Sugar Crash (19 page)
Authors: Elena Aitken
He wiped her eyes with tissue before kissing her lightly on the lips. "Are you ready to do this?"
Darci nodded and took his hand. Together they walked through the mass of people, who offered their congratulations and best wishes, towards the start line. They lined up in the starting coral. Darci adjusted her water belt and double checked that her number was pinned on properly. The crowd pulsed with excitement and anticipation.
"Are you ready?" she asked Cam.
He nodded, but his smile faded and his face turned serious. "Hey, I understand if you want to do this on your own. Don't feel like you need to run with me."
"What?"
"I just know that sometimes there are things you need to do by yourself. You know, show yourself what you can do? For a lot of people, that's a race."
Darci let her mind flick back to the last few months, to everything she'd been through with Taylor and how she'd changed. Yes, she thought. She did need to prove something to herself.
The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeaker announcing that race was about to start. "10, 9, 8..."
She grabbed Cam's hands and squeezed them in her own. "You're right," she said. "I absolutely do need to prove something."
He turned away, but not before she saw disappointment flicker across his face.
"...7, 6, 5..."
"Cam." Darci tugged on his hands and he turned back. "I need to prove to myself that I don't need to do everything on my own. It's okay to need other people. And Cam?"
"...4, 3, 2..."
Cam's eyes met hers. "I need you."
"RUN!"
THANK YOU
When I'm writing a book, I spend many hours in my office, but I'm never alone. A huge thank you goes out to all of my HDSA Sista's and Destiny Makers. You all are so talented, supportive and generally amazing, that it's impossible not to be successful when I'm surrounded by such energy.
As always, I need to extend a shout out to my writing group, The Easy Writers. I will be forever grateful for your support, your guidance and your feedback. You've all made me a better writer but more importantly, provided many laughs and lattes on Thursday nights.
A huge thank you to early readers Leanne Shirtliffe and Angela Wallace. Your feedback and support made this a stronger story.
An extra special thank you to the talented Steena Holmes who read my mind and designed the stunning cover when I couldn't even figure out what I wanted it to look like. Thank you for putting up with countless questions, redesigns and more moments of indecision than I care to remember! Steena does amazing work. Check out her work at
My thank you list wouldn't be complete without a shout out to my supportive and wonderful husband, Rob. Thank you for making it possible for me to live what I love every single day! Without your complete and utter faith in me and my dream, this would not be possible!
Of course, big hugs and cuddles to my kids, Sydney and Lincoln, who put up with Mommy's countless hours in front of the computer and like to offer their input on cover selection and character names. Sydney, our rock out shoulder dancing sessions to the Mama Mia soundtrack will always make you smile!
And finally, my biggest thank you is for Deb. Every book I write is special to me, but Sugar Crash is unique because it is your story. Words cannot express how honored I am that you trusted me with this, and so willingly opened
your
heart and your world to my imagination. I am so proud to be your bestie and to run by your side. You are an amazing person, and this is for you.
Diabetes is a disease that effects millions of people, yet it is often misunderstood. Insulin is NOT a cure, it is a band aid! Please consider helping support the search for a cure in your community.
~A portion of the proceeds from each sale of Sugar Crash will be donated to fund diabetes research! Thank you for your support.~
Residing in the Alberta Foothills with her husband and twins, Elena escapes to the mountains as often as possible and can often be found sitting by the lake plotting her next story.
Besides her fiction projects, Elena has been published in multiple Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies, as well as the Seal Press anthology, How to Put a Car Seat on a Camel- and other misadventures traveling with children.
To learn more about Elena Aitken and her other books, please visit
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Please enjoy an excerpt from Elena's Women's Fiction novel-
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There was nothing quite as wonderful as starting the day with a hot cup of coffee. Especially when that cup of coffee was enjoyed in complete silence before the rest of the house woke up. I only had a vague recollection of such moments, since it'd been years since I'd actually enjoyed one. My latest book,
The Right Foot: Setting yourself up for success
, suggested setting the alarm a half hour early, to enjoy the quiet time, and with nothing to lose, I'd done just that.
Then I hit snooze. Twice.
By the time I dragged myself out of bed, there was only about five minutes left before I'd have to wake the girls for school. But I'd take what I could get.
I ran my hand along Jordan's bedroom door as I passed. For a split second I was tempted to open it and watch her sleeping. It was my favorite way to see her, at least since she'd become a teenager. But no, I had to start my day off right, and that meant a cup of coffee, even if it was rushed. At least it would be quiet.
A crash came in the direction of the kitchen. I froze. Panic pricked at the back of my neck. What if someone was in the house? Should I hide? No. Protect the girls. I glanced behind me to Kayla's room. The door was open. It only took me three steps to reach her room. Kayla's pink comforter was crumpled on the floor, her usual nest of stuffed animals, flung around the room.
"Kayla?" I hissed under my breath.
Another crash. Then, singing.
I sighed, the vision of my coffee dimming as I walked towards the high pitched rendition of Mary Had a Little Lamb. As soon as I rounded the corner into the kitchen and splashed straight into a puddle, that vision vanished completely.
My eyes took in the wreckage. The new jug of milk I'd just bought, lay, mostly empty on the floor blocking the fridge door. The high pitched beeping of the refrigerator door alarm filled my head. Again, I cursed Jon's insistence on purchasing top of the line appliances, the stupid things were always making noise. A mixture of corn flakes, fruit loops and my favorite granola covered the counters, and most of the floor, turning into a chunky sludge where it met the milk.
My eyes came to rest on my youngest daughter, who was sitting at the table in the middle of the chaos. The singing stopped for the moment, she was munching on a mixing bowl full of cereal.
"Hi, Mommy."
"Kayla," I said very slowly, trying to keep a rein on my temper. "What on earth happened?"
"I made breakfast," she said with a mouthful. "Want some?"
I closed my eyes and tried a deep breathing technique I'd read in one of the many parenting books that lined my shelves.
Positive Parenting
stressed the importance of encouraging your children when they attempted something on their own. The author also had the foresight to instruct parents to take a moment to think about what they were going to say before they said it, lest they discourage their well meaning children.
I tried it, counting in my head. One, two, three.
"No," I said when I opened my eyes, "the last thing I want is breakfast."
So much for not discouraging my child.
Kayla's blue eyes, peeking out from under her blond fringe, started to glisten and her lip began to quiver. "I was just trying to help."
"Well you didn't."
As soon as the words came out of my mouth I wanted them back. That happened a lot. I'd never been very good at keeping my inside voice actually inside my head. And just to concrete the fact that I felt like an awful mom, Kayla folded her arms over her cereal bowl and collapsed in a heap of tears.
Perfect. I was definitely out of the running for mother of the year.
Again.
I waited for a second. She tipped her head to the side, watching me. When I didn't respond, her wailing got louder.
I could not deal with this. Not without coffee. But it was all the way across the milky pond that strongly resembled vomit, forming on my floor. The fridge was still emitting its screech which was now combining with Kayla, creating an orchestra of pain in my head.
I took a step into the mess right as Kayla kicked her screaming into high gear. The sudden switch in volume spooked me, my feet slid out from under me and I landed on my ass with a soft plop.
Lovely.
Milk immediately seeped through my pajama pants but I didn't move.
"What the hell?" I turned to see Jordan, who at fourteen was already in full teenage angst mode and only barely tolerated anything to do with me. She was still in the tank top and shorts that she wore to bed and was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
"Don't say hell," I said.
"Well, what are you doing, Mother? It looks like a bomb went off."
Jordan, in some form of teenage rebellion had started referring to me as 'mother'. As irritating as it was, it was an improvement from her short lived phase of calling me by my first name. I'd tolerated that for an hour.
"I made breakfast," Kayla said, her tears momentarily forgotten by the appearance of her sister. Her voice wavered, but at least she wasn't screaming.
"Yeah, looks like it," Jordan said and pointed her bare foot at the lake of cereal. "What am I supposed to eat?"
"I was just trying-"
"Shut up," Jordan snapped, sparking a fresh round of tears from her sister.
"Jordan Thompson, that's enough." I pushed myself up from the floor feeling the squish of what might have been corn flakes between my fingers. "Kayla, finish eating and Jordan," I looked at my eldest who was rolling her eyes, "just go get dressed."
"Whatever,"
she said and spun on her heal. "I can't believe I'm related to you people." I heard her mutter as she stalked down the hall.
Oh, the next few years are going to be fun, I thought, not for the first time.
I turned back to Kayla who instead of eating, was staring at her still full bowl.
"Kayla, please finish eating."
"I'm not hungry."
"You're kidding?"
"No." She looked at me, her eyes full of sincerity, and blinked hard. She was still too close to the edge of a tantrum.
"Never mind," I said. "Go get ready for school."
Thankfully she did as she was told. I really couldn't handle more screaming. I still hadn't had any coffee. Although at that point, something stronger would have been welcomed.
Taking a deep breath, I gritted my teeth and skated my feet across the floor through the mess. I took my favorite mug out of the cupboard, grabbed the pot and poured. Slightly more than a dribble.
Jon seemed to think that as long as he left a drop in the pot, he didn't have to make more.
"Fuck," I said and slammed the pot down on the counter, where a crack rippled up the side of the glass.