Once Again Read online

  Once Again

  By

  Amy Durham

  Once Again

  Copyright 2012 by Amy Durham

  Published By Amy Durham

  Smashwords Edition

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Formatted By Ironhorse Formatting

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book may not be resold or given away to other people.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DEDICATION

  To Jayne Squires, who first told me I could do this and whose belief in me translated into my belief in myself.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Teresa Reasor, I can never thank you enough for your support, encouragement, and expertise. For reading and critiquing for me, I give you my deepest gratitude. To Kari Lee Townsend, thank you for your insightful editing and critiquing, for believing in this book, and for helping me make it even better. To my fellow KY Romance Writer members, thank you for the wonderful camaraderie that exists only between fellow writers. To Glenda Edwards, thanks for 25 years of abiding friendship and all the encouragement and brainstorming a girl could want. To Ray Hollenbach and the rest of the folks in my local writers group, thank you for your encouragement and for giving me a place to share this part of myself. To my parents, every opportunity I’ve ever had has been because of you. No words are sufficient, but thank you nonetheless. To my husband, Kevin, thank you for loving the creative side of me (and the rest of me!) unconditionally. Kelly, my first-born, thank you for believing in my dreams – I hope my ambitions will inspire your own. To Eli and Reece, thank you for the infinite joy you bring me. And most importantly, thank you God for imagination, creativity, and storytelling, and for putting all of the above in me.

  Table Of Contents

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  About The Author

  Coming Soon - Once and For All

  PROLOGUE

  Okay, I had to admit that Maine in July was spectacular.

  Spotless white clouds dotted a sky of perfect aqua blue. Bright green leaves hung heavy in the trees. Together with the rich landscaping of the town, nature had created a lovely and charming little place.

  My parents had chosen an extraordinary location for our new home.

  But, being sixteen, I didn’t say it out loud. I was still pretty unhappy about leaving Nashville. Music City, USA had been my one and only home, and the thought of starting over with only two years of high school left scared me silly.

  Not that I’d been at the top of the social ladder in Nashville. Far from it. But I’d been me, and I’d known where I stood. Now, who knew what or where I’d end up?

  It seemed odd to spend Independence Day house-hunting in Sky Cove, Maine, but my parents had decided July fourth would be the perfect time to visit before making the move. After touring several places, we’d settled on a red-brick house in a middle-class neighborhood. Two-floors, it was a perfect square rising up from the ground, very much like a cracker box. In addition to some storage space, the small upstairs had one bedroom and one bathroom, and my parents had agreed it could be mine.

  It was a perk meant to make me happy. To ease the transition.

  It sort of did. I liked the idea of having the second floor to myself.

  Heading across town to the realtor’s office to settle the business of purchasing the new home, my parents took the road that ran parallel to the ocean. I lounged in the backseat, watching the gaps in the trees lining the road as they gave me glimpses of the shore just beyond. The blue of the water surprised me when I first saw it. Somehow I’d thought it would be green and brown and ugly.

  The bits of shore I could see were rough and rocky, with patches of sand scattered throughout. I thought how nice it must be to walk barefoot on the sandy spots on warm summer days.

  At once, I felt a huge longing to walk the beach, combined with a strange sense of foreboding. The air in the car turned damp, and liquid seemed to fill my lungs with each breath. The temperature dropped, far too cold for July.

  Disconcerted, I turned around for one last look at the shore before we headed into the town. An opening in the trees offered an unobstructed view, and I saw a woman jogging.

  No, that wasn’t right. She was running. And she was wearing a dress. A really old looking dress. How odd.

  A family picnicking on the beach sat directly in her path, yet she didn’t slow. She just kept running. She didn’t even seem to see them in front of her.

  My heart picked up speed. I craned my neck and turned in my seat, the aged vinyl upholstery creaking as I shifted. Knowing the collision was imminent, I held my breath. The running woman plowed right into the family eating happily on their blanket.

  I cringed.

  Then realized that nothing had happened.

  Mystery woman still ran down the beach with frantic speed, but the family still sat, enjoying their holiday picnic.

  I squinted. She kept running toward a rock wall, and the forward momentum of our car took me further away. Her form grew smaller and... transparent?

  No, of course not.

  And then she disappeared, like dust blowing away in the breeze.

  My skin warmed as the cold air in the car faded.

  I rubbed my eyes, shook my head, and turned back to face the front of the car. It had been a very long day.

  CHAPTER 1

  The morning fog that swirled through Sky Cove had lifted. The sun warmed the air, and it was a lovely late-August day.

  I’d convinced Mom not to drive me to school on my first morning.

  On the day that I, Layla Bradford, started my junior year of high school in a strange and far-off place.

  Well, maybe Sky Cove wasn’t exactly that far-off, but compared to Nashville, it might as well have been the other side of the universe.

  Truth be told, the town was kind of nice. And the summer weather was spectacular. I’d been surprised to learn that gray and overcast wasn’t the norm for Maine. The sun apparently knew how to shine here as well as it did in Tennessee.

  Yep, Sky Cove was lovely.

  But it wasn’t the city. No crazy traffic. No shopping m
alls. Not that a shopping mall was ever a huge draw for me, but I did enjoy the bookstores. And I was pretty sure that the pleasant summer weather I’d been enjoying since my arrival two weeks ago would soon turn to a winter like I’d never seen before.

  Great. I couldn’t wait.

  The thing about being a teenager is that you’re at the mercy of your parents’ decisions. Mine decided to move to Maine, and despite the fact that it was about the last thing in the world I wanted, I didn’t have it in me to be one of those bratty, whiny kids who made their parents miserable when everything wasn’t going their way. Besides, I could see how excited my dad was about String City, the guitar store he now owned.

  So... here I was.

  Pulling my old, sensible Honda into the parking lot of Sky Cove Senior High School.

  I’d worn my favorite baby-doll shirt, the teal green one. My mom said it matched the color of my eyes. I guess moms are supposed to say stuff like that, but the shirt did lend me a little confidence in my appearance. And because the breeze in a coastal town forever whooshed about in the mornings, I’d left the natural waves in my shoulder length brown hair. No sense spending all that time with a flat iron if the wind was just going to whip it around.

  Another thing about this town is that, with a population of less than five thousand, there’s only one high school. Which means everyone knows everybody and there are no secrets.

  Or so I’ve been told about small towns.

  At any rate, I knew finding a way to fit in would be difficult. Most of these kids had grown up here and been in the same classes since nursery school.

  Fitting in had never been my number one priority. No, I was always more of a blending in kind of girl. I didn’t try to be noticed by having the right friends or dressing the correct way. I just wanted to fly under the radar.

  I hated being the center of attention.

  Which was exactly what I became the moment I stepped through the front door of the school.

  My mom and I had toured the school with the principal last week, which was helpful, because I already knew where my classes were and wouldn’t have to stumble my way through the first day. But what I hadn’t realized was that the front lobby was the gathering spot.

  Kids sat in chairs, the floor, and leaned up against the walls. Every face turned and every eye focused on me as I walked in. I’d avoided, on purpose, arriving at school early, to steer clear of just this thing. They all stared, and I knew they were sizing me up, deciding whether or not I was worthy, and ultimately finding me lacking in the wow-she’s-hot department.

  My silent plea for rescue was answered when the warning bell rang, sending students scattering on their way to homerooms.

  Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath and turned toward my hallway. The school building had seen better days – probably in the 1960s – and the painted cinderblock walls and dingy gray tile floors held the scents of aged textbooks, the odd, generic odor of a school cafeteria, and the more recent smell of endless mists of body spray.

  My homeroom was the third door on the right. A few students still loitered by the hall entrance, so I smiled as I walked past. One boy greeted me with a nod of his head that I was sure he believed to be very suave and cool. He wasn’t much taller than me, and I was five-three. Another guy, this one average height, looked at me with guarded, narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out who I was. Two girls, clearly cheerleaders with their school-spirit shirts and ponytails tied with matching bows, looked at me with judgment in their eyes.

  I sighed inwardly. Some things were the same no matter where you lived.

  Behind the others was a taller boy, with dark blond hair, a deep golden that picked up the dreary fluorescent lights from the lobby and turned them into something special.

  A zing of awareness barreled into me, an uneasy combination of both rightness and menace settling heavy in my stomach, and I had the strangest sensation that I’d felt exactly this way before.

  Unlike some of the other guys I’d seen during that brief moment of panic in the crowded lobby, Mr. Dark Blond didn’t look like a slob. His green polo shirt was tucked into his jeans, and he wore a belt.

  Of course, he had the kind of body that looked good with a tucked in shirt and belt accentuating his waist. Long, tall, and lean. And though I’d never considered myself a superficial, all-about-appearances person, I was girl enough to notice.

  In the split second that I passed by him, all sorts of thoughts bounced around in my brain about how to acknowledge him. I’d smiled at the group, after all, and even nodded back to the shorter boy who’d wowed me with his head-nod. I couldn’t just ignore the cute one, could I?

  But at the same time, I couldn’t make too big of a deal about him either.

  I looked up at him, figuring some brief eye contact and a generic smile would do the trick.

  But when my eyes met his, it was to find him already looking at me. Staring really, like he’d seen a ghost. Eyes wide. Mouth open slightly as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. The intensity was almost uncomfortable. And his eyes were crazy beautiful, deep and brown.

  Did I have something on my face? Toilet paper stuck to my shoe?

  Because really, there was no way he was actually noticing me. Not with the two Barbie dolls hanging all over him. I was not the kind of girl who attracted attention from boys like him.

  And besides, he looked like he couldn’t decide whether or not to be happy about my presence.

  But his stare continued, so I half-smiled at him, kind of apologetically, and with a shrug pushed my way into the hallway and found my homeroom.

  ***

  My first class was chemistry, and the scent of hot Bunsen burners and what they’d once heated filled the room. This class was not going to be my favorite. I’d been indifferent about my biology class last year, and had gotten through it, managing to maintain my grade point average. But I had a feeling that chemistry was going to be a struggle.

  Fortunately for me, I didn’t have a social life that got in the way of my study habits.

  And also fortunately for me, I ended up paired with a science nut for a lab partner. Her name was Jessie Spencer, and she was actually really nice.

  She seemed to be like me, an under-the-radar type.

  I suppose you could say she was my first friend.

  “I’ve never been further south that Boston,” she told me as the bell rang to end first period. “I bet Tennessee is really awesome.”

  “I liked it a lot,” I answered. “But I lived there all my life, so I probably took it for granted.”

  “You miss it, I’m sure.” She grabbed her books and headed for the door, her chin-length curly brown hair bobbing with every step.

  Sure I did. But I wasn’t going to dwell on it.

  “Some.” I picked up my backpack and walked into the hallway with her. “It’s hard starting over, but Sky Cove is really beautiful.”

  It turned out Jessie’s locker was only three doors down from mine, and while we picked up books for our second period classes, she introduced me to two of her friends.

  “Hey, this is Layla Bradford. She’s new here.” Since Jessie had been so kind to me this morning, I decided not to deduct points for stating the obvious.

  “And these are my friends, Marsha Foster and Tiffany Caldwell.” She turned back to me. “Tomorrow after school we’re going to the beach. You should come.”

  I told her I’d think about it, and said a quick hello to Marsha and Tiffany. We left moments later, as we all had classes to go to, but I had to admit Marsha and Tiffany had been just as kind and welcoming as Jessie. It seemed the three of them were just like I’d always been, middle-class citizens in the caste-system that was public high school.

  Which was fine. It was a status quo I was familiar with.

  A shiver of sensation danced up my spine as I left the row of lockers to find my next class. Looking around, I made certain no one was staring at me, then did a quick check of my appe
arance. My pants were not unzipped, bra strap was not showing. Short of mascara running down my face, it seemed nothing was wrong with the way I looked.

  But I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The disturbing sense of unease returned full force.

  Somewhere in my mind words bounced and ricocheted, and at the door to my classroom I stopped and closed my eyes.

  Behind my eyelids a sentence began to take shape. Each word falling into place, like slot machine wheels, until I saw it clearly.

  I won’t lose. Not this time.

  Opening my eyes I took a deep breath to clear my head. How weird was that? What the heck did that mean? I chalked it up to the stress of starting a new school.

  The hallway bustled with movement as kids rushed to second period. A sea of unknown faces washed passed me.

  I must’ve been more nervous than I thought.

  I squared my shoulders and stepped in to the classroom. Literature class. It wasn’t a required course, but rather one of the “elective” classes that I got to choose. So, of course, I chose something that involved reading.

  I expected to see other bookworms in the room, and to some degree I wasn’t surprised. When I stepped through the door, I noticed three kids sitting quietly with books already out and opened. I smiled. Others like me, who read not because they were forced, but because they enjoyed. Near the front of the room were three girls with cell phones out, frantically sending text messages before the warning bell rang. I wondered if they were in this class because they signed up late and all the other electives were full.

  Just as I was about to take a seat with the bookworms, I noticed him.

  Him.

  Mr. Dark Blond and Brown-Eyed.

  On the far side of the room, with the one of two empty seats in the class right next to him.

  When I looked at him, his eyes narrowed, in a way that seemed familiar and very unsettling, and reached over to remove his books from the unoccupied desk beside him. He dropped his eyes from me to the now empty desk and back again, like some sort of silent invitation.