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  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Kelly Elliott. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Wanted remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kelly Elliott, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Everything I Needed

  by Ellie Wade

  Contents

  EVERYTHING I NEEDED

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  About the Author

  Books in the Wanted World

  For Kelly, one of the most genuinely kind people I’ve ever met. Thank you for sharing your Wanted world with me. I’m so grateful for you.

  Chapter One

  Leni

  IF MY MOTHER WERE HERE, she would tell me that my eyes were going to get stuck in the back of my head with the amount of eye-rolling that I was doing. Yet my mother wouldn’t be caught dead on a stinky Greyhound bus, so my eyes are free to roll at will.

  I scroll through my Facebook News Feed, and it makes me literally nauseous. Post after post of my friends in New York City, enjoying their Saturday night in “the greatest place on earth.” They all have appropriate hashtags to put emphasis on the pure amazingness of their lives.

  #blessed

  #bestlife

  #lucky

  #sohappy

  #pinchmeImustbedreaming

  #bestboyfriendever

  Seriously, Madison? Best boyfriend ever? Totally #stfu. I’m glad that silver Tiffany necklace that you just posted eighty-five pictures of erases the last year of Stewart screwing other skanks behind your back.

  “Ugh,” I grumble under my breath.

  Social media is killing America, and if not America, then my soul—at the very least. Facebook and Instagram posts are the fleeting moments of happiness in someone’s mediocre, if not completely lame-ass, day.

  Am I jealous?

  Hell yeah, I’m turning green from envy. I want to be #blessed in #nyc. But I’m a #loser on the way to #loserville to live with my grandma. I’m being a brat; I know it. Mason is actually a sweet little Texas town that holds the best memories from my otherwise depressing childhood.

  My summers spent with my grandmother, whom I lovingly refer to as Mimi, are true highlights of my life. If it were a thing back then, every moment in Mason would have been social media–worthy.

  Just going back there now means that I’ve failed. Just as my father said I would.

  When I left Texas five years ago, I had no intention of going back.

  After high school, everything was falling into place. I had been accepted into Cooper Union, home to one of the most prestigious undergrad art programs in the nation. Major bonus points that the college of my dreams was located in the most magnificent city in the world—New York City. I was going to attend college, refine my art skills, graduate, and create beautiful pieces that people from all over the world would clamor to buy. I would most likely meet and marry another artist, and the two of us would spend the rest of our days doing what we loved.

  It was the dream.

  Yet it wasn’t my father’s.

  My father has always been a difficult man for me to connect with. The only thing bigger than his ego is his ambition. He had no desire to take over his father’s farm. The second he could, he left for Houston and began pursuing his political career. He’s always wanted to be a man of stature, of power. He’s now a Texas senator, and if he has his way, I’m sure he’ll run for president at some point.

  My mom is the polar opposite of my father. She has no need for personal glory. Her only ambition seems to be helping my father with his.

  I am the only child of Henry and Eleanora Turner, who had my entire life planned out from the moment I was born. The only problem is that I’ve never been who they wanted me to be. I’m no debutant. When I refused to pursue a “respectable” degree, such as political science or business, my father cut me off. In fact, besides the few Christmas presents my mom sends me each year, I’ve received nothing from my parents since I left Texas five years ago.

  Unfortunately, it seems a hundred twenty thousand dollars in student loan debt and an art degree leave one with very few options. For the past year since graduating, I’ve been working my ass off. Despite having two jobs and three roommates in an apartment the size of my parents’ kitchen, I couldn’t make it in New York. I spent more on art supplies than I ever made in sales. I ended up giving away most of my pieces.

  Mimi sent me enough money to buy a one-way bus ticket to Mason. So, here I am, forced to sit on this bus for two days, with nothing more to do than think about my life and the mess that it is. I’ve lost my cool New York apartment, my group of hip and eclectic friends, my art, and the dream I had for my life. All my worldly possessions fit into one suitcase, and the sad part is, there’s room to spare. I can’t even stuff a suitcase.

  Pathetic.

  I’m left staring at other people’s lives on a phone that’s going to shut off at any minute since the bill hasn’t been paid in a couple of months.

  #lifeisgrand

  I want to cry.

  Despite my better judgment, I continue to scroll through social media until the battery on my phone dies. I throw the phone in my purse with a sigh.

  Pulling my knees up, I rest them against the seat in front of me and lean my head against the window. As far as the eye can see, there are fields of tan grass. I’m not sure where we are. I just hope the rest of this ride passes quickly.

  Sadly, New York was never meant to be. That’s my reality. Mason isn’t my end destination either, but I’m anxious to get there, so I can start figuring out a plan to get to where I’m supposed to be.

  A day of self-pity and insane jealousy catches up to me, and my eyelids become heavy. The soothing motion of the moving bus, the low rumble of its engine, and the exhaustion that pure heartbreak brings pull me into sleep. Right before slumber takes me, I see my sweet Mimi, and my heart smiles. In a world where I feel I’ve lost everything, I still have her unconditional love, and right now, that has to be enough.

  I bolt awake. Passengers are filing down the aisle of the bus, bags in hand. Looking out the window, I see the Mason bus station.

  We’re here!

  My past woes are momentarily forgotten as my excitement to see Mimi grows. I pull out my phone to call her, only to remember that it’s dead.

  Hmm.

  I try to recall where I left my charger. I’ll have to plug my phone in for a minute somewhere around the bus station, so I can call Mimi to come get me.

  I exit the bus and retrieve my single suitcase. After an extensive search through my purse and luggage for my charger, I come up, hands empty. Darn, I’m sure it’s right where I left it—plugged into the wall back in my New York apartment.

  The sad thing is that I don’t even know her phone number by heart, or I would just ask to borrow someone’s phone. She’s number one in my speed dial, but that’s of little help with a dead phone. I don’t think a town as small as Mason has Uber or taxis—not that I have any money to pay for a ride anyway. I truly don’t even
have a dollar to my name. I held out as long as I could in the city. I left when I literally had nothing.

  I start walking, pulling my suitcase behind me. Mimi’s farm is a few miles outside of town, I think. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Yet it shouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours to walk it.

  I hope.

  I’m so hungry, I could eat my hand, and I finished off my last granola bar on the bus. My mind drifts to dreams of Mimi’s homemade bread with real butter and jam.

  Oh, jam. Maybe she’ll have raspberry—my favorite.

  I moan, not caring who hears me because I would do anything for a piece of that bread right now.

  When’s the last time I ate bread? Wow, I don’t even know.

  Over the past five years, bread slowly got replaced with salad greens. PB & J sandwiches were replaced with sushi, mac and cheese with brown rice. Come to think of it, I don’t know how or why it happened. It just did. Comfort foods weren’t in style with the crowd I hung out with. I suppose that’s healthier, but now that I really think about it, it’s weird.

  Seriously, when was the last time I ate a piece of bread? This is going to bother me.

  My thoughts are pulled from the soft deliciousness of Mimi’s bread to the squeal of tires. I turn to the side to see headlights from a large truck barreling toward me, stopping mere inches from my face.

  Well, crap.

  I didn’t think my life could get worse, but I underestimated the wrath of the universe. They say that, the moment before you die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. The split second before my death isn’t that way. As I close my eyes and brace for impact, my thoughts aren’t of my family, my joys, or my regrets. My focus is singular.

  Now, I’m never going to get another piece of Mimi’s bread.

  This sucks.

  Chapter Two

  Liam

  “HOLY SHIT!” I YELL OUT as I slam my foot against the brakes as hard as I can. My hands clench around the steering wheel, my knuckles strained white with fear-gripped anticipation of the horrible thud to come.

  I’m propelled forward, and my chest hits my seat belt, sending me back into the seat. The truck has come to a complete stop. I don’t loosen my desperate grip on the steering wheel as I cautiously look out the windshield.

  Inches away from the front end of my truck is a woman. She’s standing, untouched.

  Oh, thank you.

  I say a prayer of gratitude as I swing the door open and jump out of the truck.

  My gratitude turns to anger as the thought dawns on me that I could have killed this chick because she decided to step in front of a moving vehicle.

  “What the hell? Are you okay?” I say to her as I round the front of my truck.

  She opens her eyes wide, and the next angry question I was going to shout out gets lodged in my throat because I know those eyes. I’d know them anywhere.

  “Eleanora?”

  This seems to snap her out of her state of shock.

  “William,” she scoffs, her beautiful green eyes squinting in anger.

  “It’s Liam,” I answer her like I always do.

  “Yeah, well, you know damn well that it’s Leni.” She rolls her eyes and begins to stomp the rest of the way across the road.

  “Wait! Eleanora—Leni, stop.”

  God, this woman makes my blood boil.

  Woman? I suppose she is.

  I haven’t seen Leni since she was sixteen. I guess she’s twenty-three now. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about her a little too much over the years. Despite her irrational hatred toward me, I’ve always found her insanely gorgeous.

  She no longer wears her little pixie cut that she insisted on when she was younger despite her mother’s pleas to let it grow. Her auburn locks fall in waves down the center of her back. Her nose and the tops of her cheeks are still splattered with light freckles that have always turned me on way more than they should have. And yet the part of her that has always gotten me is her eyes. They’re a deep emerald green, and I can’t describe them any other way but to say that they almost sparkle—usually with rage when they’re directed my way but a sparkle just the same.

  “What do you want, Liam?” she says with a sigh as she turns toward me.

  “Was that hard to say?” I smirk, knowing she wants to call me by my formal first name, just as I want to call her by hers. It’s always been a tool of ours, a surefire way to piss the other one off.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “Well, I want to know why you just walked in front of my truck.” Anger builds as I remember what just happened. “I could’ve killed you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean to walk in front of you. I was thinking about stuff and clearly wasn’t watching my surroundings. I’m just tired. Thank you for not killing me.” She turns and starts to walk away from me.

  “Wait!”

  “What?” she snaps.

  “What are you doing here?” My attention falls to the large bag she’s pulling behind her.

  “I’m going to Mimi’s.”

  “Do you want a ride?”

  She shrugs. “No, it’s fine. I can walk.”

  “You’re going to walk to the farm?” I ask slowly.

  “Yeah,” she says with a nod, as if it’s not a big deal.

  “That’s stupid, Leni. Let me drop you off. I’m obviously going that way.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine with walking.”

  I just want to scream at her. How can she still be so stubborn after all these years?

  “Get in the truck!” I yell at her.

  “No!” she yells back.

  “Damn it, Leni! Get in the truck! You can’t even walk across the street without almost getting hit. How are you going to walk five miles to the farm? What would I tell your grandmother if you got plowed over by someone else?” I grab the handle of her bag and yank it from her grasp. I throw it in the back of my truck. “I would’ve thought you’d grown up some in the big city. Evidently, you haven’t.”

  She huffs as she climbs up into the passenger seat and slams the door closed. She crosses her arms across her chest and glares at me. “Well, William, I can assure you that you wouldn’t know anything about that since you’ve never left this town. It’s hard to gauge appropriate human behavior since you only communicate with cows.”

  The second her seat belt is fastened, I hit the gas and peel out down the street. I can’t wait to drop her off.

  “Well, Eleanora, actually, I went to college for four years, so I have left this town. And I can assure you, I understand people just fine. Like, for instance, I can see perfectly clear that you’ve grown up to be a pretentious, judgmental witch, just like your mother.”

  She gasps. “I am nothing like my mother!”

  I chuckle. “Really? Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  I’m ashamed of myself that I’ve stooped to her immaturity level. I should have never brought her mother into this. I know how much animosity exists between those two. Leni just makes me so insane with fury. I used to try so hard to be her friend, and she’s always pushed me away.

  She doesn’t have a rebuttal. I’ve silenced the girl who never shuts up, and I feel like an ass.

  “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you did,” is her only reply as she continues to stare out the window.

  “Len, I’m sorry. I truly am. That was a shitty thing to say. I just don’t know why we’re still fighting. We’re adults. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  I think back to when we were really young. I met Leni when I was six. She’s only a year younger than me, but she seemed so much smaller. I called her the girl with lucky eyes because they were the color of a four-leaf clover. Leni’s grandparents’ ranch and my parents’ ranch shared a border, and I spent my time in between them. Invisible borders weren’t taken into account when I was discovering new lands on my adventures. Leni’s grandparents didn’t care if I was
on their land anyway. I first met her when she was playing in the rows of corn during one of her summer visits. At six years old, I considered her my best friend. We played every day that summer and every summer after that until the summer of my fourteenth birthday. She turned into quite the brat that year, and it only got worse.

  I tried to remain friends with her, but she wasn’t enjoyable to be around. I went over to see her when she arrived the summer of my seventeenth birthday. It was a mistake, as she was incredibly bitchy toward me. I stopped trying after that. I was busy helping my dad with the cattle and crops. I didn’t have time for Leni’s juvenile games.

  Yet I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t look toward her grandma’s house every time I passed it over the past seven years, hoping that Leni might be there and that I’d get to see a glimpse of her even if just for a second.

  I guess you never forget your first love even if I didn’t realize back then that was what she was.

  “So, how long are you in town?” I attempt to lighten the heavy mood.

  “Not sure. Hopefully, not long.”

  “Well, it’s nice to see you. You look good.” The last statement is a gross understatement. She doesn’t look good; she looks incredible.

  “Okay,” she scoffs with an edge to her voice.

  I grip the steering wheel tighter and close my mouth shut. My chest feels heavy in a way I can’t fully comprehend. We’re exactly where we left off the summer of my seventeenth birthday.

  I’m relieved when we finally arrive. I park my truck in front of the barn and turn off the engine.

  “I can walk in by myself. You’re free to go,” Leni says as she hops out of my truck.

  After exiting the truck, I lift her suitcase from the back and set it down on the ground.

  “Okay, thanks. But I have some work to take care of in the barn,” I force myself to say without attitude.

  She walks around the truck and grabs ahold of her suitcase handle. “Why are you doing work in Mimi’s barn?”

  “Because it’s my barn.”

  “What does that mean?” she quips.

  I look to her in question. Does she not know?