In This Moment (In This Moment #1) 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 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 of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

  Cover Design by Murphy Rae- Indie Solutions

  Editing by Monica Black – Word Nerd Editing

  Formatting by Brenda Wright – Formatting Done Wright

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Keep Your Eyes on Your Own Paper

  Issues

  Fake It Until I Make it

  Memorable Coffee

  Muddy Veins

  An Overdue Goodbye

  Closer to Fine

  A New Day

  Out of My Comfort Zone

  What Happened to Baby Steps?

  A Fun Time

  Take Your Time

  Hero or Villain

  Working out a Friendship

  Days Like These

  Phoned In

  Don’t Overthink it

  Face to Face Conversation

  Treading thin Ice

  Game On

  Just Friends

  Dreams and Remorse

  Official Stalker

  In Denial

  Face your Fears

  Mending Fences

  Daily

  Totally Casual

  Heaven and Hell

  Enlightenment

  The Counselor

  Darkest Corners

  It Can’t Rain all the Time

  Some Kind Of Wonderful

  State of Mind

  In this Moment

  Benefits Package

  Dating

  Something More

  Inked Declarations

  More Than

  Ignorant Bliss

  Nothing Less

  Idiot

  Never a Choice

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Prologue

  The doorbell chimes again as I rub my tired, sleep-filled eyes. The annoying sound echoes in my head and it throbs in protest.

  “Just a second,” I groan, rubbing my temples before reaching for the front door.

  My heavy limbs and frustration cause me to swing the door open with a vengeance, and it slams into the wall as I lose my grip. A full night’s sleep seems like a distant memory at this point and my body is no longer completely functional.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” I huff, wrapping my arms around myself when the chill of the night air nips at my skin, dragging me out of my foggy state.

  When my glare lands on the uniform clad man standing at my doorstep, I squeeze my eyes shut and blink rapidly, but the image before me remains unchanged.

  “Can I help you, Officer?” I croak, adrenaline coursing through my veins as the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the officer says before clearing his throat. “Are you Mrs. Alexander Blake?”

  Xander? I look over my shoulder, expecting to see him there, but my jumbled brain isn’t even sure what time it is or if he’s made it home from work yet. A tightness builds in my chest as I turn back to the officer, and a shiver runs through my body, urging me to take a deep breath in and a long exhale out.

  “Yes, that’s my husband.” My nails dig into the doorframe as I grab ahold of it for extra support. “What’s this about?” I ask, my head swimming and vision blurring as if I were drunk.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s been an accident.”

  Keep Your Eyes On Your Own Paper

  "Maddison, please just pick out something! Your brother is making mommy crazy and I still have to go to the store." My pleas are all but ignored by my eight-year-old, who continues to run her fingers along the spines of the books at a sloth’s pace while humming to herself. My body temperature rises as my jaw clenches, grinding my teeth. With a deep breath, I tilt my head toward the ceiling before running my hand down my neck.

  Being a mother may be the most rewarding thing in the world, but it can also be the most trying. Dealing with two kids on your own is never easy. I thought having them nearly six years apart would make it a little easier, but instead, it feels like starting over.

  "No, Sean! Please, stop doing that!” I pull him off the shelf he’s trying to climb before losing my patience with my daughter. “That's it, Maddie, I’m picking for you. We’re going to go with this one, this one, and...this one. Now, come on. Let's go."

  Adding the books to the stack already in my arms, I grab Sean’s hand, then turn on my heel and walk toward the front desk. Maddison must recognize now is not a good time to argue because she follows me without another word. Sean, however, whines and moans, dragging his feet the whole way. By the time we make it there, my ponytail is loose, the elastic barely holding it up, and my nerves are shot.

  My relief when we manage to find a kiosk with no wait evaporates into frustration when there’s a problem with one of the books. The librarian makes her way over to us with the speed of molasses while I continue to wrestle with Sean and glance around the room. My heart palpitates when I notice how much the lines have grown, feeling responsible for the hold up. I don’t need the extra attention; I seem to serve as some kind of sideshow act most days as it is.

  Living in a small town like Smyth has its advantages, but when something happens to you, you’re at a disadvantage. Gossip tends to spread like wildfire around here, and when everyone knows your business, they feel like they have the right to talk to you about it or ask questions. For two years now, I’ve had to endure side glances and looks of pity.

  Xander’s accident was big news in this quiet town, but seeing the way I fell apart is what held everyone’s attention. Not only had I lost Xander, I lost myself. For weeks, I refused to leave the house. Even after life coaxed me out of seclusion, I made no effort to fix my broken-down, disheveled appearance. I didn’t see the point, and honestly wanted my appearance to match what I was feeling inside, hoping it would keep people at a distance.

  Socializing with others was out of the question. I rarely spoke to the people closest to me. Drawing myself inward in hopes I would be able to deal with my grief in peaceful solitude had the opposite effect, though. People I didn’t know or hadn’t spoken to in years would offer me their condolences and sympathies. No matter where I went, watchful eyes were there and whispered comments surrounded me.

  "I can get this checked out for you, ma'am. It will just take a second, and I'll need to see your card," the librarian says.

  "Oh, uh—you know what? She has enough for this week. You guys are getting busy. You don't have to worry about that one," I huff, nearly out of breath from struggling to keep my hold on Sean.

  "But, Mom…I wanted that one," Maddison whines.

  Cutting my eyes to her in warning, I hiss, "Are you kidding me? You didn't even pick these out!"

  "Yeah, but that one looked interesting
."

  She shrinks and her eyes fall to the floor when my jaw sets, the tips of my ears and cheeks starting to heat. Taking deep, calming breaths to center myself, I school my features. Too often Maddison has witnessed and suffered from my anger, frustration, and anxiety. It isn’t right. The feeling of being in over my head most days isn’t her fault. She didn’t cause the chaos in my life—she didn’t tilt my life on its axis.

  My grip on reality has been slipping through my fingers since I lost him, and it’s about time I gain control of it again. Xander’s death has been hard on all of us, but we’ve all had to come to terms with the changes it brought. Maddison and Sean are just kids—they lost their dad that day, too—but they have been so much stronger, braver, and resilient through all of this than I have. For the most part, Maddison has been the one taking care of and comforting me, and that’s not fair to her.

  "It's really no problem, ma'am. It will only take a moment," the librarian interjects.

  Relenting, I hand her my card before scanning the room again. The lines have continued to grow as well as the irritation on the other patron’s faces, and I don't blame them. My eyes connect with a tall, broad man in the next line and I scowl. His gaze is plastered on me, and the attention from his blatant stare makes my cheeks blush.

  Deciding two can play this game, I run my eyes over him, as if sizing him up. His leather jacket, blue jeans, and boots give off that whole tough guy vibe—which is undoubtedly his intention. "How about you keep your eyes on your own paper, buddy," I mumble under my breath, narrowing my eyes before I turn away.

  "What, Mom?" Maddison asks. “What paper? Who are you talking about?”

  Ignoring her questions, I focus on getting my card and the books back from the librarian. "Thank you,” I say, giving her a tight smile that probably comes off as rude, but I arrived at my wit’s end some time ago and can’t find it in me to care about niceties. “Come on, guys. Let’s go."

  As I move to walk toward the door, Sean knocks the books out of my hand, laughing like it’s a game. Offering murmured apologies to the people behind me, I bend down to pick them back up as quickly as possible. This boy is going to be the death of me. My heart races as I try to avoid looking up, my shaky hands finding it hard to grab ahold of the books. No doubt everyone is staring at me, and the thought makes me want to crawl in a corner and die of embarrassment.

  As I stand, my gaze connects with the same burly looking man from a moment ago, but this time, he has a half-cocked smile on his face. It's the mischievous kind, one that says, I know something you don't.

  An overwhelming need to flee washes over me as I fumble to take Sean’s hand and sprint toward the door. Glares of pity or judgement have become the norm over the past couple years and I’ve learned how to deal with them—I’ve even become accustom to them—but this man’s stare feels different. It feels too intimate, too invasive…too consuming.

  “I bet you didn’t spend your Friday nights going to the library and working on your schoolwork when you were my age,” Ben says, his eyebrows raised and a smile playing on his lips.

  “You’d lose that bet,” I retort, my own lips curving into a smile. “I stayed on top of my schoolwork and studied as much as necessary. I knew what I had to do to get where I wanted to be in life. Getting your education and good grades is your ticket out, Ben. It will open more doors and lead to opportunities that can make your life what you want it be.”

  Pressing his lips together, his eyes narrow, studying me as if looking for some type of telling sign that I’m full of crap. He isn’t going to find one, though. My answer was honest. I worked hard to get away from the life I’d been handed. I took school seriously and made good grades. Of course, I’m not about to share with him how I spent my free time.

  “Well, I guess I don’t have to feel bad about you having to bring me here then. Nerds love these kinds of places, right?”

  With a tilt of my head, I raise an eyebrow at him. Ben chuckles, unfazed by my stern glare. He has no idea just how wrong his statement is. On a normal day, you wouldn’t catch me in the damn public library. I enjoy a good book, but public libraries bother me. Maybe it has something to do with all the time I spent in one as a kid trying to find a quiet, warm, safe place to hide away. The public library in Smyth might be nicer than the one in the town I grew up in, but they are all basically the same—they all look the same, smell the same, sound the same.

  Regardless of the reason, I normally avoid them like the plague, but Ben needed a ride. His useless parents declined to bring him and he doesn’t have anyone else. I refuse to turn my back when my students need me. They already have too many unreliable people in their lives.

  Ben reminds me so much of myself at his age—alone, bitter, afraid. He’s perceived by other students and a few uncaring teachers as a troublemaker with a chip on his shoulder, which is what landed him in my office last year, but he’s a good kid. People don’t understand kids like Ben. He, like many others I work with, is afraid more than anything. They’re scared of their abusive parents and the uncertainty each day brings. They’re worried about things kids shouldn’t have to worry about, like whether they’ll get to eat the next day or if someone will notice they’re wearing the same dirty clothes from the day before. It’s why they act out; why they’re angry and keep others at a distance.

  “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be,” I reply, looking him in the eyes so he knows I mean what I’m saying. “I don’t want you to ever think twice about asking for my help. Got it?”

  Ben averts his eyes before giving me a curt nod and taking a step forward as the long line moves. The silence that falls between us allows my mind to wander back to the woman who had stolen my attention a few moments ago.

  My visit today certainly wasn’t doing anything to improve my contempt for public libraries—until my eyes landed on her. The only reason I noticed her at all was because of her son. He’d been acting out—yelling, jumping, and pulling at his mother. His loud, wild behavior was a clear indication he was seeking attention—good or bad.

  I shook my head, my lip snarled in disgust. My disdain and irritation was not toward the kid making the raucous like others here, it was reserved for the parent causing his destructive behavior. I felt sorry for the kid as I imagined the type of home life he must have—thinking it was more than likely that he had shitty parents who treated him as a second thought.

  The picture in my mind of what I would find when I looked at his mother and the reality were to two very different things. The boy’s mother hadn’t seemed angry or annoyed as I suspected. Instead, she wore a look of loving concern, her voice and eyes soft as she spoke to him. Though, it’d been the intense sadness in her eyes that drew me in, until I found myself unable to look away from her. When she turned, catching me staring, her disapproval was evident, her eyes narrowing as her mouth turned into a frown. Being the one making assumptions at that point, her eyes moved up and down my body, and the scornful glare that followed told me her assumptions were just as inaccurate as mine had been.

  The more I watched her, the more nervous, flustered, and overwhelmed she seemed to become. Her shaky hands continuously fidgeted with the ring on her left hand, telling me she wasn’t a single parent and making the fact that I was checking her out even more inappropriate. I tried to keep from looking when she bent over to pick up the books her son knocked out of her hands, but there was something oddly alluring about her, right down to the way she kept blushing with embarrassment.

  Once we finally get to the counter, my eyes glance over to the doors again, as if hoping to find her there. I shake the thought from my head. The fact that my interest was piqued by her to this degree is absurd.

  “Did you know that woman or something?” Ben asks, observing me with curiosity as we make our way out of the library.

  “What woman?” I respond, drawing my brows together, pretending to have no clue what he’s talking about.

  He laughs and shakes his head, clea
rly not buying my act. “The one you were staring at a minute ago. Ya know, the one who put that dorky ass smile on your face. The same one who—”

  “I got it,” I say, raising my voice to cut him off. “And watch your language. There are kids around.” I gesture to the young boy just a few feet ahead of us.

  He looks at the boy, then back at me, smiling apologetically as he shrugs. “No, I didn’t know her. I was only staring because her kid was out of control and I was smiling to be polite.”

  He studies me the way he had earlier, his mouth twisted to the side. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He nods. “But it sure looked like you were checking her out, Mr. B.” Chuckling again, he rubs his hands together. “She didn’t seem like the type of woman you’d be interested in. I can’t see you being into MILFs.”

  “Dude!” I scold, unsuccessfully keeping my own laughter at bay.

  He isn’t wrong, though. That woman was nothing like the women I usually date. If you could even call what I do dating. I like to have fun, in and out of the bedroom, but I have no interest in anything outside of that. A long-term commitment is not in my future, so I don’t get involved with women who have children, and I sure as hell don’t get mixed up with married women.

  Issues

  Air conditioner on full blast, the vents directed on my face, I make my way home from the grocery store. It’s officially autumn, but it’s miserably warm outside this afternoon. Of course, my current emotional state probably isn’t helping. My trembling hands grip the steering wheel tighter as I take deep breaths, letting the AC center my thoughts and calm my racing heart.

  Sean’s toddler meltdown in the middle of the cereal aisle led to me having a little fit of my own once we were back in the privacy of our car, and my nerves are shot. I’d lost my temper again and my guilt is gnawing away at me.

  Looking back at them through the rearview mirror, I find Sean passed out and Maddison gazing out the window, lost in thought. When my eyes move back toward the road, I catch a glimpse of my own reflection. My hair now matted to my forehead with sweat, the black circles under my eyes appear even darker. I don’t usually think about my appearance much these days—looking pleasant is the last thing I’m concerned about—but I can’t stop thinking about the way that man had been staring at me in the library. My therapist always talks about my “back off” vibe and how a person will only get back what they put out into the world. And she’s right, but that’s the way I want it. Xander may be gone, but I still love my husband. I have no interest in other men, and I certainly don’t do anything to try to attract them, so why was he looking at me?