Dusk (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (23 page)

But he’d been right all along.

We weren’t going to be separated!

And I was his partner. The letter said so.

Adrian jumped up from the table, pulling me with him. He wrapped his arms around me, and lifted me off my feet.

“I knew it!” he said, spinning us in circles.

“I’m so happy,” I said, giggling as he slowed, gently setting my feet back on the ground. “I think this is why you were assigned to me. Not just so you could help me or so that we could fall in love, but so that I could work with you. I know I’m not a
Messenger,
but I think your Boss had a purpose for me, too. To be your partner.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Wherever we go, whatever we do, we’ll be together.”

“Always,” I whispered, gazing deep into his baby blues. Behind him the sun glowed orange on the horizon, lighting the sky with brilliance before it disappeared for the night.

Dusk
, I thought. How appropriate.

“Always,” he whispered, bringing his lips to mine. “Always.”

THE END

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Amy Durham discovered her love of writing in the sixth grade. What began as a love of writing poetry soon turned into stories scribbled into school notebooks. In the eighth grade, her English teacher told her she was good at it and encouraged her to continue to put pen to paper. At that moment, the die was cast, and writing would forever be a part of her life.

As an adult, Amy focuses her efforts on writing Young Adult Fiction… adventure, romance, and life-lessons… woven together as imagination and escape for young readers. Amy holds a firm belief that books are not only entertaining, but have the ability to transform young lives. A book can educate. A book can teach compassion and kindness. A book can spark interest. A book can be a companion. Simply put, books can accompany and guide young readers as they try to navigate their way through the twisted, confusing roads of adolescence.

She lives in Kentucky, where she is a middle school teacher. She and her husband are raising three wild, intelligent, and creative boys, giving her plenty of fodder for the love and adventure she enjoys putting in her stories!

Amy loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at:

[email protected]

www.amydurham.com

twitter.com/Amy_Durham

facebook.com/AuthorAmyDurham

Turn the page for a sneak peak at
For Once: A Sky Cove Short Story
, coming soon from Amy Durham.

N
etfilx online streaming was the cause of my insomnia. And if I wasn’t careful it would be the cause of my GPA plummeting. I looked at the clock and almost cursed the day I discovered
Dr. Quinn.
Almost, but not quite.

I smiled, replaying the moment that Sully finally told Dr. Mike that he loved her, right before they jumped off the cliff and into the river to escape her captors. How romantic was that? And how pitiful was I that my crazy romanticism had me up at all hours of the night watching old TV shows because my own life was so totally void of anything close to romance?

Sighing, I laid my glasses aside, shut my laptop, and snuggled down under the covers. January in Maine was brutal and required at least twenty pounds of cover on the bed. Looking at the clock, I groaned. At 2:00 a.m., I could still manage about four hours of sleep before I had to be up to get ready for school. Junior year at Sky Cove Senior High was tough, but I could do this. Jessie Spencer did
not
let her grades slip. Not even for Sully and Dr. Quinn.

In that hazy place that’s not yet sleep but not quite awake, I couldn’t help but replay the scene in my mind. And as the dream began to spin behind my eyelids, I allowed myself to be pulled in.

*     *     *

The crowd in Thornton’s General Store was always large the day of a delivery. It was quite the event in a town as small as Sky Cove, and today was no exception. Even I could not resist wandering up to the second floor to have a look at the new bolts of fabric, despite the fact that I was only here for basics such as flour, sugar, and soap.

Outside, I could hear the beat of horse hooves as more folks arrived at Thornton’s to have a look. Dressed in typical 1850s fashion with a long, brown skirt, off-white shirt with long sleeves, and a brown shawl about my shoulders, I looked like any other lady browsing the fabrics. The assembly upstairs grew, and as I was not terribly comfortable in large crowds, I began making my way toward the stairs that led downstairs to the main room of the store.

As I neared the edge of the room, Mr. Herman Smith and his wife Myrtie, who were known for being rather cantankerous, began arguing. She, apparently, was fond of a fabric he thought frivolous and too expensive. Not one to be dissuaded, Myrtie insisted, picking up the bolt of fabric herself. Herman grabbed it away from her, taking her roughly by the arm and swinging the both of them toward the stairway.

And unfortunately, directly into me.

The force of Myrtie, propelled by Herman’s strength, knocked me off my balance and I started down the stairway not of my own volition. It seemed to happen in slow motion, the first few steps looking like a clumsy attempt at hopping down the stairs. But midway down, my feet flew out from under me and I tumbled and turned, heading for a landing that would put me directly on my back.

But just before the impact, I crashed into a solid body, not made of wood, but of flesh and bone. The collision didn’t seem to affect him. He simply put his arms around me, effectively stopping my fall and keeping me from a very unladylike sprawl on the floor of the General Store.

Looking up, intending to thank my rescuer, I was struck speechless by the deep green eyes of Will Harlow, who I’d long admired from a distance.

In his usual brown trousers and white shirt, he was as easy rescuing me from a fall as he was splitting logs at the mill or throwing heavy sacks of grain over his shoulder. He never seemed to take much of anything seriously, which only added to his allure.

“Might want to be more careful there, Miss Spencer,” he said, a sly grin crossing his face. “I can’t be around to catch you every time.”

*     *     *

My cell phone alarm sounded, and I opened my eyes. Blinking and looking around, I assured myself I was in my room and not in some pre-twentieth century general store.

Sheesh, what a dream. I had to stop watching sappy TV re-runs before sleeping.

Because no way was present-day Will Harlow, high school athlete and popular guy, going to look at science-nerd Jessie Spencer as anything other than a friendly acquaintance.

*     *     *

Normally I used the front door of the school at the end of the day, but an unexpected trip to my locker to retrieve my forgotten calculator made it easier to use the door near the back of the building. As I worked the combination lock, I mentally checked off each class, making sure I had what I needed for homework and studying.

I was nothing if not conscientious.

I’d fought distraction all day long, forcing myself
not
to think about that stupid dream. Thankfully, I’d managed to stay awake despite my lack of sleep, but I figured once I got home, a nap would be the first thing on the agenda.

Grabbing my calculator and closing the locker door, I allowed myself one second to swoon over that moment in my dream where Will’s arms had locked around me and I’d looked up into his green eyes. I’d had a major crush on Will for a long time. A crush which was only made worse by my new friend Layla’s relationship with Will’s best friend Lucas.

Now I was around Will pretty regularly, since Layla and our group of girls hung around with Lucas and Will and the rest of the cross-country guys.

Will was super-nice, but I knew he didn’t notice me. At least not in the way a boy notices a girl.

All of a sudden, a group of guys ran down the hall toward the back door. I could hear the commotion from outside when they pushed the door open. Hitching my backpack up on my shoulder, I headed that direction to see what the fuss was about. After all, I had to leave the building anyway.

A fight in the school parking lot had apparently inspired the stampede that now flooded down the hallway behind me. Looked like school jock Todd Miller was pounding on one of the other popular dudes. Over what, was anybody’s guess. The cause of the fight didn’t really matter. Kids just wanted to see it, and most of the crazy people in the herd didn’t seem to care that I was in front of them. They pushed and shoved me like a ping-pong ball in their effort to get outside and witness the brawl.

I’d finally managed to get my footing when one last group of guys barreled toward the door. One of them hit me full force and as the doors to the outside pushed open under their assault, I tumbled out, the freezing January air smacking me in the face.

There were only four steps between the door and the pavement, but in the split second that I sailed downward, I imagined the scene that would result. Me, flat on the blacktop, while the large crowd of onlookers turned their attention from the fight to the awkward nerd who’d fallen down the steps.

I closed my eyes, mentally preparing for the mortification that was imminent.

Just when I expected to hit the ground, I landed against a solid body, not at all made of asphalt. Instead, a pair of arms locked around me, efficiently keeping me from face planting in front of the crowd of people.

I had a momentary flashback to the dream that had plagued the back of my consciousness all day as I looked up to discover my rescuer.

I didn’t know whether to be surprised or horrified to find myself staring into the bright green eyes of Will Harlow.

“You okay, Jessie?” The softness of Will’s voice always surprised me. At six feet, four inches, he was taller than most guys, with a runner’s body that was lean and fit. You’d expect him to have a big, loud voice, but instead he spoke with a quiet, confident tone that left no doubt that a soft voice did not mean wimp or pushover.

Holy cow he was cute. I mean, Not that I hadn’t already noticed, but up close he was way better. His jet-black hair was cut short, with just enough left on top to look rustled. And when he smiled his eyes danced.

The fact that he was smiling at me as he helped me back on my feet was confounding. Good grief, I hoped he wasn’t laughing at me. Falling in front of a crowd of people, even when pushed by another student, was possibly the most humiliating thing that could happen.

“I’m good,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Thanks.”

He nodded, still grinning and not taking his eyes off my face. While it was cool to have his attention, the stare was becoming uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked, and he chuckled.

He reached up and swiped at my cheek with his thumb. The gesture shocked me, both with its gentleness and with the jolt of electricity that shot through me, and I almost didn’t have enough brain capacity to wonder why he’d touched me.

“You’ve got a black smudge on your face.”

The chilly January wind blustered around, blowing my brown hair into my face. Will raised his hand again, his palm soft against my jaw as he worked once again to remove the smudge from my cheek. Meanwhile, I was stunned into silence.

“Looks like black ink,” Will said.

I found my voice. “Probably from my pen.” Well, duh.

“I got most of it,” he said after a few more swipes.

Not just cute, but nice. Really nice. Could my crush on him get any bigger?

“Thanks,” I said, stepping back and putting some distance between the two of us. Before I did something stupid like drool all over him. “And thanks for catching me.”

He winked, playful and charming, and said, “No problem.”

My heart went
thud.

Will headed to his car, and as I stumbled my way toward my own, I barely noticed the freezing winter air.

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