Forever Moore (Moore Family Book 1)
Forever Moore
Frankie Page
Copyright © 2020 Frankie Page
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
The design was created with the use of a licensed stock images and fonts from:
https://www.stock.adobe.com
https://www.canva.com
Editor: Kat Pagan, Pagan Proofreading
Cover Image: 154519495, majdansky
This is for my husband and daughter...
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
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
Epilogue
Works Cited
TBD Moore Family
Robbie
Cassie
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Follow Frankie
Frankie Page Book List
Introduction
Jax Harris has been in love with Tilly Moore for as long as he can remember. But timing has never been on their side. A dream career opportunity sent Jax traveling around the world but after a decade apart, tragedy has brought him home. Now that he has returned, he is not sure if he has the strength to leave Tilly all over again. But faced with life-altering choices, will he fight to stay?
Forever Moore is a full-length romance complete with a HEA, no cliffhanger, and no cheating. Note: this story is not suitable for persons under the age of 18. Potential triggers lie within this book.
Chapter 1
Jackson
Standing on the beach, feeling the softest sand in between my toes, I stare out into the sunset. The shades of pink, purple, and gold bleed into the blue sky and reflect onto the crystal-clear water. The sound of my shutter clicking is nearly rhythmic as I capture images of the waves crashing—the sun setting in the background. All I can think at this moment is how much I love my job. I am visiting Oahu, not for the first time, to help take images for a resort that will be opening next month.
The last time I was here my best buddy and childhood friend, Scott Moore, was with me. It was pretty epic—we spent the entire week surfing, drinking, and going to amazing luaus. Working for a premiere travel magazine comes with many advantages; one of the best perks is the travel vouchers I get, which allow me to stay at luxury resorts and hotels for free. When my editor finally forces me to use up vacation time, since I rarely take any, Scott and I travel the world in style.
My phone begins to vibrate in my pocket; speaking of Scott and as if he had just heard me reminiscing, his name lights up the screen of my phone. Although it is great to hear from my best friend, it is pretty late for him to be calling. Back in Minnesota, it is past eleven at night. Granted that might not be super late to the average adult, Scott tends to get up for work at four in the morning.
“Hey, Scott. I was just thinking about you. Guess what? I am back in Oahu. Do you remember the last time we were here? Damn, we got into some shenanigans that week. What’s going on? How have you been?” I don’t get to talk to people too often and tend to talk a little too much sometimes. But I cannot help but get excited when Scott calls me. He is like the PB to my J.
“Hey, Jax.” Something seems off; he sounds sullen. Usually Scott is hyper and on a permanent caffeine high.
“What’s up, man? You sound a little off. Did you have too much to drink at Harper’s again? You know how dangerous those buy-one-get-one Long Islands can be for you.” For his twenty first birthday, we went to Harper’s Bar and Grill to celebrate, and he found his love for Long Islands. Unfortunately, they do not love him back. The guy was a mess for like a week.
“Fuck, man, I don’t know how to say this.” I can hear the strain in his voice. This doesn’t sound like off-the-wall-drunk Scott. Something is truly wrong.
“Hey, what’s going on, Scott? You are starting to worry me.” I stay on the phone waiting. There is a pregnant silence. I look down to see if Scott is still on the line—yep, his name is still there, flashing on the screen. “Seriously, man, you are scaring me.”
“It’s mom and dad,” Scott finally states. I can feel my heart plummeting into my chest and shattering into a million pieces.
“I’m on my way,” is all I say before I hang up the phone. Nothing more needs to be said between us. Like I mentioned, we have this weird link. I already know he needs me to come home.
∞∞∞
Thirty hours, four planes, and an hour and a half cab ride later, I am finally home. It’s been at least a decade since I've been back to Tral Lake. Staring at the two-story farmhouse that I used to call home, I feel like an asshole for staying gone for so long.
I’m not sure how much time has passed as I stand outside the front door. But when the screen finally swings open, Scott is clutching the brass knob, stoic as ever. His six-foot-two frame fills the doorway—all of the Moore men are built like linebackers. Fortunately for me, it is a trait I inherited from my family as well. Scott and I could almost pass as twins. The only significant difference between us is he has green eyes while I have blue, and his hair is a shade or two darker.
“Are you going to stand out there all night like a creeper, or are you going to man-up and come in the house?” Fuck, I’ve missed Scott. One of the things I love about him the most is his no BS attitude—he has no filter.
I slowly climb the steps to the porch, taking in Scott’s appearance up close. His eyes lack their usual brightness. Normally, they are a shade of emerald, both glowing and vibrant. But now the color has dulled to an almost gray, and dark bags underline each, as though he hasn’t slept in days. I’ve never seen him so broken. We stare at each other for a few moments before I drop my luggage on the porch and give him a big hug.
After a few moments, we finally break apart and enter the home I haven’t seen in so long. Nothing has really changed—maybe a few new pictures on the wall, a bigger TV and newer recliners. But otherwise, it is still all the same. It even smells the same—ambered fig—Mrs. Moore’s favorite scent for the fall.
Robbie and Jake are slumped in the recliners, each with a serving (of what I assume) is whiskey in their hands—based off of the amber liquid in their glasses and the near empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. Fuck, this is bad. I knew it wasn’t good, but I guess I didn’t think about how bad it might actually be.
"Where’s Tilly?” I can’t help but notice that the petite Moore is missing.
I raise an eyebrow; this doesn’t sound like Tilly. I would have assumed she would be downstairs with her brothers. Especially if there is some sort of family emergency. It isn’t like Tilly to be away from her family. When Robbie broke his knee in high school playing football, Tilly refused to leave his side and took care of him the whole time, making sure he had everything he needed. She was only eleven.
Jake, realizing the look on my face, speaks up. “She hasn’t left her room since we came back from the hospital.” I notice how distraught Jake appears, and not just because of his parents, but because of Tilly. While I joke that Scott and I have this strange twin-link going on, Jake and Tilly are actual twins. It is almost scary how in tune they both are to each other. When Scott, Jake, and I went bike riding one day, he ended up falling and skinning his knee pretty good and was crying. Without calling her, Tilly came running down the street sobbing for her brother. We were over a mile down the road. There was no way she could have known that he had fallen and gotten hurt.
“What exactly happened?” Despite the gnawing feeling in my gut, I have been too afraid to ask for the details—it would make this all too real. I already knew based off of Scott’s tone when he called, that whatever happened was going to be bad. I just really hoped, that for once, that bad feeling I had was wrong.
The brothers all glance between each other, using their brotherly telepathy to decide who is drawing the short stick, and has to explain what the hell is going on. Robbie is the unfortunate loser in that draw. “They were driving back from some sort of convention in Minneapolis. And a drunk asshole running a red-light T-boned them.” Taking a seat on the couch next to Scott, I grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the table to chug down the remnants. The sting of the liquor is not enough to numb the pain I feel in my heart. The flames of fury burn within Robbie’s amber eyes. His fists keep clenching and unclenching as he tries to continue. “Dad... he died instantly on the scene. Mom and Tilly were rushed to the hospital—"
I feel the blood rush from my face. I must be as pale as a ghost. Tilly was involved in the accident… Panic over that realization quickly settles in. “Wait, Scott, you didn’t mention anything about Tilly? Fuck, she was in the car? Is she okay? How bad is it?”
“You didn’t give me much of a chance to explain,” Scott states matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders before taking another sip of his whiskey.
Robbie swirls the amber liquid in his glass before continuing, “Mom made it to the hospital, but was gone by the time we got there. Tilly needed surgery; her arm got broken during the accident. She is pretty banged up, but it will all heal, at least physically.”
“We were able to take her home this morning,” Scott adds. “Emotionally, she is a wreck—she has barely said a word to us. We have tried to go to her a few times, make sure she eats and what not. But she just lays in bed, not saying a word.”
“I’ve tried everything. Letty was even over not too long ago. But she just won't talk to us,” Jake says, sounding dejected. “She won’t talk to me.” I can't imagine what he must be feeling. Not only losing his parents… but his sister being practically catatonic and he, of all people, not being able to reach her. If Jake cannot connect with Tilly, it is bad. I stand up from the couch and make my way to the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Scott asks.
“I’m going to check on Tilly.” I don’t wait for a reply. I continue climbing the familiar stairs I haven’t walked up in so long. Making my way to Tilly’s room, I pass numerous pictures of the Moore family and myself, most of which were taken by me. I can’t help but smile. She still has the sign I gave her on her fourteenth birthday hung up on the door. It was nothing fancy, just a simple sign I had made in shop class that said “Tilly”.
Opening the door slowly, I slip inside her room before gently shutting it behind me. Tilly is lying on her side, curled up and looking smaller than usual. Not physically, Tilly has always been petite just like her mom. But even at five foot four, she was never small. Her personality stood tall and her presence was big. In spirit, Tilly has always towered over us.
It is difficult to see her well in the dark, but I notice the large cast on her right arm. Her long blonde hair is piled on top of her head. I see the hints of some sort of tank top, while the rest of her is covered by her blankets.
Carefully, I lift up her covers and crawl into bed, snuggling in behind her. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close, being mindful of her injury. I take in the smell of her hair—mangos and coconuts. Tilly startles for a moment as she feels me at her back. She must have been asleep or she didn’t notice me enter the room. I shush her. “It’s okay, Tilly. I'm home.”
Tilly immediately starts sobbing, sinking into me. I just hold her, attempting to pass any strength I have into her. I don’t bother with trying to talk to her. I know Tilly will talk when she is ready. Right now, she needs me to anchor her so she can fall apart. After she is done, I will help her put herself back together again.
Chapter 2
Matilda
I wake in my familiar room. I do not remember how I got here, nor do I know how much time has passed. Everything feels like a blur. A terrible nightmare that I am only able to recall bits and pieces of. I can still hear the sound of metal crunching. The feeling of spinning like on a tilt-a-whirl. The blood-curdling screams. All things that I would honestly prefer to forget.
The feel of a warm, hard body shifting alongside my back causes me to panic for a moment. I know it is a male based off of the sound of his breathing. As best I can, I slowly turn to see who has invaded my bed. It is difficult to do with this stupid cast on my arm, but I finally manage. And oh my god, I cannot believe who I am looking at… Jackson Harris.
I haven’t seen him in forever, not since I was eighteen—the summer before I went off to college. He looks so handsome, not that he wasn't always attractive. But age and maturity have been good to him. His brown hair has sun-kissed highlights, the sides are short while the top is long enough to run my fingers through and push back, and he is sporting two-day-old stubble. I notice the hint of laugh lines; at least I know he has been happy in his travels.
As I stare at him, the memories of last night come back to me. I remember him startling me awake when he pulled me into his hard chest. His warm breath tickled my ear when he whispered that he was home. The second that I heard his voice I broke down. All the tears I had been holding in, finally forced themselves from my eyes. God, the first time we see each other in a decade and he has to witness me fall apart.
Maybe he is not really here? Perhaps this is all just part of that horrible nightmare? And any moment, mom will storm in here wondering why I am still in bed. I’ll walk downstairs and see dad sipping his coffee while reading the paper. Because, honestly, my life is too average to have anything this tragic happen. Things like this don’t happen to normal people.
I turn my body more towards him and caress his face with my good hand. He feels real enough though. I know it is weird, but I cannot help but lie here, lightly running my fingertips up and down his face like a total creeper. I haven’t seen him in so long. But I shouldn’t be surprised. I am guessing that as soon as he heard, Jax dropped everything to come home. I just wish he was here under better circumstances. I wish he was here visiting because he missed us, missed me. But no, he is here because everything is falling apart.
His eyes slowly open, the cerulean blue reflecting back at me. He has always had the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. I could lie in this very spot and look into them for hours.
“Hey,” he says lightly. All I do is continue to stare and get lost in his mere presence, because anywhere is better than here right now. There is so much I want to say to him, but the words seem caught in my thro
at.
We don’t move, choosing to gaze into each other's eyes instead. I wonder what mine are showing him? I continue to run my fingertips over his face, learning all the new lines and features he possesses, while he lightly strokes my arm. It would tickle… if I could feel anything. His hand raises to tuck loose strands of my hair behind my ear.
“Tilly,” he whispers as he leans forward and kisses my nose lightly, nothing sexual just familiar. “You know I love you, right?”
I nod in response, giving him a curious look.
“And because I love you, I need to tell you… that you stink.” I stare back at him, completely caught off guard. Only Jax would think to say such a thing to me right now. I am not sure how it happened. But all of a sudden, I cannot hold it in and I burst out both laughing and crying at the same time.
Laughing hurts, and I end up wincing from the pain. Jax notices this. “Shit, sorry, are you okay?”
I wipe the tears from my eyes. God, I must look like a total psychopath right now. I finally calm down and stop laughing. I still cannot find the words to respond to him, so I just nod letting him know that I am okay.
He gives me one more kiss on the nose, before getting out of bed and stretching his arms above his head. God, he is tall... I shouldn’t be so amazed by his height, given that my father and my brothers are all over six-feet tall. His black T-shirt lifts a little bit, and I notice the V that points down to his low-hanging sweatpants. He definitely has been staying in shape. I start to feel that familiar ache in my lower belly.
I turn away from him—what the fuck is wrong with me? My father isn’t anything anymore… because my father is gone. Both my parents just died, and here I am getting all lusty over Jax. Jax, who I haven’t spoken to in ten years. I quickly get out of bed and rush to my bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The mixture of guilt and anger I’m feeling is starting to bring back the tears, and he cannot see me breakdown again.