Before We Came

Copyright © 2023 by Sloane St. James All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [email protected]. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. Editing by Dee Houpt | www.deesnoteseditingservices.com Book Cover by Eryn Frost | www.ErynFrost.com 1st Edition 2023 CONTENTS Before We Came Playlist 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 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Epilogue I Epilogue II More Books by Sloane St. James Acknowledgments Enjoyed Reading? BEFORE WE CAME PLAYLIST Old Leaves - Ephemeral Fire Escape - Call Me Karizma Formula - Labrinth Running - Derik Fein R.I.P. 2 My Youth - The Neighbourhood Hotel Room - Blake Rose Birthday Cake - Dylan Conrique Don’t Let Me Go - Cigarettes After Sex Midnight City - M83 Let It Go - The Neighbourhood I Feel Like I’m Drowning - Two Feet Ruin the Friendship - Demi Lovato Miss Movin’ On - Fifth Harmony Hypnotic - Zella Day Hellraiser - Illiterate Light Power Over Me (Acoustic) - Dermot Kennedy Two Summers - One11Twenty Treat You Better - Shawn Mendes Good For You - Selena Gomez, A$AP Rocky Pretty Bug - Allan Rayman, feat. James Vincent McMorrow Somebody to You - The Vamps Sirens - Nylo Constellations - Jade LeMac Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex You’re Somebody Else - Flora Cash Crash My Car - COIN Feel Something - Jaymes Young Say Something - ColdWards Memories - Conan Gray Meant to Be - Ber, Charlie Oriain Take It Out On Me - Thousand Foot Krutch 3, 2, 1 - 24kGoldn Take on the World - You Me At Six Lover - Taylor Swift Feel the Light - Jennifer Lopez To Mark The calm to my storm ONE I need to get out of bed. I’m trying to think of something that might motivate me to open my eyes, but I can’t come up with anything. Maybe if I lie here a little longer, I can trick myself into falling back asleep. Or not . . . Isn’t there something I need to do today? Oh, yeah. Mom’s funeral. What kind of daughter forgets her own mother’s funeral? This has to be her way of reminding me from the grave how much of a disappointing daughter I was. To be fair, she wasn’t winning any Mother of the Year awards either. It’s not her fault, though, she wasn’t my biological mom, and we never developed that unique bond most mothers and daughters have. My birth parents sent me away at a young age, so in some ways, I’m an old pro at being a disappointment. My adoptive mom and I had a somewhat strained relationship. At first, I was jealous of the intimacy other girls had with their mothers, but after so long, it turned into a smug bitterness. We didn’t need all that phony closeness. Didn’t these women have anything better to do than grandstand with all the I-love-yous and have-a-good-day-sweethearts? Then, as if she knew I was thinking about her, my mother’s stern voice interrupts my thoughts, “Everyone shows love differently, Birdie.” This became her catchphrase. It was the routine response when she caught me waiting for a hug or some other form of tenderness, like after I’d painted her a picture or fell off my bike. I’ll never be sure, but I get the distinct feeling she thought I was purposely trying to provoke her by wanting more affection. As I finally open my eyes, my black dress hanging on the closet doorknob comes into view. A few tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and my stomach feels hollow and empty. I can’t believe she’s gone. This is the second time I’ve lost a mother, and in both instances, I never got to say goodbye. * * * This funeral sucks. I can only blame myself, though, since I’m the one who organized it. I can’t tell if it’s Mom’s that sucks, or if funerals suck in general. This is the only one I’ve ever been to, and I didn’t have the money to hire professionals. I wonder how one gets into the business of funeral planning. I’ll have to Google that later. After she died, I was left to my own devices. At first, I wasn’t even sure who to call, so I started by calling people in her address book that shared our last name, Fournier. Thankfully, one of her cousins, Barbara—or was it Bonnie? Shit, I can’t remember—took mercy on me and said she would contact the rest of the family tree. God bless Cousin What’s-Her-Name. The minister gave a lovely eulogy for “Juliet” Fournier—mom’s name was Julianne. I think everyone collectively cringed as soon as he uttered the wrong name at the pulpit. He said lovely things, although, I suspect it was cookie-cutter as far as speeches go. I didn’t give him much to work with because Mom was private and didn’t share many details about her life with me. I knew the basics. She was a teacher and an excellent cook. Sometimes she would travel to visit people, though I was never allowed to go with her. She would tell me I’d be bored the whole time and would have no fun.