A Sky Full of Secrets Read online

  Table of Contents

  A Sky Full of Secrets

  Copyright

  Also by Briana Pacheco

  Epigraph

  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

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  A Sky Full of Secrets

  Briana Pacheco

  A Sky Full of Secrets

  Copyright © 2017 by Briana Pacheco

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be produced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, brands, media, resemblance to events or persons, living or dead are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover Design © By Hang Le

  Interior formatting by Athena Interior Book Design

  Love and Magic poem used with permission of J.R. Rogue

  Also by Briana Pacheco

  DON'T LET ME FALL

  SOUNDS OF YESTERDAY

  LET HER GO (TBA)

  The Enough Trilogy (NA Paranormal):

  ENOUGH

  ALIVE

  STRONGER

  “Tell me the story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.”

  – Anonymous

  Chapter One

  Luna

  Moving out of my parents’ place is one of the best things I’ll ever do in my life. I’ve spent the last three weeks dog-sitting my family’s precious dog of fifteen years, Wrigley. He’s your average golden-retriever; cute, wants to be energetic but gets tired easily because he’s living past his time, fluffy, and has some seriously bad dog breath. I can’t really blame that one on him, it happens. He was fun to be around until my parents got back from their vacation, aka their last resort of trying to save their marriage, and he’s handed a bunch of gifts and kisses and love because he was missed.

  What about me? I get jack shit.

  Mom and Dad thanked me for watching him and then said they were going to take Wrigley for a walk. I was left in the kitchen, staring at my parents’ suitcases and duffel bags lying on the floor, hoping they at least brought me something, anything really. I’ll take a freaking key-chain showing my love for Italy if that’s what it takes. I just want to know that they remembered me while they got to have their first trip since I ruined their lives by wiping out their bank accounts.

  See, growing up the only daughter of Isabella and Rory Chance wasn’t exactly picture perfect. The first few years of my life were amazing. What every child would wish for. My family was happy, we’d play together, and I always got to eat dessert after dinner because I was an angel. Technically, I’d get ice cream if I could say my words right. I had a lisp and it worried my parents when it wouldn’t go away as I got older.

  But I was still their precious little girl that would run around the house wearing a princess dress, screaming at the top of my lungs when my two older brothers chased me.

  I became a burden when I got really sick with meningitis (which we learned when it was too late) at the age of six and I downplayed how shitty I felt, ultimately becoming deaf. It wasn’t even just one ear, no, I had to get screwed and go deaf in both. I remember not hearing some things; like my brothers sneaking up behind me, trying to scare me by screaming loudly or Mom laughing the night before when she told me a story to try and make me feel better. And then I woke up to silence. Complete and utter silence.

  My family was downstairs making dinner. I saw them laughing and making so much noise like they always did, but I couldn’t hear them. It scared me because I heard my father’s voice just hours ago. He read me my favorite bedtime story earlier than usual after I begged for two hours. “Only because I want my princess to feel better,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Now rest and I’ll come back when dinner is ready.”

  I ran into the living room, grabbed the TV remote, and turned the volume up the highest it could go.

  Nothing.

  My father came up from behind me, turned off the TV, and asked me why I did that. I stared at him, paralyzed. I didn’t hear the words. I read his lips. He shook me softly, and asked the same question, “Why did you do that, Luna?”

  What is happening?! I thought.

  I started smacking my ears with my fists. Why aren’t they working?! Work, ears! WORK!

  I was still so hot. My body was burning up. I lied to my mom and said I felt fine when she’d look at me worriedly, the back of her hand on my forehead. “I’m not a baby anymore,” I’d tell her. “Stop treating me like one.” But I was. I was still her baby.

  I yelled that I couldn’t hear anything.

  I pinched myself so I could wake up from this nightmare. It didn’t work.

  I was awake.

  And I couldn’t hear.

  I saw my father look at me with such sadness it broke my little heart.

  My brothers, Ian and Tanner, stood beside my mother, wide-eyed.

  Everyone’s mouths were moving. It was too much to understand.

  Why are they talking so fast? Why can’t they talk louder?!

  My mother dropped to her knees and took me by the arms, tears streaming down her face.

  She wouldn’t stop talking.

  And I still couldn’t hear a thing.

  Two months after I was declared deaf, my mom and dad saved up enough money for me to get the cochlear implant. I will always remember the look on my parents’ face when the doctor told them how much it’d be. The insurance helped as much as it could but it wasn’t enough.

  After the surgery, there was a shift in the Chance household.

  I didn’t talk to anyone, afraid the words wouldn’t sound the same as they used to. It seemed my family was scared of talking to me too because they stayed clear of me. When dinner was ready, Dad would come get me from my room and walk me to the kitchen. He’d squeeze my little hand and kiss my forehead then look away when his eyes filled with tears. Ian would bump into me like he always did when dinner was ready. He’d mouth something that I couldn’t hear. Mom would yell; silent to my ears.

  I’d eat in silence while everyone else spoke.

  I would hide within myself, trying not to bring attention to the fact that I looked like a freak with the stitches on my head covered by white banda
ges. I still couldn’t hear anything, the wounds needed to heal for another three to four weeks.

  Four weeks later, I was cleared to get the implants turned on, and I got my sound processors. It scared me at first, hearing the first sound. I thought I imagined it but then it continued, and I jumped out of my seat, covering my mouth with my hands.

  “What do you hear, Luna?” my mom asked. And I heard her! It was the first time I heard my mother speak in three months.

  We both cried as we held each other. I latched onto her, wishing that I’d never stop hearing her voice.

  When we got home, my brothers were coming out of Dad’s car, backpacks in hand, and smiles on their faces because school was done for the day.

  Everyone stopped and stared at me.

  “She looks like an alien,” Ian commented.

  I smiled because I heard him. Then I cried because I heard him.

  Every day since has been a struggle being around my family. Both Mom and Dad had to work longer hours to bring food to the table. Ian was eleven, and Tanner was eight so they couldn’t do anything besides watch me when we came home from school. They would place me in front of the TV and tell me not to move until my homework was done. Afterwards, I’d spend so many lonely hours drawing pictures of the family we used to be.

  Ian and Tanner would bring friends over and play video games in their room until it was time for our parents to return.

  When they did come home, we were reminded of why we were living the way we did by the simple dishes of food we ate. There was no more dessert. No more favorite juices. Only water and five dollar bottles of wine. No more sibling time while Mom cooked and Dad helped. No more princess dresses and teatime.

  No more fairytales and happily-ever-afters.

  Every valuable thing we had, we sold.

  And it still wasn’t enough.

  I fucking hated living in that house.

  I still do.

  ***

  Adjusting the duffel bag on my shoulder, I raise my hand and push the doorbell to the place I’ll call home until I can figure out what I’m going to do. Mac’s place is a lovely little two-story, three-bedroom home with navy blue shutters and a red door. A red door! I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a red door.

  Yes, I’m really excited about this.

  The neighboring houses all have the same look. They’re all two-story homes with a small front lawn and a driveway. Some of the lawns are taken care of, and some have overgrown weeds. The area looks very homey though.

  After getting kicked out of UCLA back in December for assaulting my roommate’s boyfriend, I moved back in with my parents here in Rhode Island. I couldn’t stand the three months of feeling lonely and forgotten after witnessing how much love Wrigley was rewarded with so I called up my only friend from high school, Mackenzie and asked if he needed a roommate.

  When I was a junior, he was a senior and we really clicked. I was always hiding behind my long, dark hair. If someone talked to me, I’d walk away. I just got used to being ignored that having someone’s attention on me felt extremely awkward. Once someone figured out why I kept my hair down, they’d clam up and make an excuse to leave. Some would even mutter, ‘she can’t hear you, idiot’ under their breath. I don’t know if people are just stupid or they don’t care to learn any information about cochlear implants, but if a deaf person has the sound processors, you know, the thing on their ear that magically connects to their head, they can hear you. The thing is literally to let us hear sounds.

  I wanted to feel as normal as possible so it was my decision to go to a hearing public school. I can’t really blame the idiots then, can I?

  Mackenzie came up to me one day during my gym class and asked me what my deal was. His precise words were, “Why do you act like a bitch to everyone?” I was too distracted listening to him that I didn’t hear the person across from us yell, “Heads up!” A basketball whizzed past my head, just centimeters away from bouncing off my face.

  My hair flew back. Mackenzie’s eyes landed on my ear. And he smiled. He then raised his hand and signed, “Huh. So is it turned off or are you just ignoring me?”

  I was taken aback. It took a minute of awkward staring so my brain could understand what he just did. Then I couldn’t help but smile and say, “I hear you.”

  He was the first person to ever sign something to me.

  I’d been learning sign language from videos on the computer, and through books. No one has ever just done it in front of me before. It was awesome! It’s like a secret language only a select few know.

  “Sweet. I’m Mackenzie by the way,” he continued, out loud.

  “Luna.”

  He stared at me from behind his black-framed glasses, green eyes narrowed. “Nothing to say about that?”

  “About your name?” I shook my head. “I’ve been teased all my life. I don’t do it to others.”

  And that’s how we became friends.

  The red door swings open, and a six-foot-three-inch tall man takes its place. Green eyes hiding behind the same black-framed glasses find mine. “Luna!”

  I’m jerked into strong arms, my duffel bag dropping down my arm, hitting the wood of the porch with a thump.

  “Mackenzie!” I throw my arms around Mac and squeeze his hard body as tight as I can.

  Mackenzie MacKay is a lifesaver. I’m so honored to call him my best friend. Ever since we grew closer in high school and he brought me around his family, we formed this unbreakable connection. There isn’t a single thing about me that he doesn’t know. I don’t know why but he’s the only person I’ve connected to in the last six years. We planned on finding apartments within five miles of each other after I graduate from college but that plan got derailed when I was kicked out so yeah, here I am. Moving in with my best friend. Just until I get back on my feet.

  “Hmm, I’ve missed the smell of my best friend.” Mac gets all groper and feels me up, including smelling my hair, and finishes it off with a delighted smile. He acts like we didn’t see each other three weeks ago for his birthday. He came to my parents’ house and we hung out, just like old times. Wrigley was kinda pissy; it was the day Mom and Dad left for Italy. “Come in, come in!” He sweeps my duffel off the porch and steps back so I can walk in.

  He’s renting a lovely little home here in Providence that is not too far from Brown University. He loves the college life, you can say. Gradating from Boston University back in May was a sad day for him. He had to say goodbye to all the ladies he was leaving behind in Massachusetts.

  I don’t really know why he moved back home when he could have chosen anywhere else but I’m glad he did. His parents live less than thirty minutes away in West Warwick. That could be a factor into why he’s within my reach.

  “All right, let me give you a tour. Don’t mind the mess.”

  I’m in complete shock when I see all the photos hanging around the house. There are even some by the 60” TV mounted to the wall in the living room. His life is plastered on these walls, and I’m in most of them. Mac never made me feel invisible. It’s his superpower.

  As I look around the three-bedroom house, I’m left questioning, ‘what mess?’ The house is in pristine condition. The bathroom looks like no one has ever used it. The kitchen is spotless as well as every other room.

  I swipe my finger on the coffee table in the living room when the tour is done, and it comes back clean. “I don’t understand how two guys live here,” I say. “I’ve seen the pictures of your dorm rooms over the years. Did you hire a maid or something?”

  Mac scratches the back of his head with a blushing smile creeping onto his lips. “Or something. Nix is a clean freak. The dude literally has a duster attached to his hip most days.”

  My shoulders sag in disbelief. “Mac!” I grab a couch pillow and swing it at him. “I make a lot of mess. I don’t see me living here working out. Like, at all.”

  My pottery business, okay saying business is a stretch since I only sell to three people
–the MacKay’s–but it’s what I love to do. One day I hope I can have my very own studio where I can lose myself in making something out of a lump of clay.

  Mac grabs my hand and covers it with both of his, bringing it to his chest like he’s praying. “Trust me, please. I talked to him already. He won’t say anything about your work. And if he does, he has to deal with it.” Mac throws in a wink and pulls me into his arms for a hug. “You’ll love it here.”

  I lean against him and nod, hoping it’s true.

  I don’t know much of his roommate except that they’ve been roomies since freshman year of college back in Boston. I haven’t seen many pictures because they were always out partying. I’ve never known drunken men to take selfies to send to their friend. And since I’m as broke as they come, I couldn’t travel back and forth to see Mac or go home to see my parents so he’d come to me whenever he could. He was always alone.

  It is partially my fault for not asking more questions about the person stealing my bestie. I was kinda jealous that Mac had a friend who was physically with him 24/7 while I was only as close as technology would let me so I didn’t want to hear about it. I wanted Mac to myself. When he visited me, we were in our own world. No one could steal my other half.

  All I know is a name; Phoenix Sloan. It sounds more like a porn star name than it does a man who carries around a duster.

  “When do I meet the roomie?” I ask.

  “Tonight. He left an hour ago so we can have private time together. I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re sleeping together even though I told him we’re not.” Mac looks down at my five-foot-five-inch frame.

  We break out into a fit of giggles and make weird faces at each other.

  ***

  After putting some of my clothes away, I sit on the edge of my platform bed and map out how my room will look in the next few days. I didn’t bring anything besides my clothes. Mackenzie said the house came with furniture and everything else I’d need to be comfortable so I don’t have to worry about spending money I don’t have.