by Jami Wagner
Just One Moment
A Black Alcove Novel
Jami Wagner
Also by Jami Wagner
Date in the Dark (A Novella)
THE BLACK ALCOVE SERIES
Just One Kiss
Just One Night
Just One Touch
For Dana and Mary,
I wouldn’t be where I am today without
your support and encouragement.
Just One Moment
Copyright © 2016 by Jami Wagner
Published by Smashwords.
All rights reserved.
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 review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover: Christa Holland, Paper and Sage Design, paperandsage.com
Editor: Julie Sturgeon, CEOEditor, ceoeditor.com
Formatting: Jesse Gordon, a Darned Good Book, adarnedgoodbook.com
Visit my website: www.jami-wagner.com
ISBN – 13: 978-1530671571
ISBN – 10: 1530671574
ASIN: B01JFAZUP0
ISBN: 9781370209682
About Just One Moment
Skylar Atwood wants to find herself. After years of everyone making choices for her, she's finally on her own, determined to make any and every decision she can. But being homeless and then accused of breaking and entering isn't how her new life was supposed to go.
It’s been a year, and Luke Warren isn’t handling his father’s death very well. As the only man of the house now, Luke takes on the role as a provider for his mother and sisters. Working extra hours to help his mom pay the bills and sacrificing all his free time is beginning to take its toll on him. Until he knows they’ll be okay, he won’t quit. Not even vandalism to his family’s bookstore will stop him.
Despite the fact Luke blames Skylar for everything going wrong in his life and Skylar thinks Luke’s the most uptight jerk she’s ever met, the two can’t stop the attraction that continues to draw them together. Giving in to their feelings is the easy part, but one moment can ruin everything. Luke can’t change his past, but his future won’t be the same if Skylar isn’t in it.
Truths are tested and choices are challenged. Just One Moment will capture your heart.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Jami Wagner
Dedication
Copyright Page
About Just One Moment
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Thank You
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter One
Luke
The urge to shout “fuck it” is at the tip of my tongue at least once a day.
I never actually say it, though. All it would cause is a whole lot more pain in my mother’s heart. I’d rather claw my eyes from their sockets than ever witness my mother shed another tear.
I’d do anything for my family. Even it if means stopping by my mom’s house in between jobs to make sure she and my sisters are doing alright. I really should be using this hour to either relax, because working two jobs—one that I am part owner in—and being a full-time art major student is exhausting. Or I should study for an exam I have coming up next week to end the summer semester. I’ll be the first to admit it that “free time” isn’t part of my vocabulary these days, but I struggle to choose which is more important: living the life I want or making sure my family has the life they deserve.
I park my 1968 Dodge Charger RT on the curb outside my mother’s house and head inside. A chirp sounds behind me as I press the lock button and stuff the keys into my pocket. Its bright, cherry-apple red stands out in her old, dingy neighborhood.
Mom’s new neighbors stay up late playing loud music, random cars are always coming and going, and they use their front yard as a trash can. Not to mention the excessive amount of arguing that happens in the middle night. I hate to judge, but the idea of my family living near these people worries me, and I’m pretty convinced that it’s drug deal behavior at the house on their left. Locking my car is a must. Especially when building this car back to life was the last thing my father and I did together. It’s my last memory with him, and I’ll never let it go.
“Lucas.”
My mother, Julianne Warren, greets me in her soft, warm tone as I step through the door. I give her a full, tight hug—the way I always do when I see her—and she smiles up at me. It’s her normal smile, but there’s still a light shade under eyes. I hope she starts sleeping better soon.
“How many times do I have to tell you that you do not have to check up on me?”
She can tell me as much as she wants, but I’ll never listen. Ever since my dad passed away, things have been hard on all of us. Between working extra shifts at the hospital, making sure twin thirteen-year-old girls have rides where they need to be, food to eat, and still being a mom who’s actively in their lives for sports and whatever else they do, Mom has it the worst of all. She pretends it doesn’t take a toll on her and my sisters, but I can see it in the way her eyes wrinkle at the crease more each time I visit.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell her, grinning because it’s how I reply every time. She swats at my arm and rolls her eyes. “You act just like your father.”
She laughs and heads for the dining room. “Your sisters are in the living room. Don’t get them all wound up before you leave.”
This time it’s my turn to laugh. “I never do that. Those two feed off each other.”
“Yeah, okay,” she says, her dark hair swooshing to the side as she disappears through the entry into the kitchen.
I toe off my shoes and hang my coat on a free peg by the door. It’s a wooden coat rack that my dad made when I was seven. There are two pegs lying on the floor. How three women can break those off I have no idea, but I make a mental note to fix it later.
I step quietly into the living room and spy Brandy sprawled out on the couch with her phone in her hands and Shea sitting on the floor with her back against the couch as she reads from the book clenched between her fingers. They both have rich brown hair that falls to the middle of their backs, bright green eyes, and freckles that sprinkle just over their noses. If it weren’t for the fact that Shea prefers her glasses to contacts, people would never be able to tell them apart. It amazes me how much they look like our mother. I have the same dark hair, only buzzed short, and I have blue eyes, like my dad.
I can’t believe how much they’re growing up. These next few years are going to be some wild ones for Mom.
“I’m actually impressed the TV isn’t on right now,” I say.
“Luke!” Brandy cheers and jumps off the couch to hug me. “I was hoping you’d stop by. I have a question for you.”
“Don’t you even dare ask him!” Shea looks up from her book, glaring at Brandy. It’s definitely a look that would make me think twice.
“Well, he is a guy, Shea. He’ll probably have some great advice.”
Oh no.
“Shea likes a boy, but she doesn’t know how to get his attention. I told her to just go up to him and say hey, and if he walks away then move on to the next one.”
Move on to the next one?
“Tell me once when that advice has worked for you,” Shea snaps.
I sit on the back of the couch as both girls are now standing in front of me with their hands on their hips as they face each other. Mom must be loving these new teen years.
“Considering guys have never walked away from me, I’m certain it will work,” Brandy says.
What the?
“Whoa,” I say, shaking my head and holding my hands up. “I do have advice.” They both direct their bodies toward me and cross their arms. I look them both in the eyes before I continue. “Neither of you should be thinking of anything that involves boys.”
“Oh, come on, Luke, we’re thirteen now. It’s totally normal,” Shea says.
“Yea, I mean I’ve already been kissed. This is just the first—”
“Mom!” I yell, cutting Brandy off. No way I’m going to let her finish that sentence. Who cares that I’m twenty-four years old and hollering for my mother like a kid.
“Why are you yelling?” Mom asks, holding a pan and towel in her hands as she dries.
“Um, because Brandy and Shea are going to be home-schooled from now on,” I answer.
“Seriously!”
“Men!”
I’m not sure who said what as they walk away from me to resume their previous spots, but I don’t like the tone from either of them. Mom just laughs.
“Come help me with these dishes. I know you’re headed somewhere, so you better get in here quick.”
Anything is better than listening to my baby sisters’ talk about boys and kissing. As much as I hated being an only child and loved it when my parents announced the “oops twins,” I do not enjoy moments like that one.
I’m about to cross through the doorway to the kitchen when the last family photo we took with Dad catches my eye. His hand was over my shoulder, and I rub that same spot automatically. That was my first day of freshman year. Everyone had to wait more than an hour for me that day. Mom was upset when I did arrive with paint all over my arms and face, and my family had to wait for me to scrub it off. Dad said if holding me down himself was how they’d get the picture, that was what he would do. That was also the moment Dad reminded me how strong he was.
“Can you believe it’s already been more than a year?” Mom whispers to me. Her eyes find mine, and I don’t miss the flicker of her gaze from me to my sisters before she nudges me into the kitchen.
“Their school is hosting a father-daughter dance at the start of this next year. Shea isn’t handling it very well, and Brandy is pretending it doesn’t bother her.”
Of course this would happen just when things were starting to be normal again and not everything they saw reminded them of Dad. I have to look away from Mom; I can see the glaze in her eyes already.
“What if …”
My words trail off. Mom is slowly sliding something under the computer sitting on the table. Bold red capital letters that say “final notice” on not only one but two pieces of mail are peeking out from under her fingers. “What’s this? What happened to the money I gave you last week?” I ask, my hands gripping the back of a chair as I lean forward, waiting for her answer. She hesitates and then takes a seat.
“The girls want to be more involved with school and academics this year, but prices have gone up.”
My teeth grind together as I take a breath. “Then I’ll bring you more money.”
“No, Luke, you’ve done so much this last year. I can’t let you sacrifice any more of your life on us.”
If Dad’s life insurance had covered more than their debt, the Warren woman would be just fine. But it didn’t, and I won’t let them struggle.
“I’m a grown man, Mom, and I am going to take care of my mother and sisters.” I step forward to kiss the top of her head. “I have to get to work, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She doesn’t say anything as I walk away, which is good. I don’t want to argue with her today. It also saves me from not having to discuss the reason I came here in the first place. The one thing I have been dreading for the last few weeks.
It’s time we sell the bookstore. My father’s store.
Skylar
Being homeless is exhausting.
I push against the glass door of the motel’s entrance where I’ve been staying the last week. Chu is working behind the receptionist desk, like he always is. He doesn’t stand very tall, and his eyes can barely see over the top of the wooden counter as he watches me step inside. His black hair is combed over today, and he has on another oversized, bright yellow, short-sleeve button-up shirt. He always looks as though he’s headed for a luau. He definitely isn’t going to find any of those in Wyoming. Maybe it’s that damn coconut candle playing tricks on his mind. I swear he buys them in bulk.
“Good evening, Mr. Chu,” I greet him with the same polite tone as always. “Another gorgeous summer night, isn’t it?”
“Miss Sky, you no pay this week’s rent again.” His familiar beady eyes ignore my question and flash to the opposite corner of the room. My red backpack sits propped up with clothes sticking out the top as though someone didn’t take the time to care. Which, clearly, they didn’t. “You no pay, you no sleep here.”
“Just a couple more days, I promise. I’m working on finding a new job.” It’s the truth. After another night at the diner where no one wanted to sit in my section and five tables requested a different waitress, I finally came to the conclusion I need a new job.
I’ve avoided going to the Black Alcove Bar, where a friend told me I should apply if I want more money. I have no bartending skills. In fact, I don’t have many skills for a lot of things. Money does that to a person. Being catered to my entire life has done me no favors for my current situation, but the fact I could be going without another dinner tonight is almost enough to make me suck it up and apply.
“No,” he says, a fast answer and solid reminder that no one is catering to me anymore.
“You can’t seriously kick me out again.” I march toward my bag, swinging it over my shoulder and looping each arm through a strap. Just like my polite tone, this conversation is becoming routine for us. Every other week I can make rent; the other weeks I can’t and am out on my ass.
“Find another place to sleep, Miss Sky.” You’d think by now he would have compassion for a twenty-two-year-old woman with no place to go. “You bring me money and I let you come back.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Another sleepless night in the park won’t kill me.
I step back out into the evening sun and head for the gym. Thank god I can manage to keep up on my monthly membership there. The locker I use is the perfect size for my backpack, and they have showers stocked with shampoo, conditioner, and body wash for their members. I can use as many towels I want, and they have hair dryers by every sink. It’s not a lot, but it saves me money in that area. I only have to buy makeup or clothes if I need new ones. I’ve mastered the “I’m your guest and forgot my toothbrush and toothpaste” enough times at the fancier hotels that I’m stocked up for a few months. The only thing I need now is for the gym to offer me a place to sleep and to never raise their rate over forty bucks a month.
Forty bucks I might not be able to afford either if I don’t find a new job.
If I get this job at the BA, as everyone has nicknamed it, it better earn me the money I need to get my own place soon. There’s no way I can survive
overnighters in the park when winter comes around, and being as it’s the last week of August, I’m pretty sure winter is going to sneak up on me. I sure don’t want to be sleeping at motel Chu forever either, but until I decide what I’m doing with my life, this is my life. The only thing I know for sure is that I will never go back to what I should be calling home. It was more like a prison.
“Hey, girl, you need a ride?”
Beth Moyer, the first local to claim me as her friend, slows to a stop in her Nitro. Her red hair waves out the window with the light breeze. Being friends with someone who grew up here and knows everyone has drawn some unwanted attention to me. Sooner or later, people are going to pick up on the fact that I don’t have a home. I’d like to resolve that part of my life before they have the time to find out. It still shocks me that I’ve made it three months, but I also have a feeling it’s all about to blow up and everyone is going to know. They would all rush to help me, and that isn’t a bad thing, but I don’t think I could handle it. I don’t want to be pitied.
“No thanks, I’m just headed to the gym,” I answer.
Becoming friends with Beth and Alex, whose boyfriend told me to stop into the BA for a job after I admitted to working at the town diner, has made me feel more at home here where I have no home than back in Seattle where I have a family who thinks zeros in a bank account make you better than everyone else. Still, I can’t take advantage of my new friends and let them drive me around. That’s the whole point of being here. To learn to take care of myself and find out who I am in the process—that’s the short version. I made a list and everything.
“Ugh, no wonder you’re so skinny. You walk everywhere.”
Skinny? Shoot. I have no bed and no food tonight. Thanks for reminding me, Beth.
“Yeah, don’t tell anyone my secret,” I say, winking and continuing on my way.
“Okay, fine, I won’t give you a ride, but when are you going to come into the BA for a job? Conner told you to come in like for-ev-er ago.”
“I was thinking tomorrow.”
