In Another Life Read online

  Copyright by Amber McCammon

  All rights reserved.

  This book contains material protected under International and federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers or any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

  * * *

  Cover Design: Pink Elephant Designs

  Editing: Victoria Ellis of Cruel Ink Editing & Design

  Proofing: Crystal Blanton of Indie Authors Book Services

  Interior Formatting: Cruel Ink Editing & Design

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  In The Gray: Prologue

  About the Author

  Social Media Links

  Also by Amber McCammon

  For the broken, bruised, and burdened souls.

  PROLOGUE

  3 months ago

  My heart pounds like a song with a quick melody, each beat causing a sharp pain in my tight chest. I draw a breath in until my lungs are fully expanded, holding it for several seconds before it rushes back out. But the thick air only allows me a brief reprieve.

  “Julianna, there’s no reason for you to be nervous. You’ll never be judged or pressured here. It’s my job to help you work through anything that may be troubling you, but it will require talking.”

  Swallowing the bile burning my throat, I lift my eyes from my lap, grazing over her before focusing on our surroundings. Talking, I can do that. It’s the whole point in being here, after all. But I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent so long holding everything in, it’s buried deep.

  Her birds begin to chirp, drawing my attention to the large cage sitting in front of the window in the small room. The white and gray feathered cockatiels dance and stretch their wings in the sunlight streaming through the glass, and my body relaxes as I watch the beautiful creatures.

  With another deep breath, I force my eyes back to the woman still waiting for me to say something—anything. She’s so different from what I expected, which helps with the unease. I figured she’d be some stiff woman in a suit, but she’s the opposite. The long silver hair hanging loose around her shoulders compliments her ripped jeans and t-shirt as she sits crisscross in her leather armchair, her bare feet tucked underneath her.

  She’s still a total stranger, however, and I have a hard time opening up to people I love. I never thought I’d do something like this—see a therapist. I’m not this person. I’m a brush-it-off-and-sweep-it-under-the-rug type of girl.

  But Dr. Gentry helped Lizzy in her darkest hour, and I’m so tired of living this way—of feeling this way. The weight is so heavy, I can’t bear it much longer.

  My eyes begin to roam around her office again, my breathing focused on calming my racing heart. I admire her impressive collection of Beatles memorabilia, wondering if she took some of the photographs herself. Photography is a topic I could handle talking about.

  “Why don’t you start with what brought you here today?” she hedges.

  Crossing my legs, I sit up straighter, feeling like her overstuffed loveseat is trying to swallow me. My stare moves to my lap as my head drops, allowing my hair to fall like a curtain around my face.

  Shrugging, I sigh. “So much has happened recently, it’s hard to pinpoint one thing.”

  Lie.

  I know exactly why I’m here. Sure, my whole life has changed in the span of four months, but that’s merely the result of all the years spent ignoring the real issue.

  “Okay. Is there a particular event that started everything?”

  “I left my husband and moved back to Tennessee,” I answer, lifting my gaze to meet hers.

  “May I ask why you left?”

  “He cheated on me,” I mutter, my jaw clenching. “I caught him, actually. He was in our bed with another woman.”

  Her face remains impassive and unreadable even after my admission, but I still break eye contact. His transgression tends to make me feel ashamed, like I was the one who did something wrong. I suppose a part of me feels responsible.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head to rid myself of the awful memory flashing through my mind. The fact that Christopher was cheating on me hadn’t been all that surprising, but I never expected to find him screwing some young woman in our bed.

  The room is eerily silent by the time I open my eyes again, making the sound of her pen scratching on paper seem overly loud.

  “I see, and how are you feeling?”

  Her gaze lands back on me as I scoff, narrowing my eyes. Her question is absurd. How does she think I feel? Betrayed, hurt, angry—the same way anyone would.

  Except…I don’t. Not really.

  A big part of me was relieved when I found him. I’d never been happy in my marriage, but I’d never been miserable enough to leave either. It was a mediocre existence, and I felt stuck. I didn’t want to start over, and I loathed the idea of being back in Tennessee. Catching him in the act gave me the push I needed to make a change.

  If I’m being honest, I didn’t love him—at least, I was never in love with him. Being with Christopher was another way for me to avoid coping with the moment that changed me forever. I couldn’t handle the reality of what happened to me. I was already broken by the time I met Chris. When I shut down to stop the pain, it locked away my ability to feel and connect.

  Not that it would have mattered. I’d given my heart to someone else long before we met. My choice to be with Christopher was bred from fear.

  I thought I could outrun my demons, that I could escape my past by starting a new life in a new place, but those ghosts only followed me, and they still haunt me today.

  So, how am I feeling? The same way I’ve felt for the past ten years.

  “Crushed.”

  1

  December 19th

  My pulse races as I watch Lizzy walk toward the bar, praying the alcohol streaming through my veins will help calm my nerves soon.

&
nbsp; Being back in Tennessee always makes me feel on edge, but knowing I’m stuck here again has heightened my anxiety. When I was merely visiting, I could block out the haunting memories. But that isn’t the case now. It’s only my first night back, and I already feel trapped—suffocated by the life I left behind.

  Though Tennessee is the last place on earth I wanted to end up, I’m grateful to have a friend like Lizzy. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She was the first call I made after I walked out on Christopher, and she offered her home to me in an instant. The woman is a saint, I swear.

  Lizzy has been one of my best friends since we were teenagers, and I’ve always known I can count on her. The shadows of my past held me back from being here for her more when her husband died, and I hate myself for not being strong enough to face them for her.

  She’s struggled so much over the past couple years, I was worried we’d lost her forever. During my visit in October, the old her started to resurface and I felt like I could breathe a little better knowing my girl was still in there. The second I saw her with Brenden, I knew he had something to do with it. Even if she isn’t ready to accept it. It’s obvious Brenden is seriously falling for her, but I imagine it’d be hard not to fall for someone like Lizzy.

  Not because of her outer beauty, although she has plenty. It’s her inner beauty that makes her truly shine.

  Memories flood in as my eyes roam the small-town bar. Zane’s has been around since I was a kid. The smell of stale beer and years of grime layering the wooden tables certainly highlight the bar’s age. Being in here is like stepping back in time. Nothing has really changed. Same dim lighting. Same neon signs. Same décor. The only thing that’s been updated is the music, which is probably the one thing I would’ve preferred staying the same.

  More than once I’d come here to dance and partake in underage drinking, but that seems like a lifetime ago. This place reminds me of the girl I once was—naïve and trusting to a fault. That girl had dreams and hopes for the future, but those died right along with her.

  When my eyes land on Lizzy again, Brenden is standing next to her. My dark mood shifts, a smile spreading across my face, as I mentally pat myself on the back. I knew Brenden would follow her here if I posted on Facebook that we’d be at Zane’s tonight —and I was right.

  Brenden places his hand on Lizzy’s arm, and I watch them a little too intently as their eyes meet, ignoring the scraping sound of a chair being pulled away from our table. It’s the sound of someone clearing their throat that startles me enough to pull my attention away from them, my body stiffening as I slightly turn my head to eye my visitor.

  Drawing in a heavy breath to calm myself, I look him over with narrowed eyes. He’s obviously young, but still handsome. His messy sandy hair and mischievous bluish-green eyes remind me of someone I used to know—someone I once loved. The likeness makes me feel an odd warmth toward him.

  “Hi,” he offers, a lazy smile on his flawless face. “I’m Lee.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip to contain my laughter, my brow furrowing as I try to figure out if he’s hitting on me. It’s been so long I can’t be sure. A wedding ring tends to provide a deterrent for such things, but I took that off before getting on the plane to come here.

  “Hello, Lee. I’m Julianna,” I snicker. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Julianna? That sounds familiar. Do I know you?”

  His eyes get serious as he studies my face, and I can no longer control my laughter. “Not likely, Lee.”

  Smiling, he shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I totally came over here to hit on you. I’d be dumb not to, you’re stunning, but that wasn’t a pick-up line. I swear.”

  It’s ridiculous that this young, cute guy called me stunning. I should be laughing instead of blushing at his compliment, but it feels good. Finding Christopher with a woman not only younger than me but completely different in every way, hadn’t exactly done anything to help with my insecurities. I need a little confidence boost.

  “Oh no?”

  “Nope. My lines are much better,” he quips, a prideful smile on his face.

  “Well, maybe I’ll get to hear one sometime.”

  What the hell was that? Did I seriously flirt with this kid?

  “Oh, you can count on that, gorgeous.” He gives me a toothy smile, winking at me. “But first, are you sure we haven’t met?”

  Laughing again, I shake my head, feeling my face heat when his eyes meet mine.

  “Be careful, baby brother,” a voice booms, startling me. “You’re hitting on a married woman.”

  My heart jumps into my throat as Lee’s face lights up, and I turn in my seat to put a face with the voice.

  Everything around us fades into the background as my eyes lock with his, my brain forgetting to tell my lungs to take in air. It’s too busy processing the fact that Eric Winston is standing mere inches from me.

  When his glare moves to Lee, breaking its hold on me, I take a deep breath and allow my eyes to wander. Even after all this time, he still causes a flutter in my stomach. Though he’s aged, it only adds to his good looks. His once shaggy sandy hair is now tamed, giving him a more distinguished look. He’s even traded in his baggy t-shirts and jeans for a button-down and chinos.

  I continue to study him as he makes his way over to Lee, my entire body aware of his every move. I’ve never seen him with facial hair, and I’m a sucker for a nice beard. His is perfect—not so long that it catches crumbs or looks like it needs to be combed, but not so short that it’s patchy and scratchy. Once they’re side-by-side, I realize why Lee reminded me of Eric and I feel sick. Lee is Eric’s baby brother. I’d known him as Levi, but he was still in grade school the last time I saw him.

  “Whatever,” Lee cackles. “She’s not married. Don’t worry, I always check for a ring.” His forehead creases as his gaze moves from Eric to me, then back again. “Wait. Do you two know each other?” he asks, gesturing toward us with his pointer finger.

  Eric’s jaw tics as his body stiffens, ignoring his brother’s question, and my heart sinks.

  Nodding, I answer, “We used to. Hello, Eric.”

  “Jules,” he clips out, not meeting my gaze.

  My stomach knots, hating his cold, sharp tone, though my emotions stir at the nickname he’d given me so long ago.

  “Oh shit.” Lee’s eyes widen. “This is Jules?”

  Eric shoots his brother a nasty look before calmly saying, “Excuse us. I need to speak with my brother for a moment.”

  My head spins as I watch Eric drag his brother over to the other side of the bar. I don’t know what the hell just happened. There was a time I considered Eric to be one of my best friends, but so much has changed since then. Right now, it feels like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was.

  2

  I hold my head high and make my way down the narrow walkway through the seats, ignoring every hateful glare sent in my direction.

  The closer I get to the back of the bus, the clearer it becomes that I’m the last stop. As my eyes continue to scan for a place to sit, I find a familiar face in the crowd smirking at me.

  My stomach flips, stopping me in my tracks. Dropping my eyes to the floor, I hang my head until my hair shields my face. I move forward again, counting my steps as a distraction.

  Of course, the only seat left on the entire bus would be next to Eric freaking Winston. Heat burns my cheeks as I scoot in, sitting as far over as possible. I hate the way my body reacts to him, and the way he makes my heart all fluttery. Especially since he clearly doesn’t like me at all. If never speaking to me isn’t a good indicator of that, I don’t know what is.

  “Hey.”

  Unsure who he’s talking to, my eyes skirt over to him, the rest of me frozen in place.

  To my surprise, he’s looking at me expectantly, head tilted and eyebrows raised. My chest tightens from the sudden lack of air, my head slowly turning toward him.

  “Uh…hi.”

  I’ve never
been this close to him before. His amazing blue eyes are even more incredible up close. Gazing into them is like looking out at the clear Caribbean Sea, or so I imagine. There’s a burst of amber coloring around the pupil of his left eye I’ve never noticed before—an island lost in vast waters.

  “It’s a birthmark.” His answer to my silent question points out the fact that I’ve been staring. “The coloring in my eye, that is,” he explains further when I don’t pull my eyes away from his.

  “Oh…” I force my gaze to my lap and focus on my trembling hands. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

  “Who the heck was that?” Lizzy questions, placing a tray of drinks on our table before taking a seat.

  My thoughts are foggy with the memories, the alcohol making it even harder to grasp onto reality. Shrugging, I shake my head and grab a glass from the tray. Waiting for answers, Lizzy glares at me as I down another shot. When I still don’t respond, she goes on.

  “So, it’s your first night back in town and you already have two guys fighting over you?”

  My life feels like a bad joke. The ridiculousness of my situation is so over the top, all you can do is laugh—which is exactly what I do. It’s the hysterical kind where you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying.

  I haven’t seen Eric in years. Not once did I run into him when I was home visiting, even when I still so desperately wanted to see him. Why did he have to be here tonight of all nights? As if I’m not already struggling to keep my shit together.