One Last Shot
Pub Fiction Book 3
by
Gillian Jones
Copyright © 2016 Gillian Jones
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Inquiries please email [email protected]
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. Gillian Jones is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
First eBook edition: 2016
Edited by Quoth the Raven Writing Co.
Cover design ©: Book Covers by Ashbee Designs
Formatting by Paul Salvette
Dedication
For anyone who’s given love a second chance.
Sometimes the last shot is the one that counts the most.
xx
“Sometimes you need a second chance because time wasn’t ready for the first one.”
—Unknown
“We cannot start over, but we can begin now, and make a new ending.”
—Zig Ziglar
“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours.
In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.”
—Maya Angelou
Playlist
Can be found on Spotify
Sorry – Justin Bieber
Eenie Meenie – Sean Kingston, Justin Bieber
Need You Now – Lady Antebellum
On My Mind – Ellie Goulding
Single Ladies – Pomplamoose
FourFiveSeconds – Rihanna, Kanye West, Paul McCartney
Same Old Love – Selena Gomez
Perfect – One Direction
Nobody (feat. Athena Cage) – Remastered Single Version – Keith Sweat, Athena Cage
Like I’m Gonna Lose You – Meghan Trainor, John Legend
Hello – Hedley
One Love – Marianas Trench
Don’t – Bryson Tiller
Never Be Like You (feat. Kai) – Flume, Kai
Home Sweet Home – The Lovelocks
The Body (feat. Jeremih) – Wale, Jeremih
My Kind of Love – Emeli Sandé
Jealous – Labrinth
Tangled Up In You – Staind
Once in a Lifetime – Landon Austin
Until You Were Gone – The Chainsmokers, Tritonal, Emily Warren
Roses – The Chainsmokers, ROZES
Lay It All On Me (feat. Ed Sheeran) – Rudimental, Ed Sheeran
Dirty Mind (feat. Sam Martin) – Flo Rida, Sam Martin
Don’t Let Me Down – The Chainsmokers, Daya
Pretty Things – Pell
Me, Myself & I – G-Eazy, Bebe Rexha
Hold On, We’re Going Home – Drake, Majid Jordan
I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) – Sleeping At Last
Mark My Words – Justin Bieber
You’re Still The One – Shania Twain
How Do I Live – LeAnn Rimes
Apologize – OneRepublic
Stressed Out – Twenty One Pilots
Who Am I – Katy B, Craig David, Major Lazer
Save Your Scissors – City and Colour
First Day Of My Life – Bright Eyes
Close – Nick Jonas, Tove Lo
Fix You – Coldplay
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Playlist
Note from the Author
About the Book
Chapter 1: Claire
Chapter 2: Claire
Chapter 3: Claire
Chapter 4: Claire
Chapter 5: Matt
Chapter 6: Claire
Chapter 7: Matt
Chapter 8: Claire
Chapter 9: Claire
Chapter 10: Claire
Chapter 11: Matt
Chapter 12: Claire
Chapter 13: Matt
Chapter 14: Claire
Chapter 15: Matt
Chapter 16: Claire
Chapter 17: Matt
Chapter 18: Claire
Chapter 19: Claire
Chapter 20: Claire
Chapter 21: Claire
Chapter 22: Matt
Chapter 23: Claire
Chapter 24: Claire
Chapter 25: Matt
Chapter 26: Claire
Chapter 27: Matt
Chapter 28: Claire
Chapter 29: Matt
Chapter 30: Claire
Chapter 31: Claire
Chapter 32: Matt
Chapter 33: Claire
Chapter 34: Matt
Chapter 35: Matt
Chapter 36: Matt
Chapter 37: Claire
Chapter 38: Matt
Chapter 39: Claire
Chapter 40: Claire
Epilogue: Claire
Acknowledgements
Recipes
About the Book
Find Me
Books By Gillian Jones
Note from the Author
Dear Reader,
Boy oh boy, this book was a lot harder to write than I anticipated. I felt Claire was going to be a light fluffy read the whole way through, but as I sat down to write her story, her voice didn’t want to be heard the way I had planned. She had more depth than I originally gave her credit for in My Mind’s Eye.
Miss Claire Knox is a force and she wanted her story told her way, let me tell you. As some of you might know, the plan from the beginning was to have Claire and Levi coupled up, but that clearly didn’t happen! A little sneak named Braunwyn put an end to that when she infiltrated my mind one sleepless night, thus throwing a pretty big wrench in Claire’s story (a wrench I loved to death in the end, though). Levi was meant for Braun.
But this left me with a dilemma in writing Claire’s novel, a book that I knew many readers of the series wanted. A book, which I wanted to give you, too.
Luckily there was another man waiting to help out our ladylove. I hope you like where she took me, and where I took her. I must admit, I fell a little bit in love with her character on a more meaningful level along the way. I loved seeing Claire grow and come full circle. I hope you do as well.
Don’t forget that my stories take place in Canada, and that I use Canadian slang and spellings, so if it looks like a spelling error it might not be. :)
Thank you for once again for taking a chance on my stories. It means more than you’ll ever know. Book #3!!! That’s CRAZY!
Xox,
Gillian
About the Book
My name is Claire Knox.
People say I’m a female version of a player: a boyslayer, if you’re fluent in urban dictionary speak.
I hate long term relationships. I’ll never commit to sticking around long enough to get attached to the notion of love, marriage, or the proverbial two point five kids.
No, sirree. Not this girl.
There’s no way I’ll let myself get hurt by losing someone I love ever again.
Been there, felt that.
Consider me damaged goods if you will, but I’m happy.
Or so I thought, until my path crossed his again…
Chapter 1
Clair
e
Once upon a time—in what was, I presume, a time of distress—someone decided to string together four insignificant words, turning them into the worst catch phrase ever. I don’t know who created this dog of a sentence, but I can tell you first hand it’s the phrase I hate the most. They’re words that make me want to throat punch whichever linguistic genius first thought: Hey, I know what to say in situations like these, and spewed it out: “Time heals all wounds.”
And BAM! The expression exploded into the mainstream as if it were some mother-fucking cure-all.
I’m sure at the time the words felt like the right thing to be said. Kind of like giving a child a Band-Aid. It was a quick fix to try to make things better again, if only for a moment. Like what Officer Harris told me ten years ago, when he delivered the news that would change me forever…
“Claire, honey, are you sure you don’t want to spend the night here with us?” Mary, my best friend Kat’s mom, offers as I’m tying up my black Sorel boots. Kat Rollins and I have been best friends since forever. We’re pretty much joined at the hip. We’re always together, either here at her house or four houses down at mine. Kat and I are thick as thieves, sisters from another mister.
“Naw, I’m sure. Thank you, though. I told my mom I’d head home around eleven. They shouldn’t be too late tonight, Mom said.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Let me get my sweater and I’ll walk you over,” Mary says, opening the coat closet.
“That’s okay, I’ll be fine. It’s just down the street, Mary. I’m fourteen, I think I can manage. I’ll just run over,” I say before stepping out onto the porch. Holy jumping beans, it’s freezing out! I stuff my face deeper into my black winter coat to brave the frigid air as Mary steps out behind me.
“Come on, Clai—” She doesn’t even get my name out. “Kat! Kat!” she yells into the open door of the house. “Go get your father. Now!”
The shrill tone of her voice reverberates in my bones. We’re both now frozen, staring over at my house.
No, no, please—no, is all I can think when I see two uniformed police officers making their way back down the walkway from my front door. I know why they’re there. I’ve seen the movies. I know what they want.
But I don’t want to hear it. I can’t.
I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and my heart starts to pound so hard I can feel it vibrating in my throat. Tears start to pool behind my eyes, waiting for the signal to fall. I can’t hold myself up for very much longer, I—I need to sit down. I teeter on the snow-crusted sidewalk, my feet moving in what feels like slow motion as I slink toward the approaching officers.
“Excuse us. Do you know a Claire Knox? She lives just down the road there,” the shorter officer asks, pointing behind him as they approach. The six of us—Mr. and Mrs. Rollins, Kat, the two officers, and me—stand and stare at each other for what feels like forever, the taller officer’s eyes softening with sympathy as I shut down before him. Observing my silence, the three people it’s taking to hold me upright, and the tears now flowing freely down my cheeks, I assume he’s figured out that I’m the one they’re trying to find.
“We’re looking for a Miss Claire Knox. Is that you?” the short one enquires again, but I can’t muster a sound. Instead, I stare numbly, willing them to turn and walk away. I feel a hand on my shoulder again, and manage to nod in the officers’ direction. I still can’t seem to speak, but I don’t think it matters. I have nothing to say, anyway. In fact, I wish in this moment that I was deaf as well as mute. That way I would never have to hear the words that will plague me for the rest of my life. Words I’m silently begging him not to say.
“Could we step inside?”
Suddenly, I find my voice and it comes out in a harsh shout: “No! Just tell me!”
“We’re very sorry, young lady, but your parents were in a serious accident tonight and I’m afr—”
Mary raises her hand, interrupting before they can continue. “Claire, honey. Let’s take this inside.” She says my name softly and I can hear pain lacing her voice. Her reaction only confirms what I already know they’re here to tell me…words I refuse to hear out loud.
“No!” I yell. “I don’t want to go inside. I wanna go home. I want to see my mom and dad. They’ll be home soon. I told Mom I’d be home by eleven. She’s going to call me at eleven-thirty. I gotta go!” I break out of the huddle they’ve formed around me and run, slipping and sliding as tears blind me, my mind reeling with the words I wouldn’t let them utter.
My parents. My parents are gone.
“Sorry for your loss, Miss Knox. You’ll be okay. Give it time—things will get better. Time heals all wounds, after all,” Officer Harris said as they were leaving the Rollins’ house later that night, after Mary had finally managed to get me to come back with them.
So, I wish whoever coined the phrase had kept that shit to themselves.
I know Officer Harris meant well, but he’d just told my fourteen-year-old self life-altering news and opened a wound that would never fully heal. How could “time” change that?
My parents were gone.
Dead.
Never to be seen again. Never there to comfort or love or support me again, no matter how much time passed.
The way I saw it, there was no such thing as time healing anything. How could time ever lessen the blow of losing the two people who meant the most to you, the ones who were supposed to shape and mold you as a person? I was to remain walking-wounded; I’d forever walk through life wounded by the sting of my memories, random thoughts of all the things they’d given me, plagued with feelings of loss for all the things they had yet to teach me or see me accomplish.
How was the pain from never again feeling the warmth of my parents’ hugs ever to be healed? Hugs that had made me feel so wanted.
The missing “I love you’s” called out every time I left the house to go to school or spend time with friends? Who was going to wait up to make sure I got home safely?
How was time going to lessen the blow of never again seeing the smile my dad gave to my mom when he’d flirt with her, not realizing I was watching?
Would time chase away the boogeyman and check for monsters in my closet and under my bed, in whatever form they returned?
Was time going to be there to chase away the boys when they started to like me? Would it stand in my corner and cheer for me, win or lose?
Would time love me and be the one to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day?
No! I need my daddy for that.
I’d been left behind.
And the best thing to say to me was: “Time heals all wounds?”
I would never see them again.
You can’t heal that.
The pain doesn’t subside over time; it only gets masked.
I guess it’s one of those clichéd expressions you use when you don’t know what else to say in a terrible situation. It must have been awful for those police officers to have to give a fourteen-year-old girl news like that. I get that it’s tough, but still, there has to be something better to say…doesn’t there?
Since I hate this stupid saying so much, I guess I should admit that I’ve spent way too much time analyzing its meaning, dissecting the root words and their origins—trying to see if it has any relevance. Trying to understand how it’s become like gospel, as if it were a great epiphany that must be shared among the masses.
And think about it…how can time heal anything other than a cut, bruise or a broken bone? How can time heal you from what makes you feel so damn much?
Time can’t heal the heart or stop the mind from spinning reels of those memories which impacted us most in our lives, memories and feelings that hit us in the heart like freight trains, ones that steal our breath. They come out of nowhere, can happen anytime. Memories come and go and it’s something that you can’t prepare for or control. You never know when your brain will decide you’ve been happy, maybe even coping, before it decides: WHAM!
And it’s
all, “Oh, hey, Claire, it’s time for you to remember that time when…” or “Hey, you, do you remember this?” Or better yet, “Remember when your parents were killed in a head-on collision?”
In my opinion, the saying should actually go: “Time will not heal all wounds, it just makes you move on. Forces you to deal with whatever it is and to cope. And if you’re lucky, maybe the blow will eventually become a little softer.”
So if you’re asking me if time heals all wounds, I’d say I’m still waiting.
While I was waiting though, someone came into my life, someone that started to strip away my cynicism and showed me I didn’t simply have to wait for time.
If only I’d trusted him from the start, maybe he and the healing could have been mine all along? Maybe I just needed the right push—from the right person—to make me see the truth.
Chapter 2
Claire
When Kat and I were sixteen, her parents (my adoptive parents) decided that we could officially start dating. Sure, we had gone out with boys before but it was always in a group setting, not actual one-on-one dating. Pretty much immediately, Kat got involved in a serious relationship—well, serious by our sixteen-year-old standards anyway—with a boy named Damon. He was in Grade 12 and all kinds of dreamy.
I, on the other hand, casually dated here and there, never really committing to anyone. I wasn’t interested in being someone’s “girlfriend”, unlike my friends. I guess I just wanted to save myself from the heartache and let down. I didn’t want to experience that broken feeling again. It had taken me two years to adjust to a life without my parents. Well, to cope; I learned to cope without them. Why would I want to subject myself to any kind of heartbreaking loss again?
I’d seen the movies, seen Kat cry over guys—especially Damon. God, what a mess. On and off, up and down for almost a year before they finally called it quits for good. In the end, seeing Kat suffering with a broken heart hit too close to home for me. Watching her feeling remotely like I’d felt losing people I cared about was the final straw. I vowed that I’d never let any man affect me like that, never allow them to make me feel like I’d lost something again. So I’d built a moat around my castle, hired a troll to guard the drawbridge, donned my armour and went to battle—me against love.
One Last Shot (Pub Fiction #3) Page 1
