More of You
A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel
A.L. Jackson
Contents
Also by A.L. Jackson
Prologue
1. Faith
2. Jace
3. Faith
4. Faith
5. Jace
6. Faith
7. Faith
8. Jace
9. Jace
10. Faith
11. Jace
12. Faith
13. Faith
14. Faith
15. Jace
16. Faith
17. Faith
18. Jace
19. Jace
20. Faith
21. Jace
22. Jace
23. Faith
24. Jace
25. Faith
26. Jace
27. Jace
28. Faith
29. Faith
30. Faith
31. Jace
32. Jace
33. Faith
34. Jace
35. Jace
36. Faith
37. Jace
38. Jace
39. Jace
40. Faith
41. Jace
42. Jace
43. Faith
44. Jace
45. Faith
46. Faith
47. Jace
48. Faith
49. Jace
Epilogue
Also by A.L. Jackson
About the Author
Connect with A.L. Jackson online:
Copyright © 2018 A.L. Jackson Books Inc.
First Edition
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher. Please protect this art form by not pirating.
A.L. Jackson
www.aljacksonauthor.com
Cover Design by RBA Designs
Photo by Wander Aguiar Photography.
Editing by AW Editing and Susan Staudinger
Formatting by Mesquite Business Services
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Print ISBN: 978-1-946420-21-3
eBook ISBN: 978-1-946420-20-6
Also by A.L. Jackson
Confessions of the Heart
More of You
All of Me - Coming Early 2019
Pieces of Us - Spring 2019
Fight for Me Series
Show Me the Way
Follow Me Back
Lead Me Home
Bleeding Stars Series
A Stone in the Sea
Drowning to Breathe
Where Lightning Strikes
Wait
Stay
Stand
The Regret Series
Lost to You
Take This Regret
If Forever Comes
The Closer to You Series
Come to Me Quietly
Come to Me Softly
Come to Me Recklessly
Stand-Alone Novels
Pulled
When We Collide
Hollywood Chronicles
A collaboration with USA Today Bestselling Author, Rebecca Shea
One Wild Night
One Wild Ride – Coming Soon
Prologue
Faith
Rays of blinding light streaked through the moss-covered branches that stretched across the old dirt road like a living canopy.
It was a road we’d walked together what seemed like a thousand times.
It was our secret spot.
Our sacred spot.
He stared at me from where he stood five feet from me. Big hands stuffed in the pockets of his ripped jeans and guilt written on the lines of his perfect face.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks.” The words poured from my mouth, begging for him to hear.
To listen.
To finally, truly understand.
“I don’t care what kind of trouble we’re in. The only thing that matters to me is that you’re standing right there in front of me.”
Sadness crested his features. Face masculine and striking. Every time I looked at him, it twisted something deep inside me. My love for him was bigger—more important—than anything else in my small, little world.
But that was the thing when I looked at him.
I saw great things. A future spanning out in front of us that would go on forever.
But it was the expression he wore this afternoon that scattered the butterflies in a shock of fear and sent dread gushing in to take their place.
“It doesn’t matter, Faith? How can you say that?” His voice was bitter and hard, every bit of disgust cast at himself.
I took a pleading step forward. “It doesn’t. The only thing that matters is you and me.”
He took a weary step back. It kicked up a plume of dust to hover around his old, worn shoes. “You matter, Faith. Who you are and who you’re going to be matters. And I won’t stand in the way of that any longer.”
Tears burned my eyes. “No.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, but that seems to be the only thing I can do. What happened last night is proof of that. It ends right now.”
His broad shoulders heaved as he forced himself to turn around, bitterness and self-imposed rage coming from him in waves as he started up the road.
Panic filled my chest. A crushing force against my aching heart. I rushed for him. “Jace . . . please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”
My fingertips brushed down his back. I swore that I could see the snap of energy crackle from the connection. The way it’d always been. This boy my fire.
I could feel his burn when he whirled around. A gasp raked from my lungs when he suddenly captured my face in both of his hands. Those eyes searched my face.
A tender memorization that contradicted everything about this hard boy.
My heart stampeded when he dipped down and took my mouth.
His lips were soft and rough.
Possessive in their goodbye.
I knew that was what it was.
I could feel him taking pieces of me when he dropped his forehead against mine and breathed me in, his eyes squeezed tightly closed.
Pain radiated from him like the heat waves that held to the sticky, summer air.
He reached out and gripped me by both of the shoulders, pushing away from me as if he had to physically pry himself free.
Stripping and ripping and ruining.
The second he stepped back, I could feel the tear run through the center of me.
His gaze remained fixed on the ground when he reeled back around, his head dipped low because he couldn’t bring himself to look at me as he went.
So, it was me who had to watch him go.
I couldn’t stop staring as he trudged up the deserted lane. Spikes of sunlight slanted through the spindly branches, covering him in a golden, glittering light.
So bright he appeared unreal. Tall and strong and gorgeous in his rough, raw way.
An angel in tattered, demon’s clothes.
He’d always viewed himself as the town pariah. The outcast.
The outlaw.
Bringing trouble to everything he touched.
But t
hat troubled boy was my shining star. He’d taught me to have faith that people were so much more than their exteriors and their reputations. Made me have faith that destinies weren’t based on our circumstances but rather what we made of them.
In that moment, I had faith he’d come to his senses. Stop and turn around and realize we were always supposed to be together. No matter what.
But he didn’t.
He just let the connection pull and pull and pull with each of his steps until my heart finally ripped under the strain of it.
It shredded me right in two.
That was the day Jace Jacobs walked out of my life.
And I swore I’d never be fool enough again to let him back in it . . .
One
Faith
Ten Years Later
“Bailey?” I called from the top of the stairs. “Is that you?”
The old house was cast in darkness. Intermittent blips of lightning flashed at the windows as wind howled and whipped at the walls.
The foundation groaned and shook.
But I swore . . . I swore I’d heard a loud creak on the deserted side of the house when I’d made it to the top of the sweeping staircase.
Unease shivered through my senses, and I clung to the banister as I tried to orient myself.
To ground myself.
To latch on to sanity rather than the horror I’d been livin’ for the last three months.
This old house had been my dream. Taking the neglected plantation and turning it into a bed and breakfast. Restoring it to its original beauty.
The gorgeous mansion was three sprawling stories of old-world charm and history. It was hidden on a secluded patch of land about ten minutes outside the small town where I’d grown up.
It was funny how dreams could shift into nightmares in the blink of an eye. How the comfort I’d found in this place could turn into this unbearable feeling of isolation and vulnerability.
“Hello, is anyone there?” My voice trembled as a fresh wave of fear rushed through my senses.
Even with the air conditioner doing its best to pump into the space, I could feel the sweat slick my back in the humid summer air, my breaths panted into the night as I peered into the darkened hallway to the right where I stood at the top of the stairs.
In this spot, the second floor split into two directions. There were four bedrooms to the right and four to the left.
Our rooms were to the left.
Was it my mind playing tricks on me that I’d heard something coming from off to the right?
The problem was, I no longer knew what was real. What was paranoia and what was a true threat.
My heart drummed, this erratic boom, boom, boom that thundered the walls as loud as the thunder that rumbled outside.
Heavy clouds hugged the old plantation while something like chills went skating across my flesh.
Silence echoed back.
But still, those spikes of awareness lifted the fine hairs at the nape of my neck.
“Who’s there?” I called again, my voice cracking like a plea.
Nothing. Tears of frustration and helplessness built in my eyes. No doubt, my mind was conjuring things that just weren’t there.
I was nothin’ but a prisoner to shock and sorrow and a debilitating sort of fear.
I hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a minute at a time for the past three months, and an anxious exhaustion had set in.
My body succumbing while my mind continued to race.
Pictures invaded my mind every time I attempted to close my eyes.
Blood. Blood. So much blood.
His eyes so wide.
His body so still.
I wasn’t sure I would ever recover from the way Joseph had died, from the fact my husband had been murdered, my world rocked by grief and guilt and questions. I’d thought that moment was the lowest low. Rock bottom.
That was until the ominous notes had begun to show up, making demands of me that I didn’t know how to meet.
I hadn’t even been able to comprehend how terrifying things might become. How I’d begin to question everything I’d once thought I’d known.
I squeezed my eyes against the visions that assaulted me, shaking myself out of the spiral I was getting ready to stumble into and tried to convince myself everything was fine.
I had to get it together. Hold the splintering pieces together that were close to shattering.
The only thing left of me was dust and debris and desolation.
Except for one thing.
It was the one thing that got me out of bed every morning. The one thing that made me put one foot in front of the other. The one thing that forced me into believin’ that one day, no matter how hard it was right then, everything would be okay.
Clutching my cell phone in my hand, I ignored the fear and turned left down the quieted hall. I gently pushed open the door that had remained open a crack.
A sliver of light lit up her angelic face, a little fist pressed to her chubby cheek, all those curls of wild, dark hair spilled out over her pillow where she slept safe and sound on the pink toddler bed.
My heart pressed at my ribs. The emotion so big I wondered how it didn’t suffocate me.
My purpose.
My life.
The only reason hope still glowed within these walls.
Within me.
When everything felt impossible and wrong.
I edged across her floor and knelt at the side of her bed. My fingers gentled through the soft, soft locks of her hair.
In her arm was tucked the stuffed Beast doll that she’d found buried in my closet and had carried everywhere since, as if it were a lifeline that she didn’t understand.
She sighed in her sleep, and I leaned up to kiss her cheek, whispering my love for what had to have been the millionth time that night.
It was almost a smile on my face when I pushed to my feet.
Then I froze because that feeling was back.
Something was amiss.
An ugly charge to the air that didn’t have a thing to do with the storm.
Was I going crazy? Had it all finally become too much? Because I was sure it was footsteps I heard inching down the staircase.
Terror racing my veins, I struggled to breathe and inched for the door, ready to make a call for help, only to stop when I noticed the light on in the bathroom attached to Bailey’s room.
Razors of fear scraped across my skin, and I edged that way, feeling like some kind of helpless, defenseless girl as I pushed out a shaking hand to nudge the door the rest of the way open.
Nothing but a fool who was afraid of the dark.
That had to be what this was. My imagination was finally getting the best of me.
Or maybe I was just afraid of the fact I was truly alone.
Then I gasped, hand flying to my mouth to stifle a scream.
The only sound in the bathroom was the constant drip, drip, drip coming from the tub faucet that was far too high for Bailey to reach.
Droplets steadily plopped into the water that filled the entire thing.
Floating facedown in it was one of Bailey’s favorite dolls.
Two
Jace
“We just finished getting her statement.”
I swallowed around the lump lodged in my throat as I stood on the sidewalk across the street from the police station, talking to Mack who was inside.
“How is she?” The words barely made it from between my lips.
He sighed on the other end of the line. “Not well, as you can imagine. Some asshole was definitely in that house. Slipped in and out with her barely noticing except for the fact she’d had the intuition that something was off. Pair that with the two letters she’s received, and the poor girl is terrified.”
Fury surged. So intense that I saw red.
I wanted to hunt someone down. Find them. End the threat. But every name I’d given Mack relating to Joseph had been a dead end.
So now
I stood there like some piece-of-shit stalker, fighting the urge to pace like a lunatic or maybe bust through the station doors.
“What do I do?” I grated at the phone, at a loss. All the things I was aching to do might be frowned upon.
“You let me do my job. I could lose my badge for telling you any of this shit, so I need you to play it cool. Most of all, you need to give her space and time because you know she needs it. Deserves it. You can’t come in like some kind of vigilante thinking you’re going to set shit straight.”
He might as well have not said a thing with the words that fell from my mouth. “I need to find this asshole.”
He sighed. “It could be nothing more than kids playing a prank.”
“You really believe that?” I bit out.
Frustration bled from him. “No, I don’t. Gut tells me someone is trying to send a message. A warning. The question is why and what the fuck it has to do with Joseph’s death.”
I could hear him shuffling some papers in his office. “I am going to figure this out. I promise you that. But you need to give me the space to do it. I don’t know why the hell I called you in the first place.”
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