Forever Moore (Moore Family Book 1) Read online

  “Tilly, are you all right?” Jax asks from the other side of the door. I can tell he is standing there, waiting for my reply. “Please, talk to me. Let me help you,” he pleads.

  I shouldn’t have looked at myself in the mirror. I expected that I would look like shit, but I had no idea it would be this bad. My hair is a total rat’s nest, and my face is covered in varying shades of purple with some specks of dry blood. All, while my eyes are red and puffy from crying—god, I can’t believe Jax saw me like this. And this god-awful cast feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. Removing my shirt, I notice more bruising on my shoulder, above my broken arm, and down lower on my ribs.

  Jax gently knocks on the door again. “Tilly, are you okay?” I turn on the shower. Luckily, it seems like he finally gets the hint when he says, “I will be downstairs when you are ready.”

  I strip down, and I am about to enter the shower when I remember this stupid cast. I’ve never needed one before, but I recall something about not getting it wet. I look under my bathroom sink and find the stockpile of small trash bags I keep there. Quickly covering my bandaged arm as best I can, I close the curtain and enter. Hopefully the scalding water can help wash away some of this dread.

  After cleaning up and putting on fresh clothing, I debate whether or not I should just go back to bed. But the sudden audible growl of my stomach tells me I need to go downstairs and eat something.

  Standing in the kitchen doorway, I look in at my brothers and Jax. Robbie, Jake, and Jax are sitting at the counter drinking coffee and eating; while Scott is at the stove making pancakes. It reminds me of when we were younger. Although mom was an excellent cook, weekend breakfast became Scott’s thing. He would always whip us up a giant feast every Sunday morning.

  As I think back on those times, I find myself smiling, but then the reality of the situation hits me like a ton of bricks. The guilt and grief begin to wash over me again, as I grasp the door frame for support. Jake notices me first. Likely sensing my breakdown, he rushes over to help steady me.

  “Hey, Tilly, are you okay? Come on, you need to sit down.” He pulls me over to his chair at the counter where a fresh stack of pancakes sits. They smell divine, but I don’t think I have it in me to eat. “Why don’t you take my pancakes and I will get the next batch.”

  I start to shake my head when he replies, “Please, Tilly, you need to put something in your stomach.” I can see the desperation in his eyes. Jake is a firefighter, a first responder. It is in his nature to care and nurture. Seeing me so broken must be killing him.

  While I do not feel like I deserve to eat—it isn’t like mom or dad will ever get to have pancakes again—I do it for him. I cannot stand hurting him more than I already have.

  The guys remain quiet as I slowly pick at my plate. I feel like the giant elephant in the room. I just don’t know how to act around everyone. The silence is finally broken by Robbie when his phone rings.

  “Hello...Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. I will stop by later today to finalize the details.” Robbie puts his phone back in his pocket and rubs a hand over his face.

  “What was that about?” Scott inquires while making a new stack for Jake.

  “It was Mr. Jenkins from the parlor. He was letting me know everything was all set for the funeral this Friday. I just need to go in and sign a few things today.”

  “Oh,” Scott replies. Everyone continues to sit in silence.

  I can’t sit here anymore; being around everyone is like a lead blanket suffocating me. I quickly stand, leaving my partially eaten breakfast on the counter. The once sweet golden rounds now taste like ash in my mouth.

  “Hey, Tilly, where are you going?” Jax asks as I stand. I can see the sadness and concern on his face. I look around the room and everyone is staring at me—all with equally distraught expressions.

  I know everyone is hurting right now, and that they are all worried about me. But it is not helping the situation. I want to smile at them, and tell them I will be fine. But I’ve never been able to lie to my family.

  “I’m sorry,” is all I can manage before I rush out of the kitchen and back upstairs to my bedroom.

  I lie back down and stare up at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars my dad had hung on my ceiling. When I was little, I used to obsess about the stars. Whenever it was nice outside, we would always grab our gear in order to camp out in the backyard and sleep under the twinkling night sky.

  One morning before school, I mentioned to my dad how it sucked that we couldn’t sleep under the stars every night. He gave me a big old smile and promised that if his princess wanted to sleep under the stars every night, she would. Later that evening when it started to get dark, my dad asked me if I was ready to sleep under the stars again. It was gloomy and raining out, so I didn’t understand how that was possible. He just gave me a wink and asked me to follow him. As we approached and then entered my room, I became even more confused, until he turned off the lights. That is when I looked up and saw my ceiling covered in glowing stars.

  The dam breaks, and tears spill down my cheeks once again. It sucks how some of my happiest memories—those that I could look back and smile at—now, only cause me pain and sadness. Curling into a ball, I cry myself to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  Jackson

  It’s been almost a week since I’ve returned home. While I notice that Robbie, Scott, and Jake are still grieving (just as I am). I can also tell that the grief is starting to become more manageable for them. We have spent the last few days preparing for the funeral today, going through old photo albums and laughing at old memories. I know there were some tears as well, but we each did the manly thing, and excused ourselves to do some menial task to avoid crying in front of the others.

  However, I do not think the grief has lessened for Tilly. Since I’ve been here, she has mostly confined herself to her room. She comes out at least once or twice a day to pick at her food. Then, the only thing she will say to anyone is “I’m sorry”, which I still do not understand. What exactly is she apologizing for? My assumption is she is either sorry for being sad, or it is some sort of survivor's guilt, or both. All I want to do is wrap her in my arms and absorb every bit of her grief and guilt. But she has shut everyone out now. After that first night I slept in her room, she keeps her door locked.

  While it sucks to see her so dejected, we have all agreed to give her some more time. Scott has the shop covered with Jake and Letty helping to watch over everything, so that Tilly can continue to mourn.

  Tilly descends the stairs, looking thin and frail. The bruising from the accident has lessened, and I assume she has used some makeup as well (in order to minimize the appearance of the wounds). Regrettably though, her cast isn’t anything that she can cover up, and it stands out.

  As I look at her, I kind of hate myself. Even though she is frail and broken right now, she is still the most breathtakingly beautiful woman I have ever seen. I feel ashamed that my dick rises to attention whenever she is near me. That is probably the only good thing about her locking herself in her room. But it has made for some awkward moments while going through the family pictures, especially the beach photos.

  The awkwardness is not because Tilly is “off-limits”, or whatever bro-code nonsense people think. It is awkward because everyone is grieving, and it is not a good time to lust after a girl who is clearly heartsick right now. I’ve been attracted to Tilly, probably since forever, but I didn’t really notice or acknowledge it until I was nineteen. But even then, it was a little weird because she was only fifteen. While four years isn’t that much of an age gap as an adult, when you are young, it feels like a whole lot more.

  Scott noticed the second I started looking at Tilly differently. I remember him calling me out on it when we came home to visit after our first year in college. He actually brought my feelings to light. It was confusing at first. I mean, I had known her since she was born and then lived with the Moores since I was twelve. I thought of Scott, Jake, and Robbie as my brothe
rs, and they never treated me any differently. But with Tilly, no matter what I did or how hard I tried, I could never think of her as my sister.

  Even though I knew how I felt, I never revealed it to her. I was away at college and only visited during the summer. It never seemed fair to tell her how much I cared about her, and then to turn around and be gone for so long. It wasn’t until my senior year in college and her senior year in high school that those feelings came out into the open.

  ∞∞∞

  Ten Years Ago

  This is the first spring break I have been able to come home and visit. Usually I am stuck working and covering for everyone else. But since this is my senior year, I was given priority for some time off. As I stand at the kitchen counter bullshitting with Scott, I cannot help but glance over at Tilly. She is sitting at the dining room table wearing black leggings, a pink long-sleeve Henley shirt, and pink fuzzy socks pulled up to her calf. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, her face is void of makeup, and she is absolutely stunning. If it wouldn’t be creepy, I would take a picture of her right now.

  Tilly and Letty are giggling while going through some girly magazines. I have no idea what they are talking about. But all I know is she is glowing, radiating pure happiness. She must sense me staring because those giant whiskey-colored eyes look up at me. The sight alone leaves me breathless; because while she hasn’t said a word, I know that whatever I am feeling, she is feeling it too.

  ∞∞∞

  Present

  “Is everyone ready?” Robbie asks, pulling me back to reality. We all nod in agreement and head out to Robbie's car. I’m not sure why we decided to pile into his car instead of taking multiple vehicles. But being cramped in the backseat with Tilly sitting in the middle, her leg pressed against mine, it was totally worth it. I know… I know… It is wrong for me to be looking at her the way I am right now. But I cannot help it. Matilda Moore is my kryptonite, especially when her black dress rides up her thigh as she shifts in the back seat.

  Tilly must sense me staring, since she looks up at me. I cannot see her beautiful whiskey-colored eyes behind the giant black sunglasses she is wearing, so I cannot get a good read on her. But I guess my staring isn’t appreciated, because she sighs, looks down and pulls her dress back to where it should be. Then she doesn’t look in my direction for the rest of the car ride.

  The funeral is beautiful; most of the town is here today. Tral Lake isn’t a very big town and the Moores were very well-liked people. During the service, the story of Robert Moore Sr. and Samantha Moore is told as a way to celebrate their life together. They had a very classic small-town love story—high school sweethearts, who got married right after graduation. Samantha was pregnant not too long after their nuptials. Instead of going to college or taking over his dad's junkyard, Robert opened the book store. Shortly afterwards, Samantha purchased the space next door and opened the cafe. They ended up connecting the two and developed Moore Books and Coffee. They had the perfect life… filled with a lot of love, joy and happiness. And they will be missed in this small town.

  Following the service and the burial, the immediate family and friends gather at the shop. Townsfolk come to give their condolences to the Moore siblings. Well, most of them anyway. Keith McCalester is here, but his intentions are not so wholesome. This prick has been after Tilly since high school. It has always pissed him off that she wouldn’t give him the time of day. He might be considered attractive—classically tall and muscular, dark hair, and blue eyes. But anyone who talks to him for more than five minutes realizes he is nothing more than a douche who relies on his looks (and mommy and daddy's money) to get what he wants.

  When he approaches Tilly, it takes all my willpower to not punch the asshole in his pretty-boy face. Everything looks copacetic to the casual observer; it appears he is just there to offer his condolences. But when he leans in and hugs Tilly, he lingers too long and one of his hands travels too low to be decent. If Tilly was herself right now, she would have dodged the hug. He is absolutely taking advantage of her current mental state. Luckily, Letty notices the grabby asshole and politely shoos him off and avoids causing the scene I was about to make.

  The remainder of the recession is uneventful, and fortunately it doesn’t last very long. After it is all over and everything is cleaned up, Scott suggests heading over to Harper’s—which seems like the best idea ever. I am amazed that even Tilly wanted to join.

  At the bar, a few of the patrons give us their condolences but are respectful enough to understand that we just want to be left alone. Letty comes over and hugs Tilly for the hundredth time today. I think she is feeling withdrawals from barely seeing her best friend this past week. Those two are always attached at the hip, and it makes Jake jealous sometimes, which is absolutely hilarious.

  While Letty makes sure to keep the drinks and appetizers coming all night, Scott, Robbie, Jake, and I all continue to reminisce at the table. After a few drinks, Tilly finally starts to loosen up a little bit. She still hasn’t talked or added any stories of her own, but she has at least smiled and laughed at a few of ours.

  I’m not sure how many rounds of drinks we have, but I know we are all pretty wasted, especially Tilly. She has barely eaten and likely has drank as much as any of us. Towards the end of the night, she is resting her head on my shoulder and holding my hand under the table. It feels so good to touch her again. Jake has smirked at me a few times, but hasn’t teased either of us yet… like he typically would. He is probably too happy that his sister seems to be coming back to life right now, even if it is just a little bit.

  It is finally closing time. Letty is kind enough to offer us a ride home, since none of us are in any sort of condition to drive.

  “Can we walk?” Tilly asks me, catching me completely off guard. Everyone stops and stares at us, while Tilly just looks up at me, still holding my hand.

  I glance back to her brothers, trying to decide what to do. Robbie nods at me in approval. I guess he is hoping the same thing that I am—maybe she will finally open up about her grief so she can start to process it, just as we all have been.

  Tilly gives Letty another hug before we continue wandering down the main street towards home, hand in hand. It isn’t an extremely far stroll, maybe a few miles. But when you are drunk, it seems like fifty. Tilly doesn’t say anything as we make our way, but this time the silence feels comfortable. When we get to the driveway of the house, Tilly stops and I look down at her.

  “I’m not ready to go inside yet,” she says, looking at me and then upwards. It is a beautiful night tonight and the sky is clear. I know what she wants to do. I smile in return, kiss the top of her head and tell her I will meet her out back.

  I run inside and see Scott sitting on the couch watching TV, presumably waiting for us. “Where’s Tilly?”

  “She is out back. She didn’t want to come inside yet,” I admit, kicking off my dress shoes and putting on my slippers.

  “Oh.” He seems confused. “What are you doing?” he asks, as I walk towards the basement door.

  “I’m going to go get the gear.” I smile back at him. Scott nods and resumes watching TV—he knows exactly what I have planned.

  Tilly loves nothing more than sleeping under the stars. Growing up, whenever it was nice out and the skies were clear, Tilly would always sleep outside. For her tenth birthday, her parents got her this awesome pop-up tent, where the top can be removed and it is just netting which allows you to see the stars.

  I grab the tent and bedding, then rush outside to meet Tilly. She is lounging in one of the chairs and looking up at the sky. I was always amazed she never wanted to be an astronomer or something, given her fascination with the stars. No, just like her dad, her true passion is books. I swear she has read almost every book in the shop. She reads everything too—she does not discriminate. I remember her even stealing Scott’s and my comics to read at one point in time.

  I quickly get the tent set up with a couple of sle
eping bags. Tilly then joins me lying down. She surprises me when she snuggles up next to me, draping her casted arm over my chest. We lie there in comfortable silence, staring up at the starry sky. It is a little cool tonight; fall has officially started. But I guess growing up with Minnesota winters, forty degrees does not seem so bad.

  “I missed you,” Tilly whispers. I turn my head to look at her and notice her staring up at me.

  “I missed you too.” She gives me a faint smile. Though it is faint, it is genuine.

  “Do you remember the last time we camped out in the backyard?” she asks, blushing.

  Of course, I remember. It is something I will never forget… even after all of these years and being away from home, being away from her. How could I forget leaving behind the only woman I ever loved? Or the fact that she practically packed my bags and pushed me out of the door? Or the feel of her warm embrace, or how my lips traced lines across her soft glistening skin memorizing every curve and divot?

  ∞∞∞

  Ten Years Ago

  Tilly and I are lying in the tent in the backyard, staring up at the starry sky. It is what we have done practically every night this summer, weather permitting. We are both naked and sticky with sweat. The sex tonight was different, more intense—likely because this is our last night together. Tomorrow morning, she is off to college, and then I am off to start my new job. As much as this job is everything I have ever wanted, having Tilly in my arms is so much more. I am not sure I can give this up.

  “Maybe I can stay… look for work around here, even if I have to commute to the Twin Cities. There are a lot of marketing opportunities there,” I bring up again. This has been a frequent argument as our departure dates approach.

  “Jax,” Tilly sighs. “Marketing would have been a good fallback career for you. But you managed to get your dream job. All you have ever talked about since you were a kid was how much you wanted to travel and photograph the world. That is exactly what you will get paid to do. It would be silly to give up that opportunity.”