“Told ya … Mommy’s no fun,” I whispered, and it made Franz giggle as I dumped his monkey body onto the bed.
After three miles on my favorite trail, I turned around just as it started to sprinkle. The trip down was always quicker, unless the terrain got too slick from the rain. I glanced at my watch, keeping an eye on the time so I didn’t miss my meeting. Then I took a quick swig from my canteen.
Spitting the water out, I coughed. But when I tried to catch my breath, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Yet … I was breathing. I clawed at my nose and mouth as if something was suffocating me, but nothing was there. Panic set in, and I felt a sense of fear … not just physical fear, but emotional fear.
What was happening?
I rubbed my face and clawed at my neck. My head felt like it was ready to explode while my lungs caught on fire. Then it hit me as I collapsed to my knees on the verge of passing out … borrowed time. My second chance had expired. I brought back the dead when I was warned to let lost souls pass.
Hinder not the soul’s intended path unto the light…
The pain … it was excruciating, by far the worst pain I had ever experienced because I couldn’t breathe.
Evie would be at the library, reading books to the kids while I took my last breath.
And it … would … destroy her.
The very best moments of my life flashed before me—when Evie turned around at the cafe in Vancouver and first smiled at me, the snowy Christmas Day she said, “I do,” the first breath Franz took, the moment we let him hold his newborn sister.
Every smile.
Every touch.
Every breath.
Madeline’s words echoed in my ears, and they gave me peace because I felt them too. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Not a single life I tried to save.
In spite of the pain, I knew I’d do it all again.
I collapsed onto my side, clutching my neck, and gasping until I started to black out. The end. My time had come.
…lest shards of darkness shed upon thee.
Only, I was no longer alive—no more suffering.
To be continued …
Order the conclusion today!
Sneak Peek of Just Jane, by Jewel E. Ann, part of the Australia: A Romance Anthology
A romance anthology with over THIRTY original, never-before-seen stories from bestselling and award-winning authors. Each piece was written for this anthology to benefit firefighters and wildlife in Australia. AUSTRALIA is only available for a limited time, so one-click your copy before it’s gone.
AUTHORS INCLUDE: Penny Reid, Meredith Wild, Carly Phillips, Sierra Simone, Emma Scott, Susan Stoker, Kennedy Ryan, Willow Aster, Skye Warren, Kylie Scott, Aleatha Romig, Willow Winters, AL Jackson, Julia Kent, Rebecca Yarros, Tijan, Giana Darling, Emma Hart, Chelle Bliss, Noelle Adams, A. Zavarelli, Jenika Snow, Dylan Allen, Audrey Carlan, Robin Covington, Mary Catherine Gebhard, Melanie Moreland, Parker S. Huntington, Nana Malone, Jewel E. Ann, Annabel Joseph, Celia Aaron, Michelle Heard, Brighton Walsh, Tamsen Parker, Pam Godwin
All royalties from this project will be donated to relief funds in Australia, with 50% going to a firefighter charity and 50% going to a wildlife charity. We aren’t affiliated or endorsed by these charities. We are simply authors who want to support an important cause.
My good friend Jane’s getting married in Perth, Australia. My first time there, and I couldn’t be more excited.
I had two best friends until I met Jane in college. She informed me “best” is singular. There can only be one best friend. Did I mention she made this announcement in front of those two best friends?
Thankfully, at the time, all parties were deliriously tipsy in celebration of my twenty-first birthday. No feelings were hurt when I declared Avril as my best friend, since we had been friends from the first day of third grade. Erin took second place as my better friend. Avril and I befriended Erin in high school. Then the three of us met Jane in college—University of Iowa, pre-law.
Good. Better. Best.
Jane slid into my last available friend slot. The “good” friend.
After a delayed flight from Chicago, I arrived at LAX and now wait to take a later flight to Sydney, where I’ll catch another plane to Perth for Good Friend Jane’s wedding.
I haven’t seen Jane in two years. She traveled to Australia for a three-week vacation, met a guy, and stayed two years. I get letters … paper letters from her. She claims she has a cell phone and a computer but only uses it for work. I have a landline number for her.
A landline!
Good Friend Jane thinks the Internet is the beginning of the end of the world.
“Is this seat taken?” A dirty-blond man in a disheveled blue plaid suit blows his shaggy hair off his forehead.
“Nope. My bag can go on the floor.” I move my handbag between my feet, giving the man a smile.
He attempts to return the smile, but it sags like a flat tire stuck to his scruffy face. My gaze slides along his … situation. That’s what I’d call him. A situation. A complete disaster. Only sleeping in a suit could impart that many wrinkles. I’m pretty sure the brown splattering on his lavender, partially unbuttoned shirt is coffee, and the smudge on his eggplant tie resembles mustard. I’m not sure why he’s wearing the tie. It’s loose enough to fit over the head of a rhinoceros.
“Rough day?” I release a tiny chuckle, attempting to be friendly but not nosy. Honestly, I don’t even know why I asked that question. I made a similar mistake in Chicago, and a guy, probably twice my age, talked my ear clean off the side of my head. Scruffy’s gaze meets mine, catching me observing (really judging) his appearance as he folds his tall body into the chair.
He makes his own visual assessment of me. I think I still look put together. That will not be the case after my twenty-six-hour flight to Perth.
He has beautiful amber eyes and sharp features. A mess, but a handsome mess. My cheeks fill with heat as his gaze sluggishly makes its way from my white Adidas shoes, along my high-waisted denim carpenter jeans, over my black Aerosmith fitted tee, pausing on my face just long enough to make his own decision on my eye color (blue or slate). I cling to blue. Who wants gray eyes?
He observes me tucking my black, chin-length hair behind my ears. I dried it straight for the flight, but most days I add a few curls to give it attitude like me in a courtroom.
“Rough several days,” he says on a sigh, meeting my gaze once again. I think his sluggishly slow assessment has less to do with appreciating anything about my body and more to do with lack of sleep.
“Sorry. Hope things get better for you soon.”
“Thanks.” He drops his backpack at his feet and scoots down in the chair, running both hands through his hair as he tilts his head back. “It’s really my own fault. I’ve willingly been bumped from one flight to the next. I’ve earned several round-trip tickets to anywhere in the world, along with two thousand in cash. Just playing the plane game.”
“A travel hacker.” I scroll through my e-mail.
He chuckles, eyes closed. “Not usually. No time for that. But I made time. I guess I’m in no hurry.”
“What’s that like?” I laugh.
“What’s what like?” He continues our conversation with his eyes closed.