Now and Again

by Jennifer Ellision

  Now

  and

  Again

  ∞

  Jennifer Ellision

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2015 by Jennifer Ellision. All rights reserved.

  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.

  “Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.”

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Dear Reader

  Also by Jennifer Ellision

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For the ones who are afraid, but let themselves fall

  ONE

  EM

  Someone smacks me in the face with a hot, wet towel as I walk out the doors of Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport.

  No, wait; that's just the unbelievable Florida humidity.

  My feet plod to a halt on the curb with a sigh, scanning the incoming cars for my ride. God, I miss San Francisco already. Had I really crossed the country in an overrated tin can to get here? Had I really suffered through five hours beside a chatty seat mate and a screaming baby for free room and board at Mom's?

  I spy a nickel face-down on the ground and nonchalantly toe it until it flips over. Grinning, I palm the dirty coin, reaching into my purse for my wallet. My sad, very empty wallet. I drop the nickel into the coin pocket alongside a wadded up receipt.

  My bank account isn't any better. Tumbleweeds are more likely to blow through it than a direct deposit.

  So, yeah. I'm here for free room and board at Mom's. My job prospects had dwindled in California and my part-time work no longer made ends meet after my roommate moved out. I'd sold or donated pretty much everything I had to get here, refusing to take Mom's money for the ticket. Guilt already twinges at me over finally caving to her wheedling persuasions to come home. I don't need the weight of a plane ticket added to my shoulders.

  I'm just as unemployed here as I'd been out west, but, God willing, I'm going to change that before long. Before I start to feel truly pathetic.

  An obnoxious honking interrupts what promised to be a really stellar pity party.

  "Em! EM!" My best friend hangs out of her fiancé's car, weaving its way through airport traffic toward me. Nikki waves wildly, corkscrew curls gyrating in the warm breeze.

  I'm not ready for this.

  Fleetingly, I think of my room back in San Francisco: Quiet. Calm.

  And solitary.

  I hitch my duffel bag higher on my shoulder and thread my way through cars and people to the dark blue sedan. With her fiancé still at the wheel, Nikki jumps out of the car and pulls me into a tight hug. She stands a full head below me and I rest my chin on her head. It's too almost too hot for the contact, but what the hell? I return the embrace fiercely. It's not as bad in the shade of the airport overpass.

  My life back west didn't have many drawbacks, but sometimes, being three time zones away from my friends and family qualified as one of the few.

  "Hey, Em." By contrast, Ron's greeting is much more sedate, though he gives me a quick hug and takes my bag to deposit it in the trunk.

  "Hey, Doctor Ron," I tease, settling into the backseat.

  "Still in med school rotations, Em," Ron says, slamming the driver's door shut and easing the car back into traffic. He lefts a genial hand in acknowledgement to the traffic cop who motions us forward. "Not a doctor yet."

  "Ignore him. He's brilliant and everyone knows it." Nikki flips a dismissive hand to Ron's modesty and a glint catches the light.

  I snatch her hand and yank it toward me.

  "Oh, that's right! You hadn't seen it in person yet." She waggles her fingers excitedly in my hand.

  "I still won't if you don't hold still."

  I'd seen it on Facebook, of course. And in text messages, video chats, Instagrams, blogs— basically if there was a way to document Nikki's path to marital bliss, she'd found it. The ring is pretty. A small, simple solitaire.

  Nikki would have been ecstatic over even a baggie tie if Ron had given it to her.

  I release her hand. "It's beautiful, Nik."

  "Thank you," she trills, straining against the seatbelt to peck Ron on the cheek. He grins and switches lanes.

  "I am so excited that you're home," she says. "I don't know how I would have planned this wedding without my maid of honor."

  "Right. About that." I lace my fingers together and twiddle my thumbs. I'd been dreading this. "I don't know that I'm necessarily the best—"

  She swivels in her seat so quickly that she'd give the girl from Poltergeist whiplash. "Emmeline Hayes. Don't you dare tell me that you're not going to be my maid of honor."

  "For the sake of everyone in this car, please don't tell her that," Ron mutters.

  "I am not saying that." I emphasize very carefully, lest Nikki attempt to burn me with laser vision. "It's just, I really need to be looking for a job while I'm here."

  She still looks like she's trying to kill me with her brain.

  "I just mean that I don't see myself having a ton of time to help with wedding plans. Job-hunting, you know?" And I do not want to be here until the wedding. They haven't even set a date yet. The idea of wedding planning stretches infinitely forward, with an indeterminate end. Florida is a temporary fix and a temporary fix only. I'm here until I can find another job. A job anywhere but here.

  "Oh!" Her expression clears. "Don't worry. I have a plan for that."

  A plan. Great. A brief history of Nikki's "plans" throughout college flip through my mind like the pages of a book.

  And Cole's face is on every. Last. Page.

  There's another reason I haven't come home in years. Being here means I'll have to see him again. And the way we'd left things… let's just say I'm not sure what sort of reception I'll receive.

  Nikki will notice if I start banging my head against the window, right?

  ∞ Then ∞

  Freshman Year

  I'd been sleeping fine until the dorm's fire alarm went off with a wail like a banshee.

  There was a loud thunk from somewhere in the vicinity of the floor as Nikki fell out of her bed.

  "You okay?" I had to shout over the earsplitting sound, pushing my blankets aside. My heart was just beginning to recover from the shock of waking up like that. I shot up, on autopilot, feet already seeking out the pair of sandals I'd left near my bed.

  "Fine!" Nikki bolted up, hair standing on end as if she'd been struck by lightning. "Think it's a drill?"

  "Don't know." Oh my God, my ears. It was like the alarm was prying open my head to ring a gong inside my brain.

  Nikki tried to stop and check herself for errant make-up smudges in the vanity mirror, but I shoved he
r out the door of our room to join the crush of people in the hall. Some, like us, were in their pjs, bed head rampant. Others looked like they hadn't made it to sleep yet. I noted red eyes. Glassy eyes. Sexy-time eyes.

  But two of the guys heading from their dorm stood out. Where the rest of us were… well, dry, they were soaked from head to toe.

  My eyes caught on sodden red hair that bloomed from a short, freckly body. He ran alongside a guy that I would have put money on being his roommate: dripping brown hair hanging into blue eyes that, even from that distance were like ice chips, his face stony. The poor guy's navy t-shirt was soaked, clinging to him like a second skin.

  My pulse jumped.

  My eyes stayed on him as we ran down the stairs with the rest of the floor. The redhead spouted a continuous stream of apologies, but the brunet boy stayed silent.

  "Forget about it. It's fine," he finally said to his roommate. As if the subject of the apology was closed; no longer open for discussion. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes locked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the puddle forming beneath his feet as we stood outside.

  God, you could see the muscles right through his shirt. I stared, transfixed.

  "Em? Hellooooo?" Nikki waved a hand in front of my face. I only hoped I hadn't started to drool. She followed the line of my vision.

  "Oh, I see," she said with a giggle. "Why don't you go say hi?"

  My face heated, trance effectively broken. "No way," I whispered back, mortified to have been caught staring. "What would I say? And keep your voice down. He'll hear you."

  "God, I hope so," she said fervently. "Who cares if he hears me? He's cute. You're cute. You could both be cute together. Just flirt a little."

  "Not a chance in hell."

  She bit her lip. I recognized that look in her eyes.

  "No, Nikki," I said sternly.

  She pouted.

  "Nikki…"

  Before I could stop her, she darted through the mumbling crowd of students who stared up at our building in impatient aggravation. We all wanted to know the same thing: why in God's name we'd been dragged from our beds

  /alcohol

  /studying

  /um… companions.

  But at the moment, I was far more concerned with Nikki, who was streaking toward the cute, wet dude like a heat-seeking missile.

  There was no way I could have caught her. Tiny Nikki was able to bob and weave through the other students faster than I could ever dream.

  "Hi!" She reached him an instant before I did and chirped up at him. "I'm Nikki."

  Breathlessly, I stopped short behind her. His eyes zipped to mine and I pulled the sleeves of my sleep shirt over my thumbs.

  "This is Em," she continued as though I'd been there the entire time. "Do you guys want to come by our room for dinner tomorrow night?"

  I trod on her foot with great precision. To her credit, we'd been friends long enough that this didn't phase her.

  Nikki had gotten me as far as an introduction to the cute guy though. At this point, I might as well go all in.

  "What she means is 'Hi. Nice to meet you.'" I smiled at them, trying to mask the shred of fading embarrassment that lingered. "And then, I'm pretty sure she meant to pause where any normal human would so you could tell us your name before she invited you into our home."

  His lips twitched. His eyes lightened up considerably as he lost his stony demeanor. "I'm Cole," he said, extending a hand. "Cole Connors. Room 311."

  "Em Hayes," I said, shaking it. He had a good handshake, I noted. A solid grip; confident, but not intimidating. His blue eyes held me for a minute, like he was measuring me. An unmistakable arc of electricity jolted through me.

  My heart was busy leading a Zumba class.

  In my throat.

  Stop that, I instructed it firmly. This was totally normal. Simple attraction, and nothing more.

  "Nikki Wright," Nikki said, enthusiastically pumping his hand when he turned to her next. "Em and I are just down the hall in 309."

  "And no pressure," I added lightly. "But if you promise not to tell anyone, I'll let you in on a secret: I might be in possession of a hot plate and I don't want to brag or anything, but I make a mean grilled cheese."

  He bobbed his head slowly in assent. "That might be cool." Seeming to realize he hadn't introduced the soaking redhead next to him, he indicated the shorter boy. "This is Jerry. My roommate." The roommate in question waved vaguely before shuffling off in the other direction.

  Jerry wasn't much for new people, I guessed. Nor did he seem to want to join us for dinner.

  "I have to ask," I spoke up. "What's with the wet dog look?"

  Cole's eyebrows slammed together and he ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it." But then he seemed to think the better of that statement and it burst out of him in a rush. "No, in all seriousness, it's the stupidest damn thing. My roommate was making pea soup in the microwave."

  I raised an eyebrow. "And so then he... threw it on you?" I hazarded a guess.

  "I wish."

  "Wishing to be covered in hot soup is not a thing most people want." I laughed at the odd phrasing. "You realize that, right?"

  Cole hooked his arms behind his neck and rolled it from side to side, the sound of his cracked neck reaching my ears. "He left the room for some reason while it was in there. I had my headphones in, was totally in the zone, and the next thing I know, smoke's pouring out of the microwave. That shit actually caught on fire." His tone was one of disbelief as he shook his head. "Hell of a way to kick off my college career."

  "At least it's a night you won't forget," Nikki, ever the optimist, put in.

  "Hey, Cole!" A thin, reedy voice interrupted. Cole blinked, looking down near his elbow, where Jerry had suddenly reappeared. "Is it cool with you if I have a couple friends from home over to play video games later tonight?"

  Cole blanched. "Jerry, it's three in the morning already."

  Jerry stared up at him expectantly.

  "I'm not even sure our electronics are still working after the sprinklers came on."

  I'm not even sure Jerry blinked while he waited for an answer.

  "Yeah, that's, um…" He sighed, capitulating. "Sure."

  He turned his eyes skyward after Jerry darted away.

  I wanted to be sympathetic, really I did, but I felt a smile tugging at my lips despite that resolve. Nikki began to giggle openly.

  "Okay, look," Cole said exasperatedly. "I don't know anyone here, and this might not be the coolest thing to say to a couple of hot girls that I just met—"

  I tried to ignore a jolt of pleased surprise. He thinks I'm hot.

  "—And I really don't want to seem desperate here, but…" He rubbed frustrated hands over his face. "Help me."

  It was too much. I couldn't help the laughter that burst out of me.

  Cole massaged his temple. "I'm serious," he insisted. "That's my roommate. I thought I'd at least have someone that I could hang out with after all of the stupid roommate matching quizzes they made us take, but I'm 99% sure that the only thing we have in common is our non-smoker status. I like video games as much as the next person, but—"

  "Excuse me!" A female voice rang authoritatively over the crowd. The buzz of chatter dulled to low murmurs. "Can I have your attention, please!" the woman called, impatience threading its way into her voice.

  The murmurs died and silence reigned. "All right everyone," the RA said, standing near the building's turquoise doors. "It's all clear now. It was just a small fire caused by some sort of cooking malfunction—"

  Cole covered his eyes with one hand. "Please, God, don't let her say where it started."

  "—in room 311."

  He sighed. "I hate my life."

  "So, everything's safe," the RA continued. "You can all go back to your rooms. And for those of you on the third floor... we're really sorry, but just try to ignore the smell. There's really not much we can do about it."

  "The
re's a smell," Cole stated flatly. He turned to us. "There's a smell."

  Nikki patted his back sympathetically. "Like I said, we're in room 309. Dinner's at 6:30. See you tomorrow."

  TWO

  EM

  ∞ Now ∞

  Ron and Nikki drop me off at my mom's house after I wave aside their offers to come in. Nikki, in particular, is insistent that they need to help me with my bag, but I shoo them away.

  I need a minute.

  As the good doctor's car disappears, I set my duffel down on the sidewalk, studying the house I grew up in. Mom's still got her little bed of perennial flowers up front by the door. A couple of gangly palm trees sit to my left, fronds blowing lazily in the wind. There's a Jeep in the driveway; although, for all I know, it's Mom's new car.

  I haven't been back home since graduating college two years ago. When the holidays came up, I'd always had some sort of excuse: I couldn't get the time off of work, flights were too expensive, I'd waited too long to book and they'd sold out…

  I don't think Mom believed me once.

  The sun beats down on my exposed skin relentlessly. I've got to go inside at some point, so I fish my old house key out and let myself in.

  I release a shaky breath as I step over the threshold. Here's yet another reason I haven't been back: Dad is everywhere in this house. My fingers drift along the frames Mom still has hanging in the entryway. His sixtieth birthday party when I was in high school. My sweet sixteen. Their wedding.

  The memories press in on me with each step I take into the house. Missing him is like a physical ache, and it's so much worse here.

  There's only one way I'm going to get through this: ignore the photos. Drown out the memories and focus on my job applications. For that matter, focus on anything else. Even if that means focusing on Nikki's wedding planning.

  Low chatter from the kitchen reaches my ears. Looks like Mom's home after all.

  But she's not alone.

  My bag drops from suddenly numb fingers as Cole's eyes look up from my mother's kitchen counter to meet mine, an expression of surprise crystal-clear in them. I should have recognized that Jeep in the driveway the instant I saw it. I'd ridden in its passenger seat enough times over the years.