(Once) Again

188 Pages·2014·0.8 MB·English

by  Paolo Theresa

Also by Theresa Paolo
(Never) Again
(Once) Again
Theresa Paolo
InterMix Books, New York
To Eric. My rock. My best friend. My everything.
Contents
Also by Theresa Paolo
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication

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

Preview of (Never) Again
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
Life didn’t just throw me lemons. Oh no. As a former state champion shortstop, I
sure as hell would’ve been able to field a few pieces of fruit. Instead¸ life tossed
my ass into a ballpit full of them. For the first time in my twenty years, I lost my
way. Lying on my childhood bedroom floor, soaked in sweat, heart racing faster
than an Olympic runner—it was the moment I should’ve had an epiphany.
But I ignored the nightmares taken from my own reality and struggled to
get back in bed. Pain exploded in my thigh, shooting through my whole body.
You don’t realize how important it is to have use of both your legs until a bullet
rips through one of them.
A bead of sweat burned my eye. “Son of a bitch!” I yelled just before
collapsing on my mattress.
My door flung open, and I saw, hated, the fear widening my sister Liz’s
eyes. Fear never used to be a part of her and now it was ingrained in her every
fiber.
She stormed in, kicking at the pile of clothes I had on the floor, spinning
around in a circle, hands out like a sumo wrestler. “Josh! What’s the matter?”
I was waiting for her to pick up one leg and stomp it down. I pulled myself
up to lean against the dark blue wall, and I choked back the laugh surfacing. I
glanced up at her and displayed my best smile. “I’m fine, Liz.”
I reached for the pain pill on my nightstand and downed it with the bottle of
water she’d left me earlier. I instantly felt guilty for trying to take the pain away.
Her eyes narrowed in on me. “Then what was that noise? I was in the
kitchen, and I heard a loud thump and then you screamed.”
I didn’t remember screaming. At least, not outside of my dream. “I fell out
of bed.”
“Well, that was dumb,” she said, arching an amused eyebrow. If she only
knew the truth. But I wouldn’t burden her with that shit. She’d gone through
enough the day that gunman shot up my college. She had the privilege of
watching my nightmare unfold, thanks to the local news station. Later, she told
me she had completely shut down, not knowing if I was alive or dead, consumed
with guilt because of the stupid fight we’d had over her jackass ex-boyfriend.
I flung my pillow at her head. “I didn’t do it on purpose.” She caught it, not
that I didn’t think she would. I taught her how to catch a football when she was
five and a softball when she was seven. I’d always been proud she could hang
with the guys.
“I would hope not.” She tossed the pillow back, aiming for the wall instead
of me.
It drove me crazy how she treated me like glass about to shatter. I was a
damn jock, could bench press three hundred pounds, made the winning catch at
state, and I worked out regularly. At least, I did up until a couple of weeks ago,
before my life was thrown into a garbage disposal, crushing everything around
me.
Now my sister was scared to throw a damn feathered pillow at me.
“So you’re okay?”
I ran my hand through my blond hair, pushing it out of my eyes. I needed a
haircut. “I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
I rubbed at my chin. Needed a shave too. “Yes.”
More than anything, I hated how much she worried about me. Watching as
if I were an illusion that would vanish at any minute. I wasn’t a ghost. I’d
survived, unlike so many others who didn’t make it out of the building that day.
I was one lucky bastard. I should’ve been dead.
Instead, the bullet intended for me was the one that ended it all.
In an unexpected move our tormenter turned the gun on himself and with a
single bullet through his head it was finally over. At least I thought it was. Little
did I know I would relive the moment over and over again. “Josh?” Liz pushed
on my shoulder, and I shook the visions of that horrible day from my mind.
“You don’t seem okay.”
“I am. Just tired.”
“I have to get to class, but the home health aide should be here in an hour. I
can have Zach come hang out with you until then?”
I closed my eyes and willed away the anger. I knew they were all
concerned. Even if they were driving me freakin’ crazy. “I don’t need a
babysitter.” Not that it would change the fact that my parents thought I did. A
home health aide? It was ridiculous.
“Coming from the guy who couldn’t figure out how to use the microwave.”
“Ha ha. When did you become a comedian? I must have missed the memo.”
“You didn’t get it? I even put it on pink paper with purple hearts. You
would’ve loved it. Totally your thing.”
I reached for my pillow and hurled it back at her. Once again, she caught it.
But she didn’t throw it back. She walked over to my bed, placed it down, and sat
on the edge.
Her hazel eyes darted toward me, suddenly glossy with tears. She bit her lip
to keep it from quivering. “It’s good to have you home again. I just wish you
didn’t have to get hurt.”
“Me too,” I said and looked down at my useless leg.
Liz sat for a moment then stood up. “Call me if you need anything. Maybe
you should head downstairs, so when the aide gets here you won’t have to have
her wait for you to get to the door. Oh and I made a batch of peanut blossoms.
They’re on the counter. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
“Liz . . .” Her brown hair whipped around her as her eyes snapped back to
me. She did something to it. It looked blonder. Didn’t she know I was the natural
blond of the family? “I’m fine. Go. To. Class.”
“Okay I’ll be back later.”
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Don’t.”
Her hands landed on her hips. “Excuse me?”
“Go home, lil sis. I appreciate everything, but really, I’m okay. It’s time
you went back to school. You’ve missed too many classes. Besides, I’m sure
Sadie misses her roommate.”
Her mouth parted, then her lips pushed into a thin line, and I knew it was
killing her not to argue with me. I kind of wished she would. Normalcy was all I
really wanted. The first week I didn’t mind all the fussing, but two weeks in and
I was ready to jump out a window.
“I suppose I could. I mean, Zach could at least stay the night and—”
I held my hand up at the way her lip curled. “I’m thrilled you two are back
together, but please spare me the gory details.”
Her mouth, about to say something nauseating I’m sure, snapped shut when
she saw the clock on my bedside table.
“Shoot! I have to go.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said before she could ask one final time.
“Remember to call me if you need anything. The aide will be here soon.”
She stood there staring at me like I was an injured puppy. I gave her a dirty
look, and she rolled her eyes.
“Okay, bye. Oh, and put a shirt on,” Liz said as she ran down the stairs.
Thank god. I loved my sister, but holy shit she was exhausting. We were
always close, but since the shooting, she’d been a pain in my ass.
My phone blinked on my nightstand, and I picked it up to see a text and six
missed calls. One from my coach and five from clients. Coach probably wanted
to see how I was doing. He was hopeful I’d be back on the field next year. Fat
chance. My contracting clients, I’m sure, had heard about the shooting. They
shouldn’t have expected me to hang sheet rock or paint their shutters after being
shot. Maybe they were just calling to see how I was. I didn’t care enough to find
out. I clicked over to the text message.
Eli: Dude where you been? Everything okay?
I hadn’t talked to my best friend slash roommate since he’d visited me in
the hospital two weeks ago. The way he’d looked at me, the fear in his eyes—it
was enough for me to know he would never be able to look at me the same. All
he would see was a victim, and I’d had enough of that shit from my family. I
couldn’t deal with it. One of us living through the nightmare was more than
enough.
I hit delete without responding, and when I heard the front door shut, I
closed my eyes. As the lights dimmed, I saw flashes of blood, the eyes of a lost
soul came to life, and I was back there. Opening my eyes wouldn’t make the
visions go away.
Sleep wasn’t the only thing that triggered visions, so there was no point
anyway. They popped into my mind constantly. I never knew which vision it
would be.
I was in hell for less than an hour, yet there were thousands of ways my
mind remembered it. Down to every tiny detail. Getting used to the memories
was hard enough. But accepting they would be a part of me forever . . .
A knock on the door took me out of my head. My eyes popped open, and I
was no longer in the hallway of the Kramer Science Building. I was back in my
bedroom.
I stood, balancing all my weight on one leg, and hopped to my crutches.
This shit was getting old. Taking each step one at a time was way too slow. I
plopped my ass on the stairs and scooted myself down, keeping my leg
extended.
Mom had wanted me to stay on the couch instead of my bedroom so I
didn’t have to navigate the stairs. I’d refused. I was already inconveniencing my
parents enough. Dad shouldn’t have to ask me if it was okay to change the
channel on his own damn TV. I shouldn’t even be here. They got rid of me for
almost two years and then because of one fucked-up day I was back.
Another knock. Jeez she was impatient. Didn’t she know I had a bullet hole
in my leg?