Waiting for April Read online

  About Waiting for April

  April Fletcher has died nineteen times… but she doesn’t know it.

  As far as April is concerned, she’s just a normal seventeen-year-old, looking forward to spending spring break with her friends and going to college in the fall. April doesn’t know she has never lived past her eighteenth birthday, nor does she realize that Scott Parker, her best friend, is actually her childhood sweetheart and fiancé from her very first life.

  For nineteen-year-old Scott Parker, spending quality time with his soul mate has proved difficult ever since her tragic death in 1729. Since then he has lost her an additional eighteen times—each of her deaths more devastating than the last, and each of her births wiping the slate of her memory clean. Unable to save her but unwilling to give up, Scott has to hide the fact he’s immortal—and will be until April confesses her love again.

  But this time, things have changed. April has denied her feelings for him, is dating someone else, and with her eighteenth birthday fast approaching, their friendship is falling to pieces. Fearing their souls are irrevocably drifting apart, Scott must race against the clock to win her heart and save her life.

  Or risk losing her forever.

  Contents

  About Waiting for April

  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

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Acknowledgments

  About Jaime Loren

  Copyright

  For Susan

  Chapter 1

  (Scott)

  If I could sleep, I’d dream it was 1729 again, and I’d save April Anne Fletcher. Perhaps if I’d saved her that day, I wouldn’t have had to watch her die another nineteen times since.

  But there was no going back. No way to change the past. All I had was the future, and the determination not to lose her again. So while others slept, I searched for answers. Each morning I stood at my bedroom window, casting my gaze across the immature rows of Henry Brice’s cornfields to where April’s house stood. The moments between sunrise and the opening of her bedroom curtain were some of the longest of my life.

  And I’ve had a long life.

  Henry’s footfalls grew closer as he hobbled down the hall. They stopped at my door, only to be replaced by the short, raspy breaths of a man who’d left his prime behind him many years ago. “Is she awake, Scott?”

  I didn’t tear my eyes from her window. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe she’s sleeping in. It is her first day of spring break,” he offered, even though he knew as well as I did that April never slept in.

  Her bag is in the trunk. All she had to do was roll out of bed and come over …

  “What time did Rowan leave last night?” he asked.

  At the sound of Rowan’s name, my chest tightened. My voice came out a little gruffer than I’d intended. “Just after eleven.”

  Henry stepped into the room. “You know she wouldn’t be with him if she knew—”

  “She should’ve opened that curtain by now,” I said, pulling my window open and throwing my leg over the sill.

  “Why can’t you use a door like a normal person?” Henry called, his voice carrying on the wind as I bounded down the porch steps and jumped in my truck. My heartbeat was louder than the turning of the engine. Once it’d roared to life, I slammed my foot on the accelerator, praying Henry was right about April sleeping in. Although unprecedented, it was the logical explanation. No one had entered her house since Rowan had left. She’d been in good health—no colds or injuries. No reason for her to stop breathing during the night. Then again, none of her deaths thus far had been predictable—only the timing.

  She’d never seen her eighteenth birthday.

  After speeding through the open gate that joined our properties, I pulled up out the front of her house and threw my door open. Duke, Henry’s Australian Shepherd, came racing up from behind me as I got out. “Hey, bud,” I said, keeping my eyes trained on April’s window. “Can you hear her in there?”

  Panting from his attempt to keep up with the truck, Duke trotted toward her window, ears forward. Henry had trained him well. April had no idea the extent we’d gone to in order to keep her safe. But when Duke pawed at the window and whined, my stomach turned to lead.

  No.

  After knocking on her window with no response, I ran to the front door. There was no light bleeding through the yellow-stained glass, nor did she answer when I rang the doorbell.

  God, no.

  “April?”

  I checked my cell phone as I raced back to her bedroom window. No text messages. No calls. My chest tightened.

  Not again.

  I’d only just dialed 911 when someone slammed into my back. I stumbled forward as April wrapped one arm around my neck, and her legs around my waist.

  I let out a silent sigh of relief, the crippling tension in my muscles dissipating. “You’re late.”

  “You’re impatient.”

  “I don’t deny that.” I tucked my hands under her thighs to give her a boost, settling her neatly into a piggyback position. “I smell turpentine.”

  And a hint of lavender, like always.

  She held her paint-speckled hands out before me. “I’ve been in the studio since four this morning trying to get that painting finished.”

  Jesus, of course. I made a mental note to check the other side of the house next time before bringing law enforcement into the picture. “Don’t you have until first week back to hand that in?”

  “Well, yeah, but I’ll be spending as much time as I can with Rowan during the break.”

  I rolled my eyes, thankful she couldn’t see me. “And how was he last night?”

  She stiffened. “Huh?”

  “I don’t think it’s wise to have Rowan over while your parents are away.”

  “Oh, is that right? What are we, in the 1920s?”

  The sudden memory of the two of us sneaking into the Sunset Café in Chicago to dance to Louis Armstrong and his Stompers on the long, wintery nights of 1927 warmed me through. It was one of the last times I’d seen April truly having fun.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “what does it matter? We’ll all be camping together without supervision, and Mom and Dad were fine with that.”

  “Because you promised you’d be sharing a tent with Stella,” I reminded her, losing my grip on the reminiscence of better times.

  “So, what—” she said, sliding from my back so she could step around and face me with burning brow
n eyes, “—you’re going to rat on me if Rowan and I …” The color in her cheeks rose until it almost matched the redness of her hair.

  I folded my arms over my chest. “If you and Rowan what?”

  Her mouth opened and snapped closed twice before she finally answered. “Forget it.” She turned away. “I have to change these clothes. Wait here.”

  I watched her disappear around the corner of the house, my jaw clenched, wondering what on earth I’d gotten myself into by organizing this camping trip. Duke lowered himself by my side and placed his paw on my boot.

  “What?” I raised my arms in question. Duke tilted his head. I sighed. “Okay, granted, that wasn’t exactly smooth. But they shouldn’t be alone together.”

  He tilted his head to the other side.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Things were different back in my day.”

  He stared up at me, unconvinced.

  I returned the same look. “At least, we were different.”

  And yet, still so much the same.

  April reappeared, carrying her handbag in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “If I’m lucky I can catch some Zs on the way,” she said, fighting off a yawn.

  “Great. Now I have to listen to you snore for seven hours.”

  April gasped. “I do not snore.”

  I turned for the truck. “Says the girl who sleeps like a log.”

  “Well I’m sure Stella would be more than happy to divulge any info she has about your sleeping habits,” she countered.

  I took a deep breath. I’d planned on telling April this whole thing with Stella was a misunderstanding—that we weren’t actually seeing each other—but the timing was off. There was no way Rowan would allow April to spend time with me like this, alone, if he knew I was single. If it appeared I was taken, then I was no threat to him. Rowan, on the other hand, was a threat to me. His relationship with April was only getting stronger.

  Apparently.

  “Stella … wouldn’t betray me like that.” I exhaled. “Besides, what makes you think we sleep when we’re together?” I said, testing her.

  She had no comeback—stopping with an expressionless face, if not a little paler. I was hoping she’d been too overcome with jealousy to respond, but that was wishful thinking. She’d shown absolutely no romantic interest in me whatsoever in the two years since I’d moved to Jericho to live with Henry—my “grandfather.” It was weighing me down more and more each day. One sign of jealousy was all I was looking for. One sign that she might have feelings for me. Something to suggest her soul still recognized mine.

  The truck door squeaked as I opened it for her.

  “Well, Rowan’s mom doesn’t want him leaving right after the game today, so he’s picking Stella up at sunrise tomorrow. He’s hoping they’ll arrive at the campsite by lunch,” she said as she climbed into Big Blue—the nickname she’d given my restored 1960 Ford pick-up. The bench seat allowed enough room for April to sit with her back to the window and her feet on the seat—despite my protests that it wasn’t safe. Her reasoning was always the same: she was wearing a seatbelt, so it didn’t matter how she sat, she was still abiding by the law.

  I gave her a disapproving look as I turned the key.

  She pouted and nudged my thigh with her toes. “It’s okay, Mr. Serious Face. Trust me. I’m going to be a lawyer.” She couldn’t suppress her rising grin.

  I had to hide my anxiety, even though my heart was filled with pride. April had just learnt she’d secured a place at Harvard, and was due to start in the fall.

  Two weeks before her eighteenth birthday.

  “After seven more years and a bar exam you’ll be a lawyer. You can give me legal advice then,” I said, desperately hoping she’d get the chance to do just that. In fact, I’d applied successfully to Harvard myself in order to watch over her.

  “Huh. So next time you tell me not to eat something because it smells funky, or go outside because it’s too cold, can I ignore you because you’re not going to be a doctor for like, eight more years?”

  I shook my head and turned on the radio. “You should listen to me because I only have your best interests at heart.”

  “I think you just like to boss me around,” she muttered.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Remember the time when you thought the yogurt was fine?”

  She crossed her arms.

  “April?”

  A little groan escaped her lips. “Yes.”

  “And was it fine?”

  I could almost hear her eyes roll. “No.”

  “And why couldn’t you smell it?”

  She mumbled something under her breath.

  I tilted my head closer. “Hmm? What was that?”

  “Because I had a cold!” She pushed off the bench and placed her feet on the floor.

  “And why did you have—”

  She shot me a glare. “Don’t push your luck, Scott.”

  A satisfied grin stretched across my face. “You know, if you’re going to be a lawyer, you’re going to have to learn how to win an argument.”

  I caught the paper bag before it hit me in the head. “Thanks.” I placed it in my lap and pulled out a blueberry waffle, letting an exaggerated moan escape me as I shoved a decent portion into my mouth.

  “I licked them all, you know.”

  I swallowed and smiled. “I have to admit, I was certainly hoping you had.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

  “You love me.”

  “You wish. I think I’m the only girl in Vermont who isn’t in love with you, Hot Parker.”

  I turned my concentration back to the dirt road and tapped my thumbs on the steering wheel in time with the music. She knew I hated that nickname. There was a moment of silence between us before she shuffled across the seat and held out her hand.

  “Hi. I’m April Fletcher. I live next door.”

  My heart swelled. It was a game we’d played for the last two years—an attempt to start over whenever harsh words were spoken—but I wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily this time. I drew my eyebrows together and kept my attention on the road. “I know. I’ve seen you around.”

  She shifted closer. “And?”

  “And I’ve heard you’re a pain in the ass.”

  She scowled. “No olive branch for you.” She shuffled back, but I caught her hand and lifted it to my lips.

  “You’re a gorgeous pain in the ass, though.” I kissed her hand and slowly looked over at her. Her cheeks burned a deep pink; her eyes widened. Crap. I took that a bit too far. I cleared my throat and released her.

  “Smooth talker,” she said softly, pulling her knee to her chest to rest her chin.

  We didn’t talk on our way into town. I had some groceries to pick up for Henry before we left, and April wanted to get some last-minute supplies. When she ducked into the pharmacy, I didn’t follow, dreading the thought she might be buying contraceptives. It was better if I didn’t know. That way I could live in denial a little longer.

  “Did you want to stop at the Tav?” I asked as she joined me outside with a white paper bag in hand.

  “Oh God, those doughnuts with jelly and cream—and those super thick chocolate shakes? I’ve never sucked anything harder.”

  I gave her a sidelong glance, eyes wide.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. She whacked me before I had the chance to say anything. “You know what I mean. It’s really hard! Fuck. No. I mean I’ve never sucked a straw that hard—oh, forget it.”

  The thought of her and Rowan and sucking was the last mental image I needed after our recent discussion. “Gladly.”

  She took a controlled breath, and spoke softly and politely. “I would love to go to the Tav.” She stretched her arms out in front of her. “Maybe I’ll just get a coffee.”

  I heartily agreed that that would be a great idea.

  On our way back to Henry’s I caught sight of a black SUV in my rear-view mirror, too close for comfo
rt. When I wound my window down to wave it past, it got so close I could no longer see the plates. I quietly unbuckled my seatbelt, preparing to wrap myself around April if this jerk should run us off the road. Exposing what I truly was … well, that was a risk I was willing to take in order to save her. Explaining who I was would be a more difficult task.

  After I’d moved over and slowed down, the SUV turned off Upper Main Street, taking the 289. Only then did my heart start beating again.

  “Everything okay?” April asked, trying to tune in to a different radio station.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  For now.

  Chapter 2

  (April)

  Scott turned down Henry Brice’s driveway and switched off the radio. He ran a hand through his sun-bleached blond hair, and I turned and put my feet up on the seat, tapping my toes against his muscled thigh. He glanced down at them, then at me. I smiled sweetly and tugged on my seatbelt to show him it was still on, which made him grin and shake his head. Trying to ignore the swoony feeling his Colgate smile always gave me, I returned my feet to the ground and my sights on the one-mile stretch of dirt road ahead.

  The spring breeze rolled over the surrounding fields, which were filled with ridges of recently planted corn. In a few months those stalks would tower over my head. I’d spent many afternoons running through Henry’s cornfields as a child, testing my ability to find my way back out. “Trust your instincts, April, and you’ll survive almost anything,” Henry had always said. I wasn’t sure how true that was, but my instincts had certainly helped me beat him in a few rounds of Texas Hold ’em. As my parents’ neighbor and closest friend, Henry Brice had been like a grandfather to me long before I’d discovered he was already one to Scott.

  “Wait for it,” Scott said, leaning forward. A few seconds later Duke came bounding down the road. Scott slowed the truck and opened his door, and Duke leapt inside, his tongue immediately finding my face.

  “Aw, my wuvwy boy!” I said, roughing his coat. Duke licked my lips, making me splutter.

  Scott chuckled. “Careful, buddy. Her boyfriend’s the jealous type.”