well, and for as much as I loved Georgia, I wasn’t in a hurry to get to the coffee shop. We had plenty of time before school started. But I knew my BFF. She wanted to discuss the day and gossip about the year, goals, and boys.

“We are seniors. We are the queens of the school. We need to come up with a plan for how we’re going to make this year fun and exciting. And I’m going to start by having a party.” She’d told me all this while I’d been getting my locks chopped off. “Besides, we need you to have some fun. Last year sucked the big one for you, and it hurt me to see you so sad.”

Georgia had the best intentions for me, and she loved my dad almost as much as she loved hers. In some way, I thought she was masking her own sadness about my dad.

Still, I couldn’t have fun knowing that he was withering away.

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