Pieces (Riverdale #1)

“I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “I’m having trouble breathing.” He exhaled slowly.

“Maybe you’re having an anxiety attack.” Sam said, dismissing it. It served him right, for, acting ridiculous. “Here they come.” She said and climbed over the center console, into the passenger seat, so Nick could drive. Luke opened the rear gate of the truck and climbed into the third row. The rear gate was still open. Nick peeled out of the parking lot, just as the two guys had made their way to the parking lot.

“Man, the trunk is open!” Luke shouted. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” He said, breathless and reached over and pulled the trunk shut.

“Jake, you’re sweating like a farm animal!” Cara said as she reached over his body to open his window, so he could get some air. He wished he wasn’t having anxiety attack, because he would’ve taken complete advantage of her right then and there.

“Is he okay?” Sam called over her shoulder.

“I’ll be fine.” Jake choked out, the air felt great and he started catching his breath. “Maybe I’m the one getting too old for this shit.” He said thoughtfully.

“You think?” Luke said, smacking him upside his head.





Chapter Eight


Cara climbed the grassy hill, regretting her decision to wear her new boots. It had rained the night before, leaving the cemetery a muddy mess, and her boots were getting demolished. She frowned down at them and continued her trek up the hill. She spotted the willow tree that was just beginning to bloom, and smiled. Her mother rested right next to it. In the summer she always found herself sitting under that willow tree, with a book. She’d sit there for hours and just read, lost in her book, feeling close to her mom.

When she made it to the willow tree, she stared down at her mother’s headstone. She brushed away some of the dirt that was on it and stared at her name. Corrine Sloane. Beloved Mother. She could still remember the first time she went to her mother’s grave. She was fifteen years old, and her father had never taken her to see her mother’s final resting place. No many how many times she begged, the heartless prick never once took her.

On her fifteenth birthday, she had been at the Lanza’s and Deb had a birthday cake waiting for her when they got out of school. Cara had burst into a fit of tears, when she saw Deb holding the cake for her. It had taken her five minutes to stop crying and explain to her that she had always wished to celebrate her birthday with her mother.

Without any hesitation, Deb placed the cake in a Tupperware container, grabbed the candles and told Cara and Jake to get in the car. She drove them to Riverdale Cemetery, and when Cara had told her, she had no idea where her mother was buried; Deb went into the main office and found her plot number. A grounds keeper had to escort the three of them up the hill and show them where her mother was buried. The marker had long faded and all that was there was a slab of concrete. Her father had never bothered to put a headstone up. She made a mental note then, to always look for the giant willow tree. The three of them sat under that tree, and Deb lit the candles on the cake. She and Jake had sang, happy birthday to her and when she blew out the candles she would’ve sworn she felt her mother’s presence.

The following year when she went back on her birthday, alone, she had brought a cupcake for herself and one solitary candle. She searched for the willow tree, and made her way to her mother. Instead of staring at a piece of cement there was a beautiful headstone marking her mother’s place of rest. Cara touched the stone to make sure it was real, and noticed there was a beautiful bouquet of pink roses nestled in front of the stone. She kneeled down, placing the cupcake to the side, and opened the card that was addressed to her.

“Dearest Corinne and Our Sweet Cara,

We wish we could’ve met the wonderful woman who brought this beautiful girl into our lives. We will always be in debt to you for giving her to us. May you rest in peace.

Cara, may all your birthdays always be full of love and the memory of your mother.

Love Deb & Joe”