Chase The Butterflies

by Monica James

  “I think I need to sit.” I don’t wait for Bryan and run over to a bench seat. I slump down into it, cradling my head in my palms.

  Why is everything so fuzzy? Why are the memories I think I made hours ago feel like they were made in a different lifetime?

  Bryan’s voice is a distant murmur because I can’t focus on the noise. I need to concentrate and break through the shadows clouding my vision. As I rub absentmindedly over my chest, a blanket of déjà vu tucks in around me, and I gasp for breath.

  “So…what do you say? Want to marry me?”

  I have no idea how long Bryan has been talking, or what he’s said other than the fact he just asked me to marry him.

  My heart begins mounting to an unhealthy rhythm. Marry him? Is he serious? I don’t even love…him. I haven’t for a very long time.

  “Victoria?” He’s nervous, concerned that I’m seconds away from throwing up my ravioli. “Will you marry me?”

  “If I go, there’s no reason for you to stay.” A whisper raps gently against my temple, but when I hear his voice again, I’m certain a sledgehammer has replaced the undertone. “I die every night just so I can meet you again.”

  Oh, god.

  A kaleidoscope of colors, voices, events crashes into me, leaving me winded as I try to piece together what’s happening. Stormy blue eyes, pink bowed lips, ever-present whiskers come together to form the face of a man I know. A man I love. But who is he?

  Clutching at my hair, I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to see more because those memories are fresher than any others before it. “Who are you, and why are you standing in my yard?”

  The corner of his mouth tips up into a hint of a smile, and the simple gesture has me wondering how he’d look with both corners lifted—handsome, no doubt.

  “What makes you different…makes you beautiful.”

  Memories sputter from my subconscious, forming a moving picture of my life. I don’t remember the things I’m seeing, but I know they happened. It’s so surreal to watch yourself and not remember engaging so vividly in milestones that made you happy.

  I spring up in my seat, my heart about to punch a hole straight through my chest as I attempt to catch my breath. Bryan is standing feet away, his hands raised in surrender. He’s paler than a…ghost.

  I instinctively reach up and latch onto a smooth, round medallion. Gasping, I blink once, twice…I remember. No, how is this…how is this even possible?

  Does the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas?

  Hell yes, it does.

  “I need to go!” I jump up like the seat is on fire and push past Bryan, who stumbles backward with the force.

  “Tori!” he beseeches, begging me to explain what’s going on. He’s clutching onto the ring box, cementing this is real.

  Looking down at my watch, I see I have mere minutes to play god. “I don’t love you, Bryan. I’m sorry. I did, but things, they change. I changed.” I hear a bottle skate along the pavement, bringing back memories I never want to remember. “Run to your car, lock the doors, and drive home. Forget you ever met me.”

  He shakes his head animatedly. “I’m sorry I asked you to marry me. I know you’re not ready.” He snaps the lid shut and shoves the box into his pocket. He believes my outburst is due to the fact he just popped the question, and it went down as the world’s worst proposal.

  Looking over my shoulder, I know I’m being watched. Closing the distance between us, I place my hand against his cheek. “I would have married you…in a heartbeat…in a different lifetime. I know that much is true. Goodbye, Bryan.” Before he has a chance to protest, I kiss his lips briefly.

  He’s speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, but he’ll soon understand this is for the best. He’ll find comfort in my sister, and that reality makes this farewell a sweet goodbye.

  Before I turn on my heel, I extend my palm. “Can I borrow your cell?” He stands thunderstruck, wasting precious time. Manners long forgotten, I hastily reach into his pants pocket and retrieve his phone. “Thanks.”

  I push past him and run. “Tori! Wait! Victoria! Come back!” But I do neither.

  Flashes of when I was last here cloud my vision. But unlike last time, I’ve come prepared. When I bump straight into a pungent smelling mass, I don’t yelp, nor do I apologize profusely for not looking where I’m going.

  I meet the small, beady eyes of a destitute looking man who changed my life forever. He sneers, his yellowed, long teeth akin to that of a sewer rat. “Nice necklace.”

  The scenario, the words may have changed, but they’ve changed for the better. “Thank you, it is,” I confidently quip, stalking toward him instead of away. “It’s Saint Jude. The saint of hope.”

  Just as he opens his mouth to emit filth, I raise my leg and knee him straight in the balls. The force is so hard; I actually think I’ve broken my kneecap. He falls to the ground, wailing in pain. “And you better hope you get a merciful judge.”

  I dial 911, rattling off my location, describing my victim, who ironically was once my assailant. I don’t feel guilty when I tell the operator he attacked me. He may not have done so in this lifetime, but we all pay our dues sooner or later.

  “What did I ever do to you?” he howls, clutching his junk as he gasps for breath.

  “You’re in no position to ask questions.” Taking back my freedom has never felt so good. I have saved so many people from heartache. I have saved lives, and it feels good.

  Bryan is standing frozen behind me, just as he did when I saw him through Jude’s eyes.

  Jude.

  Leaving the man who changed my life forever, I take off in a dead sprint to meet another man who did the same. But this man…he’s unlike any man I’ve ever met before. I can’t believe it’s only been a few minutes since I last saw Jude. How is it possible to miss someone so much after a fraction in time?

  With everything I am, I hope this works. I’ve altered history, changed events which shaped me into the person I am today. I just hope I haven’t lost a piece of my soul doing it. It only takes a moment to change your future. I only hope I’m not too late.

  I saw Jude’s past through his eyes, so I know exactly where he’ll be. My legs ache, and I’m seconds away from falling into a breathless heap, but when I turn the corner and see a green truck, nothing else matters. A tall, towering man with a commanding poise stalks over to his truck, hood drawn over his bowed head.

  My heart swells, and every inch of my body hums in exhilaration. Not thinking, caring, or questioning, I sprint across the road toward Jude. I don’t know how this is possible because it shouldn’t be. But our love, it knows no bounds.

  His back is turned, so he doesn’t know that he’s seconds away from being mauled. My footsteps thrum loudly against the pavement, alerting Jude that I’m behind him. Just as he turns, I throw myself into his arms, clutching onto him like a deranged koala. I’ve never experienced such bliss—this is heaven.

  I wrap my arms around his nape, basking in this familiar sensation. It’s amazing how one single scent can bring back so many memories. He feels stronger, firmer, and I know it’s because he’s really here. We’re both alive, breathing in the same world.

  He doesn’t say a word, his harsh exhalations warming my body from head to toe. He wraps his arms around my middle, pressing us chest to chest. Beating heart to beating heart. I could stay this way forever. Tears stream down my cheeks, but there’s not a trace of sadness within them.

  “Um, hi.” His hoarse voice has me humming, closing my eyes in bliss.

  “Hi.” I latch on tighter, never intending to let go.

  “I don’t mean to be, er, rude. But do I know you?”

  My eyes pop open.

  Caught up in my excitement, I completely forgot that although I remember, Jude does not. I should be sad, but I’m not. What we shared will be my secret because I can save Jude from knowing the heartache of our past.

  Sliding down his bod
y, I shyly brush the hair from my face. I can’t meet his eyes. Not yet. I remember Jude once told me he died every night just so he could meet me again. I now can walk a mile in his shoes. I too feel a kinship to these feelings because I’d happily die a thousand deaths just to see his face again.

  I take a breath, but it’s in vain. I stop breathing when he places two fingers under my chin. An inhalation leaves my lips as I meet his warm, gentle eyes. I could stare into the inky depths and get lost forever. He cocks his head to the side while tonguing his upper lip. He’s watching me closely while I remind myself to breathe.

  He traces the curve of my brow, the slope of my nose, before scoring my lips with his slow, torturous movements as he outlines the seam of my mouth. I’m certain he can see my heart slamming in my chest, but I allow him to examine me because I have the upper hand.

  When we first met, he knew who I was and what I had been through. But now, the tables are turned because I have seen the future—and it’s beautiful. He pulls back his hand, shaking his head as if to snap from his daze. “I’m so sorry. That wasn’t at all creepy,” he quips while I smile.

  “It’s fine. I did just violate your personal space seconds ago, so I suppose we’re even.” He laughs, the resonance a harmonious sound.

  We stand staring at one another, both captivated by the electricity sparking around us. “I’m Victoria.” I extend my hand, a glutton for his touch.

  He peers down at it and takes it, not letting go. “I’m Jude.” We continue shaking well after introductions have passed.

  As much as I want to stand here forever, I’m ready to start living in the real world—our world. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

  “Sure, I’d like that.” He finally releases me. We both frown at the separation.

  I try not to linger and stand off to the side as he reaches into his pocket and produces a yellow envelope. I know what’s inside, but does he? When he tosses it into the truck and locks the door, I can’t help but ask, “Do you know what’s inside?”

  He slips the hood from his head, running a hand through his thick, tousled hair. “Yes, but it doesn’t seem as important as it once did.”

  We walk with a small space between us, indecently close for strangers, but we both appear to yearn for the other’s touch. When we round the corner, I bump straight into someone, yelping when memories, ones I’ll never forget, rise to the surface. The older lady walking her Chihuahua apologizes before walking off.

  When my racing heart stills, I realize Jude’s hand is wrapped loosely around my waist. He appears startled, confused as to why he feels compelled to touch me. When his eyes drop to my chest, and he sees my medallion, he pulls in his lips. “At the risk of sounding like a creep once again, who are you? I feel like―”

  “Feel like what?” I press.

  Nothing but worship and affection stares down at me. “I feel like I’ve met you before. That’s crazy, right?”

  He’s waiting for validation, but all I can do is thank the stars that aligned on this magical evening—they changed our lives forever. Stepping closer, I press my palm to his chest, over his heart, a heart which beats strong. “If you’re a creep, then I’m completely batshit crazy when I say…you once saved my life…and it’s now my turn to save yours.”

  A shooting star graces the heavens, a reminder that our love knows no bounds. “Make a wish,” Jude whispers, brushing a strand of hair sticking to my tears. I know if this were another lifetime, this would be the moment he took his final breath. Although these scenarios have played out before, life is giving me a second chance—I better not screw it up.

  Standing on tippy toes, reservations long gone, I lay a single kiss on his whiskered cheek. He sinks into my touch, humming softly. With eyes closed, I inhale his essence. With so much to say, I say the only thing fitting—the thing which kick-started my heart. “Jude…I know we’re going to be great friends.” This time, there is no speaking in the past tense, and it feels bloody incredible.

  We stand, hugging on the sidewalk, uncaring that we’re two strangers who aren’t really strangers after all. There are simply no words to explain what’s happening between us because what we have, what we went through to find one another, is beyond words. Feelings, however, we will never be beyond feelings. Or love. And what I feel for this man could fill volumes and volumes of books. An epic love story of two broken people who battled against all odds and found love…in this lifetime…and the next.

  Read other books by Monica James

  I lost my beloved father in July, so these past few months have been tough. I wouldn’t have been able to get through this difficult time without my family and friends. Elle Kennedy, Vi Keeland, L.J. Shen, Lisa Edward, Christina Lauren, Natasha Madison, Kylie Scott, SC Stephens, Helena Hunting, Tina Gephart, Kimberly Brower, Danielle Sanchez, Jenny Sims, Gemma, Louise, Ryn Hughes—thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there for me.

  To my author family—Vi Keeland, Elle Kennedy, Susan Stoker, Natasha Madison, BJ Harvey, Pam Godwin, Jay Mclean, Adriane Leigh, Helena Hunting, Penelope Ward, Christina Lauren, Stina Lindenblatt, Carrie Ann Ryan, Sawyer Bennett, Geneva Lee, Kristen Proby, Natasha Preston, L.J. Shen, Jen Frederick, Audrey Carlan, Heidi McLaughlin, KA Tucker, Meghan March, Sarina Bowen, Kristy Bromberg, Beverly Preston, Lisa Edward, Rachel Brookes, Len Webster, Debra Anastasia—thank you for my beautiful flowers. I was so touched.

  My wonderful husband, Daniel. I love you. Thank you for always believing in me. You’re my favorite.

  My ever-supporting parents. You guys are the best. I am who I am because of you. I love you. RIP Papa. Gone but never forgotten. You’re in my heart. Always.

  My agent, Kimberly Brower from Brower Literary & Management. Thank you for your patience and thank you for being an amazing human being.

  Kimberly Whalen—Thank you for believing in this book from the very beginning.

  My editor, Jenny Sims. What can I say other than I LOVE YOU! Thank you for everything. You go above and beyond for me.

  My proofreader—Lisa Edward—More Than Words, Copyediting & Proofreading. You are amazing.

  Sommer Stein, you NAILED this cover! Thank you for being so patient and making the process so fun. I’m sorry for annoying you constantly.

  My publicist—Danielle Sanchez from Wildfire Marketing Solutions. Thank you for all your help. Your messages brighten my day.

  A special shout-out to: Cheri Grand Anderman, Staci Hart, Mia Sheridan, J.L. Beck. Tijan, Aleatha Romig, Kat T.Masen, Danielle Norman, Carmen Jenner, Ben Ellis—Tall Story Designs, Nasha Lama, Natasha Tomic, Sali Benbow-Powers, Heyne, Random House, Kinneret Zmora, Hugo & Cie, Planeta, MxM Bookmark, Art Eternal, Carbaccio, Fischer, Bookouture, Egmont Bulgaria, Brilliance Publishing, Audible, Hope Editions, Buzzfeed, BookBub, PopSugar, Aestas Book Blog, Hugues De Saint Vincent, Paris, New York, Sarah Sentz, Ria Alexander, Amy Jennings, Gel Ytayz, Jennifer Spinninger, Aurelie Dee, Vanessa Silva Martins, Amz Bourne, Amalie—Amalie Reads, Megan—Steamy Reads Blog, Kim Nash, Lauren Rosa, Kristin Dwyer, and Nina Bocci.

  To the endless blogs that have supported me since day one—You guys rock my world.

  My bookstagrammers—This book has allowed me to meet SO many of you. Your creativity astounds me. The effort you go to is just amazing. Thank you for the posts, the teasers, the support, the messages, the love, the EVERYTHING! I see what you do, and I am so, so thankful.

  My reader group and review team—sending you all a big kiss.

  My beautiful family—Mum, Papa, my sister—Fran, Matt, Samantha, Amelia, Gayle, Peter, Luke, Leah, Jimmy, Jack, Shirley, Michael, Rob, Elisa, Evan, Alex, Francesca, and my aunties, uncles, and cousins—I am the luckiest person alive to know each and every one of you. You brighten up my world in ways I honestly cannot express.

  Samantha and Amelia— I love you both so very much.

  To my family in Holland and Italy, and abroad. Sending you guys much love and kisses.

  Papa, Zio Nello, Zio Frank, Zia Rosetta, and Zia Giusepp
ina—you are in our hearts. Always.

  My fur babies— mamma loves you so much! Buckwheat, you are my best buddy. Dacca, I will always protect you from the big bad Bellie. Mitch, refer to Dacca’s comment. Jag, you’re a wombat in disguise. Bellie, you’re a devil in disguise. And Ninja, thanks for watching over me.

  To anyone I have missed, I’m sorry! It wasn’t intentional!

  Last but certainly not least, I want to thank YOU! Thank you for welcoming me into your hearts and homes. My readers are the BEST readers in this entire universe! Love you all!

  Monica James spent her youth devouring the works of Anne Rice, William Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson.

  When she is not writing, Monica is busy running her own business, but she always finds a balance between the two. She enjoys writing honest, heartfelt, and turbulent stories, hoping to leave an imprint on her readers. She draws her inspiration from life.

  She is a bestselling author in the U.S.A., Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Israel, and The U.K.

  Monica James resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her wonderful family, and menagerie of animals. She is slightly obsessed with cats, chucks, and lip gloss, and secretly wishes she was a ninja on the weekends.

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