Wrecking Us, Saving You

By: Leaona Luxx
To you ~ my reader...thank you for your continued support. I’m humbled.





When I started this journey, I was told to ‘write what you know’. Well, that’s family. I know families. After my first two books in The Cove Series, I moved to the next series with every intention of coming back to Chord’s story.

I knew it had to be special because I needed to redeem The Cove Series. It was my first love and closely reflects my family. Lea is my middle name, Malone is my husband’s grandfather’s name and Lloyd, my grandpa.

I waited and wrote until the perfect cover came along. I’m different. Yeah, I know you noticed. I always have a cover and blurb before the story. It drives me and the words from the character’s themselves.

Chord and Sarah’s story is one of redemption for more than just them. This is my redemption. I wanted, no, needed a BIG BOOK, one that yells for it to be seen. Their story is heart-wrenching and one that can be seen in anyone’s family.

Open your heart and let them in, you won’t be disappointed.

Lea~





Sitting in my room, I’m playing with my old rabbit when a loud sound echoes from the living room. Standing, I tiptoe over, easing my door open, cringing in hopes it doesn’t creak. I peek out just as the banging makes the walls vibrate again.

I stretch my neck to see if my mom’s door is still shut. I chew on my nail, trying to decide if I should answer it or not. Knowing if I do and it’s someone she doesn’t want to see, I’ll get in trouble. But if it wakes her up, she’ll be mad anyway.

I sprint to the door like a church mouse, hurdling clothes and boxes still in the way from our move. The door shakes again with a hammering fist. I stop long enough to peep out the window to see who it is.

A woman with long black hair stands on the stoop. Her blue suit is pretty, but when I notice the papers in her hand, my belly flips. “Oh, no,” I whisper as I hurry to unlock the door.

I can hear my mom coughing in the other room, I know I’m running out of time. I jerk the door open, rushing through it, shutting the door behind me. My eyes wide, I hold my breath as I wait for her to speak.

“Sarah?” Her brow furrows as I quickly nod. She squats in front me, offering me her hand. “Hi, I’m Maggie.” My eyes flicker from her face to her hand as it hangs in the air for me, but I don’t take it.

“What do you want?” My legs unsteady, I keep watch behind me.

Her eyes narrow, a smile plays on her lips. “Well, I’m here to talk to your mom. You, sweetie, should be in school.”

My mouth pops open, my mom isn’t going to like this. “She worked late last night, she’s still sleeping,” I answer with our old standby story.

“Well, I’ll come in and wait for her to get up.” She grins. I shuffle my feet, racking my brain to come up with an excuse to get rid of her.

“She’ll be asleep for hours. If you want to give me the papers, I’ll make sure she gets them,” I plead with a weak smile as my stomach flips.

“You’re a bright little lady, Sarah, but I have to speak to your mom.” Just as I’m about to come up with another excuse, the door swings wide. I jump, turning to find my mom glaring at us.

She squints as her yellow hair flies wildly around her face when she steps out on the porch. Her eye makeup is smeared down her cheek as she straightens her tank over her belly.

“Sarah, get in the damn house,” she grumbles, pulling me by my shirt as she turns her venom on our not so welcome guest. “What the hell do you want?”

“Are you Lisa Smith?” Miss Maggie asks as she squares her shoulders.

My mom snarls as she takes a drag from her cigarette. “What of it?”

“As far we can tell, you’ve been here for two weeks, and Sarah needs to be in school,” she explains. “Unless you can provide an excuse for her absences.”

Mom blows her smoke in the lady’s face. “Well, we just moved here. I ain’t had time to get over there to enroll her.”

“I have her paperwork. I can also give you the bus schedule, she can start tomorrow.” Miss Maggie digs through her papers.

“Oh, good.” Mom rolls her eyes. “Sarah, get over here and get your school stuff.”

Maggie’s face grows soft as she kneels to talk to me. “Sarah, the bus runs at eight. The driver’s name is Amy and it’s bus number one-five-eight-nine. Your teacher is Miss Stafford,” saying as she points to the paper. I nod, hoping to hurry her along.

“Do you know the room number?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t. I’m sure someone will be able to show you once you’re there.” She rubs my arm.

“Alright, what else do you need? I’m sure her old school has already sent everything over there,” Mom spouts.

“I believe they did,” saying as she stands, “considering I found you.”

“Wonderful, I guess that’s all you need then.” Mom wraps her fingers around my wrist, pulling me with her.

“Sarah, if you need me,” Maggie says in a flurry as my mom shuts the door in her face. “Your teacher can help.” I hear her muffled voice yell from behind the closed door.

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