by Heller, JB
Contents
PART ONE - 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
PART TWO- FIVE YEARS LATER
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
Epilogue
A NOTE FROM JB
Also by JB Heller
About the Author
Time-Lapse—Moments Series Book 1
Copyright © 2021 by JB Heller
Published by- Author JB Heller
Cover Design by- Tall Story Designs
Editing by- Creating Ink
Proofreading by- Jenn Lockwood Editing
Formatted by – JeBDesigns
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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PART ONE - PROLOGUE
Dabbing at the small cut that splits my eyebrow, I wince at the stinging sensation spreading through the split skin from the peroxide. I attempt to clean away the blood that seeps from the wound. It’s not too deep, so I should only need to put a small butterfly bandage on it and hope the skin starts to knit itself back together quickly.
Tonight, while helping my old man get his drunken ass in bed, he tried to pull away from me and ended up elbowing me in the face. I’m most likely going to have a black eye in the morning, which will go perfectly with my busted brow.
He’s never intentionally hit me—not yet, at least. I can see it in his eyes, though; he’s thought about it. He hates me enough. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t.
But even without his fists, he manages to inflict pain. His cruel, hate-filled words repeat in my head long after he’s passed out.
I push the sides of the gash together with the thumb and forefinger of my left hand while applying the butterfly with my right. It should be healed enough to take it off by Sunday afternoon.
After wrapping the bloodied cotton balls up in a tissue, I throw them in the small trash can I keep in my bathroom for just such occasions, then I retreat to my room. Dad will be passed out until morning now, and I don’t have to worry about running into him again. Regardless, my room is my sanctuary and where I spend most of my time when I’m home.
Photos I’ve taken over the years cover my walls, somehow bringing me peace. Taking in the moments I’ve captured through my lens soothes me as I fall asleep.
“Best concert EVER!” I gush to Ben, who came home from college for the weekend to surprise me with tickets to P!NK’s sold-out concert tonight. I seriously have the best brother in the world.
“She’s pretty awesome, huh? That thing she did in the ribbons, hanging from the ceiling while she was singing … that was intense,” Ben says.
I nod emphatically. “I know! She’s a true performer. That would take so much work, moderating her voice, controlling her body as she tumbled and swung through the air in those silks. She must have amazing concentration.”
“And balls of steel,” Ben adds. “You wouldn’t catch me swinging off a regular ceiling from a piece of fabric, let alone the roof of a fucking stadium. No. Fucking. Way. I felt sick just watching her.”
I snort. Ben has a terrible fear of heights. As in, he’s so bad that he can’t climb to the top rung of a ladder without sweating bullets and praying for his life.
“Thanks for tonight. You didn’t have to do this. But I’m glad you did.” I smile over at him as he steers his car onto our street.
He reaches over and messes up my hair. “It wasn’t all for you. You were just my excuse to check out P!NK without losing my man card.”
“Ha ha,” I say with a roll of my eyes while smoothing my hair back down. I honestly don’t care why we went. It was freaking awesome.
Mom and Dad are already in bed when we walk inside. We have pretty laid-back parents. If we’re together, they don’t mind if we miss curfew. Like tonight, it’s already two a.m., and my regular curfew is midnight. Ben doesn’t have one since he’s already in college.
I flop back on my bed and stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. I love my life.
Chapter One
The world is an ugly place with moments of beauty thrown in to make it bearable. At least, that’s how my world is.
I’ve eaten my lunches under this tree every day for the last four years. Today, it’s a peanut butter sandwich I threw together before rushing out of the house this morning. The other students are laughing, smiling, and flirting, completely oblivious to what’s going on around them.
It’s the little things that reach out to me, that catch my interest and draw me in.
And there she is. I’d know that smile anywhere. I tilt my head as I examine her from afar. Eliza Quinn is the embodiment of everything beautiful in this world.
It’s not one thing that makes her beautiful. It’s the combination of lots of little things.
The chocolate brown of her long, wavy hair is thick and smooth, and I imagine it’s silky to the touch. Her eyes aren’t just blue, or green, or brown—they’re all three. A ring of each blends into the next before coming to the black center of her pupil. I’ve never seen anything like them. And her smile … That smile alone has brought peace to my chaotic mind on more than one occasion.
It’s not because it’s her smile, per se. It’s a genuine smile in a world full of fake ones. I don’t understand why people do that—pretend to be feeling something they’re not, pretend to be someone they’re not.
Then again, the expression plastered on my face ninety percent of the time is one of indifference. But that’s generally how I feel. I don’t plan on sticking around, so why bother trying to make friends with these people? Especially when I know that it wouldn’t matter how great a friendship we formed. As soon as I possibly can, I’m out. I’m gone. And I’m not looking back.
When I leave Shiloh Springs, I won’t ever come back. There’s nothing for me here except a lifetime of bad memories.
After tossing the paper I’d wrapped my sandwich in into the trash a few feet away, I take a bite from my apple and enjoy the sweet juice as it coats my tongue. I stretch my legs out in front of me then cross my ankles and lean back against the trunk of the large shady tree that has become my viewing post.
I mentally snap images in my head as I see a guy tuck a strand of his girl’s hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing the shell as he does it. That small point of contact is so perfect in its simplicity—such a simple gesture, but a moment of beauty.
One of the new guys on the football team smiles with so much pride it shines in his eyes. Click—another moment. If I had my camera, I’d zoom in on his eyes. The way they glow says so much more t
han words ever could.
Chirping pulls my attention away from the football player and into the branches above me, where a mother bird is flitting around her nest, singing to her babies inside. Two tiny heads pop up, their miniscule beaks held wide open, waiting for their mother to feed them. Click—another moment.
Loud booming laughter comes from the picnic tables to my right. It’s Mr. Popular, also known as Wayne King, laughing at one of his own jokes. The other guys in the group are laughing with him, and so are the girls, although their expressions make it clear they don’t really get it.
I scan their faces until I find Eliza’s again. She’s smiling, but I know she doesn’t find Wayne’s joke amusing. She’s just being polite. I’ve actually never seen her be rude to anyone, even when they deserve it.
We’ve been in the same schools since kindergarten. That was when I first noticed her, and my gaze has been constantly drawn to her ever since.
I doubt her friends know she brings two extra lunches to school every day and leaves them by Jason Thorn’s backpack since he never has any of his own. Jason’s parents are crackheads, and everyone knows it. He’s picked on relentlessly for it, seeing as their drug habit means he and his younger brother have to rely on the charity of others just to get by.
Eliza has never once made a big deal out of giving them food. She’s discreet about it. That makes me wonder if she doesn’t want her asshole friends to know she isn’t like them, or if she doesn’t want to further embarrass Jason and his brother.
I’ve never had a conversation with her myself. What would the point be? I’ve observed enough of her over the years to know I like her. Her smile is the one thing I’ll miss about this place when I leave. It is a solitary slice of beauty in my otherwise ugly existence.
* * *
“I’m out, Johnno. You need anything done before I leave?” I ask my boss as I wipe my mud-covered hands on my jeans.
Johnno looks at the garden bed I’ve just finished removing the rocks from and shakes his head. “Nah, you’re good to go. Good job, though. Patrick was supposed to have had that bed cleared by Wednesday. Lazy prick. Wish all my boys worked like you.”
I smirk. “You knew Pat was a lazy prick when you hired him.”
With a shrug, Johnno nods. “Yeah, I knew. Unfortunately, good help is hard to find. And you won’t drop out of school to come on full time for me, so what choice did I have? This is your fault, if you think about it.” He chuckles, and I roll my eyes.
Working for Johnno Reganzani is one of the few things I enjoy. I like the physical labor and the reward of seeing a project to its end.
Johnno inherited his landscaping company from his old man when he passed, and he put me on as a laborer when I was thirteen.
I had to prove myself, though. I worked a week for free just to show him I could keep up with his crew. And I’ve been outworking them ever since.
"You want to take the truck today?” Johnno asks as I’m walking over to retrieve my backpack from the bed of the old run-around truck.
I look over my shoulder at him. He’s been asking me if I want to use it for the last few weeks, but I haven’t taken him up on his offer. I like to earn my way. I’m not a charity case.
He watches me intently then throws his arms in the air. “For fuck’s sake, Hux, take the damn thing. Consider it a pay raise, but you can put your own damn gas in it. I ain’t payin’ for that.”
He only threw in that last part because he knows I wouldn’t let him put fuel in it if I did take him up on the offer. Scratching my neck, I consider it briefly then shake my head. “Nah, I like walking.” I shrug. “Besides, it’s not exactly a chick magnet.” I grin at Johnno as I throw my pack over my shoulder and start backing away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His response is to narrow his eyes at me then flip me the bird.
I think I’ll miss Johnno when I leave too.
It’s just after five in the afternoon, and I decide to take the trail through the forest instead of walking the main streets. It will take me longer to get home, but it’s a perfect opportunity to snap some shots of the sunrays shining through the overhead greenery onto the stream that flows through there.
When I was a kid, I became fascinated with the idea of capturing moments. I didn’t have much good in my life, so the idea of storing a beautiful or happy moment in a picture appealed to me. I could always look at a photo of my mom holding me in her arms, smiling down at me with tender warmth in her eyes, and I knew that, for a moment, as small as it was, I was loved.
Now I take every opportunity I get to capture those little windows of time, however brief they are.
My camera was the first thing I bought when I started working for Johnno. And aside from buying the basic necessities, I save every other penny.
Just as I step into the clearing that opens for the stream to flow through, I see her. I freeze, not wanting her to notice me or to disturb her. What is she even doing here? I’ve never seen her here before.
Her eyes are closed, her willowy neck arching back, presenting her face to the solitary ray of sunshine peeking through the trees above.
She looks like an angel.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m focusing my lens on her and capturing this moment of absolute perfection.
Her long hair hangs loosely over her bare shoulders. I have the urge to kiss the spot where her shoulder meets her slender neck and run my tongue up the column of her throat, tasting her skin.
I’m taking a step back, intent on sneaking away before she catches sight of me, when her eyes snap open and her head turns in my direction. She stares at me, unblinking.
I swallow hard as our gazes lock. Shit. So much for making a quiet escape.
Chapter Two
It’s him.
Huxley Haynes.
The boy who thinks he’s invisible, but I see him.
I didn’t know anyone else knew about this spot. I like to think of it as mine. I know I’m not the first person to ever find it, but I’ve never run into anybody else here.
The expression on his face is comical—something between terrified and caught out. I watch him as he watches me, and I wait for him to say something. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, gripping the camera in his hands like it’s a life raft.
“I won’t bite,” I say, attempting to break the ice.
He frowns for a moment then says, “I know.”
“So why haven’t you said anything?” I ask.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Uh, I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind. You could start with something like, ‘Hi, Eliza. Nice running into you.’” I do my best to imitate his deeper voice, and he cracks a small grin.
“Hi, Eliza. Nice running into you.”
It sounds so much better when he says it. His voice is a little rough and husky. It sends a shiver through my body, and I grin back. “Hey, Hux. What brings you to my little slice of paradise? I haven’t seen you here before.”
He scratches his temple before answering me. “You know who I am?”
“Of course I do. I haven’t been living under a rock for the last seventeen years,” I scoff, a little offended that he thinks I wouldn’t know his name. We’ve lived in the same town since we were born.
The corner of his lip curves slightly. “I know, but I’m not exactly your crowd.”
I raise a brow. “Are you trying to offend me?”
He shakes his head, just slightly. “No.”
“So, what’s with the questions?” I shoot back.
He scratches his temple again. “We don’t … I mean, I’m not … ” He sighs and looks away. “I guess I figured you didn’t know who I was.”
My hands move to my hips. “Why wouldn’t I?” Then, I realize what he means. “Oh, you think I’m one of those conceited bitches who refuses to acknowledge people below their spot on the social ladder. How nice of you to judge when you don’t even know me.”
>
His head shoots up, and there’s panic in his gray eyes. “What? No, I don’t think that.”
I snort. “Really? ’Cause that’s the vibe you’re throwing.”
He shifts his backpack around, puts his camera inside the open pocket, then zips it back up. “This is a really strange conversation.”
“You’re the one making it that way. I was being friendly,” I snap. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I’m not normally so defensive. But his short answers and the fact that he clearly thinks I’m one of those girls irritates me. I don’t care if other people think I’m like that, but not him.
Swinging his pack over his shoulder, he scratches the side of his neck for a second then nods. “My bad. In case you didn’t notice, I’m not a great conversationalist.”
“Do-over?” I suggest, and when he nods, I continue, “Hey, Hux. Fancy seeing you here.”
He hooks his thumbs through the belt loops of his mud-covered jeans. “Hi, Eliza. Nice running into you.”
I can’t help the smile that takes over my face. “So, what are you doing here? And why are you so dirty?”
Looking down at his jeans, he gives me a shrug as a smirk curls his mouth. “I was de-rocking a garden bed this afternoon. It’s dirty work.”
I snicker, my mind going to places it shouldn’t at his words. And the twinkle in his eyes says he knows exactly what I’m thinking, so I don’t hold back. “Dirty work for a dirty boy?”
