Strayed

Copyright © 2023 by A. M. Wilson All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or purely coincidental. Editing: Jenny Sims Editing4Indies Cover Design: T. E. Black Designs (https://www.teblackdesigns.com) CONTENTS Books By A. M. Wilson Playlist About This Book Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Epilogue What To Read Next Acknowledgments About the Author BOOKS BY A. M. WILSON Powell Sanctuary Abandoned Strayed Surrender Arrow Creek Series Where We Meet Again When Morning Comes What Tears Us Down Where Our Turn Begins The Revive Series Unleashing Sin Redesigning Fate Resurrecting Her Revive: The Series Westbridge Series Pitch Dark Broad Daylight Salvaged Pieces Standalone Indisputable PLAYLIST Enjoy some of the musical inspiration for Strayed Listen to the playlist on Spotify Last First Kiss || Abe Parker Wrecking Ball || Miley Cyrus Eyes Closed || Ed Sheeran Flowers || Miley Cyrus Blame’s On Me || Alexander Stewart You Didn’t || Brett Young Like No One Does || Jake Scott All For You || Dean Lewis Locksmith || Sadie Jean This is How You Fall in Love || Jeremy Zucker, Chelsea Cutler Pointless || Lewis Capaldi Let Her Go || Passenger Perfect || Ed Sheeran Forever and Ever and Always || Ryan Mack ABOUT THIS BOOK Ten years ago I left my marriage and the love of my life. On paper my husband checked the boxes. 1. Devastatingly handsome 2. Wild and carefree 3. And a skilled lover… if you know what I mean But Corjan Powell was a bad husband. I knew we both deserved more. We were too young to be saddled with a lifetime of resentment and regret. After a year of confrontations and no change, I didn’t even give him the chance to refuse divorce papers. One disastrous fight too far, I wrote him a note and I left. “But Bree, what happened over those ten years?” you ask. Resentment. And regrets. Until one random Sunday afternoon, I collide with someone in a crowded airport and look up into Corjan’s familiar, intense blue eyes. I’m scared of my own reaction. The racing heart, the sweaty palms, the shock telling me I’m not over him. I do the only rational thing and escape as fast as I can onto my connecting flight. The problem? I accidentally grab his cell phone from the floor and leave mine behind. Now we’re a thousand miles apart and he has my entire life in his hands, and I have his in mine. And we’re about to find out if there’s love left between us or if we strayed too far after all this time. To the women who struggle to put themselves first In your career. In life. In bed. You deserve to be number one PROLOGUE 10 years ago… Corjan The flash of headlights outside the dark picture window propels me from my chair. I stuff the small roll of cash into the back pocket of my stained jeans. A pride-filled grin stretches my face as I round the corner into the kitchen. Before my wife, Bree, gets her key in the lock, I swing the door wide open. Her gorgeous brown eyes meet mine, the loving pools never failing to stop me in my tracks. I haven’t had much luck in my life. Being saved at age twelve from neglect is one that stands out. But the day this woman said “I do” tops the shortlist. “Welcome home, sugar.” She clears the entry, her collarbone-length blond hair swinging loosely around her as she steps over shoes and hangs her purse and coat on the hook. I shut the door behind her. “Hey, babe.” Once her hands are free, she immediately moves to me, and I open my arms. Our normal routine when she gets home from her regular nine-to-five... or six… or seven. Lately, it seems she works later and later. I envelop her, reveling in the way her head tucks just beneath my chin. Her heat soaks in, and the love in her embrace settles in my bones. With a fingertip, I push her hair from her unblemished face and cup her pink cheeks, lowering my mouth to brush hers in a gentle kiss. “How was your day?” I murmur, smiling when she scrunches her nose at me. “It was long. I’m glad to be home.” Her lips ghost against mine with her answer. I drop my mouth back to hers to suck gently on her lower lip until she moans, and release her with a grin. “I’ll rub your feet for you. Just tell me when.” “I—” She stops as her gaze drifts beyond my shoulder. The soft expression morphs into one of annoyance. Turning my head, I follow her attention to the mess on the kitchen counter. Dirty dishes balance precariously beside the sink. An empty cereal box I left this morning. The pile of fresh kitchen towels she asked me to fold. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get it later,” I say and clutch her hand in mine. “I was a little busy with Silas today.” At the mention of my best friend’s name, her back straightens. “What were you doing with Silas?” The hint of irritation in her tone is unmistakable, but I brush it away. She always thinks I spend too much time with him. “Working.” Shoving my hand in my pocket, I retrieve the wad of cash. “I made a