ONLY IN TIME
By Kelli McCracken
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PROLOGUE
The tires on the old Chevy pickup squealed in protest as Jonah McCabe slid into a parking space. Ripping the seatbelt from its lock, he grabbed the slip of paper off the dash, scanning the words until he found what he wanted.
7:50 PM
He gripped the handle, pushing the door open. One last look at his wrist brought his eyes to his watch.
7:46 PM.
Damn. Time was almost up.
Slamming the door behind him, he raced toward the main doors of the train station. The scent of stale Old Spice lingered in the air when he entered.
He scanned the waiting area for a familiar face. One that made his heart catch every time he looked upon it.
A feminine voice echoed off the walls of the station from the PA system. The cheeriness in her voice knotted his gut, but not as bad as when she announced the final boarding call for New York.
Pushing his legs to move faster, he ignored the tightness in his chest. Time wasn’t a luxury. Never had been. Maybe one day, he would get his shit together. Take life a little more seriously.
He’d have no other choice if he didn’t make it in time to stop the train.
Weaving through the wooden benches, he searched for the boarding entrance. It wasn’t the easiest task. Recent passengers crowded the lobby, huddling with family and friends they’d been separated from for only God knows how long.
Other people were assembled at the ticket booth, making purchases and checking schedules. Just ahead, another crowd pushed into the building. Bold letters hung above the door with words he’d been anxious to see.
DEPARTURES.
The sign should have read, Last Chance at Happiness. Because that’s what waited on the other side of the door.
His last chance.
Forget stopping the train. He had to stop her.
As the seconds ticked away in his head, Jonah raced past the ticket counter, ready to curse anyone who tried to stop him from going outside. Luckily, no one did. He said a silent prayer as the cool metal handle greeted his hands. One hard push had the door opening.
The scent of diesel assaulted his nose as he stepped onto the cement pad. He searched for the train that should have been in front of him. Running to the edge of the platform, he stared at the empty tracks below, trying to tune out the metal squeaking in the distance.
Metal squeaking…? No!
The shrill sound of a whistle startled him as he turned just in time to see the end of the train pulling away.
“Hey,” he shouted. “Hey, stop!” Zipping past a crowd of onlookers, he made it to the end of the pad. But not soon enough to reach the train, though that didn’t stop him from protesting. “I need to get on that train! Please! I need to…”
His pleas fell on deaf ears. The only patrons remaining were those who’d seen off their family or friends. While a few shot him glares adorned with folded brows, most just ignored him.
He’d ignore himself, too, had the roles been reversed.
The one thing he couldn’t ignore…the ache in his chest. How it built near his heart, spreading like a deadly virus through his arms, legs, even his head. Everything ached. His lungs burned when he tried to take a breath.
As his hands fell to his sides, the slip of paper he’d been holding fell toward the ground. He didn’t bother catching it. He didn’t need it anymore. Everything he ever wanted just disappeared, along with the taillights of the train.
Wallowing in the pain, he wanted to make sure he never forgot how bad this hurt. To breathe. To think. To stand and watch his life go down the drain. That way he’d never make this same mistake, again. The mistake of giving his heart away to a woman. A woman who would never know how much he loved her. That he’d come to stop her. To give her the reason she’d been searching for.
Too bad time hadn’t been on his side. Would have been if he hadn’t—
Damn her mother.
CHAPTER 1
Six years later…
The crumpled newspaper crackled in Ally Jacobs’ hand as she removed the last picture from the box on the floor. Her eyes trailed over the other dozen boxes spread across her new living room. Each one held items from her apartment in New York. Items that needed a new wall, or shelf, or drawer. She’d be here a week or more if she tried finding the perfect spot for everything. Not that she would. The picture in her hand held more significance than anything else she owned.
Letting the paper fall to the floor, she swiped her palm against the glass, eyeing the handsome man in the photo. Dressed in his BDUs, insignias donned his collar. A diamond nestled between three arcs and three chevrons. Her father looked every bit the army first-sergeant he was. Even while hugging her.
As she placed the photo on the table near the window, a tinge of sadness pinched her heart. She adjusted the frame before draping dog tags over it. Her finger slid across the engraved words Jacobs, Robert.
Hard to believe it had been fourteen years since her mother received that dreaded visit by the military base chaplain. The visit that rocked Ally’s world, even at the age of ten. She wished she had done as her mother told her. To go to her room and shut the door. Had she listened instead of peeking around the hallway corner, she wouldn’t have heard every painful word that slipped past the chaplain’s lips. How her father had been killed in the line of duty. Not by a bullet, but from an explosion.
The words coming from his mouth weren’t as soul shaking as the question her mother asked…if she would have anything to bury? Ally inhaled a shaky breath, remembering how the chaplain shook his head. How his eyes found hers right after, causing his mouth to gape.
Blinking back tears, she eyed the dog tags once more, grateful her father had misplaced the set right after they moved to Savannah. Out of his belongings she’d kept, she treasured the tags the most. Probably because he allowed her to wear them whenever she asked. Or because she thought they contained super powers, because her dad had been her hero.
Shifting her focus out the window, she gazed at the other houses on her street, wondering how many people still lived in the old neighborhood. While the street she’d grown up on was a few blocks away, she’d been on this street plenty. Cassie Clarke used to live at the end of the road. Her best friend’s parents still did, luckily. She may have never found this house had they moved elsewhere.
Ally couldn’t help but wonder if someone else’s parents still lived across from Cassie’s old house. A certain someone who had made life in Savannah bearable after her father’s death.
Did he still live in—
The doorbell chime echoed through the house, making Ally’s heart pound in her chest. Each thump resonated in her ears as she walked toward the door. Not many people knew she’d returned, short of her mother and Cassie. Her dinner date with her mom wouldn’t be for a couple more hours, which meant the unexpected visitor could only be one person.
As the door swung inward, Ally expected a set of brown eyes to be staring back at her. Instead, gray ones did. They were a striking contrast to the brown uniform he wore.
“Afternoon, ma’am. I have a package for Ally Jacobs.” He raised his hands in front of him, holding a small rectangular box.
“That would be me.” She grabbed the electronic device he handed her. With her quickest, sloppiest signature recorded, she returned the device, exchanging it for her package.
She barely heard him say goodbye as her eyes scrolle
d across the sender’s information. Her old address in New York. What had her roommate sent?
Curious to what the package contained, she tore at the cardboard until a letter slipped out. She stared at the perfectly constructed letters on the paper.
I told you that you’d forget something. Hope you’re enjoying Savannah. Will miss going out for coffee in the mornings. Don’t forget about me. ~Darcy
Smiling at the paper, she walked back to the living room, placing the letter on the coffee table before sitting on the couch. She could have sworn she went over every inch of the apartment before she left. Hard to believe she could have forgotten something.
She gazed down at the box in her lap, unfolding the flaps until the item inside stared back at her. Seeing the old, blue t-shirt stole the air from her lungs. She hadn’t forgotten to pack it. She didn’t realize she still had it.
The soft cotton teased her fingers as she pulled the shirt from the box. A wave of pine and juniper swirled inside her nose. God, she loved the smell of Polo cologne. Which is why she had bought him a bottle for Christmas during their senior year. Had she known it would be their last Christmas together…
Pushing back the ache in her heart, she stuffed the shirt inside the box. She couldn’t afford this little trip down memory lane. And he sure as hell didn’t deserve any of her tears. She had given him enough. He made his decision just as she made hers. No sense in revisiting a place that closed its doors to her before she stepped foot on the train.
She’d never go there again. Would never ask for the key to unlock Jonah McCabe’s heart.
* * *
The growl of a zipper filled the hotel suite before Jonah flung open the lid to his suitcase. He tossed a pair of socks inside, half pleased when they landed in the gap beside a stack of shirts. If only everything else in his life would fall into place with such ease.
He tuned out the chirping from his phone and the text message it announced. There were enough distractions for him to deal with, today. He didn’t need to deal with anyone else.
A voice cleared behind him, bringing his thoughts back to the question still hanging in the air. And the answer his brother wanted.
But the answer he had wouldn’t be the one his brother expected.
Shaking his head, Jonah grabbed his shaving kit off the bed, securing it inside the suitcase. Might as well apologize and get it over with. He couldn’t put off his brother for long. Regardless of whatever excuse he conjured, it wouldn’t be good enough.
“Sorry, Theo. I can’t do it. My flight leaves in three hours.”
“So what?” Theo grumbled from behind. “Fly back tomorrow instead.”
Even as grown men, his baby brother knew just how to work him. Jonah let out an exasperated sigh. “I haven’t played in a solid year. This isn’t about rearranging my schedule. It’s about you finding the right guy. Someone with some talent.”
He stole a glance at his brother, not surprised to see frustration filling Theo’s blue eyes. “You can sell that bullshit somewhere else, Jonah,” he snorted, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Tell me you won’t, but don’t tell me you can’t. We both know better than that.”
Biting the inside of his cheek, Jonah studied Theo. His brother was as stubborn as their father. Neither would take no for an answer.
A moment of silence accomplished nothing other than a stare down between them. Then Theo stepped toward him, his set jaw proof that he wanted to argue his point, but Jonah’s phone buzzed to life. His eyes moved toward the nightstand, locking on the text bubble that lit up the screen. It had to be Fiona. Again. Which only proved the point he was trying to make.
“See!” He gripped the phone in his hand, shaking it in Theo’s direction. “I have other shit to take care of. I can’t stay.”
It only took Theo a second to reach him, his brows tightening with each step. “You lined this gig up months ago. Convinced me how important it was to prepare for our live album recording. You should be responsible for finding a replacement!” Theo’s voice cracked as it hit a higher pitch. But as quick as anger filled his face, it disappeared just the same. His eyes wavered between Jonah’s and the phone before falling to the floor. “Jonah…I wouldn’t be asking if Jeff could make it, or if we had anyone else.”
Yeah, yeah. So he’d said the first time Jonah had said no. This was about the time when guilt kicked him in the ass and he gave in. Family first. It was the promise they’d made five years ago, almost to the day when Jonah had accepted the job he should be flying back to.
In under three hours.
Shit.
Searching for the zipper, he fought back the urge to flat out refuse. “Jeff won’t be ready for the recording if he doesn’t show. Why ask for my advice if you guys aren’t going to follow it? A freaked out girlfriend is a piss poor excuse to cancel, if you ask me.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that he had to, though. For Christ’s sake, she’s pregnant, Jonah. Jeff has a whole mess to deal with. I ain’t touching it and it shouldn’t matter. Where the hell is your heart?”
“It’s where I left it. Buried at the train station.” Hating himself for the admission, he let his suitcase lid close nice and loud. The soft pile of clothes he’d thrown in muffled what should have been a nice punctuation to his irritation.
It was Theo’s turn to shake his head. He did so as he took a step back toward the dresser. “How long you gonna live in the past, Jonah? You’re not responsible for what happened.”
“No, I’m only responsible for letting her leave with the wrong impression.”
“You thought you were doing the right thing. Why don’t you try looking her up? See what she’s—”
“Don’t go there, Theo. You can’t cross burnt bridges.” Tugging on the suitcase, he let it drop to the floor. The sooner this conversation ended, the better. And there was only one sure way to do that. “Okay, I give. How long’s the set?”
Theo clapped his hands and pointed finger guns at him. “Ten songs, big bro. You will not be sorry. I think this is just the distraction you need. Wait ‘til you see the Friday night crowd this joint gets. Bodies packing the floor, ready to dance. Honeys at our feet, just dripping for a chance.” Theo pointed skyward. “Hey, that’s not bad.”
Jonah rolled his eyes, knowing his brother was off to scribble on the nearest scrap of paper. He’d end up being the one getting dragged to the gig. Theo got in a zone when lyrics came to him. The kind of deep zone Jonah only skimmed the surface of when playing guitar.
Plopping down on the bed, he leaned back until the mattress cradled his back. Guess he needed to call Fiona and get this over with. Hopefully she could get him an early morning flight. Ah, better make it a mid-morning flight. While he didn’t have much interest in the complications of any dripping honeys, if the gig ran over or any of the old crew showed up, he’d be courting a hangover for sure.
It was damned good to be home again and besides, what harm could just a few more hours do?
The line only rang once before a voice filled his ear. “About time you acknowledged my texts. Are you at the airport?”
Great. This would go well. She’d love the position he was about to put her in. “Sorry, sweet cheeks. I’ve been busy with family. And no, I’m not at the airport. In fact, I have a favor to ask. You probably won’t like it.”
A throaty laugh echoed over the phone. “I’m used to covering for your ass, Jonah. Lay it on me. And hurry. I still need to explain why I called.”
Hesitating on answering her, he stared at the ceiling, wondering what info she had for him. Hopefully it was good news. He needed something positive after the last few weeks of hell. Why were musicians such a pain to deal with sometimes?
“I need you to tell Owen that I’ll be another day getting back. Then I need you to book me a flight for tomorrow afternoon.”
He waited for a tirade of curse words to follow, but only a snort filled the line. “I’m a step ahead of you, doll. I’ve already res
cheduled your flight for the fifteenth. You leave out at one.”
God, she was great… Wait! What? “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What did you just say?”
“I said your flight is rescheduled.”
“Not that part.” He sat up in the bed, grabbing his briefcase off the floor. Opening it up, he flipped to the calendar, his eyes rolling over the dates and notes. “Why am I not leaving until the fifteenth? That’s almost two weeks from now.”
“Owen wants you to meet up with a friend of his next Friday, to check out some band that grabbed his interest.”
“So Owen wants me to do his job, huh?” He smacked the briefcase shut before pushing off the bed. “Why am I not coming back until the following Tuesday?”
“Rich Taylor called about your project. He thinks he can squeeze you in next week, but not until Tuesday.”
The news brought a smile to Jonah’s face. “It’s about time.”
“Yeah,” Fiona grumbled. “You could have gotten in sooner if you’d agreed to see the woman.”
“No! I don’t want a woman handling this. I work with Rich or no one.” The words resonated over the phone, filling Jonah with regret. He’d never yelled at Fiona or voiced his opinion about working with women. He didn’t need to start now.
“You know, I never took you for a sexist, Jonah. Why can’t you see the female partner in the firm? I heard she makes the men in that office look like baboons.”
“I’m not a sexist,” he laughed, doing his best to lighten the conversation. He didn’t want Fiona mad at him. She’d been the best thing to come along with his job. Had stuck her neck out for him far more than he deserved. “You know how much I enjoy working with you, Fiona. If I were a sexiest, I wouldn’t.”
“Mm-hmm. So you say.”
“Listen, sweets, it’s nothing against women. It’s just that I’ve spoke with Rich. He knows the project inside and out. I want to deal with him. That’s all.”
“Well, you still yelled at me. But that’s okay. You can make it up to me when you get back. I’ve been dying to try out the new sushi bar over on Melrose.”
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