Ever: The Ever Trilogy, Book One (Volume 1)

by Jessa Russo [paranormal]

  “A ghostly, romantic, and riveting story. Ever is an exceptional debut portraying the indescribable writing skill and fascinating ideas of an impeccable author.” - Shane @ Itching for Books

  “[Ever] brings romance and paranormal together with a unique twist that delivers a powerful punch.” - Kay Froebel

  © 2012 Jessa Russo

  http://jessarussowrites.blogspot.com

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Cover Design by Alex & Me Design

  Cover photo by Face On By Tamara

  Edited by Krystal Wade

  http://krystal-wade.com

  ISBN-13: 978-1492139263

  ISBN-10: 1492139262

  For Papa:

  You always dreamed of writing your first book, but never got the chance.

  I dedicate my first book to you.

  I hope you’re proud of me and watching my journey unfold.

  I love you and miss you always.

  1946 - 1996

  One glance at the calendar was all I needed. One quick glance and I instantly realized why my heart felt heavy. Why Frankie kept sneaking sideways glances at me. Why Jessie was more chatty than usual. My eyes widened at the realization. I’d almost forgotten. How could I have almost forgotten? The day was … is … unforgettable.

  I lived next door to Frankie my entire life. We played together when we were little. He pulled my pigtails. I tattled; he teased. He’s the very best friend I’ve ever had.

  I’ve been in love with him as long as I can remember.

  Today marked the second anniversary of his death. Exactly seven-hundred and thirty days had passed since the car accident took his life, and didn’t take mine. Seven-hundred and thirty days since the only guy I’ve ever loved died in my arms, followed me home from the hospital, and never left my house again.

  How could I have almost forgotten?

  As I looked at him leaning against the antique roll-top desk my mom insisted was proper living room decor, he was beautiful, even in death.

  I’d never forget holding onto him as the last breath left his body. I cried and screamed, but no one came in time. No one heard me. No one even knew we’d swerved off the road until an hour or so later when I pulled myself from the overturned Chevy and crawled to the top of the hill. Frankie was by my side the entire time. My hands and knees were bloodied and filthy from the climb. He kept telling me to continue when all I wanted to do was close my eyes. At the time, I’d convinced myself he was a figment of my traumatized mind. I knew his body remained pinned under the steering column. I knew he couldn’t possibly be walking with me, urging me to survive. I figured I’d simply been unable to let him go yet. Maybe I just needed time.

  Turned out he couldn’t let me go either.

  Just a silly square on the calendar. This date signified so much. The earth-shattering feeling of losing him. The shock of finding out he was … is … still here. The solid, devastating fact that he would forever be here, with me, and yet, never truly be mine.

  I’ll never forget it, and yet … I almost did.

  My heart sank. Part of me wished I had forgotten this day. I wished my mom didn’t insist on having a calendar hanging in every freaking room.

  I hadn’t touched him since he died. We hadn’t hugged. He hadn’t held me. I saw him every day. I woke up in the same house with him every morning. But still, I couldn’t touch him. And he couldn’t touch me.

  When I looked at him now, two years later, I felt a sense of longing I just couldn’t shake. A sense of need that couldn’t be met. An emptiness grew inside me. I ached for him—I ached for me—and all the things I lost when Frankie died. All the what-ifs and the maybes, the hope that one day he’d see me as more than just the silly girl he’d grown up with.

  I needed to feel again. I needed contact. I needed to be touched and held and loved. I simply couldn’t stand it anymore. My loneliness ate away at my insides, chipping pieces away from my soul every day that went by without the physical closeness I craved. I just wanted a normal life, a normal relationship. A boyfriend.

  But as I looked at Frankie and he smiled that crooked smile I loved so much, pushing his Buddy Holly glasses up on his nose, my heart clenched, and I knew I had to keep up the facade. I had to remain right where I was, pretending to be happy alone. But if alone meant with Frankie, then I couldn’t really be anywhere else anyway.

  I couldn’t be with anyone else. I just couldn’t.

  None of us acknowledged the significance of this anniversary or the car accident it represented. We didn’t speak of what we lost that day. We didn’t remember the tragedy, or at least, we weren’t supposed to. But the memory was always there in the back of my mind, a constant reminder. I’d never be normal again. I’d never have a normal life, a normal relationship.

  While my best friend Jessie went on date after date and had story after story of all the good, bad, and ugly of dating high school boys, I just got to listen. I’d never go on an official date. I’d never get to double date with my best friend. I’d never talk to her about sex or exchange embarrassing make-out stories. At this rate, I’d probably never even have an embarrassing make-out story—let alone sex.

  I’d never have a real boyfriend.

  I couldn’t just go date some random guy and pretend I hadn’t given Frankie my heart all those years ago. Pretend he didn’t still have possession of it.

  So we didn’t speak about that fateful day. We didn’t talk about what today represented. We didn’t discuss the future because let’s face it: Frankie didn’t have one, and mine was pathetic at best.

  We didn’t discuss how fate left us with nothing more than our friendship … and no possibility of anything else.

  This day was just another date on the calendar. Just another painful, unspoken reminder that though Frankie was still here, I was very much alone. The ultimate case of loving a boy I could never have.

  “Ever! Hello? Are you listening to me?”

  Shoot. Jessie was talking to me. I quickly tried to replay whatever she’d last said. Oh yeah. Vampires and werewolves. We were on that subject again, were we?

  ”Good grief, Jess.”

  “Oh, Ever! How can you doubt what’s out there with your own house full of ghosts?” She waved a hand in Frankie’s direction, not caring to acknowledge the fact that using the word in plural form was a bit of an exaggeration. “I mean, geez, Ever, he is right under your nose!”

  Catching Frankie grinning from the corner of my eyes, I shook my head at him and unsuccessfully stifled a moan. Here we go again.

  Jessie was getting all riled up, her blue eyes wide and her pink-lipped mouth pinched tight. Her cropped blonde hair bounced as she shook her head and delved once again into the exciting world of her beliefs versus my, well, non-beliefs. Really, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I also had nothing to say on the subject that hadn’t already been said. We’d been over this before, and logical or not, my arguments were always ignored by Jessie. So why bother?

  “Seriously, I happen to believe that in this vast universe there must be a little room for everyone. I mean, if there really is a parallel Fae world, would we know about it? No. Probably not. Think on that for a sec. Yeah, so who’s to say it does or doesn’t exist, right? Certainly not me. I mean, I’m
open to whatever.” She shrugged, emphasizing her nonchalance.

  “Come on, Jess. I’m not debating this with you again. Why haven’t we ever seen or heard of a vampire or a vampire attack? Wouldn’t word spread pretty quickly if a werewolf were running rampant on the night of a full moon? Or, oh, I don’t know, I think someone would have actually seen a leprechaun or tooth fairy by now, don’t you think? And, don’t you think these things would be all over the news if they existed?”

  I knew I was baiting her by bringing up the news—she’s a little bit of a self-proclaimed expert on journalism, being that it’s her dream to become the youngest person at KTLA—but I couldn’t help myself.

  “Oh, Ever! I’m not even going there with you right now! You know it wouldn’t be on the news because we”—she was lumping herself in with professional newscasters again—”have duties to uphold a sense of calm. Can you even imagine what would happen if Sam Rubin started reporting on vampire bites instead of the Oscars? And furthermore, did you know that there was such a thing as ghosts before they took up residence in your living room?”

  She paused briefly, glancing over at Frankie slouched against the roll-top, and pretended to wait for an answer. I shot her a look, reminding her to watch what she said around him.

  “No! You didn’t. And don’t shake your head at me, Ever, because I know you didn’t know. I was there when it happened, remember? I know how shocked you were when Frankie followed you home after …”

  I held my breath, hoping she’d catch herself before saying the words.

  “We were all shocked. But that didn’t change the fact that it happened. So why not open your mind a little and stop being so ignorant!”

  Frankie snorted at the last part, amused that Jessie dared call me ignorant, but tightened his smile into a hard line when I glared at him.

  “Um, excuse me? I am not ignorant, Jessie. I’m realistic. There’s a huge difference—”

  I was about to gladly debate that difference with Jessie when my mom came out of the kitchen and plopped a plate full of fresh-out-of-the-oven brownies in front of us. She gave me that wise warning look only a mother knows how to give, her long dark hair moving as she gave me a quick shake of her head. I shoved a brownie in my mouth, in its entirety, to keep from starting a fight with Jess. My mom winked at me then retreated back to the kitchen.

  Yeah, yeah, I get it.

  I changed the subject by walking to the DVD player to pop in the next disc we’d planned on watching, but my attention was drawn to the front yard. My view of the street was obstructed on one side by the old magnolia tree and flowering bougainvillea, and a moving truck on the other. The yard was draped in shadows. I had a tiny little tunnel of vision straight into the front yard next door.

  The sudden appearance of a moving truck bothered me. I hadn’t known anyone was moving into the house next door. It had been empty since Frankie’s dad moved away … shortly after the divorce, which was shortly before his mom’s suicide, which was all very shortly after—and due to—the car accident we didn’t speak of. Trying to convince his father that Frankie’s ghost was still hanging around proved impossible. He thought I had a sick sense of humor, ended up hating me, and left without telling us a thing. No forwarding address, no goodbyes. After knowing me for my entire life, he’d suddenly looked at me as though I were a monster.

  There had never been a For Sale sign, or an open house, or even a Realtor.

  It irritated me, though I had no idea why it should matter, really. I mean, Frankie’s house was vacant. Last we’d been able to uncover, his dad lived somewhere in the mid-west with family. Frankie wasn’t going anywhere, so why should I care if another family moved in next door?

  But I did. I couldn’t pretend it didn’t feel like the end of an era or something. I’d practically grown up in that house.

  My thoughts were interrupted when I saw the new neighbor. Suddenly it didn’t feel like the end of anything. More like the beginning. Of what, I didn’t yet know. But I wanted to find out.

  He jumped down out of the back of the moving truck, instead of using the ramp, and made his way toward the front of Frankie’s house.

  I would have to stop calling it that.

  He carried a box labeled “Toby’s Room.” I played around with the name in my mind before saying it quietly. “Toby,” I whispered. Yes. I liked the way that sounded, almost as much as I liked the way he looked. Wow.

  He wore tight black Levis and a snug-fitting, faded black t-shirt, finished with a pair of worn-out black boots. I looked down at my own clothes, amused to see we looked like we could have gone shopping in the same closet this morning. Both of us in all faded black, except I had a tiny touch of red in the form of a glitter skull and crossbones on the bottom hem of my purposely-distressed black-on-black striped tank top. So he’s a snappy dresser. Nice.

  His hair was a bit long on top, and the back curled up just enough that it looked like he was far between haircuts. His bangs hung in his face, and he kept blowing the golden brown hair out of his eyes—without much success. I found myself smiling as he did so, the action making him seem distracted and innocent.

  Judging by the way he carried himself, I could tell he was a bit older than me, but I was unsure of how much. Maybe a few years? He had on sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but boy did I want to. To say that my curiosity was piqued would be a gross understatement. I glanced back at Frankie, guilt-ridden for feeling any inkling of interest in another guy, but he was busy talking to my mom in the doorway of the kitchen and hadn’t yet noticed the new neighbor. Or my instant fascination with said neighbor.

  The way the two houses were lined up, I had a clear view of the front door of Frankie’s—Toby’s—house from my living room window. It had been a bonus for our parents when we were kids because they could easily watch us playing out front from either house.

  I shamelessly watched Toby walk the length of the moving truck and enter the house. Right before he disappeared inside, he glanced over and caught me staring at him.

  Shoot!

  Before I could look away, I swear I saw a smile turn up the corners of his mouth. Reaching my hand up to my black hair, I remembered with horror the 1982 scrunchie holding the messy ponytail-bun-thing I had going on. My face quickly heated, and I knew I was probably bright red—my trademark blushing. I was suddenly very self-conscious, unable to think of anything but that damned scrunchie. I pulled it out, much too late for it to even matter because he was gone. To my dismay, I slowly realized that the scrunchie was the least of my worries. I still had a mouth full of brownies stored in my cheek like a chipmunk gearing up for the winter. Fan-freaking-tastic. Between that and the hair, I’d have to say as far as first impressions go, this one had been a complete fail.

  “Ever? Ever?”

  Jessie was calling me, but I was shamelessly waiting for another glimpse of him.

  “Hellooo …. .Earth to Elenoaaaaaarrr!”

  Oh hell no.

  “What?”

  I whipped around, prepared to bite off Jessie’s head for using my first name, but she giggled and shrank back into the couch. My glare must have been fierce. I don’t know what she expected; she knew how much I hate that name. Frankie snorted again and ducked his head, avoiding another glare from me. Instead, he diligently focused on an imaginary hangnail. He obviously hadn’t noticed what—or who—I had been staring at. Good.

  “Geez, Ever. Chill. What are you looking at?”

  “What? Nothing.” I glanced at Frankie, worried he’d catch my guilty tone.

  “Whatever. Are you going to put in the movie? We better hurry if we’re going to watch all three of them tonight. I want to be home before Susan gets there.”

  Ah yes, Susan. Jessie’s mom, in little more than the biological sense. At this moment, she was probably out on yet another date, with yet another random guy, draining yet another bottle of whiskey. If Jessie was lucky, this current guy wouldn’t end up crashing on their couch for God knows ho
w long.

  I waited a few more seconds, hoping to catch a glimpse of my new neighbor, but not wanting to draw any attention to what I was staring at. I tore myself away from the window, popped another movie into the DVD player, then curled up on the couch opposite Jessie. My scruffy little terrier mix, Gollum, lifted his head long enough for me to slide underneath it so he could resume his intense resting regimen.

  My attention, unfortunately, was not on the movie, and not because I’d seen it so many times before. I couldn’t stop thinking about the hot new guy next door. Even more imaginative than usual, my mind started making up all sorts of different things about him, and I found myself creating and playing out scenarios in my head about how the two of us would meet and what would come next.

  My fantasizing about Toby was tainted with remorse for Frankie, but the daydreams didn’t cease. And really, it isn’t like my remorse was even valid. Frankie wasn’t actually my boyfriend, regardless of how long I’d loved him. He didn’t even know I loved him in the first place.

  “Whoa. Um, Ever? Who is that?”

  “Hmm?” Still indulging in my fantasy world, I was barely able to acknowledge Jessie when she spoke.

  “Dude. Look outside.”

  I slowly looked up and saw Gollum staring out at the front yard, a low growl starting up in his belly. Following his gaze out the window, I saw the new neighbor again. Before I even realized I was moving, I was on my feet, making my way toward the front door. I vaguely registered Jessie’s bewildered voice calling me as I walked outside, frantically smoothing my hair along the way.

  He leaned nonchalantly against the trunk of my Magnolia tree, hands in his pockets and completely at home there, as if he’d stood there like that a million times. He watched me through black Ray-Ban Wayfarers as I approached. I tilted my head to one side as I looked at him, and slowly, he did the same. I stopped a few feet from him, and we stood there, silently regarding one another. A soft-spoken voice in my head tried in vain to convince me to turn around and head back into my house, but I’ve never been very good at listening to that voice.