Complex Kisses: Stirling Bay

By Kimberly Quinn

I promised myself to never come back. Yet here I was, stuck in the hometown I'd run away from, sick with worry, and faced with the temptation of the most handsome stranger I'd ever met. 

Fate had either the very best or very worst timing. 

Still, I tried not to question it. 

How could I when it put Eric Anderson in my path?  

He was like my knight in shining armour. Trustworthy, steadfast, and sexy as hell. When he found me crying in a hospital stairwell, he'd been more than willing to save the day. 

But the only rescuing I needed was from myself. As a single mom with a bad habit of running from my troubles, and an even worse habit of lying about it, I was a mess.  

And Eric was already carrying a heavy burden on his broad shoulders—the absolute last thing he needed was me. 

He got me anyway. 

Oh, how he got me. Any and every which way he wanted.  

When our undeniable chemistry finally boiled over, we called it a temporary distraction. A momentary reprieve. An agreement to escape from the ugly truths of our lives, and to just live in the moment.  

Somehow, what was meant as a distraction turned into something more. Something real.  

Now, I had a choice to make. Follow my instincts and run from the things of my past. Or leave fear behind for good, and find a new future with Eric.  

One thing would hurt me…But the other? Well, the other might just break me. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: North Mile Books
• Release date: Dec 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9780995855205

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Copyright © 2016 by Kimberly Quinn

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to train generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

This book is a work of fiction created without use of AI technology. Names, characters, organizations, brands, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Editing by Kimberly Dawn

Cover design by KiWi Cover Design Co.

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CONTENTS

Note From the Author

Untitled

Prologue

Day Minus 8

JAMIE

Day Minus 7

JAMIE

ERIC

JAMIE

Day Minus 6

JAMIE

ERIC

JAMIE

ERIC

Day Minus 5

JAMIE

ERIC

JAMIE

Day Minus 4

ERIC

JAMIE

ERIC

JAMIE

Day Minus 3

ERIC

JAMIE

ERIC

Day Minus 2

JAMIE

ERIC

JAMIE

ERIC

Day Minus 1

JAMIE

ERIC

JAMIE

Day Zero

JAMIE

Day Plus 1

JAMIE

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Content Warning: This book contains themes of illness and death which may be triggering for some readers.

This book was originally published in 2016, under my former name, Kim Bailey. Why the name change? I could probably write an entire novel about that topic, but the short answer is that a dude did me wrong and I just happened to share a last name with him.

A lot of changes were necessary.

While the book has had a facelift, it is still the same story underneath. If you’ve read it before, you may wish to skip it this time. Or (if you’re like me), you might not remember it and decide to read it again. If you’re brand new to this story, read on! Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

Another, equally important thing to note is that this book takes place in a fictional town in Ontario, Canada. If you notice a misplaced U or an extra L or two, please know this is intentional (it’s Canadian spelling). For added fun, you’ll also find some Canadian French sprinkled in. I’m letting my Canadiana shine.

Much love,

Kimberly

www.kimberlyquinnbooks.com

For my younger self, my broken self,

and those who’ve felt lost along life’s journey.

You can be found.

PROLOGUE

10 YEARS AGO

JAMIE

Hot pain flared across my cheek and my yelp died to a useless whimper, the sound of the slap still ringing in my ears.

My father glared at me without a word, showing no sign of remorse. No apology. No regret. Not even a fuck you to back it all up.

The longer he stayed silent, the deeper my sorrow grew.

I’d truly lost him.

I didn’t recognize this thing he was now—a raging, animalistic madman. Of course, I wasn’t the daughter I used to be either, was I?

Still, as devastated by change as we were, I couldn’t piece together how we’d wound up here, at the point of no return.

His hands were white-knuckled fists, shaking at his sides. His jaw was a hard edge, and his mouth a tight line.

I shrank from him, cradling my aching cheek.

I’d gone to him for help, seeking his guidance, hoping for comfort. I’d placed the little faith I had left in the hope that my father could be a better man, the one I’d always counted on. The man I’d once respected and adored.

My daddy.

Maybe it had been foolish to believe he could rise above the alcohol, move past our ferocious exchanges, and find the love he used to hold for me. Even if only a shred.

God, I’d wanted so badly to believe it. To believe in him. But that hope had all been dashed by a single strike of his hand.

All that time and effort spent hoping—for what? Things would only change if I made them.

A flame of determination flickered to life within me. It wasn’t bright, but it was enough to push aside my girlish whims and wasted dreams. No point crying over what was lost when there was so much more to be gained. The future would be better. I’d make sure of it.

On my own.

Gathering courage from a reserve I didn’t know I possessed, I stopped cowering and allowed my hand to fall from its protective cover of my face.

I wondered if he could see the damage he’d done. Would the redness show? Was the bruising evident? I hoped so. I wanted him to see the wound he’d caused.

The spark he’d lit.

If he noticed, he didn’t show it. He only seemed capable of rage. I’m glad your mother’s not alive to see you now. To see the kind of filth you are. His drunken slur deepened. She’d be more than disappointed. She’d be disgusted. I’m disgusted! You’re nothing but a whore.

Tears welled and finally overflowed as I choked on his distorted truth. I was tempted to lash out—it would feel so good to turn his vile hatred back on him. Instead, I gave him back the same silence he’d given me.

I turned and walked away, ignoring his cursing, stumbling, and smashing of innocent objects. His pitiful attempt to intimidate and control didn’t break my purposeful stride. Spurred by his vehemence, I took the first step toward a new future.

I did it quickly, silently, and with a smile on my face.

I ran away.

And I didn’t look back.

DAY MINUS 8

JAMIE

Depression is more than just feeling ‘blue.’

Signs of depression may include:

- Feelings of sadness, guilt, helplessness, or hopelessness

- Changes to sleep patterns and/or eating habits

- Impacts to physical health, including joint pain and muscle ache

- Anger or irritability

Check, check, check, and double-check.

My entire state of being had been summed up in four bullet points. Although, I wasn’t exactly depressed, more like wallowing in self-pity.

For two long days and two much longer sleepless nights, Stirling Bay General Hospital had been my home. I was only halfway through day three but was already turning to discarded medical pamphlets for answers.

Only, the problem—my true problem—didn’t have a solution.

My father was dying, and it was unbearably slow, painful, and ugly. Yet, the only feelings I’d managed to dredge up were resentment and guilt.

Terrible as it was, I resented him and his slow death for dragging me away from my life. Not that I had a particularly glamorous or easy life. Still, it was mine, and I didn’t want to lose even a fraction of it. I’d struggled too damn hard for what I had.

The guilt was almost obligatory. I mean, how could I not feel guilty when I had nothing to give my dying father but a shit-ton of resentment?

Depression, or at least sadness, would’ve been a more sensible reaction, but I’d thrown away sensibility. I’d scrambled home to be at the bedside of a man who, with one look, made me feel like the same scared, angry teenager I was when I’d left. And I couldn’t figure out why.

The whole situation made my heart hurt. Not metaphorically, either. Nope. There was a literal ache in my chest. Occasionally, the ache would have a little spasm, sending me into freak-out mode, convinced something horrible was wrong with me.

Was I one twinge away from a heart attack?

My father’s nurse, Judy, said the pain was nothing more than a byproduct of stress. Apparently, extreme stress can physically manifest in some very scary ways.

I trusted Nurse Judy’s professional opinion, but I had my own theory.

My heart was aching because I’d left half of it behind.

I’d left Hunter who, with his messy blond hair and fun-loving nature, was my daily reminder of everything good in life. Without him setting my direction and giving me purpose, I felt off-kilter. Like the tether that grounded me had been cut.

Hunter was the single person in the world I’d do absolutely anything for, but he was back home, three hundred and fifty kilometers away, and I was stuck having a mental breakdown in a hospital cafeteria.

Here, I think you need this more than I do. An open container of chocolate pudding plopped onto the table in front of me.

Startled, I raised my head to see a boy whose playful expression matched his teasing tone.

He was young, no more than fourteen or fifteen, and despite looking very obviously ill, he was beautiful. His bald head and waxy complexion didn’t detract from his green eyes, which sparkled with mischief as he watched me expectantly.

I stared back at him, confused.

With a quirk of a smile, he slid into the seat in front of me. "I already had a bite. Hope you don’t mind. It’s a very good chocolate pudding. Loads of sugar. Actually, I was really enjoying it, but when I saw that look on your face, I thought, there’s someone who needs this even more than me."

I look that bad, do I? Sarcasm seeped from my tone. Honestly, I didn’t know how to turn it off.

I was a hot mess. It’d been two days since my last shower; my hair was the size and temperament of Godzilla, and I was wearing a sweatshirt with a spot of yesterday’s dinner on the sleeve.

But in comparison to the boy, who’s brilliant smile hadn’t wavered, I was the perfect picture of health. My hysteric list of signs and symptoms felt so disgustingly selfish in contrast, I immediately tossed it aside.

Hell no. You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, he said with a straight face. But you looked sad, so I thought I’d try to make you smile. I bet you’d look even hotter with a smile.

My snort of laughter was loud and obnoxious. It burst from me like water through a broken dam, and my hand flew to my mouth in a failed attempt to keep it in.

Either he was trying hard to hit on me, or even more miraculous, trying to make me feel better. Since miracles of any sort were rare in my life, I dropped my hand and gave him the biggest, brightest smile I could manage.

There it is. Yeah, that’s stunning. His face shone with sincerity.

Am I on camera? Is this one of those shows where they punk people?

What? His smile dropped. You think I go around offering chocolate pudding to every woman I see?

My chest spasmed at the pained look he gave me. Hey, no… I’m sorry. I was just joking. I didn’t mean it.

His serious expression cracked, and he fell into a fit of exuberant laughter.

Damn, the kid was good.

Wiping a fake tear from his eye, he snickered, I’m sorry, I’m just kidding around. But you smiled. Did I mention how pretty you are when you smile? Keep doing that.

He laughed again, and this time, I joined him. With his good nature lighting up the room, it was easy to laugh and smile. Easy to set aside my troubles.

Wow, kid, you’re really… The right words seemed to fade from existence as I stared, awestruck, at the man coming toward us.

Caleb, are you hitting on unsuspecting women again?

The rumble of his voice sent tingles down my spine.

Who was this magnificent man?

He was tall and broad, and his face—my God, his face—sent my heart spiralling into my stomach.

My eyes roamed over his strong, shadowed jaw, to the little cleft in his chin. Like a beacon, it seemed artfully arranged to draw my attention to his wide and perfect lips. His amused expression was highlighted by incredibly expressive green eyes. Even his slightly wild and untamed eyebrows didn’t distract from his features. In fact, I think they somehow increased the allure.

…don’t you think?

What? I stammered, lapsing out of my hormone-induced coma when I realized he’d been speaking to me.

Caleb can be a bit of a hound. If he’s bothering you… His emerald eyes danced over my face, his lips tipping into a slow, sly smile.

It was a smile that made me feel like he could see right through me. That smile said, I know where your mind’s wandering. Say the word and I’d be happy to lead it further astray.

I was being a gentleman and offering the lady a bite of my chocolate. She’s having a rough day. I wanted to see her smile, Caleb piped up, then turning to me, repeated, You really do have a fantastic smile.

Nope, subtlety was not his thing. Still, I couldn’t help smiling at his genuine good nature, even if he was an obvious flirt.

"I thought you were giving me all of your chocolate, I teased. Well, all except that one bite you stole."

With a deep, gruff laugh of his own, gorgeous man’s face was transformed by the most dazzling smile imaginable. It brought out his dimples and made my insides tingle.

Shit, I was in serious trouble. He had a sexy face with dimples, and his laugh alone had my body buzzing.

Ah, damn… Eric, you’ve done it again! Caleb groaned. You’re stealing the show, dude. How can I compete with you? You’ve got a full head of hair.

My face flamed with embarrassment, but gorgeous, green-eyed Eric just smiled down at the younger kid, giving him a knowing look. Caleb, my man, no one can compete with you. All the ladies love you. Turning his gaze back on me, he asked, Am I right?

He winked at me and the world stopped spinning.

My body chemistry was going in one direction while my emotions were being pulled in another. I was lusting over a good-looking man while making lighthearted banter with a sick child, and all the while, my dad lay in another room alone, dying.

Maybe my feared mental breakdown wasn’t as far off as I’d imagined.

Yeah, definitely a charmer, I sputtered.

So, tell me, beautiful, what’s got you so bummed? Tell me who stole your puppy, so I can go kick their butt, Caleb urged.

Pinning me with bothered glares, both Caleb and Eric looked ready to take on a fight. If I really was in trouble, there was no doubt they’d have offered, not only to have my back, but to step in front and be my shield.

How surreal, to be faced with these two, who seemed to wear their hearts on their sleeves like a badge of honour, while I was busy hiding mine behind made up medical conditions.

Feeling sad? Must be depression. Never mind my dying father or the fact that I was alone to deal with it. That was just an unfortunate inconvenience.

Stressed out? Must be a heart condition. Forget that I’d left the only important person in my life behind. It was just a temporary disruption.

So many lies. But lying to myself seemed the easiest way to make it through the day.

I’m just missing someone. That wasn’t a lie. That was stark honesty, and hearing it come out of my own mouth surprised the hell out of me.

Someone male or someone female? Caleb asked cheekily.

Someone almost as charming as you, and I’m worried he’s probably sitting at home missing me too. Or worse, maybe he’s not missing me at all. Maybe he’s busy having the time of his life while I’m away.

Well, if he’s not missing you, he’s obviously a fool, Eric mumbled with an edge to his voice and a scowl on his face.

His misguided hostility put me on the defensive. But defensiveness, even anger, were my go-to reactions anytime someone criticized Hunter. No exceptions.

Except, I realized these two didn’t understand that he wasn’t just some random guy. Hunter was my son.

No… I tried to explain.

Eric, man. Not cool. The lady needs some cheering up. I think we can be nice to her, don’t you? Caleb said, cutting me off.

No, but…

Sorry. Caleb’s right. That was disrespectful. And it’s not really any of my business, Eric interrupted. Only, the way he examined me was so intense, it felt like he wanted to make it his business.

That look left me even more flustered and confused—unsure how to respond.

Hey, I didn’t even ask you your name! Caleb exclaimed, breaking my attention from Eric’s heated stare and snapping me back to reality.

Jamie. I rubbed at my flaming face. Well, Jameson actually. Nobody bothered telling my parents it’s a boy’s name. Everyone just calls me Jamie, though. Verdict’s still out on whether or not I like it, I rambled, still uncertain how this conversation got so far out of control.

Well, Jamie. I think it’s a lovely name; it suits you perfectly. I’m Caleb. That big idiot is my brother, Eric. I make no apologies for him, though. He’s acting a bit douchey right now. Normally, he’s a great guy. Caleb smirked, as though winning some silent competition.

Okay, hotshot. Eric clamped a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. We need to get going. Mom and Dad will be worried if you’re gone too long. His tone was light and teasing, but I could still see sadness in his expression.

Yeah. Caleb made an exaggerated sigh, looking at me with poorly hidden mischief. It was really nice to meet you, beautiful Jamie. You can keep my chocolate pudding. And if you stop missing that other guy, you can come visit me. I’m being admitted to room 1202A.

Eric shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. Caleb, dude…

Too much? Caleb snickered.

No, I replied. It’s perfect. Just what I needed. Smirking back at him, I picked up the pudding cup and dug in with flair. I shovelled the biggest spoonful possible, and with my mouth still full, declared, Chocolate is my fav!

Both guys smiled while watching me gorge on gelatinous sugar. Caleb’s smile was big, bright, and proud. Eric’s smile, while just as big, was laced with something deeper—a recognition of sorts. Like an unexpected, yet undeniable connection had been made.

It was too bad I’d likely never see either one of them again. Despite the charming invite, I couldn’t imagine wandering into Caleb’s room for a social call.

It was nice meeting you boys, I mumbled around a mouthful of pudding, hoping Caleb would remember me the way I planned to remember him—a light point in an otherwise dreadful day.

Smiling, I waved my chocolate-covered spoon and watched as they walked away, a mix of emotion scratching at my heart.

At the doorway, Eric turned to give me a final smile and called back over his shoulder, See you around, beautiful Jamie.

I was in the hometown I’d promised myself never to return to, stuck in a hospital, hours away from my son, watching the father I’d neglected for ten years die…

But there was a smile on my face.

And at that moment, it felt like it may be permanently etched there.

DAY MINUS 7

JAMIE

Another sleepless night had come and gone, making it three nights of zero rest. At least I’d managed to shower and put on some clean clothes. Although, it took a ten-minute long conversation in the mirror to convince myself to stick things out another day.

How many days could a person go without sleep before insanity took over?

I was tempted to research the side effects of sleep deprivation—maybe there was a link between my mental instability and the insomnia—but I’d promised myself I’d stop the neurotic symptom checking. I needed to keep my focus where it belonged and not get sucked back into self-indulgence.

Goddammit, my father swore. Why do I have all these machines hooked up to me?

This was the first time in three days that he seemed to have any awareness of his surroundings.

Mr. Hartley, the nurse scolded, reaching for the tube he was trying unsuccessfully to detach from his arm. Please. You’re not doing yourself any favours if you pull that out.

Don’t, Mr. Hartley me! I don’t give a shit about this stupid thing or your stupid ideas of what’s good for me!

This was the father I remembered leaving behind—all asshole, all the time.

Craptastic attitude aside, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. There was no dignity in dying this way. Even with the fabulous level of care he was receiving, being tied to a bed without the ability to dictate his own needs had to be difficult. At least, it was one of the most miserable ways I could imagine spending my final days. Seeing him struggle and knowing he wouldn’t get any better made it easier for me to commiserate with the bastard.

I was thankful for the care he’d received. Even in the relatively small community of Stirling Bay, living in Canada really did have its perks. The hospital may not be as big or state-of-the-art as the ones in Toronto, where I lived, but the staff were kind, and the morphine drip in his arm worked just the same.

Dad, stop. She’s just trying to do her job.

Ah, fuck you too, James!

James. He was the only one who’d ever called me that. It used to be a big joke back when Mom was still around. They all used to get a good laugh out of his teasing. He’d tickle my ribs or mess up my hair and say, "You find my daughter yet, James?" Mom, Dad, and my sister Trina, all thought it was hilarious.

It’d been a long time since he’d called me by that nickname. Hell, it’d been a long time since he called me anything at all. The laughter and the humour had all stopped after Mom and Trina died.

That name meant something to me, though. It was a souvenir of my lost childhood. A memento of all the goals and dreams I’d left behind. A reminder that there had been good days and that my dad used to love me.

You’re useless here, he continued. Useless, just like me. You might as well leave just like you did eleven years ago. Eleven years… and now you come back… Now… Just useless.

With the last part of his tirade no more than a whisper, I could see his body shutting down. He’d never been the type to care who witnessed an argument. Never afraid to show off his exceptional anger. I was certain he meant every word, but with his voice failing, those words lost all conviction.

It’s actually only been about ten years, Dad. But ten years, or ten days, it doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’m the only one. Other than your lovely nurse—who, by the way, is just trying to help. Why don’t you calm down and let her?

Me telling him to calm down almost seemed pointless, though. He’d lost the stamina to continue fighting. With his thin patches of hair turned completely white, and his saggy skin taking on a greyish hue, he looked like he should be dead already. He’d lost so much weight that the contours of his face were hollowed out, giving him an almost skeletal appearance.

It was such a contradiction to the last time I’d seen my father—when he was robust